#but every fucking interaction on AO3 is a social interaction
Text
Not Your Sweetheart Ch 34 - Lavender
Not Your Sweetheart Chapter 34 - Lavender
The one where I absolutely delight in reminding everyone that Astarion has a dead average 10 charisma and an 18 CHA Tav gives him a run for his goddamn money in all the best and most angsty ways.
AKA "gets away with it bc hottie w/a body" meets "wins every social interaction and is also troubled and hot."
AKA the seducer gets seduced and he's mad about it, until he isn't.
But also it's a whole campaign? You know. Do not enter unless you're expecting true-to-life D&D -- everyone hot as hell but stupid as fuck. Get your top-shelf found family and hotties battling for flirt dominance tropes here.
---
We start off with some spicy and end on some sweet and everything in between is incredibly awkward and funny. Read on AO3.
Commissioned piece of the dorks by the fantastically talented @hamrikaa (see the full thing in Ch 10).
---
“Are you cold?” comes a voice from beside him.
He whips his head around to find the tiefling girl peering up at him. When she doesn’t look away, he glances around to see who she was talking to. “What?” he says.
Arabella points at his arm. “I rub my arms like that when I’m cold. Are you cold?”
“No,” Astarion says, forcing his arms to his side. He clears his throat and looks out over the camp until she wanders off.
She does not wander off.
“Sorry,” she says, though she doesn’t sound it. “I just thought maybe some of you were getting sick.”
“Why would you think that?” he sneers down at her, folding his arms in front of him so he doesn’t fidget.
The girl arches an eyebrow at him. “At least half of you were moaning and groaning partway through the night. I thought it was whatever you all ate. I think Karlach may have been hallucinating. She kept talking to someone who wasn’t there. If you’re not sick, then what?”
Astarion stares. The gears in his head turn, click into place, and he takes a sizable step back.
“No,” he says, putting more space between them. “I am not the one for that talk, no. I’m going to go away now. Do not follow me. Ever again.”
Arabella frowns a little at his retreating back before two of the women walk by, each carrying rations and water toward the fire. The tiefling sighs and says after them, “That’s not what you had last night, is it?”
Shadowheart stops and looks around, confused. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Don’t want to end up with a bellyache. You all were louder than Mirkon’s snoring until late.”
The half-elf goes immediately pink up to the tips of her ears. “We, erm,” she says. Swallows. “No one was sick. The food is fine.”
“Then what in the hells?” Arabella huffs. “No one tells me anything.”
Shadowheart’s mouth works as she tries to formulate a response.
Before she can get there, Lae’zel says, “I imagine you overheard us having various forms of intercourse, child.”
Very slowly, Shadowheart turns to look at her with wide eyes.
#astarion x tav#astarion x original female character#astarion x oc#astarion bg3#bg3 fanfiction#astarion smut#astarion fic#astarion fluff#bg3#not your sweetheart
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Back on r/AO3 and I'm about to write a fucking etiquette book for how to comment
#and this is not about long vs short vs emoji comments#this is about what you actually choose to say to total strangers#the current debate on that sub is whether it is rude to comment on a fic only to gush about the commissioned art#I don't know who needs to hear this but commenting on a fic and not talking about the fic at all is rude#that's the long and the short of it#going onto a fic to talk about something random or your friend oryour fic or some art and saying nothing about the story in front of you#that is rude#it is always rude#r/aO3 seems to believe that commenters can do no wrong#which is an insane take btw#but every fucking interaction on AO3 is a social interaction#you are engaging with strangers#and nobody would stand in line at a book signing and tell the author 'I really loved the cover art' and say nothing else#if they did everyone would think that person was wack#including the fucking authork
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut
Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.
Severus and his sunshine
Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader
warnings: Smut, loss of virginity
Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)
Read on Ao3 or below the cut:
“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle.
It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!
“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.
“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”
“You’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.
You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink.
Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour.
One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.
This you can’t seem to figure out.
He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war.
Emotions are not Severus’ thing.
His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.
He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.
You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready.
“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”
“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd.
He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie.
Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.
But not in a bad way.
He looks good.
Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.
His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.
So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend.
You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.
Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.
Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.
You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.
You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work.
You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.
Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.
During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.
You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.
“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.
“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.
“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”
“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint.
“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.
“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.
“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.
Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you.
“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-
“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.
“As I said - I am here with someone.”
“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”
“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.
That’s right.
Severus is different.
He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.
“Let’s leave, Sev.”
“Come on, gorgeous!”
“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”
“Sev.”
“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”
“She does not need you for that-”
“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that.
The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!
Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.
“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.
“Mh.”
“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”
“Drop it.”
“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”
“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”
“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.
“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”
“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”
“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.
“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.
“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”
“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”
“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.
“He made you cry!”
“Why does it matter?!”
“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean.
Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.
“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.
“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”
“I thought you’re tired.”
“Say it.”
“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”
“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.
“You sound like a spoiled child.”
“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”
“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.
“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad.
“Black’s a bastard-”
“This is Warren all over again!”
“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.
“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”
“I-”
“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it.
You have always been Severus’ safespace.
He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting.
Why can’t he tell you this?
Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod.
You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.
You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.
“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”
“Sunshine-”
“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings.
Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver.
“I love you.”
You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely.
Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.
“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face.
You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner...
And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-
“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”
“You love me?”
“I love you.”
“I thought you love Lily.”
“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”
Severus loves you.
Has loved you for years.
Severus loves you…
You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.
Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.
Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips.
As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him.
You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.
Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.
Everything is good.
“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you.
He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.
“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.
He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?
“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.
“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.
Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.
The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.
“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.
“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”
“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”
“You’re here…”
“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.
“Warren-?”
“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.
“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.
“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”
“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”
“Me?”
“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”
“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.
“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile.
He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.
You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.
“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.
“Severus-”
“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”
“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.
“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”
“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.
“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”
“It will.”
“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.
“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you.
You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.
You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.
“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.
“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.
He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.
“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.
Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.
He loves you.
You still can’t believe it.
“Sev!”
“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.
“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans.
“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.
He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.
“Sunshine-”
“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.
“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.
When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.
But he’ll never lose you.
You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”
“It’s your first time I will not-”
“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”
“Sun-”
“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”
The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.
“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind.
Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.
“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.
“Sorry-”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.
Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long.
It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure.
Severus is not good with words.
But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.
“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.
To you he is worth it.
He always was and will always be.
You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.
“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.
He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.
“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”
“Sev-”
“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder.
You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.
Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.
“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.
“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.
“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.
“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”
“Hmm…very metal.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Why’d you get it then?”
“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.
“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”
“Idiot.” You giggle.
“I’m going to cum-”
“Cum inside me.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.
His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.
“Severus!”
“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”
“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises.
Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.
Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.
You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.
Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.
“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”
“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.
“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow.
“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”
“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw.
So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.
“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”
You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you.
You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.
You send an owl to Dumbledore.
You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.
Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.
“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.
“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”
“Together?”
“Together. I love you, Severus.”
“I love you too, Sunshine.”
#severus snape#snape fandom#ao3 fanfic#severus snape smut#Severus Snape x reader#snape x reader#snape x you#request#dividers by cafekitsune
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Overqualified (Choso x F!Reader, 18+)
Summary: A series of vignettes over the course of which you decide you're actually pretty cool with the idea of giving Choso head.
Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact).
Word Count: ~7300.
Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time Blow Jobs, Social Anxiety, Vomiting (not part of the sex stuff I swear but icks are icks), Angst, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Mentions of Non-Con but No Descriptions.
Canon-variant, nobody’s dead, everyone’s fine etc etc.
Read it on Ao3 Here!
“You’re kidding, right?”
You’re all too familiar with how curses wear their expressions when they become powerful enough to learn to make them.
In your line of work — at the level you’ve risen to — you’re often stuck with the ones that take human form. The ones that learn to mimic sounds and words and mannerisms. You’ve watched time and time again, the intelligence that forms in First and Special-grades that allows them to appear so convincingly human in such a short period of time. You learned the hard way early in your career, what it’s like to fall for the act and take pity on a curse. You’ve lost kind people to the trap of sentiment.
You became wise to it; despite all that intelligence that came with such a degree of power, curses bore an unquenchable drive to harm humans.
You learned to see through the pleading. The crying. High-level curses learning to comprehend terror changes nothing. When you despatch them, it changes nothing. No matter how they beg for mercy, the instinct to kill you never ceases.
It’s in their eyes, you learn.
It’s in his eyes, when the remaining students and teachers at Shibuya bring him home to Jujutsu High. A Death Painting Womb. A half-curse. You don’t need to hear the human half of it. Your mind’s made up the moment they put you in the same room as him, ordered in spite of all your protests not to kill him where he stands. He won’t harm the Itadori kid, you’re assured. The kid is safe with him.
Choso.
You can’t even believe he’s got a name.
He sticks to the boy’s side, insisting their blood-relation while he glances about his environment with baby-fresh eyes. He’s a curse in the way he takes in information. Everything is new. Every emotion he feels borders on fresh.
Brow knitted. Jaw set. The dozens of little muscles around his mouth tighten. His eyes don’t blink for their minutes of fixation. Not until his attention is called away and Itadori leaves the room, beckoning him to follow.
It’s in his eyes. You won’t be fooled.
He watches you like he wants to kill you.
_________________________________
Your orders keep you from destroying Choso. They force you to co-exist with your guard consistently up, and as the weeks draw on, your exhaustion builds. You manage to steer clear of him for a good month before Tsukumo weighs in with a surprisingly high opinion of him. Drinking buddies? Fuck off. That’s your job. You’re not going to be muscled out of your place at her side.
You’re confident in her opinion, of course. But it doesn’t change yours. Weakened resolve be damned — there’s no way you’re letting yourself be in the same room as him again.
…
Still, you suppose it couldn’t hurt humouring her suggestions for you to tolerate him. It’s not like you need to do much more than that. If somehow you turn out to be wrong and she starts buying free rounds for a curse instead of you, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself.
It’s a rainy day lunchtime when you force yourself to approach the man, holding your lunch tray over your torso in the event he makes a jab for your internal organs as you join the line.
He glances at you once. Twice. Aborting a too-late attempt to reach for a rice bowl when you snatch one from the warmer and take a step forward to force him along.
Fear. Good. He’s learned fear.
Your tongue readies in your mouth. Your throat runs dry.
“Shitty weather.” You manage.
His head whips around. Eyes bug out of his skull as he turns to regard you. There’s that clench in his jaw again.
Choso does not respond. His posture changes, dipping down. Momentarily, you ready yourself for an attack, flinching to keep yourself from countering when he makes a sudden lurch for as many items he can reach. Shoving them onto his tray. Half a cup of steaming miso soup spills into his sleeve as he reels back and around you, storming out of the line without a word.
You eat your lunch at the window. Watching as he eats his on a step in the pouring rain, glaring into the middle-distance.
He must know you’re onto him.
_________________________________
The weeks drag on. Somehow, it feels simultaneously like your every move on campus grounds is watched by the half-curse while your every attempt to observe him close up is met with a hurried getaway.
By social means, Choso develops quickly. He still spends most of his time by Itadori’s side, but he begins to branch out. Much to your chagrin, the staff warm to him, too.
It isn’t long until they have the kid hooked up to you, much like Nanami’s old role before his run-in with the disaster curses knocked enough sense into him to go part-time. It pissed you off the first you hear about it; it had to be Choso’s doing. He must have known that you’d had it out for him and he was going to try his luck separating you from your peers after gaining Itadori’s trust.
You knew it. He was plotting to kill you.
Then, you find out that it was Itadori who’d requested you as a mentor, and the wind gets knocked out of your sails pretty fast.
It starts with a “Teacher!” Bellowed across the walkway. You’re hunched over, sipping from a faulty water fountain that the students seem to find great entertainment shoving twigs into to mess with the pressure. You know the kid’s voice well enough that embarrassment creeps up the back of your neck.
You straighten out, wiping your mouth on your sleeve, angling to look a little less lame after being caught at the mercy of a shitty fountain. “Itadori.” You greet the approaching boy. The only acknowledgement you offer his company is in your periphery. Were it not so rude, you’d close one eye so that you only have to look at the kid while you regard them. “Looks like you’re my new protege.”
There’s a pause.
Itadori looks between you and Choso, waiting for the two of you to exchange your own greetings.
It doesn’t happen.
More and more, Choso watches you with those unblinking eyes. Your focus is drawn. Minutely, you realise, he’s trembling.
“You — you know! It occurred to me that you haven’t properly met my half-brother.” Itadori ventures to break the ice. “Figured it would be nice for you two to know one another if we’re going to be learning from you.”
We’re.
You’re not a two-for-one deal. You never agreed to help train a curse.
“You don’t say.” You mutter, finally meeting Choso’s eye. Alright, then. Just because you like the kid, you’ll humour him. “Hey.”
There’s no answer. Not right away. Not until there’s an elbow nudging at Choso’s ribs. His adam’s apple bobs in a visible gulp.
“H-“
That’s all he manages before a mouthful of bile sprays out of his mouth. He has good reaction time, you’ll give him that. But it doesn’t help his cause. It just spills between his fingers as he tries to cover his face. You’d liken it to placing one’s thumb over a garden hose.
Itadori, meanwhile, springs into a panicked attempt to get between the two of you, shielding Choso from view with his body. “Haha! Okay! Great, so we’ll be seeing you!” He exclaims, alternating between leading his doubled-over brother back the way they came and waving at you.
Once again, you watch. Once again, perplexed.
“That was good, but it could have gone better. Next time, don’t throw up, okay?”
Anxiety vomiting.
Huh.
You’ll admit — this is a first.
_________________________________
Okay, maybe he’s not so bad.
Sure, he can hardly formulate a sentence around you, but at least the lack of interjection makes it easier to focus on Itadori’s development. Is Choso’s presence a constant irritation? Absolutely, but not unlike his little brother, you grow accustomed to his presence. That’s not to say that you’d ever grow to care for him to the same extent you do Itadori. In fact, the only reason you keep your trap shut about having him along for the ride is for the kid’s sake.
One thing that does start to irk you, however — even moreso than being stuck with a half-fucking-curse in your downtime, is how quickly Choso develops an opinion on your teaching style.
Rather, how critical he becomes of it.
First, there’s a huff. A sharp exhale out his nose marking disdain when you call Itadori back to rest. It builds from there. Pointed looks. Scoffs. A subtle rolling of his eyes when you snap at the kid to watch his blind spots over the passing weeks.
You’re sure you might end up killing him unprompted at this rate.
“You ought to praise him more.” Is the first full sentence he manages to get through when you’re alone with him. Itadori has left the two of you alone in a booth at CoCo Curry to excuse himself to the bathroom, and Choso jumps at the opportunity to level his criticism at you.
It’s a miracle he’s even speaking to you at all, you think at first.
Then, once you’ve registered what he’s said, you think it’s a miracle you managed to refrain from bringing your spoon down through his hand.
“Excuse me?” You seethe. “For your information, he does this every time. He always picks extra hot. He always empties the shaker when it gets brought out. He’s always shocked when he has to run off and shit himself before he’s halfway done.”
“I know that. His courage is unmatched.” Choso bites back, twisting in his seat to face you. “That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re too harsh on him in training.”
Where is all this bravery coming from all of a sudden? Is this really how protective he gets around the kid?
How misplaced. How sentimental. If you weren’t a sorcerer you might be moved by what comes off as brotherly affection.
You won’t fall for it.
A snarl curls at your lip. “Where do you get off, talking to me? You wanna give me life advice next? Wanna apply for my job? How many months have you been living outside a test tube, huh?”
“I’m only talking to you because I’m looking out for him.” He glares.
“Yeah, you and me both.” You dismiss him. “Look. I’ve got big shoes to fill. Itadori’s last mentor was hard on him. He’s closer to that guy than I could ever hope to be, but at least I know he listens to me when I boss him around. I’d rather the kid be covering his bases and coming home to me alive, than letting too much praise to go his head and getting him killed."
Choso doesn’t reply for a moment. His gaze remains hard, bottom jaw jutting out like a petulant kid. After a moment, he breaks away, redirecting his glare down at his emptied bowl.
“He respects you a lot. He looks up to you.” The man mumbles, crossing his arms and sinking down in the booth. “Please praise him.”
The two of you sit in stubborn silence for the better part of half an hour, until your student returns from the bathroom with an exhilarated huff. You can practically see the stink lines radiating off him.
“Whew!” The kid exclaims, throwing himself down beside Choso. “Aw man, my food’s probably cold.”
Yeah, whose fault is that.
“Hey. Itadori.” You grumble, earning the kid’s attention.
“Hm?” He perks up, mouth full.
“You did well today.”
You’ve turned your attention to the menu, scouring a drinks menu you’re far too full to even consider ordering.
In your periphery, Choso sits up a little.
_________________________________
You don’t make a secret of where you live. In the Jujutsu world, generally speaking (with Tsukumo being an enigmatic exception), the more secretive one tries to be about their lifestyle, the more curious it makes everyone else. You watched Nanami learn this the hard way after his return to the job and the sheer effort he put in for a while there to ensure no one knew how to contact him outside of work hours.
Of course, everyone wound up with his landline number and personal address whether any of you visit him of not.
It helps, having everyone generally know where they stand with you, anyway. ‘Emergencies only’ tends to be your rule. Approachable on campus and on the street, but home time is home time. Only show up if you’re in need of help. Or if you’re bringing free stuff.
So imagine your surprise when you open your front door and find Choso of all people, not at eye-level, but on his knees at your feet, forehead stamped to the doormat.
“What the fu-“
“Forgive me.” The man’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t move from the bow. You take the opportunity to look right. Left. Right again. Scanning for Itadori to come bounding over to escort him away from you once more.
Today, Choso is alone, but the thought of being attacked by him has dimmed to embers by now. You’ll chide yourself for it later, you think.
Right now, you’re more concerned with not drawing too much attention from the neighbours.
“Woah. Hey.” You crouch down. Choso flinches at your fingertips brushing his shoulder blade, but he doesn’t withdraw. Once again, he just starts trembling.
Man, he really is the sensitive sort.
He better not throw up again. Not while you’re close enough to be in the firing line.
“Forgive me.” Choso repeats. “I’ve been rude to you. I’ll try harder from now on. Let me redeem myself.”
“Okay! Okay, you’re forgiven, you’re redeemed. Now would you get up? I wipe my feet on that mat.” You hiss, tugging at his sleeve. This time, he gets the hint, getting to his feet and regarding you with an expression resembling hopeful and a patch of grit on his forehead.
In spite of all the confusion, you’ll admit, he’s cute. In a — born sexy yesterday kind of way.
In spite of yourself, you tug at his sleeve, taking the opportunity to rub the crap off his head. “Come inside before people get the wrong idea. You want a drink?”
“No, I’d throw up again.”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your candor…—“ You trail, gesturing for him to take a seat on your couch. He does as instructed, scanning your apartment from left to right, committing it to memory. “Do I freak you out that much?”
Choso doesn’t mince his words. He isn’t learned enough quite yet to beat around the bush. Maybe he might not be the type, regardless. “Yes.” He nods, avoiding your gaze in favour of staring at your reflection on the TV screen. “You have every right to feel uncomfortable around me, but I want your permission to be honest.”
Frowning, you incline your head in acknowledgement.
It’s almost like it’s the answer he didn’t want. All of a sudden, he’s not even capable of looking at your reflection. He seats himself on your couch and rubs his thumb into his palm. Holding his own hand. “I have awful feelings toward you.”
Something pricks at the base of your skull. Your eyebrows shoot up. Is this finally it? Is this your moment of vindication? Is he finally going to admit he wants to kill you?
“How awful are we talking?” You prod.
”Terrible.”
Your gaze flits around the living room for something to imbue, just in the event that he does pounce. “Uhhh, go on. I’m listening.”
“Looking at you makes me queasy.”
You abort an attempt to reach for your shark-grabber, reconsidering its promotion from TV remote reaching. “Harsh.”
“Were it not for the possibility of disappointing Yuji, I don’t know how else I’d be capable of controlling it. If I hurt you, he’d never speak to me again.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re trying to put a lid on it—“
“You’ve been putting in a lot of effort to tolerate me just so you can help make sure Yuji is okay, and I haven’t given you the same kindness. You’re good to him. It intimidates me.”
Okay, this is taking a weird turn-
“—I just can’t stop thinking about you.”
…
Heat creeps up your neck and into your ears.
“Oh.” You breathe, chest tightening as the realisation dawns on you.
Ohh, you get it now. Despite the deviation, Choso looks guilty enough that he may as well have admitted to wanting to kill you after all.
You swallow your pride, sitting down beside him on the couch. “You have a crush on me.”
His brow furrows. There’s that stare again. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure how to handle it. I don’t know what I should do.”
This whole time, it wasn’t aggression he’s been dealing with.
It was attraction.
“It’s okay.” You assure him for once, orbiting a fine line between emotional whiplash, awkwardness, and flattered sort of accomplishment. “You don’t need to do anything. People get crushes, it’s normal.”
People. It’s a person thing. There’s nothing cursed to it. Guilt pools in your gut. Just how nasty have you been toward the guy? Of course you’ve been freaking him out; he’s been catching up with the world this whole time and all you’ve done is make things harder on him.
And he still holds you in high enough regard to seek guidance from you, despite how embarrassing this must be?
“So what do I do?”
It’s not like there’s much of a choice. It’s not like you’ve really analysed your own feelings toward this man beyond bare tolerance at best — but you owe it to him to be sensible. You owe it to him to be a little more merciful than you would, even to a full-blooded human. Were he another sorcerer, you’d probably tell him to fuck off. Stop wasting your time. But he’s trusting you with a first that’s been torturing him.
He’s handsome, sure — but you don’t even know if you’re capable of trusting him not to end your life despite all he’s said. A single conversation can’t undo everything you’ve learned to feel.
“Well, if you wanna spare us both the discomfort, you could try asking another dude about how to handle it.” You suggest, casually as you can muster. “Not your teenage brother. Find an adult.”
Choso nods. You sense his tongue shifting behind his teeth. Considering asking why not you? But he seems to realise the implications by sheer instinct. The kind of conversation he needs to have can’t be with you. Not without altering your relationship before it can even find its feet.
“Yeah.” He agrees, not quite able to hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds at a time. “I’ll do my best.”
You’re getting sick of this. You’ve never heard such sincerity in your life.
Oh, fine.
You offer him a smile. Another first.
You’d fuck him.
_________________________________
You could never get sick of this.
“Saved you a spot.” Choso’s platforms lift off the seat beside him before you have a chance to notice the half-dozen empty alternatives. You do, however, become painfully aware that you’d been on your way to sit beside him anyway. There are plenty of alternatives. Years-long professional and personal relationships scattered all around the room, but your recent months with this one in particular have made him a begrudging favourite.
“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble, slumping down with a huff.
He’s been ten times easier to handle since your little deep-and-meaningful. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s actually been kind of a cool guy to hang around.
As much as you hate to admit it, you can’t help but indulge in the idea that it’s probably all the jerking off he’s likely been doing. Nevertheless, as far as your increasing curiosity imagines, he hasn’t broached the topic with you since.
“Bring my Kagome?” Choso asks, prompting you to hand him your bag to search through.
“Didn’t miss anything, did I?” You ask.
“Competition’s started, but no one’s made contact yet.” Utahime answers from up front, not bothering to break away from the screens showcasing the exchange event’s progress.
Beside her, Gojo sinks further into his seat. His head lolls against the arm rest. “It’s so boring in here with you lot. Hey, Utahime, why don’t you embarrass yourself for everyone’s entertainment?“
The ensuing squabbling is quickly dulled to you as Choso hands your bag back, stabbing a straw into the juicebox he’s withdrawn. Both of you watch the screens, looking for your protege in particular.
“Yuji’s trying to group up with the other Tokyo kids.” Choso mentions, fingers brushing yours without flinching when you hand the box back after he offers.
“He knows he doesn’t have to do that, right?”
”Depends on how bored he gets on his own.”
Your comment causes Gojo’s head to dip back, angling his attention at you. His mouth opens, but no sound escapes him.
His attention shifts to the side of you.
“Hey, why does he get a juice?”
“Pipe down and watch the competition!” Utahime barks at him. Curiosity draws her attention up and back to you, however, gaze dropping to the drink in Choso’s hand. “Hey — is that berry salad?”
“Berry salad!” Gojo whines. “C’mon, share.”
You watch in your periphery as Choso leans forward, and the two up front stretch out an arm each. Gojo’s spindly limbs have poor Utahime beat, but Choso carries the prize just barely out of the man’s reach.
He holds it out to you instead.
You don't even mind that half the sip is backwash. It's nice being the favourite of your favourite.
One of these days you really ought to blow him.
_________________________________
The doorbell rings.
Habit has conditioned you to expect Choso at your door. When you open it, however, you’re made aware of two surprises: a plummeting excitement that had no right building in the first place that the person bowing at your front step isn’t the man in question, and secondly, that it’s his brother, your protege that stands in his place.
“Oh, for the love of-“
“Teacher!” Itadori exclaims, bent from the hip at a perfect right-angle. “Please date my brother!”
…
What the hell is wrong with this family?
Your throat closes on itself as you claw for a response that doesn’t involve punching this poor child in the back of his head. “Wha—! Who told you I — get off my property!” You bark, heat flushing your ears.
“I thought you rented.” Itadori straightens, confusion tugging an eyebrow up.
“That’s beside the point.”
Then he’s dropping right back down again. “Please date Choso!”
Choso. What’s he been telling the kid? Did he go back on his word and seek relationship advice from a teenager? Is he trying to kill you after all?
“What gives?!” You snarl down at him. “I’m your mentor! Would you pull this kinda shit with Nanami?”
“To be fair, Nanami is the one person I wouldn’t pull this with.” Itadori protests, holding his hands up in defense. “Date my brother!”
“Agh!” With that, you slam the door on the kid. “Learn some damn respect! Jeez, I’m starting to get where Utahime’s coming from.”
There’s a grumble behind the wood. A defeat well-picked.
“Fine. See you tomorrow.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. Think about what you want for lunch.”
_________________________________
The moment you wrap the training day and send the kid on his way, you snatch at Choso’s sleeve before he can shuffle off after his brother. “What the hell did you tell him!”
The man flinches at your touch. He frowns hard. “I didn’t tell him anything.” He grunts back, shrugging uncomfortably away from you. “You told me not to. Why are you mad?”
“Don’t jump to calling women angry. It’s anti-feminist.”
It doesn’t immediately occur to you that with just yourself and Tsukumo being the only adult women Choso knows, he probably hasn’t had much interaction with the women’s rights movement. Nevertheless, he runs with it.
“Okay. You’re not mad.”
“I am mad! Why’s your little brother knocking on my door telling me to go out with you, huh?”
“What?!” Choso whips around, regarding you with terror. “Yuji?! I only talked to Ino-“
Your fist collides with your palm. “Ino!” You seethe, content to settle on such a target, at least until Choso taps his index fingers together. Almost…like he’s counting.
“— and he gave me some advice, but he couldn’t help me with one question I had. So I asked Ijichi, but he didn’t have an answer for me, either. So then I asked Tsukumo, and she couldn’t —“
Great, just great, you think, zoning out while the man continues to list off the names of almost every adult you interact with on a regular basis — the entire faculty staff and beyond know. Serves you right for trusting any one of those jackasses to keep a secret from a child.
You relent, if not at his sincerity, then at least just to escape the roll-call. “Okay. It’s fine. It’s all right. We’ll figure it out.” You sigh. “In any case, did you get an answer for your question?”
Choso pauses. Averts his gaze. “No. Well, Nanami gave me an answer he said works, but it’s not something I want to do.”
“…Can I help?” You offer.
“You said-“
“I know, but you’ve exhausted your other options.”
The look on his face is nothing short of defeated. You are not the person he wanted to have to ask.
“Can I take a raincheck?” Choso asks.
You touch a hand to his arm, an assurance of support. After how many months of progress, he shifts away from contact for a second time today.
Months ago, you would have felt relieved by such a rejection; now, it pools hollow and worrisome in your gut.
Something’s changed.
“Yeah. It’s fine.” You lie.
_________________________________
Weeks pass. It feels like an eternity.
You’re beginning to adjust to walking just yourself home again.
Choso seems to make himself scarce in your life what ever way he can, and where he can’t, he puts as much distance between himself and you as possible. He doesn’t look at you anymore. He doesn’t speak to you. You’re not the sort to reach out; you’re plenty used to people disappearing from your life without a trace — but this feels different.
There’s no one to remind to take their big stupid giant shoes off at the step when you enter your flat.
It’s quiet. Lonesome, a needier person might call it.
Had you not convinced yourself this was something you’d wanted from the start, you’d confront him about it. Ask him why he’s avoiding you — but what would that fix?
What would you hope to get out of closure?
You should be relieved that he’s lost interest in you. You should be over the moon that he ejects from conversations entirely upon your arrival. That he stands up and moves to the opposite side of the room should you put yourself in an empty seat beside him.
Your life is no longer haunted by his gawking presence. Itadori shows up alone to his training sessions, and were you not hell-bent on putting on a show of relief at Choso’s absence to the rest of the world, you’d stoop to asking the kid what the hell was going on.
As little as you can convince yourself any longer, you’ve got to convince the rest of the world.
You don’t give a shit.
Pulling the fridge door open, you pull a juice box out of your bag and place it back on the shelf you’d plucked it from this morning.
Yeah. You’re fine. You’re great, actually.
You don’t even fucking like berry salad.
_________________________________
“How do I stop?”
You stare at the man in your doorway, halfway caught between dumbfounded and furious.
He stares back, refusing to elaborate for you.
“Are you kidding me? You haven’t spoken to me in months-“
“You promised me I could take a raincheck.” Choso says. “I’ve tried everything. Tell me how to make it stop.”
You should turn him away. You should say something awful and hurt him. Make him think twice before daring to get under someone’s skin the way he did yours.
A muscle in Choso’s jaw tenses. That would’ve been all it took, and you hate yourself for that much — but then he hits you with a staggered, weak little: “Please.”
“Make what—…ugh.” You relent, stepping aside to let him pass. “Shoes.”
He’s already stepping out of them, padding through your hallway on his way to the kitchen out of sheer habit.
“Don’t even think about taking a Kagome.”
There’s a grunt. The fridge door closes.
Choso’s stepping back into the living room when you’ve caught up with him. “I’m…really sorry.” He fiddles with his hands, shrinking into himself under the heat of your scrutiny. “I’ve—…missed talking to you.”
“Yeah, well I haven’t.” You snap. His gaze hits the floor, and guilt threatens to well in your throat. “I’m angry you ghosted me, okay?”
“I was trying to take Nanami’s advice.” He mumbles.
”Nanami.”
“But it hasn’t worked.“ The man continues, ignoring your targeted rage. “I asked him how I can stop feeling how I feel about you, and he told me to stay away, but I can’t, and I don’t know how to stop, and I know how sad it’s making you, but I can’t—“
You snap out of your haze at the wobble in the man’s voice, finding him clutching at his own sleeves, a futile endeavour at self-soothing. For just a moment, his gaze locks to yours.
Fuck, you’ve missed him looking at you. How sad is that.
“Why do you want to stop?” You ask, and all of a sudden he can’t look you in the eye again. “Did I do something to make you upset?”
“Because you don’t want it.” He explains, frustration mounting. “Everything I’ve read, everything I’ve watched, it’s not one-sided. In real life, with you — it’s only me. It makes-…it makes me feel terrible.” A pit forms in your stomach as he goes on. “Do you know how me and my siblings exist? Through my mother’s suffering.”
...
Oh, fuck.
You’ve been so stupid.
How could you have not thought this through? Choso’s a sensitive guy even without the nature of his existence coming into play, and your most rational thought when he came to you with this problem was to save your own embarrassment and throw him at porn?
The only prior understanding he’s had of sexuality is forced procreation.
All this time you’ve been torturing him, throwing him under the bus. Putting the entire responsibility for his interest in you onto him, without him even understanding any of it. You’ve been leading him along under the impression that you’re not interested, that you detest him, and while that might have been true at the start—
“I don’t want to feel the way my father might have felt about my mother.” Choso admits. “I don’t want to want someone who doesn’t want me back.”
“You’ve got it wrong.” You manage. “You’re not bad for wanting me. There’s nothing I don’t like about that.”
Your words fall on deaf ears. He’s already far too swept up in his own thoughts to hear you.
“Choso.” You speak firmly, and you’re not sure if it’s the tone you take or his own catastrophising, but you’ve never seen him look more afraid of you than he does right now. “It’s not the same, I promise you. That’s not how it works. I know you won’t hurt me.”
“But it does hurt you.” Choso insists, snatching at your shoulders like he's trying to snap you out of a stupor. “I see how much it bothers you. I don’t want to make you suffer.”
Your brow knits. Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy about all this you’d admit to him that the hurt of his absence has by far beaten any negative feelings brought about by having him around.
“You treat my brother so well.” He offers, solemnly. “You tolerate me for his sake. It makes me feel so selfish — I want Yuji to be happy and continue to learn from you — but if you choose not to train him anymore because of me, then I won’t be able to be near you anymore either. I can’t stay away from you, but I can’t bear to make you carry the burden of knowing how I feel about you. So please, tell me how I can stop.”
"I don't want you to stop." You blurt. This time, you're the one incapable of meeting his eye. Instead, you scowl at the wrap over his chest, doing your best not to get swept up in reuniting with the scent of him. "I'm sorry for making you go through this by yourself. I hate that I drove you away and made you feel like this. You can do what you want, but you need to know that what you're going through isn't bad. It's human."
Choso tentatively runs the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. Not quite touching you. Closing your proximity all the while. You feel his breath. You feel his warmth.
“It’s nothing like that,” You promise, “because I think the same of you.”
Then, you feel the fucker smirk down at you. "Yeah, yeah, I get the picture."
"Shut up. I'm trying."
His gaze flits between your eyes and your mouth, no doubt running through the natural course of events he’s been studying in whatever material the others have had him watch. His head dips, catching your attention, and then ever lower, nose almost brushing yours.
“You’re sure.” He breathes.
You answer by covering the distance, ghosting your lips against his. Choso’s body stiffens, leaning into you in what he must assume is how he should reciprocate. You quell the insecurity, sliding your fingers down his arm before you find your balance with a palm pressed to his chest. He’s too inexperienced to take the cue, but he’s smart enough to break away with a questioning look. The blood mark across his nose has altered its shape. Not quite as straight as it once was.
“You can touch me. I want you to.” You murmur, tugging the bands out of his hair one at a time. “I’ll like it.”
The blood mark stretches over Choso’s cheeks. A hollow breathe escapes him just as he pulls you against him in another kiss, long arms wrapping firmly around your waist. He’s clearly inexperienced, but he's a quick learner. He follows your lead, mimicking your motions. Large hands drift over your ribcage. Pawing at your waist. Then, the moment your tongue slips over Choso’s bottom lip, he’s holding your hips just shy of his own.
“You’re sure.”
His pupils are dilated beyond belief as he holds you at bay, lacking the willpower to keep from allowing you to push back into his grasp just a little, just enough to feel a burgeoning erection jutting against your stomach.
His hairties roll onto your wrist. Your fingers toy with his locks, gathering on his shoulders. “I think,” You smile up at him, “You should show me what you’ve been learning.”
Something in him snaps. His mouth is back on yours in a heartbeat, florid, hands yanking you in against his body. A ragged hum spills from his throat as you respond in kind, snatching at his cowl, breaking away from him just to untie the thing and pulling it off over his head.
Choso isn’t much of a talker. Not yet, at least. Not while so much of his concentration is on making up for lost time exploring you. For the moment, you have to find satisfaction in pulling wordless sounds from him, learning where he’s most sensitive. His ribcage. His throat. His hipbones. It’s not until your fingertips graze his cock through his pants that he musters a breathy little ”fuck—“
His weight braces against you naturally, chasing more, confidence growing. He spends a particularly long moment squeezing your ass before he hurriedly shifts his attention — just pointed enough to have you noting that he might already be figuring out his favourites.
When Choso’s fingers paw at your tits, though — a favourite of your own — you can’t help the little noise that escapes you.
He draws back. Pupils constricted. Blood mark tightening across his face. Sensing competition.
Not today, you affirm silently, walking the man backward until his legs hit the couch and he falls into a sit. You follow, sinking to your knees between his, palms resting on his thighs.
“Won’t you?” You ask sweetly, angling for a look akin to innocent, watching Choso gulp at the sight.
“Won’t I wh-what…” He stammers. So much for competition.
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his pants. You don’t take your eyes off him. “Show me.”
Choso takes a moment, considering your words in total silence. Then, with a shuddering breath, he’s fumbling with his underclothes, juban tugging up out of the way. Flashing his lower stomach as he busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. You find yourself vaguely scandalised at the sight. You’ve scarcely seen more of Choso than his arms. The flat of his stomach feels oddly intimate.
His cock is just as pale as his fingers. He slowly, steadily pulls his foreskin up, though his grip conceals him for the most part, much to your disappointment. When he draws back, you lean in insistently, ignoring a little shiver on his part at how close your face gets. Colour gathers on the delicate tip, much like the hue of his eyelids. Choso draws up again, and you find your mouth running dry at the glimmer of a tiny drop of pre-cum, at least before it gets swept away by his fingers.
“If you wanted to watch so bad, you should’ve asked.” He mutters, tone chastising — yet undermined by the flush blotting his neck, and again, you make a note. He’s going to be bratty once he gets the hang of this.
“Maybe if you’d been nice about it-“
“Are you gonna let me blow you, or what?” You interject.
Choso goes silent. Eyes wide. You’d think you’d gone too far if he hadn’t immediately relinquished his grip.
You waste no time replacing his hand with your own, balancing his cock between your fingers, tipping it toward you as you shimmy closer, nudging his knees further apart.
The flat of your tongue presses to the tip, and you grin at the way his whole body seems to flinch. A hum vibrates in his chest. Flagging permission to keep going. He can handle it. You don’t have to be content with just a taste.
Your mouth envelops his cock, and Choso grips hard at the cushion beneath him. He stops making noise altogether as your lips venture mid-way, holding his breath while you pause to run your tongue against the underside. Then, when you hollow your cheeks and pull back up, a ragged sound escapes his throat. Pre-cum spurts over your tastebuds. So much so that you’re worried he might already be done for. Waiting another moment brings nothing else, but he probably needs a moment regardless.
Sitting back on your heels, you check in, poising your wettened lips just shy of the head. Choso looks like he’s on the verge of tears. It isn’t helped by the rorschach blotting of the blood mark dripping down his cheeks like drenched mascara.
“You okay?” You check in. “You need to stop?”
“No!” He yips, sitting up, bordering outraged. It takes a moment for him to register the smile on your face as a taunt. That you’re not serious about backing out.
All the same, if you didn’t have him pinned to the couch right now, you’re sure he’d be bowing at your feet again.
“Keep going. I can take it.”
Your hand works him slowly from base to tip, squeezing out another clear, oozing droplet. You smear it back and forth over your lips, and Choso’s head dips back against the couch, scrunching his eyes shut. Poor thing. As fun as it is teasing him, you owe it to him to at least get him off.
“Just relax.” You murmur, licking your lips, brushing your tongue around the head of his cock and waiting for a minute nod on his part before continuing on. Sinking down, you take him deeper with each bob of your head, building into a steady, consistent rhythm so as not to catch him off-guard. You want to draw this out as long as possible for him. You want him at your door again, at your feet, begging you for more.
You want to be the only one he wants doing this to him.
There’s no helping a swallow on your part when he nudges the back of your throat one too many times, though, and Choso gasps like he’s dying. His posture curls, instinctively trying to find purchase on something that isn’t just the couch. His cock twitches in your mouth, and you go still.
He’s on the brink, but you’re convinced you can work just a bit more out of him with a little patience.
Choso’s hands come to hover over your head. You don’t have the ability right now to tell him you’d be fine with having his grip guide you, and without that go-ahead, he’s not taking his chances. He’s far too considerate to do that.
So he just sits there, letting himself suffer, not quite sure what to do with himself beyond entrusting that part to you.
Once his muscles have relaxed enough, signalling his body’s retreat from the orgasm that had been building, you deem it safe to resume. Starting slow and shallow once again, you earn yourself a frustrated groan.
That’s more like it. The nerves are settling. He wants to cum, now.
You can’t help but go back on your word, just a little. You can’t help but taunt him, pulling back to suck on just the head until his fingernails are digging into his palms. Choso’s hips judder, threatening to buck up into your mouth and taking a conscious effort to be stilled. His breaths push and pull through gritted teeth, and fine, it might be time to give the poor guy a break.
Choso all but cries out when you take him all the way in again, stifling an instinctual gag when another spurt of pre-cum hits your overworked throat. You don’t let up, for his sake. His breaths come short and sharp. His cock swells on your tongue, leaking pitifully in sync with an equally pitiful sound in his chest.
“I—“ He whimpers, voice wobbling, “I’m gonna—“
There’s no curse words he’s been exposed to enough to pick out, and when Choso peaks, he does so wordlessly in a mess of gasps and groans. The first pulse of cum jets across your tongue, and you draw back to hold your mouth open, working him through it with your hand. Ribbon after ribbon coats your face as Choso keens his way through the aftershocks, only filling your mouth when the force dwindles and his body slackens.
You’d mistake him for a corpse, were he not twitching every few seconds. His eyes are fixed on your face, glassy and unmoving, mouth agape as if he might burst into tears at any moment, unaided by the running of his blood mark down his cheeks.
Sitting back and admiring your handiwork, you swipe a thumb across a stripe of cum that starts to streak down your face, watching the man with a smile. You pop your thumb into your mouth, and Choso jolts to life at the sight, sitting up, suddenly breathing again.
His hand brushes your face. His own thumb tentatively brushing across the bridge of your nose.
“Please date me.”
You’re pretty certain he’ll cry for real if you say no.
#choso x reader#chousou x reader#choso jjk#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#as usual if you see a typo no you didn't#vas fics
215 notes
·
View notes
Text
Punch Bowl
Task Force 141 x Female Reader
Content & Warnings: established relationship / situationship, sharing, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), multiple creampie, vaginal fingering, sex on top of and over a desk, cum swallowing, praise, anal sex, double penetration, multiple positions, light dom/sub dynamics, F/M/M/M/M
Word Count: 3k
At a required work holiday party, Captain Price leads you away to his office for a bit of fun. But the rest of Task Force 141 is interested, and for now, Price is willing to share you.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist
Behind the drinks table, you stand with your arms crossed, watching the rest of the room. You’re on punch bowl duty because every fucking year someone manages to spike it. It’s never been on your watch, but over the years you’ve begun to suspect a few possible culprits.
But really you don’t give a shit, and you don’t want to be here anyway.
There is nothing you like less than being forced to attend a mandatory work holiday party. Your face always aches from smiling by the end of it, and you have no social battery. You’d much rather be at home with a glass of wine, greasy takeout, and a book.
Every time someone approaches the table, you snag a plastic cup, ladle in some of the bright red beverage, and hand it off only to do it all over again. The worst part are the extroverts who don’t know how to shut the fuck up and talk your ear off for fifteen minutes before they find another victim.
It is exhausting. And awful. And you’re about five minutes away from pretending to be sick so you can go home to that wine, takeout, and book.
A figure blocks the room out of the corner of your eye. You turn, and freeze, realizing who it is that’s stepped in front of you.
It’s Captain John Price.
When you make eye contact with him, he smiles, and it’s so sultry that you already know what he wants. That’s the thing about you and John. It’s a weird, friends with benefits situation that is quickly starting to fall into feelings. Which is absurd. The two of you shouldn’t get involved beyond what it already is, and yet every time the two of you come together, it’s more passionate than two people simply fucking.
“Captain Price,” you acknowledge, reaching for a plastic cup, pretending everything about this interaction is normal.
“I need to talk to you,” he replies.
I need to talk to you is just code for “I want to fuck you.”
You keep a straight face, even as Price’s mouth twitches with amusement. “What about?” you ask, ladling in some of the bright red punch into a plastic cup.
The upper half of Price’s body twists slightly, and then he’s reaching for a nearby recruit. Price grips their shoulder and spins them around.
“Cover the punch bowl.” There is a hint of a growl in his voice, and that surprises you.
“Yes, sir.” The recruit nearly stumbles around the side of the table, obviously flustered.
There is no negotiation with Price. Rarely do you ever push back when he wants to be inside you.
You simply step around the table and allow the nervous recruit to take your previous position. Price steps into your space and nods toward the exit. The two of you move casually, as if this is routine and not at all strange. You’ve done it plenty of times before, and so far, no one has said anything.
Even if they did, what would they say? You’re not even SAS, and he is not your superior. You’re stationed here for work, and you’ve had to interact with John on multiple occasions for your job. The two of you walking away to talk is normal. At least, on the surface.
You and Price move out into the connecting hallway. From there, the two of you head for his office. The moment he shuts the door behind you, Price pushes you up against it, trapping you with his body.
He plants one hand directly above your head while the other squeezes your hip. Price presses in, one knee slotting between your legs, forcing them to open to accommodate his muscled thigh.
“You want to talk?” you murmur as his lips move toward your mouth.
“We’re talking,” he replies, closing the distance.
Price’s tenderness is not a soft thing but a fiery heat that burns you from the inside out. His kisses are fierce, purposeful, and each one is a brand that you carry with you in the moments the two of you are separated. But there is a desperate, underlying movement to each of his touches and kisses. Price is wanton but never needy and rarely rushes.
Your hands go out to rest against his chest, but he’s bending down, sliding his hands over your ass and lifting you up.
“John,” you breathe, clinging to him as he deposits you on top of his desk.
“Fighting me on this?” he asks, sinking to his knees before you. Price lifts your bent knees, placing one over each of his shoulders.
Then his hands are sliding up your thighs to your hips. Once there, his fingers dig in and drag you to the very edge of the desk. The friction pushes on your skirt, forcing it to slide up to your hips where it bunches. At this angle, there is no way Price doesn’t see your red lacy underwear underneath.
“No,” you murmur as Price slides his index finger between the delicate fabric and your pussy. He lightly pulls, and then guides it to the side, revealing you to him.
Price lifts your hips one more time, guiding you a bit closer before his head dips to run his tongue along the soft flesh of your inner thigh. His tongue against your skin is divine, as if you’ve been apart for ages. Price licks, bites, and kisses until he leaves marks behind.
As he moves closer, the anticipation of Price tasting you begins to build. His warm breath is a caress against your skin, and it’s even more wanton when you feel it against your clit. Your fingers dig into the wood, and when you glance down between your legs, Price’s gaze moves upward, his mouth positioned at your opening.
You arch your back and flex your hips a bit to signal exactly what you want. But you know Price won’t deny you. He never does.
“Let your knees fall wider, love,” purrs Price. When you do, he licks your pussy from opening to clit.
It’s a deliberate, languid touch that lingers for a moment before Price does it again, this time swirling his tongue as he does so. Then, Price goes for it, flicking his tongue against your clit in quick, sharp bursts of movement that immediately make your toes curl.
Your orgasm blooms from nowhere, roaring forward as Price sucks your clit into his mouth. Falling back on your elbows, you moan loudly. One of your knees start to slip but Price is there to catch it, keeping your legs spread wide as he continues to lavish your clit.
You’re in absolute bliss as the orgasm hits in a series of waves that only dissipates once Price releases you.
“Do you want more?” he muses before teasing the opening of your vagina with the tip of his tongue. Your hips buck but Price’s hand presses down on your thigh, settling you back onto the table.
“Please,” you beg, voice a hoarse whisper.
“Only because you asked nicely,” he says, inserting two fingers inside you. Your body surrenders and you both groan with how nicely you take him. You almost collapse against the desk, your eyelids closing in pleasure at his touch.
Price bends his fingers to press upon that sensitive spot inside you and drags his fingers down and out, popping them into his mouth to suck them clean.
“Do any of you want a taste?” asks Price, his voice unusually loud for just the two of you. His fingers slip underneath the delicate lace as Price guides your underwear down your legs and past your heels.
Your eyes snap open and you push yourself up, the lazy haze of lust disappearing.
In front of you are Price, who kneels between your legs, and three other men. The door to the office is open, and a large man in a black balaclava shuts the door. It’s the rest of Task Force 141. John MacTavish, Kyle Garrick, and Simon Riley all linger near the door just behind Price.
You have no idea what Simon is thinking behind the balaclava, but Soap and Gaz have smirks on their faces. It’s not that you haven’t entertained the idea, because you have. All of them are sweet on you, even Ghost who is fucking terrifying to nearly everyone except you.
“I do, Captain,” replies Gaz, already moving to take Price’s place.
Price stands and steps out of the way, only for Gaz to immediately put his mouth on you.
“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and you feel Gaz’s gentle laugh against your skin.
Price saddles up to the side of the desk. His hand grabs the back of your head, twisting in your hair, and then he guides you toward him, your body slightly bent. With his other hand, he undoes the front of his jeans.
Instinctually, you reach for him, grasping his cock the moment it’s free of the zipper.
“Just like that,” groans Price as you take him into your mouth.
You run your tongue along the underside of his cock before sucking him down again. With fist and mouth, you work Price until he’s murmuring your name. It’s growing more difficult to concentrate. Gaz is skilled, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers as he pumps them steadily in and out of you.
Soap and Ghost might be watching, waiting their turn, or both. But they’ll have their turn, and that excites you.
You choke around Price’s cock when it hits the back of your throat. Gaz swirls his tongue around your clit and that breaks you. The orgasm rises and you squeeze around Gaz’s fingers.
“That’s fucking beautiful,” says Gaz with a contented amusement that makes you feel gorgeous. It’s an appreciative comment, but you only have a moment to linger in it before Price’s hand on the back of your head keeps you in place.
“Can you swallow, love? For me?”
You nod, and then Price’s taste bursts on your tongue. He does not pull away, but makes you take all of it, and you are eager for every drop. Price draws away, his cock leaving your mouth in a wet pop. Some of your salvia sticks to the head of him, and he brushes it away along with whatever stays on your lips.
“Show me,” he says, and you open, revealing that you’ve swallowed every bit of him.
“Good girl. Good fucking girl.”
Gaz licks his lips, wiping off the bit of your release that still sits on his lips. He pushes up to standing, and then Ghost is right there, grabbing at you, dragging you off the desk. You nearly wobble when your feet hit the floor but he’s fast, making sure you don’t fall.
“I want you on your knees,” he says, and you immediately drop. “Eager. I like that,” purrs Ghost as he lightly traces the line of your jaw with his index finger.
When Ghost’s cock is free, you immediately wrap your fingers around the base, and you go for it. There is no teasing lick or kiss. You throat him, your lips hitting your hand as you do so.
“Fucking hell,” he groans. “You take it nicely. Don’t you?”
You moan around Ghost’s cock, basking in the praise. He is larger than Price, and you take as much as your throat will allow. The head presses roughly against the back of your throat, nearly causing you to gag. Instead of resisting, you relax into him, breathing through your nose, and that helps tremendously.
Your reward is another vocalization of Ghost’s pleasure. That deep, guttural moan of his goes straight to your pussy, and all you want to do is suck him dry. Fuck—suck all of them dry. Hollowing out your cheeks, you slide and bob your mouth along his shaft until Ghost nearly becomes a puddle at your feet. You may be on your knees before him, but you have all the control. It is thrilling. Having this power makes you bolder.
But the control is a fallacy, because the moment you begin to make this skull-faced man into a whimpering mess, someone is grabbing your wrists, pulling them behind your back as someone else latches onto the back of your neck.
You are held in place, and then Ghost does what he wants, fucking your mouth like you’re his little toy. With Price, the two of you usually share the control, switching the power between the two of you. But Ghost? He is completely domineering, steering this entire thing until you’re the one who is the whimpering mess.
“Fuck,” bites out Ghost, and then he’s yanking you off of him.
But he does not spill into his hand or on your face. Instead, he lifts you up, lightly plopping you down onto the desk. Your back hits the wood, and then Ghost is forcing your legs open, his hard cock sliding over your pussy.
“Eyes on me,” comes a voice near your head.
It’s Soap.
His large hand goes to your throat, then he’s tipping you back, and you’re opening wide, taking him down as Ghost pushes your legs wider to sink in. Your pussy flutters around Ghost, but your body is needy, and it greedily takes as much as he’s willing to give.
Ghost rolls his hips, pausing between each to help you accommodate to his size. Once you’ve taken him to the hilt, he begins to pound into you, every thrust bouncing you down Soap’s cock. Through the fabric of your oversized sweater, Soap palms your breasts, and this keeps you from sliding away from either of them.
You fall into a lust-filled haze. An orgasm roils up, passes through your body and out into your limbs. It sets every nerve alight, but neither of them stops. A second comes soon after, and it’s only then that you realize Ghost’s angle is the perfect alignment for him to rub on your clit as he thrusts into you.
Ghost’s thrusts become a stuttering thing that end with his own release. His hands go to your thighs. He guides them open, presses down on the insides, and Soap slips out of your mouth. He reaches over your body to also hold onto your thighs, keeping them open.
Everyone watches as Ghost fills you up, and when he slips out, he catches his release and presses it back inside. This is an act of ownership, but no one seems upset by it, which can only mean that they all plan to do this with you again. And that is something you’d never say no to.
All of you hang in the air for the moment, and then hands disappear only to be replaced by new ones. You’re flipped onto your stomach, and then dragged off until one foot is on the ground, one knee is on the top of the table, and you’re bent at the waist over the side of the desk.
Then Gaz is there, grasping your hips, taking Ghost’s place. He keeps you steady, thrusting upward in steady strokes that have you leaning back against him. Gaz’s head dips forward to rest against the side of your head, and the two of you is all there is until he comes, mixing himself inside you alongside Ghost.
But Soap does not take his place. Instead, Price steps up, sliding his hand to the back of your neck. He tugs gently, arching your neck and back so that you look into his face.
“How much more can you take, love?”
You lick your lips and consider. Already, you feel the soreness and ache slipping into your muscles, but it’s a good sensation, and you want more of it.
“Whatever you desire to give to me,” you answer softly, and Price’s expression is a pleased one.
With tenderness, Price eases your knee off the table, and releases his grip on your neck. “Go sit in Soap’s lap, love,” whisper’s Price, lightly smacking your ass as you wobble toward Soap.
Soap reclines in a chair in the corner. When you get close, he reaches out, grabbing you by the thighs, drawing you into his lap. You do not face him, but the room, your legs spread for everyone to see as Soap slides inside and starts bouncing you on his cock.
There is no embarrassment on your part. Your head falls back to lean against Soap’s shoulder as he takes control. Your eyes flutter, and you briefly glimpse Ghost kneeling between your legs. He pushes up his balaclava, and then your lids completely shut when his mouth comes down on your clit.
Ghost sucks it into his mouth, the tip of his tongue flicking against it at the same time. The contrast that is the two of them has you slipping into a whimpering mess. You cannot speak. There are only your fingers digging into someone’s flesh as the two of them bring you to yet another orgasm.
This orgasm has no end, and you don’t even realize Soap relinquishes control to Ghost until the large man is lifting you up, sliding his arms under your thighs to hold you aloft to fuck you while standing. The mix of them inside you begins to seep out around Ghost’s cock, and you can see everything happening between your bodies.
Your forehead rests against his shoulder, and then someone steps up behind you, pressing against your other entrance.
“Please?” It’s Price.
“Yes,” you groan as Ghost hits deep and it sends your back arching. It’s the only thing you manage to say, and it is a strangled sound.
Price is gentle as he eases in. The two of them take turns pumping in and out of you, until you’re a sweaty mess. Your sweater sticks to your skin, and you want it gone, but without the ability to form words, you simply deal with it, reveling in their shared taking
You surrender to them, allow them complete control. But you’re safe, protected, sandwiched between them. You slide one arm behind Price’s neck while the other rests on Ghost’s left shoulder. Removing your forehead from Ghost’s right shoulder, you lean back on Price and he turns his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.
“It could always be like this,” he murmurs into your ear. “Would you like that?”
You nod, and you feel his smile against the line of your throat.
taglist:
@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie
#task force 141 fanfiction#task force 141 smut#task force 141 fanfic#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 x you#task force 141 fic#captain john price smut#captain john price fanfiction#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#john price smut#john price fanfiction#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#john mactavish smut#john mactavish fanfiction#john mactavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick smut#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick fanfic#john price x you#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish smut#simon riley x you
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
Quiver - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Goth Female Reader
Rating - Explicit
a little fluffy office sex smut for Valentine’s Day
Also also available on AO3
There’s no way you’ve been hired on merit alone.
Not looking like that, with your fishnet tights and short skirts and sheer blouses and dark makeup. Everything shaded ebony or a variant of it. It’s all so close to being on the verge of indecent while barely meeting the dress code requirements.
So Steve Raglan assumes this must have been a favor to someone. A relative of yours has an inside connection, getting you this part time job at the social services office for some extra cash while you manage your college courses. Another entry for your sparse resume to supplement your babysitting reference and that job at the coffee shop that you’d worked at the previous summer.
For some reason it’s you more often than not these days that guides the clients back to his office. He can hear the heavy tread of your Doc Martens all the way down the hall from the reception area. He smells your gum, sometimes, mixed berry or cinnamon. Watches the way you lazily blow a half hearted bubble, a thin stretch of the xylitol pushed between your white, white teeth against that dark crimson mouth. The hair you’d hastily pinned up is already coming undone. You’re wearing a choker today, the band of velvet drawing attention to the arch of your throat. The gum chewing is loud, sloppy, wet as you lead a nervous looking middle aged woman to his door. Everything so careless. There is no grace or delicacy here. You bend to retie the undone lace of one boot. The skirt is really much too short for that.
Steve clears his throat and struggles to focus on the individual seeking work across from him. There’s a rip in your tights today that’s driving him mad. Just below the hem of your skirt. In a sea of other openings in that daring weave of material he doesn’t know why that one haunts him so much. He imagines shoving his thumb through it, squeezing your thigh.
The image will not leave his mind and he spends his lunch break that day with the solid wood door to his office locked and the blinds on his solitary window overlooking the parking lot securely sealed before he fucks into his fist until he spills over his hand thinking about you bent over for him.
***
The winter drags on, but Raglan doesn’t mind it much. It’s a welcome precursor to the long, arid stretch of summer months ahead.
It’s nearly Valentine's Day. Red and pink decorations adorn the reception area. Cardboard cutouts of hearts and roses and cupids with bows and arrows, the quivers adorned with lace. Someone in the office always decorates for every holiday. It seems like a lot of effort for very little reward. He’s never been one for festivities or celebrating. He interacts with his coworkers as little as possible. It’s not that he’s not good with people; he could hardly do this profession if he wasn’t. He’s very good at reading people. He knows how to be polite and charming and charismatic. He knows how to feign empathy to extract the information he needs when he’s placing these applicants, sifting past the drama and the sob stories to determine what their qualifications are. He’s not interested in excuses, only outcomes. That’s why his wall is covered in accolades acknowledging his accomplishments and achievements. He’s run out of room for them now. There are several still sitting unframed in one of his desk drawers.
So it’s not a lack of skill that drives a wedge between himself and other people; more like a lack of interest. Most people aren’t worth investing time in. You, though. You’ve certainly caught his attention. And he’s caught you staring more than once, lingering at his door when you have no reason to. He thinks you might be developing a little crush. A small smile here, a flutter of lashes there. There’s something there, dormant, waiting.
The middle aged career counselor has never been anything but polite to you. And you’ve been, well, yourself. So the weeks have passed and there’s been no advancement of any type, no progress in your relationship, workplace or otherwise. You still are the main attraction of his fantasies when he needs to rub one out. It’s shifted from a sporadic event to more of a daily one. He really needs to do something decisive about this one way or another.
So there’s this silly holiday now. A plethora of gift choices. A box of chocolates is what he decides on. Traditional. A classic. Heart shaped box. He’d arrived at the office before anyone else. A card with your name printed on it in capital letters. It doesn’t even remotely resemble his typical cursive. He sets the box beside the keyboard you sit at. It feels like baiting a trap.
Probably because that’s exactly what he’s doing.
***
The morning progresses like any other. You lead the clients in, one after the other. You’re wearing the ripped fishnets today. There’s a crushed red velvet cami beneath the sheer black blouse. Your nails are black with little red hearts on them.
A client has cancelled last minute. You’ve come to inform him. One of the other women who works in reception calls out to you as she passes by. “Did you find out who they’re from yet?” You shake your head. There’s a silver heart dripping from the black lace choker at your throat that swings with the movement.
“What’s that?” So casually inquired. He turns in his swivel chair slightly.
You shake your head again. Your cheeks flush. You’ve already told him about the client cancelling. Something that could have been done over the phone. Yet you’re still hovering by the open door.
“Someone left me a box of chocolates. No one recognizes the writing on the card.”
“You have a secret admirer then? How romantic.” His teeth flash in a grin.
“You don’t…you don’t know who’s written this, do you?” You walk to the desk. You smell like jasmine today. The card is tucked into the waistband of the skirt. No pockets. You hand it to the seated man. It’s warm from the heat of your body. It makes him want to do terrible things to you.
“Hmmm.” He hums thoughtfully. There’s still a smile struggling to break free again, his lips twitching. He’s enjoying this. Seeing you so disarmed. All of that clomping around in your heavy boots and shrouding yourself in your dark colors won’t shield you from him. He’ll access the young woman beneath all of that. “I might.”
“Really?” You reach for the card. He taps the edge against his lips and your fingers drop uncertainly. That rent in your tights makes his mouth water. You’re so close to him. Probably the closest you’ve ever stood.
“Supposing,” he begins, “since I now have a half hour free and it’s nearly lunch time, you take your break now and we discuss it?”
You stare at him. He lifts his brows, waiting for a response.
“Okay,” you murmur.
The trap closes, the bait taken.
***
Steve waits patiently while you go inform the office manager you’ll be taking your lunch now.
Once again you’re hesitating at his office threshold, as if halted by some invisible forcefield.
“Shut it behind you, please.” A click as it draws closed. The career counselor stands and walks towards it, turning the lock.
He sees you swallow, the choker straining against your throat. He’s much taller than you; taller than most people. He looks down and you look up and it matches the images he’s created when he thinks of you on your knees in front of him.
You lick your painted lips. “So, you think you know who it is?” Still trying to be casual. To make it seem like this is anything other than what it is about to become.
“I don’t think. I know.” The amusement is gone from his features. His pale eyes are going dark, the pupils expanding with desire.
“Oh. I thought you said…” Your voice trails off when his hand sits against the side of your neck, tucked beneath your hair. He pushes you and you easily stumble against the door.
“Have you really no idea?”
Your lips are parted. Wicked ruby against the pure white. Temptation. He hears you breathing more rapidly. Lets his fingers thread up into the hair at the back of your head to pull your face upwards. A gasp.
“Well? I’m waiting for your answer.”
“It’s you…”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you…we’ve barely spoken.”
“Not using words, maybe.” He inhales and exhales deeply. “Would you like to try some more of that…nonverbal communication?”
You nod against the hand still holding you.
His mouth presses against yours. He does not bother with gentle kisses or a soft introduction of lips. There is no time for that and he has waited long enough for this moment. His tongue spears your lips and he tastes you for the first time. You’ve snuck one of the chocolates he’d gifted recently. Bittersweet dark and cherry cordial. You moan against his mouth. He presses his body into yours, so you can feel what you do to him. How crazy you make him.
Steve abruptly pulls away, clutching one of your hands and dragging you towards the desk. He sinks back into the chair and tossed his glasses on the desk before be finally surrenders to what he’s wanted to do for so long, pushing a thumb inside that inviting gape in your hosiery. His other hand disappears under your slit maxi skirt, wedging between your thighs, eliciting another whimper.
“Normally I am all for foreplay and drawing things out, but today is simply not going to be one of those days since we’re both on the clock, as it were.” Both hands now clutch the waistband of your tights and panties and he drags them down roughly until they rest rumpled somewhere around your knees. He thinks he’s made a least one new rent in those tights; at the very least made the previous opening even wider. Pretty soon they will be too indecent to wear in public at all. “Bend over,” he rasps, and you obey, resting your upper body on his desk. The wheels of the chair roll across the plastic mat shielding the carpet and he runs a hand over the curve of each cheek appreciatively. “Stance a little broader,” he urges, fingers dipping between your thighs to stroke along your sex. Another soft moan as your spread your legs further apart. His thumbs dig into your flesh as he separates your cheeks and drives his tongue inside of you.
The noise of pleasure that escapes is anything but soft this time and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle it. Steve pauses for a few heartbeats to see if anyone will come knocking. Apparently satisfied this is not the case, he begins eating you out in earnest. He loved eating pussy and yours is a particularly delicious specimen. He can still taste the remnants of soap from your shower that morning. Your own flavor, musky yet feminine. He could happily spend the half hour just like this, but he wants to fuck you and that’s exactly what he does next, standing up and unfastening his belt. Fly opened quickly and his cock pulled free. Rests it against one cheek. Breathing ragged. He makes sure you’re still muffling your voice before he eases into you. There’s a lot to take. You’re not going to be able to keep quiet.
As predicted you whine. The brace of fingers over your lips have slipped a bit. “So fucking tight. I love this wet pussy.” He pushes a little further. Another keen. “You can take it.” The hand curled around your hip tightens. A final shove. “There you go. Good girl.” A snug fit around his cock. Sheer bliss. He withdraws and thrusts back inside, your body jerking across the desk. Steve’s sweating already, teeth gritted. It has been far, far too long since he’s been bottomed out in some hot cunt like yours. No more test runs. He begins fucking into you roughly. Shoves the hem of his dress shirt impatiently out of the way so he can watch his cock saw in and out of you. He wishes he was recording this. You looked so fucking good bent over his desk. The little mewling, keening noises you’re making are driving him insane. “You like that, huh? Answer me you little slut,” he growls.
“Yes,” you gasp.
“You’ve been teasing me for months now with those ripped tights and short skirts. Stomping around like a fucking whore.” He settles both hands on your hips and drags you back onto his prick as his hips snap forward. A sobbing sound somewhere between pain and pleasure. He’s being rough. He really doesn’t care. His fingers dig deep enough to leave bruises as he continues to pummel you. His eyes dart to the clock. The time is passing far too rapidly. He debates about filling up your womb right then. So tempted to breed you. But then there’s your mouth. Yes, that’s where he wants to dump his load today.
He pulls out and slumps back in the chair behind him. Sees you straighten gingerly. Sore already. You’re really going to feel that come morning. “Kneel down.”
The tights and panties are still gathered in a tangled bunch around your knees. He has to help you get into position. Your mascara has smeared. The carefully painted lips are smudged. They’re about to get even messier. His fingers knot in your hair, guiding your mouth to his cock. He heaves a sigh. Your mouth is as perfect as your pussy. He feels your lips stretching to take him in. Another tight, wet hole for him to squeeze into. But you’re still so tentative. He’s going to have to assist you.
Steve forces your head to remain still while he shoves himself against the border of your throat. You gurgle and choke and gag as he unrelentingly batters you several more times before being merciful enough to let you slide back off of him, coughing and gasping for air. Fresh runs of mascara stain your cheeks where the tears have leaked anew from the strain. Your nails dig into his thighs when your head bobs over him again. He lets you control the pace a bit, watching your lips and tongue work over the head and shaft. “Look at me.” Your eyes meet his. He grabs your head and greets the back of your throat again. “That’s it. Take that big cock down your throat. You love it, don’t you?” You whimper, attempting to answer.
He drags his saliva coated dick free and you struggle for more air. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Keep looking at me.” He sets the flushed tip against your moist pink tongue. Wraps his fingers around the shaft and strokes, pushing down on the muscular organ that’s cradling the head of his cock. Your eyes are locked with his. His breathing is labored. So close. His eyes narrow as he frowns. A moan tears loose and he shoots a stream of cum inside your mouth. You blink and struggle but he’s got you pinned in place. A few more creamy sprays paint your mouth. He wipes the edge of his cock off on your bottom lip. “Swallow every drop of that.” He jerks your head back a bit. You close your mouth and swallow, wincing over the taste. “Let me see.” You stick your tongue out again. Clean. “Good girl.”
The bearded man relaxes his grip in your hair. His eyes flick to the clock again. Made it with five minutes to spare. Just enough time for you to put yourself back together and wash up in the bathroom across the hall.
He helps you stand, easily pulling you to your feet. Clothes are shifted back into place. The tights are not as ruined as he’d anticipated. He’ll have to work on them some more another time. You depart his office without comment. He wipes his brow and sits back down at the desk. The card is still lying there, beside his glasses.
The workday continues. You usher in more clients. He finds them job placements. The office closes for the day.
Steve waits for you outside, leaning against your car—black, like everything else you own. He’s watched you from the window of his office exiting and entering it so he’s certain it belongs to you. His arms are folded. He sees your steps slow as you catch sight of him.
“I thought,” he begins. There are roses resting on the windshield. Dark purple. “We might have dinner together.”
You draw even with him.
“I don’t like to be rushed. It’s not how I do things.”
You nod, glancing at the flowers adorning your vehicle. The heart shaped box is clutched to your chest.
“Or would you like to continue where we left off?” He pushes off the car and leans against you, pinning you in place, your body resting crushed lightly between the steel and the social worker’s long, lean frame.
“Do I have to choose only one of those options?”
A smile. “Not at all.”
“Both,” you decide.
The grin widens. “Both it is. Happy Valentine’s Day.” He bends to kiss you.
#william afton x reader#william afton x you#steve raglan x reader#steve raglan x you#william afton smut#steve raglan smut#dividers credit @saradika-graphics
131 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you do a story where fem reader is having sex dreams about leon and she's so embarrassed to look or talk to him she gets so flustered around him
While they were taking a rest in abandoned cabin Leon hears fem reader dreaming about him
He finds it really arousing hearing her say his name in a desperate way like she wants him so bad
He ends up waking her up and she feels embarrassed but they end up having sex
(つ ͡ꈍ ͜ʖ̫ ͡ꈍ ) Ohohoho I like the way you think anon.
~ Waking Dreams ~
Read on AO3 🖤 Requests are Open 🖤 Masterlist
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Leon
Tags: NSFW, Sexsomnia, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Wet Dreams, slight dubcon/power dynamics, PWP
Word Count: 2.6K
The dreams started a week before the mission, and you hated it. You couldn’t close your eyes without seeing those glistening muscles or his hard, throbbing – nope don’t even think about it. Every night you woke up covered in sweat with your hand in your soaked sticky panties, stewing in feelings of shame.
This wasn’t right, Leon was your partner for Christ’s sake, and now you couldn’t even look him in the eye. Of course you had feelings for him, but you ignored them knowing it wasn’t professional to hit on or go out with your mission partner.
Not that your current behavior was that professional - sitting as far as possible from him during meetings, ducking out of rooms as fast as you could. It was worse when he did manage to get close enough to speak, you’d blush, stutter, and forget very basic things like how to hold a coffee mug causing the hot liquid to spill all over his desk. God you felt stupid.
You were just pent up from repressed feelings and a lack of getting laid. This would pass. Sure it would pass. This had to pass. At least that’s what you’d convinced yourself. You had it all planned out, you’d go to the bar with some friends, find a hot guy, fuck like a rabbit until the sun came up - then bam - it would be out of your system and everything would be back to normal. At least that was the plan until the chief announced that you and Leon would be going on a surprise mission to Spain.
“Are you ok?”
“What?”
“I said, are you ok? You’ve been acting weird, are you sure you’re up for the mission?”
“Yeah Leon, everything is fine.”
If there’s one thing you were glad for it’s that Leon was painfully awkward at social interactions. Everyone in the world knew you had a crush on Leon, except Leon. You were lucky he thought something was wrong instead of putting the obvious together.
The mission was off to a rough start. No one had warned either of you about the infected villagers which seemed to be everywhere. Eventually, after fending off what felt like hundreds of them, the two of you were able to rest in an old cabin you’d found.
Inquisitively you turned the knob on the sink and running water came out. “Hey, I’m going to check if the water works in the bathroom as well.” Leon nodded at you dismissively, as he checked over his weapons. Relief washed over you when the dingy shower worked. It wasn’t the best bathing experience you’d ever had, but it felt great to get the sweat and grime off of your body. Once you were dried and back into your clothes, minus the tactical gear, you kept watch while Leon took his chance to clean up.
When he was done you both sat at the wooden table in the center. “We should probably try to get some sleep.” He suggested. “I normally don’t like to stop moving but we both are more exhausted than we expected.”
You dreaded this suggestion for obvious reasons.
“No I’m okay, you can go ahead and sleep though.”
“We both need sleep, go lay down, I'll keep the first watch.”
“Leon, I just don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Look, I'm not going to lay down. So just stop–”
“First you spend all your time avoiding me and now you’re arguing with me? Mission partners or not I’m still your superior. Go. Lay. Down. That’s an order.” He snapped, pointing at the bed.
He’d never pulled rank like that before, in fact, he’d never been upset with you before either. You couldn’t argue so you did as you were told making your way to the bed before lying down, falling asleep quicker than expected due to sheer exhaustion.
Leon had decided to survey the outside of the cabin just to ensure you were really alone and safe, he figured he could pick and grind down some herbs while he was at it. There was not a person or thing to be found which gave him a brief sense of relief as well. As he was working to pluck red and green plants from the ground he heard your voice calling his name.
He approached the cabin slowly, worried you were in trouble, not wanting to startle any intruders he creaked the door open before sliding in. He scanned the room right to left, no one - so then why? Oh.
Leon watched you through the low light of the flames. You were still lying down, eyes shut softly with your right hand tucked under the pillow. Your left hand had worked its way into your pants, while you squirmed and moaned his name. “Please Leon, m’sorry for being bad, please let me cum….”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat. At first he thought perhaps you knew he’d stepped out and were pleasuring yourself. But to him? He dared to take a few steps forward and whispered your name. When you didn’t respond he got louder. Your sleeping form groaned and rolled over to the side, hand still stuffed in your bottoms - the noises and movement stopped though. That’s when Leon realized you’d been asleep.
He couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed so he opted to pretend he didn’t see it at all. Instead he focused on grinding the herbs down at the table with the pocket pestle. Though a few moments later he heard it again, the soft whimpering of his name. He dared his eyes to look up and sure enough you were back to it.
He watched as your hand struggled against the restrictive fabric of your tactical pants, the way your other hand slipped up your shirt fondling your own breast, eyes still peacefully closed. His cock twitched in his own pants at the display.
‘Well that explained a lot about her recent behavior.’ He thought to himself, he knew you’d been acting strange, but he never thought that might be why. In fact, when Hunnigan had mentioned you crushing on Leon he even brushed it off. Now he was thinking she may have been on to something.
He stood making his way over to the bed, not quite sure what he was going to do next. He wanted to touch you and he wanted to relieve the aching erection that was now at full attention in his own pants. Under different circumstances he would’ve thought this through more - what if you were just having a dream, it didn’t mean you really liked or wanted him - but every sweet moan of his name was like a hypnotist pulling someone under. Guess there was only one way to find out.
He reached down and gently brushed his fingers over your collar bone, dragging them down slightly. You stirred softly, he continued running his fingers down between your clothed breasts to where they met the skin of your belly before running them back up until he was touching your cheek.
The sensation on your face caused you to wake up a little, though still groggy. You made out a form hazily standing next to the bed. “Leon?” And then came the realization of your current predicament.
“Oh god I wasn’t… I didn’t… you didn’t” Your still sleep soaked brain couldn’t formulate the proper words to ask to explain anything as heat rose to your cheeks. You didn’t even have enough brainpower to think about pulling your hands out of their lewd positions.
Leon didn’t respond to your blabbering though, he leaned down close as he ran his hand down and placed it over the clothed hand in your pants. “Poor baby, you’re never going to satisfy yourself like that. Too restrictive, too empty.” He daringly undid the button and zipper of your tactical pants, giving your hand more space. “Want some help?”You didn’t respond, feeling a pang of heat go right to your pussy at his words. You’d never heard his voice sound so husky before either.
“I asked you a question.” He said, giving a light tap to your hand, causing it to rub against your clit, you jolted slightly from the sensation. “Do you want me to help you? It certainly sounded like you did.”
“Y-yes.” You moaned when he brought his hand lower to squeeze your thigh.
“Hmm, I don’t know. You haven’t been very nice to me recently, barely talking to me, running away from me, arguing with me. Maybe you don’t deserve my help.” He brought his lips down to place a kiss on your neck, sucking a soft bruise into your skin, chuckling when you squirmed. “How about we practice using our big girl words. Why don’t you say you’re sorry and try asking me really nicely, I might just be convinced.”
Your body was on fire and your clit throbbed, leaving you defeated to his whims. “Please Leon? I’m sorry for being bad, I’ll be good from now on, please just make me cum.”
“Good girl.” He cooed, capturing your lips with his, biting your bottom one as he pulled away letting it slip from between his teeth with a trail of saliva connecting you still. Leon reached down to pull your hand out of your pants and the other from your shirt. He tugged your pants and underwear down until they were just above your knees, restricting your leg movements. “Stay just like that for me, just for a moment.
He stood straight up making quick work of his own tactical gear, tossing them onto the kitchen table and kicking his boots off before crawling over you on the bed. He leaned forward to kiss you again, dragging one hand along your body until it reached your sopping wet pussy. He loved the way you whimpered into his mouth when he circled your clit with one of his fingers agonizingly slow, before dipping one finger into your hole.
“Shit baby, you’re so wet already just from a dream and a little heavy petting?” He sunk another finger inside while he worked at your clit with his thumb. “I bet that’s not the first time you’ve dreamt of me like that, is it?” He sped up his movements as he placed wet kisses along your jaw and neck. “C’mon baby, be honest. If you don’t I’ll stop” He curled his fingers inside of you against that special spot, leaving you breathless for a moment.
“No, please don’t stop . . . yes I’ve been having these dreams all week.” He liked your response, earning you the pleasure of him speeding up his thumb. The coiling heat in your core was wound up so tight you felt you could come undone any moment.
“All week? Oh no wonder you’ve been acting so strange. Got a crush on your partner huh? I bet you were picturing me bending you over my desk when you spilled that coffee, weren’t you?”
“Oh god yeah…Lee I’m gonna -”
“Go ahead baby, cum for me. Cum all over my fingers.”
The coil finally snapped as waves of pleasure rocked throughout your body, he kept his movements slow and steady working you through your orgasm. When he pulled his hand out, he gave a soft slap to your overstimulated clit, loving the whine you let out.
“No wonder you’ve been in such a bad mood. My poor sweet little partner is stuck dreaming about me every night, never satisfied. Tell me baby, are you satisfied now?”
Daringly you shook your head. “Please Lee, need more.”
“More? Bein’ greedy Sweetheart, but I’m in a generous mood. Tell me exactly what you want or I won’t be able to help.”
“Need to be stretched out around your cock - please.” You begged him, eyes focused on the bulge in his pants.
“Need my cock to make you feel better? How could I say no when you’re so sweet about it.” He moved to slide your pants and underwear completely off before helping you sit up, switching positions so he was the one lying down on the bed. “If you need it so badly, baby, then come get it.”
He didn’t have to tell you twice as you leaned forward, working off his belt and the buttons of his pants, tugging his underwear down slightly so you could free his throbbing erection. You had to admit the real Leon was far better than dream Leon. He was larger than you imagined and the tip was a pretty pink with pearls of precum leaking out.
Another time you’d love to know what it would taste like in your mouth - for now you were on a mission. You gave him a few pumps with your hand before crawling over him. You lined up the fat head of his cock before sinking down onto it, earning a moan from the man below you.
“Fuck baby, you are tight.” He reached out a hand and held your hip to help balance you. You let out a sigh of relief as the stinging stretch ebbed into a dull pleasure before you began to bounce up and down. With each movement the tip of him hit your cervix in a delightful mix of pain and pleasure.
“God Lee….so deep….you’re so deep…feels so good.” He brought his free hand up to place against your stomach intensifying the feeling. Each movement had you dripping all over him, he knew there’d be a wet spot left on his pants, but he didn’t really care at the moment. Your cunt felt too good to worry about anything right now.
“That’s right baby, ride me just like a good girl.”
You could already feel yourself getting close again each time he rubbed that special spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Your legs started to feel more and more like jelly the closer you were getting, losing your rhythm.
“Lee - can’t…much longer.”
“Shit, I’m close too, don't worry I got you.” He held your hips with both hands now and held you until you stopped your movements. He gave you a moment to relax before he thrusted upwards into you, using your hips as leverage. “Go head, touch yourself f’me.”
You rubbed your clit while he bucked into you, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he was close to his own high, each movement caused obscene squelching noises. A few more circles around your clit and you pussy clamped down on him as you tossed your head back, basking in the pleasure of your second orgasm. That’s all it took for Leon to snap, pulling your hips down onto him with a bruising grip as he shot hot cum into you, rocking you slightly while he rode out his own orgasm.
Once you had control of your consciousness again you rolled off of him to lay beside him on the outer side of the bed, needing to catch your breath. You both sat in silence for a while, just basking in the moment.
Leon was the first to speak. “So, how about once we get home I take you out to dinner and you can tell me more about these dreams you’ve been having?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Yeah I think I am. You wanna go on a date with me?”
“You know? I think I do, actually.”
“Great. Now get dressed and stand watch so I can take a nap.” He said pushing you gently out of the bed. You rolled your eyes and groaned before putting your pants back on, taking a seat at the table.
#Leon Kennedy x Reader#Leon Kennedy x You#Leon Kennedy x Y/N#Leon S Kennedy x Reader#Leon S Kennedy x You#Leon S Kennedy x Y/N#Leon Kennedy#Leon S Kennedy#Leon Scott Kennedy#Resident Evil#Resident Evil 4#Resident Evil 4 Remake#RE4R#RE4R Leon#Resident Evil Fanfiction#Fanfiction#x reader#fem!reader#female reader#reader insert#oneshot#Nexys#Requests#Requests are open#Ask#Anon
705 notes
·
View notes
Text
remember why you started
it can be so easy to start creating for others and stop doing it for yourself, but that's where it fucks up every time. there has to be a pure vein of creation just for creation's sake, for your own wild and weird indulgence in the things that caught your attention and stoked your passion. when you trade that for external praise, you begin to lose your natural love for the core experience, and it becomes work. you become obsessed with numbers, with interactions, your "place" among others and before you know it, some bullshit hierarchy has formed and all that matters is no one overtaking you, no one doing the things you were doing first because what if they do them better? what if people stop looking at what you're creating? what if you gave everything you had, and everybody leaves anyway?
create for yourself. create for YOU and you alone, in at least one area of your life. not for money, not for attention, not for validation. just one little piece of fertile earth preserved for your weird little universe of exploration and inspiration and delightful failures and unexpected brilliance.
of course it feels wonderful to have people praising your work, to have touched people in some small way, to be SOMEONE, but here's the thing. you already were someone. you were you. and this attention, this validation and praise and interaction... it never lasts. it can't last. everything passes. the only way to truly get people to stay longer than they would, is to give everything you have and more, to break yourself down into pieces and sell them off one by one, become a content machine, or worse, to become a person who steps on others to be taller. someone who polices what others create.
but none of it is real or lasting. tumblr isn't real. twitter isn't real. the cliques aren't real. of a hundred people you know in your fandom experience, three of them might be true friends.
what is real, and what lasts, is what you create.
that's what people will find in ten years time when scrolling AO3 at one AM after a horrible fucking day, if the internet hasn't gone down forever, and that is what touches people. not the things you made purely for validation or comments or popularity. the art you made for you. imagination through the lens of a person whose experiences have shaped them uniquely, beautiful and strange and unknowable to someone else who has not had that same life experience, yet there, available, open and inviting, would you like to feel something new?
so please, when you find yourself dedicating more time to your socials and the construct of your online persona than the actual thing you were creating that first set fire to your passion, think about this. if it won't matter in five years, don't give it more than 5 minutes.
when you find yourself thinking "if i write this, people will really love it and respond to it, it's what's popular right now, everyone's talking about it, this will get me back where i was before" my darling, no it won't. creating for the sole outcome of interaction and praise and attention is a waste of your beautiful energy.
i've made plenty of mistakes, i'm still making them as i go along, but i have never stopped creating for myself and i never will.
people will write the thing better than you, they WILL get more attention, comments, reblogs, impressions, likes, kudos, you'll never hold onto the height of it, because everything changes, everything passes and that's how it should be. passion is river; depriving your interests of momentum and variation will make it a stagnant pond. embrace the new, trust that it will feel good again in new ways and just keep creating what you love, for the one person who needs it most - you.
you make art for yourself first.
that's why you started.
you made the thing you couldn't find anywhere else, your way.
and THAT is what will last.
#writing fanfiction#fic writing#fandom is a fickle thing and i hate seeing people break themselves down over it#normalise writing flops out the gate and moving right onto the next#success is what happens when youre too busy to look for it
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part iii
tags: angst, fluff, arguments, period typical misogyny (of course not from obi wan), just overall wealthy pricks being little shits, the trope of THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but not really, do you believe in second chances (i don't) (💀), little smut compared to the rest because originally there was no smut in this (but i HAD TO use that idea), REPOST because i fucked up in the first place
a/n: welcome back for the finale!
well, i can't think of anything to say except this has been a blast for me, and i'm so happy that there are those who enjoys this madness as much as i do. hope you like the ending too. thank you all!
likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can’t wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.
part one | part two | part three
enjoy!!!
word count: 8.3K
chapter three: fuck it it's fine!
You don’t board that ship. A slight sickness you excuse, then spend your days sulking at home, still covered by the expanse of your lies. It is not totally untrue, though. You did really wake up with a swollen throat, and that put the integrity of your health during the journey at risk, thus with great grief, canceled the plans. Nobody knew that you’d not even mention the symptom on any other day, just requesting some honey tea and hardly noticing it disappear in the morrow. And it exactly worked out as predicted, more so, without leaving its discomfort for remorse. But after that, the hours stretched out each day, like you were living in a different plane where you were not welcomed. Perhaps you actually weren’t, for if you followed your fate, you’d be eating different foods, and walking foreign corridors. In an attempt to run away from that feeling, you try to socialize just a little, attending even the most dull tea parties. Also, your preference of company has to be specialized now, and that proves difficult sometimes.
So, that’s exactly why you indeed sulk at home, even though all your efforts.
But not tonight.
Then again, perhaps you should've.
His presence has nothing to do with it, to be perfectly clear. On the contrary, he makes it a little endurable. The forced small talk and empty eyes you once feared dearly are not the case, even after your last encounter. Of course, there's a little awkwardness, an uncertainty about where the line of intimacy now stands, shadows of anger and disappointment still darkening the atmosphere, but the overall sensation comes down to longing. You both lost a great friendship, cast it aside in a blink, but your souls don't accept this new arrangement that quickly, trying to fall into the familiar rhythm once more each time you feel your walls break. You don't allow it, neither does he. Yet, it is about the only thing that turns this night into a not complete waste of time. Even a pleasant one, you'd dare say.
If it weren't for literally everything else except this.
The hushed little uninformed jokes start during the dinner. It is the lord of the house that says them, to his close circle, barely hanging onto etiquette he had glimpses of. As minutes tick and glasses of wine roll, that glimpse is gone, and even in your seat at the end of the table, you hear him clearly. The pressed lips and masked mimics pretending not to be aware of it soon become apparent on every face, excluding you and Lord Kenobi. You glower the first time another of the guests feels confident enough to make his dirty contribution to the subject. Typical, you try to stay calm, tapping your fingers on the table. The world is filled with the likes of him, and the last thing they deserve is your attention. The reflex doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he sends a sympathetic smile, showing that you’re not alone and accepting this invitation was a most regretful choice. He uses a few retorts to close the deal, let the dinner continue in different matters- or in silence, that would be fantastic indeed, but his smart wit and slight intimidation work only for a couple of minutes. Now it’s your turn to reflect that sad smile, and you do.
The sadness doesn’t come from the circumstances around you all, though. Your heart feels heavy, for not trying better ways to handle that morning. That guilt will haunt you, drag you into the gloomy pit you’ve been in, and maybe, you should stay there for some time, a penance for your mistakes.
After dinner, when the ladies and gentlemen huddle around different interests, you get a chance to cool off. The soft peals of laughter and giggles fill the room, a much more pleasant sound than the roar of men. You get to entertain others with your stories of other cities you’ve been to, and they tell their interesting incidents, and make fun of their husbands, people who deserve, as their commotion spills out of the walls. The topic of their conversation, marriage, diffuses out into your circle in such a way, that once again, you’re restraining yourself, trying to listen to the problems one of the ladies is complaining of, and not to hear the crude comments going on on the other side. You’re stopped from rushing out of your armchair simply out of respect you have for the woman speaking when you pick up your name passing in their remarks. Plus, Kenobi’s words, you don’t flatter me by offending the lady, reach every ear in the room, sharper than a knife. Your cheeks burn with anger, then with gratitude, and at last, out of embarrassment, because how are you going to explain he’s just doing an honorable thing, that it’s his character to defy ill minds when he sees one, and this has little to do with his “pursuit” of you? Your breaths are shallow and quick as you focus on the discourse, and dodge every attempt to pull the subject towards your relations.
Though, the snake doesn’t give up on eating, even his own tail, it seems.
In less than half an hour, a joke about abduction is whispered, and you surge from your armchair, the screeching sound echoing. You murmur what resembles to be an excuse (you’re still deciding whether they are worthy of one), and send one glaring gaze at the group, enough to make one flinch, and walk out.
Out of the entire house.
Lucky for you, this is a night in which you carpooled with another guest, meaning you only have your own feet to carry you away in this pouring rain.
But of course, that’s not enough to deter you.
You take big steps, enforced by your fury. Thus, the house leaves your sight in no time, but not their audacity, still ringing in your ears. Implications about your freedom. Complaints of wive-hood. Humor about how perfectly reasonable is to get rich, by kidnapping a young woman… (Honestly, after all that, you don’t have mercy for them of the panic they might experience when they realize their guest is not refreshing in another room, and have left the estate altogether. Alas, that guest is you.) You string curses at them, the only form of thinking you have in regard, and feel the bulk of emotions resonate with every stomp, even spilling out of your tear ducts. Your dampening body, and the length of the road don’t make it any easier, feeding your frustration. Your only anchor is your self worth, the reason you began this path in the first place, and you desperately hope it will turn the tide in a while.
Though now, the picture you paint with those foul words and wet clothes isn’t exactly the brightest.
It is still among these moods, that Obi Wan catches up to you. You’re not exactly surprised to see him, his carriage closing the twenty minute distance you put between yourself and that damned house with a speed that you think can’t be that good for the horses in the long run. They stop abruptly at your side, and you have all those insults readied if it turns out to be that fucked up man or polite declines if it is indeed Obi Wan.
But, you can’t speak them. The world feels like it freezes, the raindrops slowing down, and carrying away your burdens as they fall to the soil. The small door opens, and Obi Wan rushes out of it, with an expression that is so honest and raw. His fright vanishes at the sight of you, that scared gaze dissolving, eyebrows relaxing… You can actually see his lips move, Thank God. He is totally undisturbed by the downpour, already making his strands stick to his forehead. His hands find yours, and pull you close, almost like an embrace. You look into his eyes, how focused they are on you, as if they could burn you from the inside with their intensity. You have an undeniable urge to kiss him right now, and that has nothing to do with lust, but your wish to undo the last couple of weeks, uphold that strong connection once the two you had. Of course, you don’t, you can’t, thus, you let him lead you inside, and continue towards whatever destination.
Funny, how you feel much calmer doing the thing you thought you wouldn’t. Moreso, you have no woes about it either.
The silence is deafening, but nobody dares to open their mouth, the greatness of the storm of emotions you both are having too heavy on your tongues. He puts his less soggy jacket around your shoulders, you welcome it with a nod. That’s the moment you realize the redness on his knuckles. It’s not hard to guess the scene, and that has your head turned to the floor, processing the entire night. It is also at this moment that you become aware of your fresh tears, still sliding over your cheeks. Even if he notices them, he doesn’t do a thing about it, an indifference you’re grateful for. He just looks out of the window, and contemplates, same as you.
===
The tub filled with hot water doesn’t make you any wetter, but it helps with the temperature. You’re sorry that you exhausted the owners of the inn you had to stay in, (for it was getting impossible to travel in that rain) with this request, but a voice tells you that Obi Wan wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re unbelievably silent as he sorts it all out, staying in your bubble, unintentionally playing the part of the damsel in distress. You listen to his list of requests, for the horses, for three rooms (the best reserved for the lady, he insists), a tub to be prepared for you, and some tea-
“No need.” Your voice is weak, but it is clear. He would’ve protested this answer, but it is the first time you’ve talked after leaving the house, how ironic, and the realization sets deep in both of you. After that, you feel the words pile up on your tongue, but in a blink, you find yourself in a room. Alone.
“So sorry, I thought they gave me this room.” He stands at the door, holding it half open, face turned in the opposite direction.
“Obi Wan.” His gaze hesitantly finds your way again. God, he’s about to kill you with that blues… “Can we talk for a second?”
You name yourself a hypocrite for asking that, in this state, but you can’t breathe with all that untold things if you spend another second without explaining yourself to him, and apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused. And, isn’t this already proof of the trust you have for him, how vulnerable you can be in his presence?
And, there’s nothing he’s not seen before, after all.
He gingerly closes the door, locking it in a swift motion, and makes his way to you. You pull yourself together, and reach for his hand for him to help you out.
“No, stay. Your fingers are still cold.”
You can’t hide the small smile forming on your face as you settle back, careful to keep most of your body underwater. He, ever noble, keeps his eyes straight on your face, which somehow doesn’t help. There’s something about his rolled-up sleeves, the matching three-piece suit down to two for the damp jacket sits behind the chair in your back against the fireplace. His hair is drying up in all defiant shapes, and you have to stop imagining that morning he woke up next to you.
“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I- I never intended to cause this big of a mess, and make someone clean up after me. Certainly, not you, of all people. You shouldn’t have tired yourself this much, and I’m sorry for it.”
“You can’t expect me to do nothing.” The sentence begs for a dear to be added in the end, and he has to fight his throat to silence himself. Instead, there’s a kind tug at the corners of his lips.
“You’re right.” You nod. “But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to get out, I just couldn’t sit there pretend I didn’t hear all those nasty comments.”
His fist clenches at the reminder, and you once again spot the bruises settling in on his knuckles, filling with the desire to mention them, but you inevitably decide not to. “That asshole-“
”He was obnoxious since the first hour, and loud, but that doesn't scare me, for thus he has proven himself to be just a foul mouthed man. But, that title started not to cover the extent of it- it was too much and I couldn’t take it anymore. You may say it was obvious from the start, but I tried my best to not evolve this into a thing I would regret afterward. And I succeeded.”
“So you don't even regret ever setting foot in that house?”
A tinge of disgust seizes your face, but only for a moment. Even with all those words echoing in your ear, you don't have hatred in your heart, or any remorse. You're not so quite sure about its reason, nor do you wish to be, avoiding all analysis. Like you don't know the basics already. But the sudden change in your expression tells everything. “I don’t think I can ever regret it. At least, not in its entirety.” You say, hugging your knees and lowering your head. Hot steam no longer hits your skin, you realize in your attempts of distraction.
There's a second of silence in the room, despite the thunderstorm raging outside. You are as cold as in the beginning because of it, and you almost contemplate how good of an idea this conversation was, especially under these circumstances.
“I’d say the same.” Obi Wan speaks, and that's when goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes meet his, then flutter away quickly, overwhelmed. Does he mean-
Why is him meaning that any different than yours, huh? Why is it any worse when he says it?
“You should get out of there.” He reaches for a towel, and you shyly stand up, turning your back and pressing your arms around yourself. Nothing he hasn't seen before, right? As the coarse fabric is draped around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel afire, the imprint of his hand around your shoulders for a second lingering way more than it should, creating a tingling sensation.
“Thank you.”
“Well, I must return to my room now.” He folds his hands together, like trying to preserve where they’ve touched, and his eyes still stay respectfully up, causing your heart to lose its rhythm. There has never been a scenario that involved nakedness without… sexual intentions, and clearly, it’s not even crossing your minds right now. Your awareness of it takes up all the space in your mind, tosses every other idea out, and leaves you at the mercy of your soul.
“Obi Wan.” Fuck, the way you call his name, it is bound to weaken him every time. “Can you-” Oh, haven't you demanded enough from him? “I- I would like it if you stayed.”
His mouth hangs open for a second, with a subtle sharp inhale. His fingers tighten around each other, then relax all together, hanging free by his side. “Of course.” For all the words that come to his lips, it’s a most simple answer.
Not that you have any complaints.
You’re filled with another kind of thrill, being this open with your wishes, but having no clue whether they’ll take the night, having no clue where you want the night to go, or how to act in this very moment, half covered. You just know that you prefer him, being in the same chamber as you. You’d prefer to listen to his idle talk or slow breaths, than the silence of the room. You’d prefer him to snore in your bed than to picture him in his own, lying awake. (Because let’s face it, it’d take a while for him to surrender to sleep, if left to his own devices.)
He takes a step towards the armchair, unbuttoning his vest and you come back to your senses, stepping out of the tub in the opposite direction, towards the nightgown the innkeeper gracefully lent to you. It’s slightly large for your body, definitely not tailored for someone close to your size, but if Obi Wan ever heard you commenting on the fact, he’d wholeheartedly claim you still looked like an angel. Since you don’t, he doesn’t too, but it’s obvious in the way he takes in your form, a battle of excess fabric against your movements. He has to bury a groan when your sleeve falls down your shoulder, a simple accident. He knows that shouldn’t have been seen by him, or you didn’t do it on purpose, that tonight is not meant for those activities, and it shouldn’t get him so bothered up, but it fucking does. Does it also make him want to slap himself? Yes.
Walking near the fireplace, you wring the excess water from your hair and run your fingers through the strands before rubbing that towel aggressively, for the fact that it is already soggy enough, and is not gonna do much. You despise sleeping with wet hair, it is an invitation for you to get sick, not to mention that you’ll be sharing the bed, leaving frustrating streaks of wetness on the sheets for them.
“Hey, hey, let me help you.” Is he a little bit scared? The answer is another yes. But he’s not gonna stand there and watch you fight with your hair. He takes the fabric, locating the most usable spots, and slowly massages your strands with them. Objectively, it’s not a lot different in terms of overall results, but it does more than that anyway. Despite the forbidden intimacy, despite the question of “How is he so good at it?”, you’re lulled by the constant movements, the tension in your muscles easing off. He keeps you by the fire longer than you would’ve stayed, and that achievement belongs solely to him. Frankly, he too is not sure how long the two of you could stand like that, or put an end to it. All that matters is that your hair is pleasantly damp, less bothersome, and he did that.
To be honest, with each minute he is in your presence; the task of holding onto his manners, respecting his broken heart, and following your lead is getting harder to manage.
“Thank you.” You murmur, eyelids barely held open, and he feels like a juggler, suddenly losing his sense of balance, and dropping one of his props.
“You’re welcome.” Perhaps he was the one to thank, for the pleasure. That’s the second prop, falling down.
Still, it’s obvious how that sentence misses a darling thrown out after it.
You climb the bed, and he follows suit. You both favor the edges of the mattress, and there’s a ridiculous distance between both of your bodies, but you’re both too timid to use it, even at the risk of tumbling down.
Only after the urge to find a better position kicks in that you move, and end up just a little closer, face turned to his side.
He’s already turned to you, eyes closed but definitely not trying to sleep, or relax if nothing. He opens them of course, after you rustled the sheets that hard.
“What if I get sick tomorrow?” Admittedly, that’s a silly question, but the scenario occupies your mind. All the elemental factors are present, and you only have a formal dress on your back. Also, the fact that it would be all your fault, yet you are the one to complain? You hate yourself for saying it out loud.
“Then we would stay ‘til you got better.” His point-of-fact words, softened with his bedtime voice, must be annoying. Must be. It is not. It is the raw truth, straight from his core. You won’t disrespect it, (again). “I would take care of you.”
(Doesn’t he, always?)
A shiver runs down your spine.
(He’d name this place heaven, if it allowed you two to stay together a little longer.)
“Obi Wan.” Whispering, trying your best to break that ugly silence, not to crush under the weight of his words, but more importantly to let him know your truths, the alignment of your soul. “I- I never told you how much I appreciated you. Now just today, but especially today.”
He’s trying so hard not to sound rude, or leave you unanswered, but none of them are good enough. Thankfully, you are not expecting one. Your fingers ghost over his knuckles, afraid to hurt him. he’s not even sure you’re doing that, ‘til you hunch over, and press a small kiss over them.
That’s all the acknowledgment he needs, ever. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, obviously, but the situation didn’t require gentleman-cy, too. He has no recollection of how his fist ended up in that man’s eye, except for the exact second it happened, feeling his shirt slide from his other hand as the impact sizzled through his bones, and sent the man to the floor. He found himself in the middle of saying God knows what- he still doesn’t have a single clue, and thinks about the possibility of how they’ll resonate, ‘til it reaches his ears once again.
Though, he has no fear regarding that, or the altercation before it. Nor regret.
“I am honored that our names are spoken together, a testament of our likeness.”
The third prop.
It falls, most obviously, but he doesn’t show it. Not under these circumstances. No matter how you try to avoid the subject of love, or a future, he’s burning for it, burning for you. In that moment, it is settled that it’ll always be that way, forever. You’re absolutely crushing his heart, and maybe even crush yours in the process (for which reasons, he’s never sure), regardless of your intentions pointing otherwise, because he knows you’re pushing through your struggles to speak up, select the appropriate expressions, to honor your past. He’s touched by your effort, as well as your words, oh, your words… This is the only compliment he’ll ever accept, and it’s not even meant to be a compliment. Your voice is already etched into his brain, and there will not go a single day he’s not reminiscing about it.
Thus, with such strong emotions, his every muscle twitched with the desire to pull you closer, wrap his arm around your waist, card his fingers through your cool hair as your lips meet. He wants to kiss you slowly, savor your taste and caress your tongue with his, for the sole purpose of being close to you. You, throwing one leg over him… You, falling asleep in his arms as he gets to bathe in your enchanting scent… The feeling of your warm breath against his neck as you take refuge in there… He’s surprised he doesn’t have to chain himself not to act on any of these images.
(Oh, it very much feels like he has done that anyway)
Yet, it is probably the worst night to do so. It has all been too much, and all this on top of that is a recipe for disaster. A disaster he’s been struck with nonetheless, though, perhaps he can spare you from.
When it comes to you, he has always put his heart before his mind, (but never disregarding the latter part. It is the essential element to keep both of you safe, to never compromise your social statuses, to create the optimum atmosphere for your relationship to flourish (by your own unusual standards)). For the first time, he’s not following that code. Even he can’t imagine the consequences if he doesn’t.
You’re glad that nothing has changed. No response from him, no action. His relaxed expression tells you enough; the calmness of his eyes, his slow breaths and the slight curve of his lips… To be honest, you’re relieved to see your words reach their destination but also set with the urge to prove them. To press down your mouth on his, from which you hope for an answer; to hold his hand without causing any discomfort, or simply hug him for a second, eliminating all space between your bodies like your souls.
Alas, the role of the hypocrite is a part you no longer wish to play, and you’re perfectly willing to hurt yourself by not succumbing to your wishes, and refrain him from further confusion.
“Good night, Obi Wan.” You say, fingers grazing over his for the last time, and curl yourself into a ball.
“Good night, my dearest.”
===
The morning is unlike the previous example.
You wake up to him getting up, so there’s no way for you to know if your bodies drifted closer during the night, but considering the position of your arm, extended way beyond the middle, it is quite possible to assume some physical contact was present.
Considering you two are not facing each other, thus acknowledgment of the situation is not a matter, your embarrassment is half of what it should be.
Though, your cheeks burn brighter each second you can’t peel your eyes off of him, filling up the rest of that cup. Watching him walk around, the movement of each chiseled muscle on his back as he puts his shirt and trousers on quickly highlights another impropriety. He is perfection, even in that drowsy state of the human condition, there’s harmony to his every motion, the slow steps he takes, the way the fabric glides against his skin, the subtle fine arrangements of his fingers to make sure it looks decent, even how he breathes causes him to blend into the room, but also bedazzle it in his grace, make him stand out like a crown jewel, a masterpiece of arts that name the place.
You can only stop your ogling once he leans in and stirs the flames, which were already going strong since they were last fed before you went to sleep- wait, that doesn’t seem possible, did he actually sever his sleep to tend to it?
Is there any other explanation you need?
Your heart may flutter out of your chest after this realization, so you skirt out of the blankets. Of course, the sound draws his attention, and you’re caught, forced to react.
Yet, the unstoppable smile forming on his lips inspires a similar response on yours so easily, so naturally that you don’t feel obligated at all. On the quite contrary, that simple mimic banishes any pretense, showering you with reassurance and bravery, the motivation to act on your own true terms, not society’s or the ones you pressured onto yourself.
“Good morning.” The simultaneous greeting pulls a giggle from both of you, and it is all so small, yet so much. You sway away from his direction, casually reaching for your clothes, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor of your legs when you shed the nightwear and put the chemise on. Because you know, he’s watching you. Divine justice, perhaps.
“Be careful, Obi Wan, I might start to think you enjoy watching me get dressed too much.” The snarky comment, fighting its way out of your mouth further softens the atmosphere, and it is like the first days of spring after a harsh winter, soothing your souls with relief.
“Guilty as charged.”
You shake your head, consumed by his usual forward banter. A scene taken straight out of your past. You shimmy into your dress instead of coming up with a cleverer response.
“You don’t sound sick.” He says, indicating that he’s been paying attention.
Biting your lip, you turn away. “Actually…”
“Is there something wrong?” He ends up right beside you in a blink, as if the world changed by your unfinished sentence.
Your heart picks up a different rhythm, hands raised in position to tie your ribbon but frozen. “It’s nothing, my throat just feels-”
“Do you want me to call a doctor?”
That was the exact reason why you started with it’s nothing. Alas… “No, it’s probably just my overthinking and coming up with strange sensations.” And if not, it depends on how well you spend tonight, so there’s not much room for intervention. Definitely not in medical terms.
“Pity.” His comment makes you scoff. After that, you can’t reward him with your concerns, can you? It is funny, ugh.
“Let me help.”
Your heart can’t get any rest as the tension simply changes garbs, his fingers trailing over yours and leading a 180° turn, leaving a blazing line along your skin, to tie the ends of your ribbon together. Your arms tentatively fall to your sides, not sure what to do with their freedom. His breaths lick your neck while he attentively, slowly smooths his creation, and you’d probably freak out if you weren’t so focused on the sheer range of his skills.
(Also the mystery of how he comes to acquire it, but it’s only the deep, dark parts of your mind speaking. Moreover, you do not pride yourself in a position to be jealous. You absolutely are, on that tiny level, and no, you’ll never admit it.)
Though, you’re not gonna comment on that, not when your heart threatens to fly out of its cage. The sacredness of the action brings back the echoes of your concerns, not a single one strong enough to overtake you, but the cacophony of them loud enough to occupy the entirety of your capacity.
All that talk of past times… Coupled with a little hesitancy, and how the tables turn…
“T- thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Like he just didn’t flip the dynamic, he carries on with his outfit, tying his cravat. His beautiful hands work expertly, effortlessly, and the result is perfect, even without a mirror, eyes on you the entire time.
“Is it looking fine?”
“Yes.” You meekly answer. It is decent, like he always is. Somehow witnessing that feels as sensual as the previous scene, pulling you further down the whirlpool.
Embarrassed enough already, you busy yourself with your hair, accepting the mess that it is, and decide on a simple bun, as much as possible. The practiced moves bring you some sense of calmness and control, even if the result isn’t perfect. The silence helps too, along with his occupancy of tidying up the room.
“Do you want to have some breakfast?” He asks. God, how does he still sound that cheery?
“No, thank you.” You don’t want to keep your father worrying any longer, and it’s not like you’re going to faint. The memory of your last food in the most unpleasant company is still strong enough to expel any thought of hunger.
That answer may be the clearest thought you’ve ever had this morning, yet it is the one that whispers doubt into his heart. You are silent, turned away from him, and far too engrossed in whatever unnecessary thing you’re doing. Because now, he fears that if the two of you leave this room, this building, all your lives in it will be a part of the history, never to be repeated or worse, mentioned again, lost in the torn pages. The joke about residing here for however long- seems awfully bitter, perfectly demonstrating he’d rather hold on to the possibility than put an end to this.
How could that be love?
Perhaps you were right, accusing him of madness.
That’s the only reason he walks out of the room to prepare the carriages, instead of cocooning the both of you in.
===
“Father!” You wrap your arms around him, who’s standing by the main entrance to your estate, waiting anxiously. He does the same, unaffected by the eyes that watch, the staff, and a mere acquaintance, Lord Kenobi.
Now Obi Wan knows who you got your bravery from.
He stands quietly, hands folded in front of him, not sure what to do but damn sure not to leave. He had plenty of time to think about his madness on the road, and decided it was not anything pathological- it was pure love and desperation for you. Isn’t that the nature of most of your meet-ups? Consoling each other in the positively dreadful situations, and utilizing everything to spend a second more together?
He hears you reassuring him of your well-being, and summarize the thing in pretty understated phrases. Even that makes him stutter over his words in a fit of rage. Obi Wan agrees. You distract him by speaking of the help you’ve gotten from a valiant friend, and that’s how he enters the conversation.
“Good morning, Sir.”
How he keeps it all cool, sharing and shaping his anger, silencing any doubt that may arise in him is a surprise, though he’s called a great negotiator for a reason, right? His work in various cases in court has earned him the title. He’s not overtly a fan of flaunting it. Though, it helps him a great deal in this instance.
At least, enough to have a pleasant exchange in these unpleasant circumstances, and secure permission to talk to you again.
Alone.
It is weird enough as it is already, you and him spending the night at some inn, him casually chatting with your father like his clothes haven’t benefitted from the merits of ironing, not to mention his hair being on the wild side after a slight treatment of rain, and now he is requesting your attention? Not only yours, but your father’s too in extent?
His plans have never been so crystal clear.
“No.” You declare your objection so clearly, in one word as the door closes behind him, giving you the privacy of the room. “No, no, no, no.”
“I haven’t even opened my mouth!” He objects, though it is more of a principal thing, than an actual defense. He knows you’ve worked it all out already. God, could he expect anything less from you? Your watery eyes and trembling hands break his heart into a million pieces, reactions so strong even before he has a chance to utter their cause. He caresses his beard, reevaluating if he should continue-
He can’t live with the consequences if he dares not. He can’t live with what-ifs, or not knowing the reason why you are so repulsed by the idea or would you still feel the same, if he told you about his love for you. Of course, that would require some magic, considering the magnitude and intricacy of it. How is he supposed to put the purest feelings he’s ever had to mere words, the origin of the butterflies caged up in his chest, the wires of his brain getting tangled up whenever you’re not around, and the constant intoxication from the strongest liquor he’s ever consumed? He’d rather die than sober up, and a part of him already recognizes that it’s not a possibility. It is his poison and antidote. There’s not a moment that passes without either of them.
And surely, he has no complaints about it. Never will. It is a brave choice, but what’s braver is this moment.
“No.” You repeat, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Your voice is low albeit steady, as much as it can be.
Because you do not lift your eyes to meet him. “You can’t propose to me, because I can’t refuse it. But I will. Then the whole country will wonder what is so wrong with you, and me, and they will talk about it all the time, for years to come. The whispers will be the first thing that you hear in every room you enter, and you’ll see the mischievous glint in the eyes of every person you meet, them scrutinizing whether those rumors are true. Our reputations will be tarnished forever, and we will hate each other for it.” And you can’t stand that.
You don’t sound like this is the first time you’re putting these words together. In all your distressed state, you sound awfully logical in your own way, so focused on one improbable, insane possibility (damn those reputations, he can never hate you), but devising every little detail.
“Why?” He basically hollers, running a hand through his hair. Why does that potential is the one you envision? “Why can’t you marry me?”
One can only dream that someone outside isn’t listening.
“Because- I don’t know!” You take a desperate step closer, showing him your honesty. You truly can’t quite name your aversions, and isn’t that already enough of a reason to stay away, spare the person you’re facing? “I don’t know how to be a wife! And I am scared. All my life I alienated myself from the idea of a marriage, I methodically dismissed every chance claiming it wasn’t the time, all the way ‘til I would say it was too late. I was content with that idea. Because I love- loved my life the way it is; I get more than I need from my father, and that is to remain unchanged when my brother takes over, and I am free as a bird, unbound by society’s expectations, traveling wherever, wherever and trying new things. I was, I am so happy about it that anything that may alter it I shun from immediately. And now I find myself in a place I never imagined, and I am scared. I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what that future looks like for us.”
He moves towards you, his head tilted sideways in understanding, arms reaching for yours. Finally, finally hearing your justifications, the basis of your attitude, fills him with pride and compassion, and most importantly, gives him an opportunity to help you solve those problems, together. But, you hush him, squeezing his wrists in gentle guidance, with tears streaking across your cheeks. “I just know that I love you. I love you so much that my heart will always feel like a weight in my chest when I’m not with you, like a ship sinking, but never reaching the bottom. And I will continue to love you even if you stop loving me back, but I would rather lose you on my terms than by the burdens a marriage brings.”
“Why do you so believe that a mere contract would change my feelings? Do you think my affections for you are that fragile?”
You frantically shake your head, causing the drops to fall faster. “No, I’m not saying that-“
“Then what?” He snaps, though not because he’s angry. He wants to learn every single reason that’s keeping you away.
“You don’t know what that will do to us.”
“No, I don’t! And I don’t care! It will never change my feelings.” This, he can shout freely. This is the simplest truth for all his remaining days on this earth.
You don’t know that, you want to object. “Obi Wan…” Is the response that comes out of your mouth. “I am not a good bride.”
“No.”There’s acceptance in his tone, a punch to your guts. “You’re the love of life, my companion, my everything.” When he pulls you even closer, and cups your cheeks, you let him. “Haven’t we been through all the struggles a couple could share already? Haven’t I seen all of you, and let you see all of me? Haven’t you claimed my entire soul, and occupied my every single thought? You made me break my rules, and painted a picture I never thought was suited for me- and I came to like that picture very much. In fact, it’s all I ever want my future to look like, with you in it. You, exactly in the way you already are, with all your unsusceptibility to the norms and striking habits. I know that can be scary. I am afraid too. But, anything worth doing starts like this, I know it. And we’ll be the biggest idiots in the world if we let our fear rule us.”
You can’t help but laugh a little, the joyful sound making his breath hitch. It is reflected on his face too, and it is something you’ll hold on to, alongside the tears that begin to form on his eyes. Fortunately, they sit there, despite him kneeling in front of you, his fingers never leaving the bend of your arm, only to follow the route they create, and hold onto both of your hands. “Please, marry me.”
You’re convinced, but your tongue is still tied, so you nod. Your entire upper body shakes with the gesture in seconds, making you look like an overexcited child, on the verge of losing their balance with the restlessness of their legs. You barely feel him kissing your knuckles before he stands up and embraces you, stabilizing both of you in both physical and emotional terms. Let’s be real, if he kissed you instead as he desperately wished to, you’d fall on the floor (and continue there- ‘til somebody discovered the two of you in very indecent terms). His chuckles quickly become your favorite song, you feel blessed as they delight your ears, and make your chest vibrate like his. He revels in the newfound proximity, despite the fact that you’ve been much, much closer in the past. This is new. This is raw love, uncombined with other emotions, strengthened by the absolute truth that you two are meant for each other, and with the promise of you’ll do something about it. He holds you ‘til your sense of balance is restored, for he now has urgent matters he has to attend to. He’ll get to hold you forever soon, and that revelation doesn’t change the herculean feat of letting you go now. He can’t help but wipe the streaks of wetness on your face, though it forms again. He solely doesn’t repeat himself because of the widest grin on your lips. You press yourself to his palm, eyelids closing for a moment, then place a small peck on it.
“I- I’m now gonna go and talk to your father, get the papers right- and find a-” oh, that’s not “a”, he is going to require many others even if he keeps everything minimal, “I’ll be back in three, fuck, four hours, okay?”
“What? No!” You exclaim, almost giving him a heart attack.
“What’s wrong?” His fingers tighten, a slight tremble taking over them. You have to smile to get him to relax once again, and raise your eyebrows wittily, as if he is a fool for not imagining it already, reminding him of your nature.
“I’m only doing this once. I want everything to be right.”
He squints his eyes, grasping your chin. There’s a few seconds of silence, the time it takes for his nerves to settle. When it does, you’re struck by the intensity of his blue irises, the condensed calm before the storm. “So you want to stay as my fiance ‘til the next season starts, in eight months, succumbing to waiting as we get no freedom to ourselves, always in the center stage, enjoying the last of our bachelor states, the lonely nights and beds bigger than you can ever occupy.”
His other hand, wandering across your waist tells you exactly what he implies. While you actually weren’t planning on such a thing, it causes a surge of rush to overtake you, burning you from the inside. Pursing your lips as you free your face from his grip, with a contradicting shaky breath, you say. “I was always fond of winter weddings…”
To this, he laughs, echoing in the room, and you join him.
One can only hope whoever outside listens to this too, this moment of pure joy preserved in one more mind.
===
“I couldn’t be happier to be married to you.” Obi Wan whispers, but the sentence is loud and clear to you, etched into where he takes nest in the crook of your neck, hot breaths burning your skin.
“We’re still not- ngh“ Yes, this is supposed to be the rehearsal, the night before the main event. You two should be at the reception downstairs, among your many relatives and friends and other members of the society, all gathered for tomorrow morning, when these words of yours will be invalid.
Of course, you are further making a hypocrite of yourself by the way you hold onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his shoulders as he burrows his cock into you. It was impossible to wait any further, as you were separated by the whole ordeal of preparations and the watchful eyes. The moment you found a clearing, you two slipped away, cue to now, where your back on the wall as he supports you against it. You didn’t even get one meter away from the door, you could basically reach the knob with a simple extension of your elbow, but in the end, who cares? Who cares when he fills you so deliciously, scratching the itch that has been building for some time, peppering you with all the love in his heart?
Still, your sentence is cut abruptly as he drives his hips faster, rougher- very much an act of pedantry, advising not to get lost in the details. It works, the correction dies on your tongue, though a quite loud moan takes its place. His hand flies to cover your mouth, and your eyes pop open, meeting his. The pressure of his palm against your face almost forces another sound out of you. Fuck, you adore those blue storms, even when they are focused elsewhere, turned to the door as if it can see past behind it, scanning for intruders. You do actually whimper when the danger dissolves, the vibrations running among his bones, and he keeps up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.
However, it is getting harder in terms of balance as he now has one hand to stabilize you, and despite your best efforts, it is quite hard not to slide off of the smooth fabric of his clothes. Remorsefully, you push on his shoulders, and he understands, pulling his cock out of you and burying his mouth on your skin. He stifles a sob in there, the frustration getting the best of him.
“Oh, you definitely had too much wine.” Look at who’s talking, you with those wobbly legs and bitten lips…
“No, I just had too little of you.”
Your heart flaps its wings out of your chest, as it does after his every cheesy compliment. You still cannot figure out how he makes you blush harder with those words, even as he ravages you in the meantime.
You reach for a kiss, it is always a good idea. He hums contently at the touch, grateful at the most basic form of contact. Obi Wan rocks against you unintentionally, and that’s how the unsatiated desire wages war, with desperate groans and roaming hands.
Then, his fingers tighten around your waist, and you find yourself supported against the vanity with your open palms, depositing most of your weight there (thank God, because you couldn’t trust your feet much longer). He pulls your hips back to his. Your back arches in a way that is most complementary to his chest, and fuck, it is a vision.
It literally is.
Fluttering your eyes open for only a second (that was your intention at least), you’re struck down with the image of the two of you in the mirror, faces contorted in the prettiest way that is possible in this dirty position, heavy lids and open mouths, fingertips whitened by the strong grasp you have on each other, the matching colors of your outfits…
Yes, even with that detail, you’re still on his side, agreeing you’d be idiots if you weren’t doing this.
Deciding to take the sight from its direct source, you turn your head to the side a little, looking at the adonis of a man you’ll soon call your husband, with his neatly trimmed beard and prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes you are slightly jealous of and so much more…
He meets your gaze, breathless with similar thoughts, that little tug on the corner of his mouth telling you all you need to know, but then he nudges your face to its previous state by a small clasp of your chin, and you’re watching him through the reflection, leaning forward when he starts to fumble with your skirt once again.
The moan that leaves you is totally incapable of being unobscured as he enters you anew. The change in the angle along with the visual stimulation has you teetering on the edge quite easily, like him, but he denies it, maintaining slow movements and choking out any noise that dares to leave him.
Of course, all is impeded when the door is knocked-
“Occupied!”
“Occupied!”
Your voices are synchronized, high and tight. The clock stops for a moment for your bodies, as if the stationary status makes it any less scandalous, and both of you fixated on the doorknob.
It never turns. Never.
Still, the dilated pupils remain a little longer, joined over the mirror, with big puffs of breath and shaking hands.
“Do you think they-“ There’s not an exact word that you can find to explain what has just occurred, but the sentiment is clear.
“Probably.” And the answer too is just as clear.
Well, the only thing lost is the trivial achievement of never being discovered before the wedding.
A wedding which is hours away.
So, you push back, wiggling your hips. His unrestricted sound is all you need to regain your spirits back, and you do it once more. Just like that, the wheels are turning.
“You realize there’s a bed behind us, right?” He asks as he slowly thrusts into you.
“Yes, but I like the view better here.”
#star wars imagine#star wars fanfiction#obi wan kenobi imagine#obi wan imagine#obi wan kenobi x reader#obi wan x reader#obi-wan kenobi x reader#obi-wan x reader#obi wan kenobi smut#obi wan kenobi fluff#obi wan kenobi angst
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
"get me a damned matcha" | Summary and Preview
Hi friends! After laboring over this fic over the past month and a half, I think it's finally ready to publish! I haven't posted a multi-chapter fic since 2017 and this is the first time I actually have enough written out to do regular updates 👀 I will be posting both on here and on AO3 and should be updating every Saturday, generally around 5pm CST :)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11
Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Epilogue
✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au
✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence.
✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, enemies to lovers (sorta), strangers to lovers, idiots in love (eventually), fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, eventual smut, regular mentions of grief, mention of minor character deaths, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood and injury, will continue to add as more stuff comes up
Preview:
After a long day at work, Levi was more than irritated when he heard a knock on his door. It was well into the evening, so he had no idea who would have the audacity to be bothering him this late.
A frown appeared on his face as he looked at the person in front of him in confusion.
"What the hell?" he muttered as he saw an equally confused expression appear on your face.
That annoying undergrad from this afternoon?
"Did you follow me home?"
You raised an eyebrow at him. The last person you had expected to be greeted with was the grumpy barista that you had the misfortune of interacting with earlier in the day.
"Did you?" you retorted.
Levi scoffed.
"How the hell would I have followed you home if I was here first?"
He cursed to himself as he recalled the monologue you gave him earlier on in the day.
You had said that you had to suffer on a bus ride and couldn't get in contact with your new roommate to get keys to the unit. Now that you were standing in front of the door to his apartment, his frown only grew.
Your eyes widened as you finally put together the pieces.
"Wait," you asked, shaking your head slightly. "Are you-?"
"I guess so," Levi responded with an unamused sigh.
"Fuck."
if you're interested in getting tagged, fill out my taglist form! this is a new one specifically for this fic :)
#GUYS I'M SO EXCITED TO FINALLY PUBLISH#akjdfkdslf#its been so stressful#but im so excited#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackermann x reader#levi heichou x reader#captain levi x reader#college!au levi#modern!au levi#coffeeshop!au levi#levi ackerman#levi ackermann#levi heichou#captain levi#levi#attack on titan#aot#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyoujin#snk#levi fluff
273 notes
·
View notes
Text
Random fandom thoughts/feelings
The reblog button is turned off on this post but I think it's another incredibly important one to be thinking about. I enjoy their framing of how the profit economy of other social media sites has been bleeding into fandom spaces on both tumblr, and like this post focuses on, Ao3. It's something that I've been noticing more and more and it really rubs me the wrong way and I feel like OP's post words it perfectly in a way I've been struggling to express.
This sort of connects the previous post I reblogged on the topic talking about how fandom is not a good in road for becoming internet famous.
A facet of this that's really bamboozled me recently is that I feel like i've been seeing more and more of is the idea that a singular person has a right to call "dibs" on a specific piece of media. Which is honestly totally fucking wild to me and if I'm being totally frank kind of dumb.
Every single one of us who interacts with fandom and by extent and IP is flirting with copy right law, the consequences of which everyone should be extremely familiar with by now with the fall of LJ and various lawsuits by authors, dmca notices, etc.
We have all heard the adage "there's no such thing as an original idea"; the idea that everything we create is the amalgamation of all the things that influence us, good and bad.
This is totally normal and good, actually.
For example, if I and another person both watch a TV show, see a production photograph that we really like and decide to draw it and post them one after the other it would be considered extremely bad behaviour to then turn around and make a big stink about how someone else had the gall to turn around and draw the same thing that I did. We can all look at a picture, video, lyrics to a song, become inspired and create something wildly different based on our tastes and influences--but we also are equally, if not more so, likely to create something nearly identical to our peers, especially in a fandom space where ideas are concentrated and we are all consuming each other's thoughts, opinions, and creations. More than once I've come up with an idea for a fic or a drawing that someone else had had a nearly identical execution of without us communicating or viewing each other's work. That's just the way the human brain works, we're hard wired to make connections in a fairly similar way.
You do not have a right to call dibs on any one photograph, clip of video, song lyrics or any other bit of media you might consume.
This stands for artists, writers, gif makers, AMV creators, and any other way you choose to express your love of fandom creatively.
If you are really hard pressed to focus on the numbers and work at being ~influential~ the burden is on you to distinguish yourself creatively.
There's a reason why not being able to see follower counts is so important to the way fandom and tumblr functions. The concept of ~small creators~ and ~big creators~ or BNF or whatever are all burdens you place on yourselves. No one is taking anything away from you by engaging with the same bit of media you are in a similar way. We all have a right to express ourselves creatively and emotionally through any snippet of media that sparks our interest. You do not get to "own it" just because you happened to pump something out first. There are no creative "dibs". This isn't even some sort of "fandom" etiquette thing that has gone thus unspoken. It's a strange possessive thing that I've seen crop up more and more as the idea of being a capital "C" Creator brain rots people's minds and atrophies their ability to be creative.
Sort of on a tangent, but I have a bunch of other personal random thoughts about how this push to be prolific stagnates fandom, but these are more complicated for me and I'm not as clear on how I want to express them. On one had I am completely on board with the "there is no such thing as cringe" mindset and that everyone has a right to create whatever super indulgent thing they want to without having to suffer people being snobby about it. But, on the other hand I feel very strongly that the cycle of people seeing one trope or characterization being repeated repeated over and over and gaining popularity, reading only that--writing only that--leading others to also only consume that, really stymies creativity and makes it harder to grow the fandom if people that are trying to enter aren't into That One Thing, while also ostracizing people who are already in the fandom that aren't into That One Thing. I strongly believe that people's tastes are at least 70% just what they're exposed to, and obviously not everyone is going to be into whatever weird niche concept they're exposed to through fandom, but the more they are the more opportunity they have to expand that horizon. I don't know how many times I've gotten a version of the "I wasn't sure I would like this but I gave it a shot and it turns out I really love it!" and how good that feels and how much I wish other people were emboldened to do the same instead of being so wrapped up in how their work may or may not be received.
This is mostly a subjective thing though, so it's less cut and dry. Like for example, I really struggle with engaging with transgender fic despite being transgender myself because of the way most AFAB fic is written to the point where I avoid it now almost entirely. Which, frankly, really fucking sucks but also I will be the first person to fight for other's ability to write transgender characters wether they appeal my personal feelings and taste or not.
Anyway, this is one of the reasons I'm so protective of fandom community events, especially ones that employ aspects of the fandom gift economy such as exchanges. There are one of the few wholly un self-centred places left where the focus is on gifting someone something they will love and giving back to the fandom at large by flooding it with art and opportunities appreciation and engagement with each other. It is not supposed to be an opportunity for you to think about yourself and "getting something good" in return or using it a convenient deadline. It also offers you an opportunity to engage with fic tropes and genres that you've never considered writing or reading before.
TL;DR if you've found yourself recently squabbling over how many notes your gifs, art, writing, etc. has been getting compared to other people instead of focusing on forging community ties and your own creative expression, I'm sorry to say you're doing it wrong.
#mostly word vomit but it's a topic i think a lot about since both my job and most of my hobbies are creative focused#and after coming off a nearly two year burnout (that was not caused by any of these things) but effected my ability to participate in fando#and some of my hobbies in favour of others like working out in order to focus on work and stuff that would help my brain heal#I just do not think brining a profit economy mindset is really what's going to make fandom engagement /better/#again why are you acting like capitalists on the socialism website#anyways i'm really trying hard not to go full “parade of shame down the main street” but this behaviour is so appalling to me and while#i understand it i don't understand the appeal of participating in fandom in that fashion
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
So this fandom has a problem with trauma-dumping. We all know it. People are bad in streamers TTS, and we all cringe, and it seems like every major author has to have something in their Ao3 notes to say not to trauma dump, and last night I saw people telling tham n0phis, who is an artist and like 18 or 19, just details and jokes that you should not tell a random person on the internet. It's bad.
But Why is it bad? What's wrong about being honest about how you're feeling?
Okay, this is gonna take a while.
The basic test for "am I being weird/overfamiliar/trauma dumping" is "would you say this to a barista/cashier". Would you walk up to someone whose job is to take your money and give you coffee, while they are at work, and would you say this. This is the place that like 80% of TTS and a surprising number of anons falls down. They break the social rules, and make it awkward and terrible for everybody. But again, why is it bad to say these things to a stranger? If I think someone's hot, if I've been having tramatic things happen why shouldn't I say so?
Conversation is a game for two or more players. You have what you're actually saying in words, and you have a huge amount of information that is being communciated and things that are being assumed based on things like body language, cultural context, setting, etc. Some people find conversation very natural and keep track of all the rules easily, without thinking about it. Some people have to memorize the rules manually. I have had to memorize the rules manually. It is difficult and it sucks, but it's necessary, because the failure state of a successful conversation, what happens when you break the rules of the conversational game we're playing, is you being rude. That is all being rude is, it's breaking the rules of the conversational game. So. How do you avoid being rude?
If you boil allll the rules down to a single rule, it is "if I say this, do I know what the other person is going to say, and are they going to be comfortable with this. Am I changing the rules or setting of the conversational game we're playing." Not what I want them to say, in some imaginary world where we're best friends, but what is likely that this person who doesn't know me, and is having a causual interaction with me, is going to say. And if you have any sense that you are putting the person on the spot, or you're making them uncomfortable, if you are changing the tone of the conversation from "i am here to get you your coffee" to "things you say to a therapist", don't say it.
This is why you don't make suicide jokes in someone else's inbox, because how are you supposed to respond to that? This is why you don't bring up cancer, even if it's very on your mind, because it is rude to inflict the topic "cancer", or any other heavy thing, on someone who is not currently dealing with cancer already. (This is why it's not rude to bring up cancer at the cancer support group, because the setting has shifted and everyone here has already opted in to cancer. The barista has not opted in to cancer.) This is why you don't tell a stranger they're the cornerstone of your mental health, because again, how do you respond to that? If someone you've never seen in your life walked up and told you that, you'd be going "what the fuck, uhhhhhhhh" and then you'd be stuck between "you're welcome I guess" and "holy shit get away from me".
When you are in a causual conversation with a stranger. You throw them the ball of the conversation already knowing what they're going to say next. (In a general sense.) You say A, knowing that the normal response is B. You set them up for little interactions like "I like your hair/thanks" or "Oh what do you do for work/I work in a bakery/Oh what's your favourite thing about that". You keep that conversational ball in the air, and that's why people do things like talk about the weather, because we all already know what a conversation about the weather is like, so it's a chance for us to non-verbally communicate "politeness" and "friendliness" and "I aknowledge you as a human being and not a machine" while you have the same conversation at a bus stop you have twice a week. That is what small talk is FOR, and that's not a weakness of small talk, it's what it's designed to do.
The less you know someone, the more you are operating on a conversational level where it's vital that you don't say or do anything that you don't already know what they're going to say. Because it is rude to walk up to a conversation that's operating on a level where we're just basically waving at each other and going "hey, human! I am also a human!" and trying to drag it over to the level of intimacy you have with someone who already knows you and loves you, and would help you move without being asked, because this person does not know and love you and did not sign up for that. You're walking up to someone who doesn't know you from Adam and basically throwing your arm around their shoulder and going Heyyyyyyy, I think you and I are best friends, which is just so rude. You're making it weird. You're breaking the rules of the game.
To your friends you can walk up and tell them the terrible thing, because they're your friends, and they signed up for this. You will do the same thing when the terrible thing happens to them. You can move the conversational level beyond talking about the weather, to actual bad things (and jokes that would be inappropriate to say to a stranger), because even if you don't know exactly what your friend is going to say, you know you're not making them uncomfortable, and you have a history where you know you can bring these things up. A streamer/artist/author does not have this history with you. They did not opt in to these topics. They don't know you.
Basically just think about the person on the other end of the conversation and how it feels to be them when someone tells them that if their family finds out they're a lesbian they're going to kill themselves. They don't know what to say to that. You just took the conversational ball and you threw it in their face, breaking their nose. That is not a comment you make to a stranger.
Stop trauma-dumping, stop being over-familiar with people who don't actually know you, it makes it uncomfortable for everyone. Save it for the GC.
360 notes
·
View notes
Text
Celebrity Crush, Part 1
Author’s note: I know I should be writing chapter 9 of Out of this World, but I finally watched The Bubble over the weekend and Dieter Bravo temporarily took over my brain. I promise that Din’s still in there and he’ll be back soon. This is just a cute little one off ficlet that will likely consist of a series of one-shots. If you like my writing, please feel free to check out my Din series Out of This World.
Masterlist
Summary: Dieter Bravo makes a new friend and tries desperately not to fuck things up for once.
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader
Warnings: Cursing, drug use (weed), light sexual tension, if you are under the age of 18 you are prohibited from this work of fiction. Minors DNI.
AO3
*****
Charming.
That’s the best word he can think of to describe the energetic, voluptuous woman before him. Sure, she’s fucking gorgeous and he’s already daydreaming about bending her over and fucking her right there in the secluded little corner of the coffee shop, but Jesus fucking Christ is she fucking charming.
The ease with which she cracks silly jokes, laughing brightly at her own sense of humor. The genuine excitement she displays as she talks about things for which she feels passionately. The little smile she sends his way from across the table every now and again. He can tell she’s nervous, who wouldn’t be, but she’s handling herself so beautifully in spite of it.
Dieter Bravo, currently living in New York for a lengthy stint in the theater, finds himself in the midst of the most cliché fucking meet cute of all time. She’d been rushing around the corner with an iced coffee in one hand and a phone in the other, and he’d been rushing around the same corner struggling to get a freshly rolled joint lit in the cool autumn breeze. Neither of them had been paying attention to their surroundings, and so the two had collided right into one another. His joint, broken in half and rendered useless, laid soaking in the creamy tan puddle from her fallen cup.
She’d apologized profusely, going so far as to offer him one of the THC gummies from her purse to make up for the destroyed joint. He tells her that he’ll only take a gummy if she’ll let him replace her coffee, to which she agrees. It’s the least he can do when it was equally his fault. His favorite spot for coffee is only a few blocks away, so he leads her there and they get to chatting along the way. He’s surprised by how easy she is to talk to while they are standing in line to order, and soon enough he’s seated across from her in a secluded booth on the second floor even though he’d intended to just replace the coffee and fuck off. Now she’s seated across from him at his usual table, the staff knows him well enough to make sure no one else sits near him while he’s there. The second floor of Hellfire Roasters, a satanic themed coffee shop, is all theirs until they choose to leave.
Which turns out to not be for a long while. He wasn’t expecting to stay for very long. He figured that he’d get her the coffee, take the gummy, and move on with his day. But then he really gets to talking with her, and he can’t seem to physically pull himself out of this social interaction. He’s glued to his seat, even after the awkwardness of his identity is brought up and subsequently glossed over. She’d known who he was from the second they’d bumped into each other, but it doesn’t seem to effect how genuine she is.
Apparently she just turned thirty, deciding to uproot her entire life to move to New York on a whim. She tells him that she woke up one day and realized that she couldn’t let her life pass her by anymore. So she threw away half of her belongings and emptied out her savings account to get a tiny little apartment with a friend of hers who also wanted to try out life in the big city. The gorgeous creature seated across from him wants to get into the film industry, horror specifically. She’d actually just been leaving a successful job interview to work on a very small indie film when he’d accidentally knocked her victory coffee from her hand. It’s endearing to hear her speak so bright eyed and bushy tailed about the industry which has been slowly sucking the life from him for the last couple of years. It reminds him of himself when he’d first started out, before he won the Oscar and everything slowly went to shit.
“So yeah, Fright Night from 1985 is the reason I decided I wanted to make monster movies.” She says, eyes sparkling.
He can’t help but grin over his cup, “I mean that’s a great reason, it’s such a great fucking movie that not enough people talk about. Classic 80s schlocky bullshit with John Hughes-ish teen high school kids thrown in? The Peter Vincent shit is also such a fun homage to Hammer Horror.”
“So you weren’t posturing, you do know your horror shit after all.” She sends a cheekily little grin his way, and he knows he’s fucking done for right then and there.
“You’re pretty when you’re being a smart ass,” he flirts, hoping that it gets the point across without coming on too strong. He’s gotten a lot better when it comes to begging people he just met to fuck him.
“So I’ve been told.” Another cheeky grin finds her lips, this time with the straw of her pumpkin iced coffee nestled between her teeth before she takes a sip. He might start begging soon if she keeps that up.
“M’sure you have, muñequita,” he replies back. “So what specifically about Fright Night does it for you? Like, if this is your favorite movie of all time then there’s got to be multiple reasons.”
She shrugs, “I dunno, I just love everything about it. The performances, the effects and make up, the humor, the unresolved vampire romance. It’s got everything.”
“Unresolved vampire romance?”
Her eyes widen as she gawks at him. “Oh my god, do you not remember? When Jerry has that old painting in his house that looks like Amy, Amanda Bearse’s character, in the past. The one dude even says something like ‘she looks just like her’, and later in the movie Jerry just tells Amy something vague like ‘she’s someone I knew a long time ago.’ But that’s all they ever do with it. It used to piss me off that they didn’t go further into that backstory. Charley and Amy defeat Jerry and get to have a happy ending. What about Jerry’s happy ending? I’ve always wanted someone to make a monster movie where the monster actually succeeds in getting the girl, and when no movies like that ever came out I figured I just have to make it myself then.”
He’s in awe of her, adoring every second of her passionate rantings. She even does little voices when saying the quotes from the film, and Dieter is practically in shambles because of this adorable movie nerd. “You might be the most interesting person I’ve met this year,” he says honestly when she’s finished.
She scoffs, waving him off. “It’s only October, you’ve still got a few months left.”
He shakes his head, “I highly doubt I’m going to meet anyone better than you between now and January. Or ever, really.”
*****
You’re blushing, trying to hide how much what he just said affects you. This can’t be fucking real. This sort of thing happens in cringey fanfiction, not in real life. Play it cool, dickweed, you have to talk yourself off the ledge before addressing the Academy Award Winner before you. You have no idea how you’re still keeping yourself composed at this point, but he’s easy to talk to so that helps. It’s frankly shocking that he’s being so chill, given that his reputation as a wild man used to proceed him.
“Oh stop,” you gush, “I’m sure you’re going to meet someone way cooler than me later today. You’re Dieter fucking Bravo.”
Dieter shakes his head of messy brown hair, and watching it move about is mesmerizing. “Not a fucking chance! You take the cake, muñequita. I never meet people like you. You have good taste in horror, you’re charming.”
You shake your head, feeling the calming effects of the gummy as little waves of pleasure circulate through your nervous system. Hearing this man of all people say things like that to you might very well break you if you let it. So you change the subject, “I don’t know about you but I’m definitely high. I feel like my edible hit harder than I expected it to and all of this is in my head. Or when we bumped into each other, I actually fell and hit my head so now I’m in a coma. There’s no way I’m sitting across from you of all people, having a cup of coffee and a great conversation. I’ve lived in New York for a week and I’ve already had the best celebrity encounter of all time.”
“Who’s your favorite?” He asks suddenly, leaning forward a little as his brow swoops down to a more serious face. It’s nearly too much for you, how handsome he truly is suddenly taking hold.
“F-favorite what?”
“Celebrity,” he draws out the word, his voice driving you wild internally. Watching his hand gestures as he talks isn’t helping much either.
You choke on the pumpkin latte a little, your own brow shooting up towards your hairline. “I don’t know how to answer that,” you say earnestly.
“Oh come on. We’re already here, you might as well just be honest.” Dieter pushes, practically poking at you with a stick.
“You promise not to think I’m a lunatic stalker who ran into you on purpose?”
“Promise.”
“Honestly? It’s you.”
He scoffs, “You’re just saying that.”
You chuckle, knowing you must look as awkward as you feel. “I’m pretty sure the original painting of yours that I have hanging in my living room would beg to differ. My mom special ordered it as a birthday slash housewarming gift because she knew I’ve always wanted one. Your style is so dark and raw. I love it.”
*****
Dieter can’t help it. The self centered part of him, the reason he enjoys being a celebrity despite the isolation, is so thrilled to hear this revelation from you. “So… why me? I’m curious.”
You mull this over for a long while, sipping from your iced coffee as you look at his face. It’s insane how calm you are right now. “There was that one horror movie you did early on in your career,” you start, being cut off for a moment when Dieter interrupts you.
“Oh fuck,” he says knowingly, “no one ever talks about that.”
“I mean, it’s a little outdated at this point but you were so good in it. The fact that no one talks about it is such a crime. First you think its a ghost movie, then it turns out to be a slasher movie, and then you turn out to be the killer? What a fucking ride that was the first time I saw it. I had such a crush on you after that even though you were way older than me. Nearly wore out the VHS tape because I would watch your scenes over and over.” Then your hand flies to your mouth, unable to stop that last sentence before it already left your lips. “Oh Jesus, that is so embarrassing.”
Dieter chuckles, shaking his head as he grins at you. His earring is distracting. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Most people have a celebrity crush.”
Your face is on fire. “Yeah but most people don’t get to have a cup of coffee and split an edible with their celebrity crush.”
He leans back in his chair, taking a sip from his London fog. “I guess you should thank your lucky stars, then. And I should thank mine that you’re not a total fucking weirdo.”
“Oh, I’m definitely a weirdo. Just not a stalker,” you chuckle, feeling at ease once again.
The two of you sit there for another two and a half hours, chatting about movies and music and drugs and everything else under the sun that you’re both interested in. He ends up ordering the both of you food when he realizes that he’s completely missed the lunch meeting he was supposed to have. Fuck ‘em. You are way more interesting than whoever he was supposed to meet. It wasn’t a meeting about a job, so fuck it.
Dieter knows he could sit there and talk to you all night, but curtains go up in three hours and if he doesn’t get to the theater soon the director and his agent are going to actually kill him. He knows that one of the missed calls that just vibrated in his pocket has to have been one of them. You’re mid sentence about your favorite food, and he has to interrupt you even though it pains him to do so.
Dieter looks you over after the interruption, and you can’t help but think that he looks almost nervous. “Sorry to cut you off, but I really have to get going. I’d say that I hate to be forward, but that would be a lie. Can I give you my number? It was really nice to meet you and get to know you a little. I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.”
You’re so floored by this that your mouth hangs open and you nod dumbly. He holds his hand out expectantly and you just stare at it for a moment before realizing that he wants your phone. Plucking the thing out from your purse, you pull up the contact book and hand it over. Dieter smiles across the table at you, the tip of his tongue poking out from the left side of his mouth as he types. Then he takes a silly selfie. On your phone. Dieter Bravo just took a selfie on your phone.
He hands your personal device back over, and you look down a the newly added contact. It says “Celebrity Crush” instead of his name and the accompanying picture is the selfie he just bestowed upon you. Its the cutest picture of him you’ve ever seen, and you get to keep the only copy of it all to yourself.
“Well if you get to do that then give me your phone,” you say, holding your hand out in the same way he had to you. He gives you a similar but newer model of the phone you’ve had for several years, so you make quick work of adding your contact information. After taking a similarly silly selfie and handing it back over, you chuckle as Dieter reads what you input into his contacts.
“Coffee Shop Weirdo,” he reads out loud, “that’s perfect. And this picture is fucking cute.”
“Thanks,” you blush, cheeks heating up. “You better get going, Bravo. Maybe I’ll come see your show next week.”
Dieter’s face lights up, becoming that of a wound up puppy before a bowl of fresh kibble. “If you want to come tonight I’ll have them save you a ticket at the box office. Doesn’t have to be tonight if you’re busy, but if you’re not and you want to.”
“Are you sure it’s not too late notice? I heard it was sold out for opening week.”
Dieter shoots you an incredulous look, “I’m the star. I can get you a fucking ticket.”
After a millisecond of hesitation you agree, knowing that this entire day has been a once in a lifetime kind of day. From getting the job, to meeting Dieter, to this invitation. This is the kind of life changing shit you’ve been aching for. “Okay, sure. I’d love to see your acting chops live. I’ll just run home and change into something nice and head over to the theater.”
“Perfect,” he breathes, grinning ear to ear. “I’ll be on the lookout for you after the show.”
“Great, thank you. And thank you again for lunch. This was nice.”
“Yeah it was, wasn’t it?” Then his phone starts vibrating with the fifth call in a row and he groans, tapping the green answer button with his ringed thumb and placing the thin device to his ear. He immediately pulls it back out a few inches with a grimace when the voice on the other end starts screaming at him. “Fuck, Barbra. You don’t have to fucking scream at me. I’ll be there soon, I’m only ten blocks from the theater.”
You can hear the shrill female voice clearly ask, “What in the name of fuck was so important that you didn't come back from your lunch break for three fucking hours?”
Dieter looks directly to you and grins, “I was making a new friend.”
“I swear to fucking god, Bravo. You better not be back to your old habits. You fucking promised me that shit was done. If you weren’t making me so much money right now I’d fucking kill you myself.”
“Love you too, Babs. See you soon,” Dieter says cheerfully as he hangs up.
“Sorry I got you into trouble,” you offer awkwardly, feeling a little bad that he’s late because of you even though you’re well aware that he could have left at any time.
He stands, gesturing for you to join him as he laughs a little. “I can assure you that I’m the only one who ever gets myself into trouble, muñequita. Don’t worry about my agent, I can handle her. She’s a bitch and a half but they all are and she gets me good gigs like this Shakespeare show.”
Dieter leads you to the exit of the coffee shop, leaving a generous tip with the barista on the way out. Once outside he dons his shades and pulls the collar of his black pea coat up in an attempt to not be noticed by anyone. He’s late enough as it is, he doesn’t need to stop for selfies fifty times on his way to work.
“I really do hope you come to the show tonight,” he says, looking down at you as he scratches the back of his head. What you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through that fluffy hair of his.
You grin up at him, “It’ll be a close call with the train but if I’m quick about changing my clothes, I should make it back to this end of town just in time. I’ll be there, Dieter.”
His very genuine smile melts your heart right then and there. Fuck, this is about to get complicated.
“Great!” Your celebrity crush says, “See you tonight!”
And then he’s gone as quickly as he had appeared, around a corner and out of sight in all but a moment. You head for the nearest train station, having to use your gps since you’re nowhere near accustomed to life in New York just yet. The city is so huge that it’s overwhelming when you’re tying to go somewhere quickly.
After sending a text to your roommate that you’ll be home soon and that you have something fucking insane to tell him, you get ready to board the train heading towards your little apartment in Queens with a podcast playing in your ear buds. Soon enough, as in like an hour later, you’re back home and frantically looking for a nice dress to wear to Dieter’s play. It’s bad enough that fancy clothes aren’t really something you ever bothered to have on hand before moving to the city, but the fact that you’re not done unpacking doesn’t help your case either.
“So you mean to tell me,” Henry, your best friend of over a decade and the only person crazy enough to move to New York with you, is standing in your doorway with a cup of instant noodles in his hands. He’s speaking between slurps of broth, “that the dude who I have to look at a hideous Funko Pop of whenever I go into the kitchen met you on the street, bought you lunch, gave you his number, and invited you to see his play for free? How much of those edibles did you take today?”
“I’m not high, you fucking asshole.” Gritting your teeth, you glare at Henry before upending a box of clothes right on top of your bed.
“Yes you are,” Henry grins, laughing as he dodges the small black throw pillow you throw his way.
You roll your eyes, digging around the pile of clothing, “Okay, yeah, I’m high. But I’m always a little high and everything I just told you really fucking happened. I showed you the picture he left in my camera roll, I can’t make this shit up!”
Henry taps a finger to his chin, feigning deep thought. “How do I know that wasn’t from instagram and this isn’t some sort of break in your psyche because you read too much fanfiction about that space character he plays. You know, the funko pop in the kitchen?”
“Oh god, I should delete my tumblr.”
Just as you say that, your phone goes off with a little ding. A feeling you haven’t felt in a long time, titillating anticipation at a text from someone of the opposite sex, arises within you when you glance over and see the name of the contact.
“Oh my god. He fucking texted me,” you start to bounce around the room, “I can’t open it. What if he’s like ‘never mind don’t come and delete my number’?”
“You’re a crazy bitch, but I love you dearly,” Henry says, moving to grab your phone. You try to snatch it from him but he’s a good bit taller than you and holds it up so that you cannot reach. He unlocks the phone with ease, having known your password for years. “Two texts from ‘Celebrity Crush.’ Ugh, really? That’s so corny, but for some reason I don’t hate it.”
“Oh my god you fucking dick, what did he say?!” You’re practically jumping up and down grabbing for your phone.
“Text one: Your ticket is at the box office. I left them your name so just make sure you have your ID.” Henry reads the message, pretending to fan himself. “Oh my this is hot stuff. Text two… Oh… well this is quite a development.”
The way he says that makes you feel horrified, lunging for the phone once more. “What?! Is it a dick pic or something?!”
“Pfft, I wish. No, text two says: I can’t stop thinking about how good Fright Night is thanks to you. I haven’t seen it in years. If you’re not busy after the show, would you want to come back to my place and watch it?” Henry gapes at you, finally relinquishing the phone.
“Holy shit. Holy shit! What do I say?” You look down at the two messages and then back up to your best friend with pleading eyes.
Henry looks you up and down, putting a hand on your shoulder. “If this really isn’t you fucking with me, then for the love of Christ say yes!”
You take a few deep breaths, “Okay, okay. I can do this. Go make me something to eat please so I can get dressed and get the fuck out of here.”
Henry starts to leave your room but turns in the doorway to look back at you. “Wear the black dress from New Years 2018. Don’t pack anything, that way you have to wear his clothes if you spend the night. Speaking from personal experience, when your booty call wears your clothes its a huge turn on. And make sure your location is on so I can come rescue you if he’s a secret serial killer. I know you love him because he played one once, hopefully that was just a role.”
“Noted. Go make me food before I throw something at you, please.” You send a joker-like grin his way and watch as your best friend walks off with a laugh. Then you glance back down to your messages with Dieter, seeing that he’s typing again.
Celebrity Crush: Hey sorry to bother you again, just wanted to say no pressure about coming over. I know we just met. 😅
Feeling badly about leaving him hanging long enough to make him doubt himself, you quickly tap out a response.
Coffee Shop Weirdo: Hey Dieter, thanks again for scoring me a ticket. If you think you’ll really feel up to it after preforming, I’d love to come over and watch Fright Night with you. 😊
The typing bubble pops up immediately after your text shows as read, causing a little smile to tug at your lips and a flutter in your belly.
Celebrity Crush: Great! I’m looking forward to seeing you again. Stay put after the show and I’ll come find you.
Coffee Shop Weirdo: I’m looking forward to seeing you again too. So glad you knocked my coffee out of my hands today.
Celebrity Crush: Oh so it was all me now, huh? I see how it is, muñequita. 🤨
You highlight the word muñequita, clicking the translate button to confirm that it’s Spanish for little doll, and your grin widens even more.
Coffee Shop Weirdo: You flirting with me, Bravo?
A moment goes by with the message having been read, then the typing bubble pops up again.
Celebrity Crush: Yeah, if you’re okay with that.
Coffee Shop Weirdo: I’m definitely okay with that.
Celebrity Crush: I’m getting called away. Wont be able to message you again until the show’s over. Be safe getting to the theater, see you soon.
Coffee Shop Weirdo: See you soon. Break a leg 🦴
After sending the last text, you manage to find the black dress from 2018 that Henry suggested. He’s right, its perfect. Floor length with a slit up the right thigh, the sparkly long sleeved gown is perfect for the occasion you so desperately need it for. True to your own sense of style, you pair it with ankle length black combat boot platforms and black accessories.
Henry brings you a cup of noodles which you practically inhale before getting dressed and quickly attending to your hair and makeup.
Soon enough you’re back on the train, heading for the theater district feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life because this can’t possibly be yours.
*****
@missbabyjay you’re welcome 😉
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x reader#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#dieter x reader#pedro pascal characters#the bubble#reader insert#x reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x female reader#pedro pascal x reader#Pedro pascal character x reader
163 notes
·
View notes
Text
happy together | m.l + l.dh [FINALE]
→husband!lee haechan x reader x bff!mark lee
genre: smut, angst, hurt, marriage au, love triangle, forbidden affair, friends to secret lovers, 90s/00's au
synopsis: with you by his side, mark's convinced things are finally going his way. his mind is set on his plans but haechan has plans of his own that also include you.
warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! toxic marriage, mutual infidelity, morally grey characters, jealousy, distrust, possessiveness, fingering, finger sucking, unprotected sex, public sex, oral sex, mild sadomasochism, hair pulling and scratching kink, accidental voyeurism, biting kink, pet names, lots of making out, manipulation, all parties purposely hurting each other, smoking, mentions of death.
wc: 29.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3
part 1 | epilogue
© 2023 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!
disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.
an: legend says ella y yo by don omar y romeo santos was made after hyuck confronted mark about the affair lmfao. ik I said morally grey but... they border on evil atp kinda. the epilogue will be mark centered, there's no hyuck or happy together yn but mark's actions there will be consequences of what happens to him here. don't be confused it will be mark x reader just know epilogue yn isn't the same as happy together yn lol.
The leaves had long fallen by the time you and Mark continued what started that afternoon at the lake. From early October to late December with a few days left of 1999, all that’s left is the inquiry of how the year would end.
But right now that didn’t matter to either you or him. Not when he had you perched on the counter. The cold ceramic against your ass makes you squeal with every single one of his thrusts. His upper half was bare. Shoulders littered with red marks from your fingernails and teeth prints elicited by his every stroke.
Mark felt swollen and warm inside you. Every movement made the both of you hyper-sensitive knowing an orgasm was soon to come. Your clothed upper half absorbing all his sweat and yours. Almost rasping his chest to a burning extent but he doesn’t complain, as long as you’re close.
His breath tickled your neck; the hairs on your nape stood whenever his lips landed on the flesh; restraining themselves from juvenile markings. Your lips parted whenever his teeth nipped the skin. His tongue eased the slight pain from his actions to repeat them until you pulled his head by his hair, bringing his mouth to yours.
With every tug of his hair, Mark’s pace increased and your whining became louder; pulling your hips closer to his. His hands were warm against you, perspiration making his clinging easy. Soft to the touch and in need of more.
“Fuck I’m going to—“ he halted, feeling spurts come out in strings while you held him closer to you. “Yeah?” You ask, kissing the side of his face. Your insides coil in pleasure with every thrust along the friction of his pelvic bone against your clit.
“I’m going to cum!” He exclaimed, holding even tighter to you. Every time you two found yourself in this situation he held you like this, scared that if he didn’t you’ll feel like he didn’t need you enough. Almost as a tactic to make you crave his touch and affection.
You caressed his hair, hand dropping its grip to let your fingers cradle his head as he thrusts within you. Pistoning at a cruel pace but anything for either of you to reach your highs. Feeling him within your walls, touching every crevice with his cock.
In a matter of seconds with a few more thrusts from him, you felt yourself come undone. Your moans mixed with whines that he swallowed when slotting his lips with yours, ensuing in a sloppy kiss. He came second, pulling out when he felt he couldn’t hold off anymore and ropes of cum latched themselves onto your thighs.
Even after, he didn’t pull away from you. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder and his right around your waist, grasp as tight as before. Yours was loose on him, arms trembling while trying to cool off; Breathing heavily against his bare hot skin.
It was then that it dawned upon you two that the buzzer and the home phone were ringing maniacally. You tried pushing him off to see who was this desperate to get in touch but he didn’t budge. His fingers only dug into you. Your eyes widened at his actions. This has become quite normal in the past months that you’re starting to accept it but not too fond of it.
The home phone that stopped ringing and his own abandoned one beside the both of you began with anger rooted in. Mark swallowed the lump that had gotten stuck in his throat when seeing the caller ID. He threw you a glance, putting his finger up to his lips as advice.
“Hyuck? What’s up, dude?” His hand pushed you closer to him.
“Where the fuck are you guys at? I’ve been calling, ringing the buzzer, leaving voicemails, even paging you both, and not one response. What the fuck?”
He paced around feeling defeated by the cold; phone to his ear gripping it without a fear that the plastic would pop off. You could hear him; so much anger in his voice, exasperation from the unknown. That desperation made your insides flip, satisfied with his frustrations.
“Oh sorry, we’re in the room working on a piece. The music was all the way up.” Mark‘s fingers began caressing your skin, hoping you’d make a noise but nothing came out of you. He wasn’t lying about the music or the piece but that was long before you two had decided to act on any carnal instincts.
“Can one of you buzz me in? it’s fucking cold and there’s no one in the lobby. I couldn’t find my keys in the morning either.” His chattering teeth product of this horrid winter in the city. His words had made you realize the bathroom window was open and along the honking of cars outside, the biting breeze entered in swirls. Piercing your exposed skin the longer Mark held you there while working to remove the smell of sex.
“Uh, yeah— yeah, give us a few secs to wash off. It got messy, ha.” He looked at you, but your eyes were nowhere insight. “Alright, plea—“ Mark didn’t let him finish. He ends the call, tossing the phone towards the wall and letting the already chipped-off paint smear itself more.
He didn’t move; cooling down before he was to let you go and begin to clean off. Looking into the mirror behind you. Mark didn’t want to admit it but he was beginning to hate the act of sneaking around and fucking his best friend’s wife on the time windows he wasn’t home. It didn’t help that after a month, Hyuck was coming home earlier than usual, decreasing his time with you.
Mark knew he shouldn’t have gotten attached. Even when he used the excuse of Hyuck being a complete shit to you; on a moral scale, Mark would be in the wrong too. Especially when you’re his childhood best friend’s wife.
But with all that moral guilt, Mark wasn’t sorry for being with you. He loved the feeling he got when sneaking around. He loves when he’s buried deep in you, hearing you moaning, and whining for his touch. He loved knowing you smiled and laughed because of him and not because of Hyuck who would only cause your mood to deteriorate.
Yet with how much he loved all that, he hated that you were still Hyuck’s despite how much Mark told himself you were his. His piercing hatred-filled glare through the mirror and towards himself said it all.
With one last push at his chest, Mark separated himself from you. He watched you clean off his dried cum in a rush, complaining about how much of a hassle it was. Pulling out body wipes to remove the lingering smell of sex and sweat off of you; leaving no sign behind for him to see.
Mark watched you through glaring eyes. With every passing second he stood bare before you, his chest compressed. Feeling his emotions trying to suffocate him more and more. Reality did its best to make him see the bigger picture he’s avoiding. In addition he receives your exasperated hand motions and expressions for him to get out of the way and start getting cleaned up.
The door was left ajar on your way out. He could see from the slit your jumpy steps to spray yourself with perfume after changing shirts and the house with a spray that sat on the kitchen counter after buzzing in Hyuck.
When he saw you coming closer to the bathroom again, a sort of relief washed over him but it was taken away when you harshly closed the door. Depriving him of what you’re doing to make the apartment comfortable for him: your husband.
He stood motionless for a second. The surrounding noise filled his understanding of what was behind that door. A timer was ticking in his head, the tapping of your shoes replaced the ticking. Every second became louder and his chest trembled knowing the outcome.
Mark heard his breath, shaky and unstable while his eyes widened. The scent of air freshener crept in through the bottom slit of the door. Filling his nostrils the second he heard the front door shut; that loud boom shutting off the timer.
He sighed heavily, eyes shutting tight while simultaneously lowering his head in frustration. The muffled words of the pair pushed him further into these deep feelings he was harboring.
“God fucking damn it.” He curses, enticed by the sound of your voice calling Hyuck ‘honey’. His head turned towards the door, jaw clenching but that’s all he could really do. At the end of the day he was living under his roof and eating his food.
He reached for a hand towel, wetting it to pay away the staining sweat and dry cum that lay on his thighs. Pent-up frustration still lingered, enough to toss it with too much force into the hamper as he put his clothes back on.
Mark leaned over the counter again, mimicking the position the both of you were in before his best friend’s arrival. He still felt your warmth, it always lingered around. His gaze fixates on itself through the mirror.
That noticeable damage stress causes slapped on his face, muscles visibly tense. All his thoughts were the same lately: You. That's all he thought about. Whether it was positive or negative, you’re the only one crowding his thoughts.
He takes a hold of the doorknob, a soft sound emitting that causes Hyuck to turn towards the closed room. You don’t turn to it, fixated on flipping through the channels of the television. Your hand on your hip, and some small humming slipping along.
He was aware of the hesitance of the one behind the door. Becoming alert, he raised himself from the couch. Enough to not draw attention from you, when he saw that the knob was turning and the door was now ajar; his hands took a hold of your waist pulling you towards him.
While Mark looked at the happenings before him with disdain, you dismissed the older male. Laughing with your husband about him startling you; complaining about the lingering pain from his grasp. He held you tightly, back to his chest, and for once in the past years, he felt comfortable.
For the past month or so things had been going too good to be true with Hyuck. At the beginning in which you and Mark began this rendezvous, you both continued to bicker and argue with hopes of completely ruining each other. As time progressed, you stopped inciting arguments with him. You still wanted his downfall to continue but for now, ignorance was bliss.
You ignored him and kept the peace for the most part, too tired to continue the cycle he still tried to keep up. It was comfortable at this point. But when he began to feel foolish and embarrassed that you didn’t continue or follow along, he took it as a small victory, a glance that things were turning for the better. Quite honestly he felt good, not feeling neglected anymore was nice.
But Hyuck was no stupid man. With something like that, there’s always an underlying factor. Especially when it comes to your mercy. Though his inkling began the night of your anniversary dinner, he began to notice the lingering touches. And at times you still argued you’d always run off to Mark’s room, refusing to get out. Making him drag Mark towards your shared room so he wouldn’t sleep in the same room as you.
Though he never actually caught either of you doing anything. That pang in him worsened as the days progressed. And seeing how much you preferred being around his best friend was killing him. He hated seeing how you laughed and had a conversation with Mark but not him.
He hated seeing you smile at Mark but become cold whenever Hyuck came home. It didn’t help that you always smelled like Mark. Whenever he arrived, the smell was prominent enough that it even intoxicated him when you two slept.
He began coming home earlier in late November. Always pretending to fumble with the keys to give you both time to become decent if he was to catch you. But every time he opened those doors you’d be in the kitchen or lounging on the couch. Alone.
Those times he’d sigh in relief. Eyes searching for Mark just to find him on the balcony smoking with a look of angst that kept getting worse as days passed by. He felt foolish each time, angry at himself for doubting you both of ever betraying him. Only he was sick enough to ruin you, he should know better than to think of you in that light.
But it never got easier. Jealousy is consuming him daily even when he keeps telling himself there’s nothing to worry about. His jealousy is not too different from Mark’s. While Hyuck might enjoy your affection and present love, Mark was hating how quickly you changed the roles. Now it was him you treated like worthless trash and only had around for a quickie. If anything he now felt neglected.
“Did you find your keys?” Mark asks, settling on the free couch across from you. Hyuck turns to him, his smile falters. Both men ported that subtle defiant glare with each other. He shakes his head, turning from him to you, and presents you with a smile, making one of your own form too.
He liked this. This was comforting even if he knew nothing ever lasts between you two.
“Haven’t looked for them yet.” He answers, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He pauses for a second to glance at Mark again. His scent strongly lingered on you even if you thought the perfume could drown it out.
Mark looks at you momentarily, hoping you’d decide to get out of Hyuck’s grasp to at least show some care but that was wishful thinking. “You should’ve rung other tenants, they probably would’ve let you up.” He remarks of his long wait, turning to the TV in hopes it would aid him in ignoring you both.
He hated this, it was unbearable.
“I guess.” You look between both of them, repositioning your legs on Hyuck’s lap and hooking your arms around his neck. He holds you tightly, hands taking a grip of your thighs and waist. Mark tried not to see the way he caressed you. His fingers glided over the fabric of your skirt and looked at you as he teased the idea of them going under.
Getting fed up from your quiet giggles and his best friend, Mark stood up ready to head towards the rooftop but Hyuck stopped him. “Where are you going?” Mark looked between his hand and your face, seeing how you did nothing to avoid his gaze. “Smoke, why?” His foot begins to jitter the longer he remains there.
“Let’s eat first. I have some news. ” Hyuck answers, helping you both off the couch. His hand clutches yours, pulling you towards the dinner table. Mark followed suit, sitting across you while boring daggers into your eyes as Hyuck warms up the food that had gotten cold in the trance of waiting.
“Are they bad ones?” Mark questioned, glare not dropping trying to figure out if it was disinterest or guilt in your mirroring gaze. “You’re home earlier than recently and even brought food.”
Haechan granted him a chuckle, the microwave’s buzzing muffling it. “You can’t let anything slide.” Shaking his head, your husband took the seat beside you. “Not bad at all actually.”
Mark didn’t seem to enjoy the answer, opting to gather the drinks. While it went unnoticed by Hyuck, you couldn’t help but feel the hostility weighing down on your shoulders. To ease that, you decided to pry for an answer as well.
“No but actually, why are you home earlier?” You ask, preparing his plate despite his protest. This was so different that the quick change-up still felt foreign to all of you but mainly Mark. It’s almost mimicking the life you two had while newly weds.
He turns to you with a stoic look, swallowing the piece in his mouth. “Why? You don't want me to? Was I interrupting something?” You muster a nervous laugh, kissing his cheek to deflect. “Not really. We were working on last-minute touch-ups for Mrs. Oh’s commission.” You squeeze his hand and elicit him to smile in return, dropping the hostility.
“I know it’ll turn out great.” Oh, he was so full of shit and you knew it. He can act all he wants but his feelings towards your art will never change. “How’s the painting going, Mark?” His focus shifts to the quiet man. Mark had that same angry look plastered on his face, obvious that he wasn’t enjoying himself.
“Good. Your wife is of great help.” He raised his beer bottle, guzzling the liquid as if his life depended on it, without a care for his liver. Hatred seemed to be the only thing that filled your husband’s body upon the sentence spilling from Mark’s mouth.
His slow chewing and persistent glare towards the older male made this tense dinner worsen. “That she is.” His voice had deepened when the words cascaded. It was ruining your night how obvious they were being. But if they weren’t going to act upon it and grant you entertainment, then you’ll have to shift that tension.
“Hyuck, you never answered my question.” You turn to him, dropping your grip from the fork and leaning back on the chair rest. “Right, well. I’ve been working with them for a while–”
“You’re quitting?!”
“Let me finish, love.”
He grins trying to hide his dissatisfaction with your interruption. His hand takes a hold of yours, squeezing it. “I’ve been overworking myself. Working overtime to the point it’s been a big reason our marriage is the way it is…” You don't meet his gaze, it drops just like your stomach knowing what he could mean.
Not only does it cause sadness but it also irks you that he’d drop that in front of Mark. Sure he knew you guys weren’t doing good but why bring it up now that you’re both ignoring it?
Regardless he continues. “What I’m getting at is that I have some hours accumulated and I’m taking three months off.” Both you and Mark turned to him startled. Three months was a lot for a simple vacation and when you think about it, he’s not that pleasant when he has free time at hand.
“That’s a lot of time, Hyuck. What do you even plan on doing?!” He could hear the concern in your voice, you still weren’t ready to see him day and night. Mark seemed to have your sentiment at heart. He too was thinking of how awkward and uncomfortable things will be with him at home.
Yet all Hyuck could do was laugh wholeheartedly until it turned dry and low, glaring at you both. “You two don’t seem to want me around.” His fork hits the plate with a loud thud, your eyes rolling at his attitude. Just when things were nice, he always had to sneak in his tantrums.
“It’s not that, you just haven’t had time to yourself in so long. What do you even plan on doing?” At that second Mark felt warm. The tone in your voice reminded him of how you would talk to Hyuck months prior. It gave him hope that you two would cut the crap and go back to argument after argument. At least then you'd run to him for comfort.
Donghyuck pouted, nodding in agreement. “Yeah... That’s why we’re going on a trip.” He pats your thigh, a smile creeps on his face. “A family friend has allowed me to use one of their homes. I thought it’d be nice to spend New Years there since we spent Christmas here.” He looked around for a reaction, a little annoyed that neither gave him one.
“Well?” He raised an eyebrow, smile faltering.
“When do you guys leave?” Mark questions, a dumbfounded expression on his face. Hyuck pressed his lips together with a twinge of guilt the longer he looked at his friend. Has the hostility been so bad that he's not including himself? Well… Mark’s best interest wasn’t that at heart.
“Tomorrow and you're going too.” He points his finger for visualization. In the second Hyuck’s gaze drops to search for his napkin, Mark and you both turn to each other. Mark questioned what would be of this relationship while you wondered what your husband was planning or if he truly was clueless. Nonetheless, the biggest concern was how your little game would continue with Hyuck around 24/7 now.
Donghyuck’s plans only seemed to interfere with Mark’s. Even more now that he was thinking about all the things he planned on revealing as a surprise. Mark didn’t have three months. In fact, at the beginning of the year he had to start moving into his new apartment. Having you two help him move in was going to be the reveal but now everything was ruined.
“Are you okay?”
Your genuine concern broke both of them out of their trances. Mark turned to you with his big round eyes, feeling his chest warm again; in awe of your simple actions. Hyuck’s chewing slowed down when he looked between you and Mark; confused and scared at the same time.
“Mark?”
“Um… yeah it’s just–”
Fuck he missed hearing you say his name endearingly.
In that instance he gave you a sly smile, scratching his head in discomfort. “I actually can’t stay the whole three months.” A sort of apology settled in his eyes knowing you're both confused.
“I already found an apartment and I wanted it to be a surprise for you guys when I start moving in… I get the keys on the second.” He chuckles nervously, avoiding your gaze but turning to his best friend.
You knew that day would come. In fact, your fear of him leaving is what led to both of you starting this affair. Yet you didn’t think it would be this soon. What was once hostility between your husband and his best friend now transferred between you and Mark.
Maybe you didn’t care too much that he was leaving anymore but you did care that he hid something that big from you. It’s like he didn’t know you at all. Surprises were never your thing and if he had pulled that on you when the time came, you’d be absolutely furious with him.
“Did they give you hell for the working situation?” Hyuck’s voice interfered with your internal monologue, turning your gaze from Mark to him. “Kind of… I mean I’ve shown them proof of freelancing with the paintings and even if that wasn’t enough, I’ve managed to get Taeyong’s help in being a co-signer for payments. Just until I finally settle with the artist studio.”
“It’ll be sad to see you go. Right, y/n?”
“Right.”
“So does that mean you’ve gotten a job?” Hyuck excitedly questions, forgetting the remainder of his meal. Mark’s body sways at the mention, a smile forming on his lips. “Yeah…” He spoke, trying his best to not seem too excited.
While the two seemed to be celebrating, your mood had soured. He found an apartment and chose his location but didn’t tell you any of it and then complains that you’ve changed. He truly wasn’t any better.
“What location?”
“Huh?”
Hyuck hums in confusion, seeing your expression. “I want to know what location he chose. Yasuki gave him two options. So which one?” There your husband lets out a confused chuckle, shaking his head and leaning back on the chair. “Why haven’t I heard of this?” He laughs a bit more, pushing his plate away from him.
“Because you’re never home.” Your hostility was ruining the night now. What started with them was ending with you. It was not helping Hyuck’s feelings when it came to you and his best friend. When he thought it was a simple delusion, your reaction to knowing Mark was leaving left a bitter taste in his mouth to the point he was blaming the meal.
Mark cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “I’m going to give digital work a try. So that studio— it’s an hour away.” He gulped turning to you in fear of how you’d react. It wasn’t that far from each other but you still weren’t processing that he was going to leave you.
An awkward air surrounded the three of you. While Hyuck went back to eating and you played with your food at this point, Mark cleared his throat trying to rid of that anger that filled him earlier. As much as he despises your recent treatment, it pained him more to see you sad because of him.
“So, what time do we leave tomorrow?”
“Not too early. There’s still some errands I have to run before we leave the apartment alone.”
Hyuck lifts his head, answering Mark before rising from his seat. “Are you done?” Your voice cuts through. You were used to him leaving the table whenever but you didn’t want to be alone with Mark right now. At most you knew he’d cling to you as a means to ask for forgiveness and you didn’t want to deal with it.
He hums, taking his plate and washing the remains himself. It’s been a while since he’s done anything to help around the house. The action alone causes some irritation with you despite knowing you should be glad. “I’m waking up early tomorrow so if you excuse me I’ll go wash up and sleep after the game.”
Making his way to the bedroom and soon after back out to the bathroom; Hyuck closed the door behind him feeling that chilly breeze from the open window. Everything seemed fine but an ominous feeling enveloped him upon looking at himself in the mirror. The light fixture above emits a green hue to compliment the dark tiles.
He couldn’t point his finger at it but being in this space and in the position of him leaning against the counter was causing that ache in his chest again. If he remained any longer he could see himself form scenarios in which he wouldn’t be happy and he rather not disrupt the peace you all reside in. For now at least.
As soon as Hyuck turned on the shower, Mark joined him in opening the faucet to finish washing the dishes. “Just leave them there.” Your monotonous voice filled his ears. Head turned to you with a hum as he scrubbed the last remaining utensils.
“I'm already finished, don’t worry about it.” He tried smiling. “Jesus fucking christ seems like everyone can do things themselves now.” You didn’t give him time to respond, opting to walk towards the living area. Flipping through the channels to get some watch time before Hyuck either forced you to watch the match or subtly shoo you away.
Mark looked at you dumbfounded. He knew you were upset with him, enough to make him regret ever not telling you the news when he heard them. To an extent Mark knew you didn’t like things being hidden from you (though you adored hiding things from them). But he had justified his actions by hoping you’d be ecstatic by the time the reveal came.
In his mind, he pictured you happily helping him move into his new apartment. Happy to see him finally start his life all over again with hopes this time he wouldn’t fail. Sometimes he wished you’d end up moving in with him. Leaving Hyuck and this faux persona you’re both creating nowadays.
But by the looks of how you’re taking in the news, he should’ve planned better. Things between you two became complicated and mostly carnal. So he’s been trying to avoid making you upset but nothing was working. He was becoming a burden to you in his eyes and he was starting to feel frightful.
“I’m going to go smo—“
“You do that.”
Your fingers threaded through your hair like his had earlier, not granting him even a direct look. Cutting him off after deciding to just watch the remaining minutes of the match before the one Hyuck wanted to watch.
Mark’s mouth was left ajar, speechless at how easily you blew him off without remorse. This same thing has become quite recurrent every time he upsets you and as much he tries not to, each time you leave him feeling useless to the point he’s stuck to your hip doing anything you want.
He nods in disappointment, taking his box of cigarettes and keys, making his way to the rooftop. With the door closing behind him, you sigh in annoyance with what life is bringing your way.
By half time, Mark had come back ignoring that bubbling jealousy as you caressed an angry Haechan whose body you enveloped as comfort given his team was losing. Three hours later he had woken from his slumber to the faintest sound of the television still on in the living room.
Curious and with a dry throat, Mark stood from the bed making his way to the living room, opening the door as quietly as he could.
“Today through this exclusive TV offer you can get twelve fascinating issues of Zoobooks for 19.95…”
Distracted by the advertisement, you hadn’t noticed Mark approach you in awe after realizing the shirt you’re wearing is his. Small details like this made him forget all those abrupt outbursts you’d throw his way that only made his heart ache. If only he knew how many of these Donghyuck has endured.
His arms wrapped around your waist pulling you to his chest. Lips landing tenderly on your neck and leaving playful pecks. Your low giggles made his heart swell, hands taking a grasp on his own to loosen his grip and let you turn to face him.
“Hyuck you should be asleep…” You drag out the ‘e’ once face to face with the older male, your smile falters upon the realization. His mirrored yours; smile dropping, eyes filled with despondence, and a knot in his throat.
“Oh… it’s you.” To an extent he could hear the pity in your voice, subtly apologizing for confusing him with your husband.
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” His sadness had become anger, that same knot choking him to a physically painful extent. Despite that, your pity had subsided and boredom was evident.
“What if it was him and I said your name? I don’t want either of us to die before the New Year.”
In his entire anger, he hated that his only thought upon your words was: ‘I wouldn’t mind dying with you.’
With that thought alone Mark was beginning to feel frustrated with how easily his emotions ranged because of you. Nevertheless ending his turmoil of emotions, you pulled him down to the couch with you. Encasing his lips with yours once situated to give him some peace of mind.
A kiss was always enough to calm him down. Pulling you closer to his body and resting his hands on your hips as you both continued this lustful kiss. Sighing into the kiss once he felt like he needed a breath of air; one of his hands traveled to hold your face carefully. His warmth radiated to your cold cheek.
“What are you doing up this late?” He whispers, repositioning himself to the armrest on the right and pulling you to his body. Mimicking the position you and Hyuck were in earlier.
“Last minute cleaning before we leave tomorrow.” You took the remote control from the coffee table, disrupting the once semi-comfortable position. “I’m starting to regret it knowing he hasn’t packed anything yet. Have you?”
“Not precisely. I had packed everything for when I started moving into the apartment—“ and he knew he fucked up right then and there.
Your body became tense against his, hard enough that he feared you had become a statue. Shutting his eyes in regret; Mark started beating himself over not being careful with his words. He had gotten so used to speaking freely with you that he was beginning to fear he’d have to censor his vocabulary now.
In a frenzy of panic, the words escape his mouth with fear: “Move in with me.”
There was no denying his words had startled you. Removing his grip from your body to face him, the questions brewing in your brain engrave themselves into your face.
While Mark worked with that nervous laugh that escaped him involuntarily, his hands reached for your face to plant short kisses onto your lips in hopes they’d ease both of your emotions.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah!”
A peppy feeling in his chest. “I mean it’s smaller than this place but I think you’ll like it.” Your eyes scanned his face, a layer of blush flushing it the longer you stared. The effects of being stared at by someone you love.
“The terrace is spacious so you can have all the plants you want. The bedroom can be your studio and we can have the bed in the living area.” He was so happy and blinded by the scenarios of having you in his home as his wife that he couldn’t see the gears turning in your head.
How willing were you to follow through?
An amused laugh escapes your lips. Mark felt the airy comfort of acceptance to which he mirrors your laugh, kissing you now that he’s satisfied.
“Sounds like a plan, huh? You can do whatever you want while I work for us. I mean I like you and you like me. We can start from square one, I really like you, y/n. Go with me, what else do we need?”
You knew what was needed but for now, you’ll bask in his boyish delight and kiss him like many times before; igniting his hope.
Mark took your kisses as confirmation. Hopefully a few days from now you both will find yourselves running off and leaving this stagnant life. It could be true, this may be your yearned fresh start.
He held your body closer, pillowy lips encasing yours to swiftly place them against your jawline. He created a path amongst your cold skin. A fluttering feeling brewing in your stomach the closer his lips got to your neck.
His tongue lapped at the flesh, drawing circles until he kissed it to create a tingle to run up your spine. Mark was always delicate when kissing your skin. Yes, he wanted to show Donghyuck and everyone what he did to you but for respect towards you, he restrained himself.
“I’ll make sure you’ll get clients no matter what. You can even work remotely from the apartment or not at all if you don't want to. I'll do fine enough.”
His warm whisper traveled up your skin to your ears, booming within your head but not much in a pleasant way.
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes…”
The word left in a groan, hands moving your hips to make you grind against his growing bulge. Quite interesting how easily he can get turned on. He was too enthralled with the way your body felt against him and his hopes to start a new life that he didn’t notice a wave of fright wash over you when hearing the slight creaking from your bedroom.
Not wanting to worry the man beneath you, you smiled, taking his face into your hands. He returned the smile wider, leaning in for one final kiss of the night. Your unexpected moves of getting off him creating a whine to slip from his lips.
“Good night, Mark. Remember to pack up before he finishes his errands.”
You didn’t give him time to return the words or feel frustrated with the mention of his best friend but it didn’t matter. All he cared for was the new life both of you were set to start together.
Fear had always plagued you upon entering this room even before Mark arrived. Whether it was because you knew an argument would brew or because you’d have to sleep in it alone. Things are different now. Now the fear stemmed from entering the room after your rendezvous to see Hyuck staring at the door until you entered, ready to lash out for these years of misery.
But in this reality he wasn’t staring at the door. He sat on the bed, back towards you while looking outside the vast window. Curtain pushed to the side that made copious amounts of neon lighting enter your shared bedroom. His figure had made your heart stop, begging for clemency at the fright he gave you.
You feared he heard you and Mark speak let alone any of the noises any of you could’ve let out from making out. While your heart banged against your ribcage to be let out, Hyuck restrained his bitter chuckle. That familiar smell swaying its way to his nostrils. At least you were in the room with him now.
“Can’t sleep?” Your words didn’t elicit a response from him, if anything he could barely produce a sigh. With no response you approached him. Climbing on the bed, feeling the mattress sink under your knees, complaining about your abuse until you reached him. Wrapping your arms around his waist like Mark had done to you earlier, lips laying on the crook of his neck to take a whiff of his musk.
“What were you doing?” He asks, avoiding your own question. He didn’t need an answer, he knew perfectly what you were doing. Now that he had you this close, that pungent smell of Mark on you suffocated him. It didn’t help that the walls were thin and he could hear both of you murmuring. He may not have heard actual words but it was enough to know you two were together.
His head turned to look at you upon not gaining an answer. It’s not that you took a while but he wanted to familiarize himself with your face whenever you were lying, just like you knew when he lied.
“Cleaning before we leave. I don’t want to come back to a dirty house.” You answer, kissing his cheek with a smile right after.
Fuck. There’s no incriminating factor. Perhaps you're used to it by now.
Hyuck hums, sighing once again to rid his nostrils of Mark’s lingering scent. It was painfully intoxicating his loins. If he didn’t do anything about it, he feared not waking up tomorrow morning. Death by heartache.
Shifting in his spot, Hyuck takes a hold of your body, laying you slowly underneath him. The image before you made your heart swell, giddy excitement filling your entire being. He didn’t do anything besides hover over you but that remorseful look in his eyes made you feel inherently nice.
You didn’t want to feel this way. As much as you act civilized and occasionally loving towards him and in front of Mark to put up a facade, you are still angry and hurt for what he did to you nearly two years ago. You still hated him with your entire being but sometimes the nostalgia of happy moments took over you and made you miss him like crazy.
You knew you hated him. But despite how much you hated him you will always have that parasite in your system that’ll force you to remember the times he’s made you happy. And now that you found yourself with him hovering over you and looking at you lovingly, you seemed to cave.
When you thought he was leaning in for a kiss, his lips landed on your forehead. A tender and soft kiss is what he laid on your skin, taking in the scent of your hair rather than Mark’s. At least this would help ease his aching heart.
Hyuck wondered if this feeling is what you felt when you found out about him and that girl. He never saw you cry about the situation but instead saw you tear down the house with any argument that ensued due to the subject. Perhaps he should be the one to act that recklessly. After all this was between his wife and his childhood best friend but he knew he wasn’t brave enough for that.
In contrast to his inner turmoil, you found the action sweet. Trying your hardest to avoid that feeling of giddiness he was causing you. You two stayed like that for a few minutes, enough for his own scent to rub off on you from how close he held you. Satisfied, Hyuck pulls away, a gush of cool air getting between your bodies to remind you of that lost warmth.
“Don’t overwork yourself, you’ve done a good job keeping the house clean.” His voice still held that sleepy hoarseness, making his praise fill you even more with satisfaction. While he laid on his side again and whispered a sweet good night, you took the opportunity to turn to him and steal a kiss.
For the first time in a while, you initiated the kiss. Catching him off guard, Hyuck opens his eyes surprised before easing into it. Reminded how sweet kisses from you were and how much he had missed them all this time.
Pulling away with a smile on your lips, Hyuck returns it amused. “Good night.” You whisper, laying your head on his chest while his arm wraps around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. You two may feel hurt for the actions you’ve both taken but for tonight you’ll play along with those emotions that crave the comfort of puppy love.
The next day came quicker than expected. All of you had different illusions created regarding your relationships and Mark seemed the most excited about the ones he’s created. Not that you wanted to ruin that hope but you needed time to think about it. On one hand it’d be a perfect way to finally ruin Donghyuck and make him pay for what he’s done to you but on the other it was such an abrupt proposition that you’re still trying to process it.
And for the past three hours, you’ve sat calmly in the passenger seat of your car now that Haechan finally finished his errands, road trip in process. Both of you hand in hand with the radio working as the only source of sound. Even with that, Mark’s bitterness couldn’t be taken away. The image of you being so loving towards the man you fought with daily was consuming him in the worst way possible.
Can one forget everything said that easily?
He tried distracting himself with anything he brought but even that couldn’t do anything for him. His glare shifted from you to Hyuck anytime someone talked. For the past hour both you and your husband had been passively debating on what to eat before arriving at the vacation home. Mark had given up his rights to make decisions, not caring much about what he ate. If it was for him, a good cold drink and a cigarette would be considered a meal.
“I don’t want to eat pasta again this week.” you whined, fingers squeezing his. A low grunt left your husband’s throat, rolling his eyes at how hard it’s always been to get you to choose what to eat. “Then let’s stop at a rest area and buy something from those restaurants?” His voice got louder, not enough to be considered aggravated but enough to make Mark shake his head with a grin.
“And eat in the car?! We still have two hours left, I don’t want the smell to stay!” Mark covered his face with his hands, laughing silently seeing you let go of Haechan’s hand. You pout in dissatisfaction while Hyuck ran his fingers through his hair, a huff of annoyance escaping him.
It wasn’t long until the sun went down and due to his busy morning, he didn’t get to eat breakfast or lunch. Poor guy was on the brink of fainting from starvation. “We should’ve ate while you were putting gas.” The words escaping you had traveled to Hyuck’s ear, leaving behind a bitter tone.
Raising the hand that was in his hair, he turned to you irked. His face was red, mouth agape in disbelief since you were the one who didn’t want to eat in that area. “I told you and you didn’t want to!—”
He was abruptly cut off when a popping sound was heard, dissipating any anger and laughter from anyone inside. Right now, you all felt confused and scared realizing it was the sound of a tire the second the rubber began flopping on the concrete and the drive was no longer smooth.
“Just what I need, Jesus fucking Christ.” Your husband mutters, opening his door angrily to get out and inspect the damage. You looked at him with the same expression he gave you before beginning his berating but now you followed behind to see what happened. With everyone gone, Mark is left alone in the car, realizing this could get much worse.
“Pop the trunk, let me get the spare out.” Donghyuck states, patting the metal and looking at you a bit tired. But your ashamed grimace was putting him out of ease.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I don’t have a spare…”
He rubbed his face, sighing in frustration. “Are you being serious, y/n? Why don’t you have a spare?!”
"I— we took it out to transfer the first batch of canvases to Mrs. Oh's house, we just didn't bother to put it back in..."
He wanted to yell at you. To start an argument in which both of you would tell the other to die without saying the actual words. He wanted to walk away and leave both you and that traitor alone with the car just as long as he was far away; but he couldn’t.
Things have gone well and last night had given him hope too. Haechan knew he couldn’t ruin things this fast over a tire or being hangry. The only rational thing to do is sit down and act like he was fine, like it was all fine and under control.
Taking a seat next to Mark, the both share a brief look before sitting in silence, defeat washing over your husband. Mark didn’t give any input and you yourself didn’t know what to do. Only thing that came to mind was comforting Hyuck.
That in mind, you push his legs together, taking a seat on his lap and making him face you after wrapping your arms around his neck. He looked beautiful in your opinion. His plump lips formed a pout, lids heavy from exhaustion. Even when dull you adored his eyes.
“Does your phone have signal? Can we try calling a mechanic?” He shakes his head, grunt sounding more like a whine while protruding his pout more. “Yours?” You mimic his response, pulling him closer by the neck.
Mark saw everything from his peripheral, knuckles turning white the tighter he held his book. His heart was screaming, aching, and threatening to explode if you kept being this blatantly affectionate in front of him. Did you have no shame? No remorse? What were you playing at to love him just last night but rub in his face that another man could have you publicly?
The nail in the coffin came when you leaned into Haechan, slotting his lips with yours and kissing him tenderly. Turning his head to an angle towards you both, his eyes squinted and lips parted with aversion. The image seemed too familiar. Was it from last night or the afternoon in this same car that started this affair but he too felt betrayed now.
Having enough of watching you kiss away your husband’s stress, the older male made his way out of the car, slamming the door causing both you and Hyuck to separate. His gaze turned to his friend, panting to regain air but before he could question anything you kissed his swollen lips once more, holding him for dear life.
“Better?”
“Much better.”
Hyuck smiles at you, kissing your cheek before helping you off his lap. He wouldn’t have minded staying like that for a while but his subconscious told him to go to Mark. To talk to him while he remained agitated and with swollen lips: evidence of your adoration. It may be malicious but why shouldn’t he when everything pointed to his betrayal.
“You good?” Your husband raises his eyebrows, thumb swiping against his red swollen lips. An action Mark watches bitterly. “Just taking a smoke.” Placing the stick between his lips, the older pushes the box towards his friend as an offering. Hyuck takes it, leaning against the car waiting for Mark to pass him the lighter but the latter turns it on with his own. In the instance that their heads came together and tips of the burning cigarettes touch, a flash goes off making both of them turn startled.
Haechan blows off the smoke, ruffling his hair when realizing it was you that took a picture of both. No one said anything. You simply smiled at them, rolling the film for whatever was your next target.
For the following half an hour you all remained silent with the exception of your camera whenever they did something you liked and occasionally the radio if anyone saw it fit to turn it on.
The sun was threatening to fall and worry finally settled; the three of you throwing worried glances to each other. When the universe had enough of you all acting useless; the presence of an older woman cleaning her hands on her worn out apron stood before you three.
“What seems to be the problem?” Though sounding hostile, she meant well. Clearing his throat, Hyuck stood from his position on the seat he had settled on not long ago. “Hello… Our tire popped and we don’t have a spare. By any chance do you have service to call a mechanic?” His hands rub against his jeans, smiling at her in hopes that would help.
She simply chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. “Who doesn’t carry a spare tire driving through here? Have you seen the potholes?” Her chuckle turned into laughter, mocking the three but nevertheless she didn’t mean any harm and instead asked them to follow her.
“There’s no mechanic for another two hours and the one we have has been out for the past week but my son and husband should be here from work in around ten minutes. My son has spare tires and you can work it out with him. How does that sound?”
There was no other choice. All of you had to be gone soon if you wanted to enjoy the remaining days of 1999 and Mark’s stay with the two of you. Nodding, Hyuck agrees, eliciting a smile on the woman’s face that invites the party to her home.
The car was left on the side of the road but the vast windows of the home allowed all of you to view it for precaution. The walk from the vehicle to the house was a bit far with the troubles of wet dirt from past rain and some stray thorns but both men tried their best to make your path clear.
It was much colder upon entering the home. The walls were freezing and the lights dull. The house was lovely but that ominous feeling was creeping on Mark enough to hold your arm and pull you closer to him. You mustered to side eye him, confused on his actions but pulled away when Hyuck turned to you both. A subtle dissatisfied look on his face.
“Spending New Years at the beach?” The lady questioned in order to create conversation. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea so far.” Haechan smiles, looking around when taking a seat on the plastic covered couch. The older lady that soon introduced herself as Magui had gone to the kitchen to continue cooking dinner.
She had confessed that her husband and son left her alone the entire day. Most of the time only seeing them when they came back and when making them lunch. Seeing yourself in her, you searched for a sliver of sadness but who figured some people don’t mind the life you have. She spoke highly of the men in her life so maybe that was the key to her happiness.
“Are you staying with family for the New Year, Magui?” You egg the conversation, sipping on the hot chocolate she handed all of you now that it was getting colder. “We’re spending it with my family. They live in the next state over. Today is their last day of work for the year so we leave early tomorrow.” Her smile became warmer the longer she spoke to you all, feeling more at ease herself.
“Are you all spending it with your family?” Truth be told she wanted to know what was the deal between the three of you. She was an older woman, the more wiser and she could see the glances both men threw you. Were you with the beautifully tanned honey haired man or the brunette with gracious cheekbones? Both of them made their infatuation clear but only one of them would be presented as your partner.
Mark shrugged, giving her a shy smile. “Just us three.” Haechan answers, taking your hand into his. There her answer went. Parting her lips to let out an ‘ah’, she nods at the reveal.
“Seems a little lonely doesn’t it?” It did but none of you would want to admit it. After all the past years you’ve spent it with Hyuck’s family so this was a change of pace. “Not necessarily. I only have them.” Mark answers, his eyes shifting from her to both of you.
He had his family but his brother and mother were cowards that did anything his father said. He, like you, spent Christmas and New Years with Hyuck and his family, that’s the most he’d see his best friend in a busy year.
“Yeah… well his family too but he wanted to change it up this year.” You laugh nervously, squeezing your husband’s hand who only raised his eyebrows as a response. You, like Mark, didn't have a good relationship with your own family.
Not too long after your mother’s death, your father remarried a woman you could only describe as a geriatric cunt. Preferring her over you: his own daughter, things hadn’t been the same as they were when you were younger. Years of neglect had gotten to you and you treated him as nothing more than your creator.
Well, that’s your version but in reality all these years you treated your father horribly for trying to move on. Yes, he loved your mother but he knew he couldn’t take care of you and your brother alone and his current wife was a delight. Even after all these years of your reproach, they still loved you dearly and tried their best to keep in touch.
As the years progressed you ignored your father’s advances on fixing this damaged relationship but he kept trying. You couldn’t understand why your brother had forgiven him but you couldn't. Maybe because you refuse to acknowledge you were in the wrong in wanting your father to cope the same way as you did. So if you were miserable he should be too.
This year he had invited you all to his home once again for the holidays. He knew you spent it with your Husband’s family but it never hurt to try. Whenever you didn’t answer his emails, letters, or fax he’d resort to Hyuck who’d only reply with: ‘I’ll let her know.’ Knowing full well the answer will always be no.
Donghyuck never blamed you for trying to stay away from your father. He saw how Mark’s own relationship with his was and he didn’t want to push you either. All he could do was stay by your side and offer you comfort despite not agreeing with you. At least he knew his family would always produce warmth and love for his loved ones.
Soon enough screaming from outside took everyone’s focus. Magui knew it was her husband and son; greeting them ever so lovingly and kissing their cheeks as a welcome; her face lit up in joy.
Maybe in another universe this could be you and Hyuck. Maybe.
“So?” The older male spoke with a gruff voice, hand turning to the three of you sitting on the couch as he took his spot on the recliner chair his wife sat on earlier. Presumably none of you were sitting there by the time he arrived. “Their tire popped right outside.” Words came out choppy while chewing on a piece of potato, making sure it was well cooked.
“Chivi go change it out, get one of your spares.” Magui ordered her son who stood with no hesitation. Cocking her head towards her son while looking at your husband; he stood up to follow him, pulling you with him in the process. Not trusting to leave you alone with Mark even when there were eyes all over.
You began freezing the instant you crossed the threshold, your jacket doing nothing to warm you. You didn’t complain much. In a way you did prefer being with him for the time being, still feeling awkward around the older couple back inside.
“Ah. Yeah… Horrible burst.” The one called ‘Chivi’ speaks, raising his eyebrows while releasing a small laugh. With a flashlight he pointed at how horribly ripped the rubber was, flaps barley hanging close together. “My spares are used up and old themselves so I recommend you change it as soon as shops open again and get a new one. It’ll last you a good few weeks but it’s best to be cautious. Are you okay with that?”
Anything was okay than staying stranded in a small town nearing the middle of nowhere. All he wanted to do was get to the home, shower, and rest for the remainder of the night. He was exhausted and hungry, he wanted a break.
“Yeah, yeah that’s fine. How much would it be?” Haechan nods exasperatedly, hand reaching for his wallet but Chivi stops him. “Nothing! Actually, can you go get me a pack of tortillas and a large bottle of coke? I forgot to get them and ma’s gonna kill me if she finds out.” He laughs, finding this comedic.
You let out a giggle yourself. After waiting a good 10-20 minutes and night had finally caught up to you, all this family asked for was the essentials to their dinner. It may be the simplest of requests but you found the family endearing perhaps because you were still fixated on the fact that in another life you too could’ve had this sweet family with Donghyuck.
“Sure, no problem.” He heard your voice for the first time this night, smiling at the confirmation. He handed Hyuck the keys to his truck, rushing you both while giving directions to the nearest grocery store that seemed to be 15 minutes away if you went straight ahead.
When arriving the both of you got the items rapidly with barely any exchange of words, exhaustion weighing down both of you. Besides their requests both you and Hyuck opted to get them a cake. It was minimal and perhaps the most random thing to give but you wanted to show your gratitude to the family in case they didn’t take payment for their help.
On the way back, he cracked the window open letting the cold air in, making you turn to him a little peeved. “Cold?” He taunts, tongue pushing against his cheek before chuckling. “Very. Feel.” Taking his hand onto yours, Hyuck pretended to shudder at the contact of your cold skin but didn't let go.
“We finally have some time to ourselves.” He deviates, holding your hand against your thighs which you covered with a blanket you were able to get out of the car before leaving. “Yeah, I suppose so.” At least the first night out without any argument and ill words thrown at each other besides your make up anniversary dinner.
From time to time he’d turn to you, seeing as you watched the trees blur away but focused on how beautiful you looked. The way your lips shined from the lip balm, your nose with the faintest hint of blush from the cold, and the way your eyelashes batted against your cheeks whenever you blinked.
If it wasn’t because of the darkness, he’d think you’re glowing. You didn’t look as miserable and dull as you did months ago and before Mark’s arrival. That only made him feel guilty and incensed; being aware that his best friend has been able to liven up your life. Just Mark and not him: your husband.
Haechan’s hand begins to smoothen out the creases of your sweatpants, his hand progressively getting higher on your thigh enough to make you feel a tingling ache between your legs. His hand became warm enough that it almost felt like you didn’t have cloth between you two and he was directly caressing your skin.
“What are you doing, Hyuckie?” your head rolled to face him, sultry eyes begging him to not stop even if your voice tried to act like it. “I never got to fully taste you that night, princess.” A smile crept on your face as his hand inside your sweatpants, pushing away the fabric of your underwear.
There was always sweetness and comfort in the way he called you said nickname. You always surrendered under him whenever he said the word. If only he knew the effect it had on you, he’d exploit it to have you eating from his palm.
“We can’t—” You choked up, his fingers pushing through your cavern, enveloping them with your warmth. He held a smirk on his face, biting his inferior lip to repress a mischievous chuckle. “Not here…” You moan, he curled the digits once reaching as deep as he could, slowly moving them within you.
“We can’t fuck in someone else’s car.” An airy breath left your lips, panting the while he continued to move his fingers, tips gracing your g-spot. He knew your body well, no one but him.
“Why not?” He whines, fingers leaving your body and making you cry from emptiness. His hand reaches his plump lips, smothering them with your essence as if it was lip balm, licking it off after seconds and rejoicing from joy at the taste he longed for.
Your eyelids fluttered at the image, feeling tears well up on your waterline. “Lay your blanket in the back, we can there.” He sucks on his ring finger, biting at the skin, teeth dancing across the flesh to leave behind a red trail before drying them off on his neck.
In your seconds of contemplation his phone rang angrily inside his pocket; removing his attention from you. You wouldn’t deny that it bothered you, it had ruined the mood and both of you couldn’t ignore it as your pager kept buzzing when the calls went unanswered.
It felt like Deja Vu for the one on the other end.
“Mark–”
“Mark.”
Hyuck shakes his head with a chuckle, not surprised that even when gone he’d interrupt another intimate moment. “We’re taking too long apparently.” Turning to look at his disappointed face while he sped off to the house; you couldn’t help but feel his frustration. He didn’t talk after that, leaving the reminder silent.
On arrival you took it upon yourself to break that silence, cupping his cheek into your cold hands making him look at you. “When we get home, okay?” You kiss him, easing his irritation. He nodded in agreement, his own hand on top of yours and pulling you closer to him to deepen it.
He swiped his tongue over your lower lip, you parted them to give him access and when his free hand traveled under your shirt; your pager buzzed again causing him to laugh into the kiss. This time bitterness won.
“Let’s just go.” He sighs, unbuckling and rushing out the truck. You shared his sentiment, picking at your lips on the way inside the house; his hand holding yours tightly.
The four inside turned to the creak of the door, desperate hunger slapped on their faces. “There was a long line, sorry.” Your husband excused, handing them the still warm tortillas and soda bottle.
“Sit. Eat Before you all leave.” Magui offers; a warm smile on her face while serving her son first. The three of you didn’t want to burden the family any longer but they insisted until you all agreed.
While conversation was made and you all enjoyed the meal after extensive hours of unwilling starvation, you all finally bid your goodbyes and thanked them again for their hospitality. In a matter of seconds that brief encounter was gone but the experience will always stay.
The remaining two hours were spent in complete silence considering you knocked out as soon as you got in the car and Mark held resentment for you not answering and crossing that threshold with swollen lips letting him know what you two were truly doing. Donghyuck himself was tired and didn’t have it in him to throw jabs at the older male in the passenger’s seat (both of them convincing you to just sleep in the back until you arrived).
Around midnight you all had arrived. The scenery was familiar to Mark, enough that he sat up straight to analyze every architectural detail of the house. From the geometrical protruding walls, huge clear windows, and the creaking play set that had given him many burns going down the slide as a child.
This was Mark’s— his father’s beach house. The same house his father banned him from years ago after one of their petty arguments. One neither could recall anymore but till this day they still remained angry.
He wanted to be glad that he was staying here as a way to stick it to his dad but knowing the man gave Hyuck access when he never gave it to anyone, not even his favorite child, made his blood boil. What had he done for his friend to gain his father’s trust till this day?
“Can you get some of the bags while I take her in?” Donghyuck interrupts his thoughts.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he gets to have you and his father’s admiration. Hyuck didn’t have a bad relationship with his own father. Why was he so adamant on taking his dad too? He was already brainwashing you by the way you’ve been acting so what else could he take from him?
Mark bitterly took in the items, throwing them all against the well kept couch. While your husband tucked you in (occasionally hearing your sleepy complaints about wanting to sleep), Hyuck returned quickly to help Mark unload. Stepping foot in the living room, he watched his friend’s actions.
The older looked vexed, gripping tightly to old framed family pictures. He appeared in some, miserable as one could be and the ones he ever smiled in he was a toddler with no recollection of ever loving his father.
“Neat, huh?” Haechan interrupted, extending his arms to signal at the house. Mark hummed, not lifting his gaze taking his own bag. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this house? That the family friend was my dad?” He questions minimizing the distance between the two.
The younger shrugs giving no importance, “Thought we’d spend the last few days where we always had fun.” He smiles almost sincerely. It’s true that Hyuck wanted to spend the end of the year at a place full of fond memories but after what Mark has done, tormenting him a little won’t hurt.
Mark sighs, pressing his lips tightly together while nodding; leaving his friend alone in the living room as he makes his way to his old bedroom. The only unkempt and dirty one in the entire house.
Early morning Donghyuck had woken up with a cold spot beside him that belonged to you. His mind raced with ill thoughts and fury was consuming him. He called out for you but gained no response. That began to elicit scenarios in which if he stood and went to Mark’s room you’d be there.
Shaking his head to not get ahead of himself, he calls out your name again, putting on his sandals to roam around the house and search for you. He searched upstairs, in the kitchen, the living room, extra bedrooms, and even considered barging into Mark’s. But he didn’t want to see it with his own eyes. He didn’t want to see you two in anything compromising and ruin his sanity.
Instead he went downstairs to continue his search, aiding his thumping heart from the ache of the ‘what if’. If there’s something Hyuck keeps in mind from all the things you’ve said it’s: ‘Who seeks, finds.’ And he didn’t want to find, at least not yet. He was glad that when stepping foot in the warm lower layer, he found you floating about in the grand indoors pool.
His heart relaxed as his face muscles did, sighing in relief to know his suspicions were wrong. How glad he was to be wrong for once. Making his way to the edge of the pool, he rolls up his sleeping pants, removing the sandals and dipping his feet in the warm water.
It took you a few seconds to realize he had arrived but seeing his face unconsciously made a smile appear on your face. “Morning,” You coo, swimming his way. He returns the smile basking in the sweetness of the moment.
If this had happened months ago you’d glare at him before deciding to get out of his presence. You would’ve never spoken to him in this way months ago but now you were acting like everything was behind you. Whether it’s your own guilt or being tired of the cycle, he was going to appreciate the small things.
“Morning, princess.” He lets out with a groggy voice, caressing your cheek the instant you get close. “Slept well? I didn’t want to wake you, you looked really tired yesterday.” He musters a nod, yawning away his remaining sleep.
“Is it cold out? Why aren’t you at the beach instead?” You shrug, swiping away droplets from your face. “I’ll get ready and we can go if you want. There’s this secluded area Mark and I would always go. I think you’ll like it, this time it’ll be just us.” He winks, standing to shake off the water that clung to his legs. You nodded, watching him make his way out to leave you in solitude again.
You two hadn’t been this close in the longest time and it was concerning how sweet he was. Even when you two ‘made’ peace and started to act like nothing was ever wrong he didn’t go out of his way to be this loving. The most came to occasional kisses on the cheek and holding hands but he had taken a drastic turn that night he announced his long break.
That night had shifted things for everyone and you couldn’t get past your uneasiness. You knew it was because of Mark, it was obvious in the way he spoke to his friend that Hyuck saw something and he didn’t like it. You weren’t stupid, you can see the way they look at each other compared to earlier in his stay.
For the most part they always tried to defy or avoid each other and the times they acted like best friends, the moment would be ruined when either made a sly remark regarding you. You wanted to believe Hyuck did it for the kindness of his heart and not to brag but that doubt won’t leave your mind anytime soon, not until Mark’s final day and you decide if you’ll join him.
But in the meantime you’ll enjoy the affection Hyuck’s giving you. Despite spending the most intimate time with Mark he had dialed down on his sweetness and allowed his libido to take over. Sure occasionally he’d act like the sweet boy from earlier but he was a man nonetheless and your cute walks around the countryside turned to him taking you in the back of the car because he couldn’t hold off much longer until getting home.
You liked Mark. You held him dear to you, he was still that sweet boy you met half a year into your relationship with Donghyuck but he barely acted like him anymore. He was animalistic and possessive, wanting to keep you near him at all times and you didn’t know how to process that. You understood his love for you to an extent but the man you first slept with that afternoon wasn’t the same one that held you roughly against a sink just two days ago.
Not to mention that aside from his libido he became a clingy cheese ball that if you spent too much time with him, you’d scream how much of a bore he became inside your head.
Minutes later, Hyuck had come out with the remaining items you needed, taking your hand in his and dragging you out the dock that led directly to the beach. With the exception that he took a detour between large boulders until you both ended up by the beach completely isolated from anyone else.
The view was beautiful; for miles on end all you could see was the swaying dull cyan waves, clashing against the sand and whatever boulders were closest. Walking a little further up to the sand, you set the blanket as Hyuck the remaining items. Both settled beside each other waiting for the chilliness to calm down before dipping in the sea.
As the minutes of silence passed it was to be noted how estranged you two became to one another. What in past years would have been multiple conversations in by now had become subtle glances and shy giggles when caught. Almost like the beginning of your courtship. To anyone seeing you two; they ought to think it was a cute occurrence, but to you both— it was eating you alive seeing how dull things became.
“Are you cold?”
He breaks the ice, opening a container of strawberries, taking a bite of the red fruit. “A little.” You confess, looking from him to the tides that purposely spray you. He took the opportunity and came closer, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you to him; enveloping you in an embrace that in fact was warming you.
He hums, resting his head on your shoulder basking in your scent. Glad that for once in a long time he couldn’t smell his friend on you. “Are we staying here the three months?” You question, hoping that initiated a type of conversation.
“You don’t like it here?”
“I do. I just want to know what plans you have.”
He lets out a sigh through his nose, fingers dancing across your arms.
“You know I don’t like saying my plans out loud. Your grandma scared me off.” He chuckles, allowing his lips to grace your skin as if it was an accident, creating goosebumps; Donghyuck can’t help but grin.
The most you could do was bring his hand up to your lips, placing a tender kiss on his soft skin. Feeling your lips on his flesh made his heart flutter, becoming warm until he saw a familiar accessory wrapped around your wrist. That beauty he felt had dwindled in a matter of seconds.
Donghyuck recalled seeing a similar one on Mark’s wrist just last month. That same shade of blue that faded with the pass of water and beads began wearing out. For someone that’s spent weeks analyzing you two, he was beginning to beat himself up over this small object.
“You’ve been getting closer to Mark, haven't you?” He takes your hand, bracelet in view. You tensed until he showed the key element. A hum ended up leaving your lips, nodding whilst nervously teasing him.
“I stole your best friend.”
“But he’s my best friend.”
His voice may be playful but his heart ached.
“Maybe come home early and you can have him back.” You smile mockingly, turning so he could see it. His hand drops from your wrist, landing on your thigh. “I don’t think that’s a problem anymore.”
You knew what he insinuated but you weren’t going to let that ruin this small peace you are feeling now. “You know we miss you, right?” Lies. You and him knew it was a lie but if it wasn’t for the tone that delivered such words, it would’ve consumed him.
Instead he found himself biting his lower lip, your sultry eyes scanning his face and feeling his hand inch further up the exposed skin of your thigh. “How much?” He asks, face getting closer to yours, enough to smell the pool’s bleach in your hair and the coconut lip balm.
“Hyuckie, we can’t here…” His fingers went beneath the fabric of your bikini bottoms, intruding your walls carefully just like last night. This time there was no reason for them to be interrupted. “You said we could when we got home,” He kisses the shell of your earlobe, words falling hot against your flesh.
His lips began a trail from there onto the crook of your neck, nipping lightly and leaving a warm sting. “I haven’t been able to feel you fully for so long, I’m surprised you’re not dry.” You felt yourself gulp at his words, beginning to pant from the adrenaline of both this rendezvous and the possible meaning of his words.
He fully separated himself from you, laying you on the blanket before hovering over your body like a few nights ago. The exception being that this time he delved into a deep and animalistic kiss. His lips felt desperate against yours, both your tongues immediately waltzing with each other. Holding onto his neck and torso to keep some control.
“Won’t someone see?”
“It’s private property, princess.”
Donghyuck was drunk with pent up arousal from months of no contact and the irritation of what you and his best friend have done behind his back. You were his and Mark was his best friend. Two separate things and he was not going to allow either of you to merge into one and leave him behind.
Your nails softly clawed his skin, leaving red trails to indicate how much he was pushing. You didn’t dislike this, in fact his lascivious side has always been what you enjoy. He groans against your mouth from the sting of your actions, biting your lower lip to elicit a cry of your own.
Both your pained moans turned to pleasure giggles; he licked your lower lip before both your tongues connected and his hands untied your bikini top. Sliding from your skin and letting him feel your perked nipples against his own.
You felt sensitive under him, it wasn’t helping that his hand traveled between the both of you to undo the knots of your bottoms as well. Pushing off the fabric to let him rub circles on your clit without any restraints. Your eyelids fluttered at the contact, pulling him even closer to what he already was.
“Not so shy now, huh?” He laughs against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before leaving a trail of kisses from them to your neck. The instant he penetrated you with his fingers, he bit your neck causing a pleasured yelp to leave your lips. “Oh, you dick.” You moan, moving your head to give him more access.
Haechan laughed at your words, continuing his abuse on your flesh and making sure those juvenile markings were dark and visible. He could do this to you and proudly. Only him.
Delving in the pleasure of his long fingers moving at a gratifying pace, you urge him to add another one in which he complied, scissoring and stretching them within you to continue hearing your moans. You loved his fingers. He was the right amount of rough that made your legs shake with even the least amount of effort.
Curling his digits; the deeper they were within you, the louder your moans became. It didn’t help that his aggressive praises made your head spin. The likes of:
“Your cunt was made for me.”
“No one will ever know how to fuck you this good with just their fingers.”
and “If you’re shaking like this with my fingers, I can’t wait until you’re full of my cock and cum.”
All of which made your eyes roll to the back of your head with the imagery of what that was like.
But you weren’t one to let him just talk without action. “Then fill me right now. Bruise me with no end.” Your eyes met his, a thin amount of tears threatening to slip. The same sultry eyes and voice defied and taunted him waiting for consequences.
He didn’t grant you the satisfaction of a primary orgasm, instead he pulled his fingers out to leave you aching and whining from emptiness. His body separated from yours and that breeze he protected you from earlier attacks while he removed his swimming trunks.
Sitting up to look at him, your chest felt warm seeing his hardened dick spring in fervor almost as if it had a mind of its own when in your presence. You too were glad to see it; after so long and in this state, the one thing you wanted was to have it in you no matter what entrance.
And like a famished species, you crawl your way towards him. Holding onto the back of his thighs to pull him closer to you. The action made him stumble but he laughed at your desperation. Hand going to your hair, threading his fingers through it and holding your head firmly to look at him.
“Want a taste?” He takes a hold of his heavy sex, taunting you by slapping it against your cheeks and watching your agape mouth chase after it. You nodded hurriedly, leaving behind any shame and pride just to taste him once more.
Pulling your head closer and watching your mouth open more, Haechan lets his tip grace your lips before pushing your head away. Eliciting a pained whine; he crouched down to your level, his tight hold on your head not leaving and making you look directly in his eyes.
“No. You don’t deserve this much.” His words were low and full of hatred, his eyes boring holes onto your own. If hell was real, you had just seen it through them.
Dropping his grip from your hair, he helped you get on all fours. You could feel both of you sinking further into the sand and the blanket doing its best to not allow it to get near you two but his rugged actions weren’t helping the poor thing.
Instead once you were positioned before him, he pushed your top half further down, enough for your head to lay on your arms and your lower half lifted to his crotch. As much as he didn’t want to grant you any more pleasure, Hyuck couldn’t hold himself back when he saw your glistening cunt under the sun, begging him to taste you.
Your legs spread enough for him to see every crevice full of the arousal he caused. Fuck it. This was for him, not for you and he wanted to grant himself the pleasure of tasting you again.
Just when you were going to whine and beg for him to fuck you, you felt his lips attach to your cunt making you moan louder than you have in a while. He grunted at your reaction; it was music to his ears, hot enough to travel to his angry cock and twitch with precum spurting out.
He felt your legs shake, not even his tight hold on them could make you stop. Haechan’s tongue swiped from your entrance to your clit, collecting your juices there and sucking on the bud to take them into his mouth. Proudly swallowing what you made for him. He hummed directly against your cunt, the warm vibration sending you overboard.
“Hyuckie…” You moaned that sweet name again, his cock twitching at your cracking voice. He didn’t want to succumb to you, after all you’ve put him through the last thing he wanted to do was please you but damn that would happen regardless when fingering and eating you out was his favorite thing to do.
His nails dug into the skin of your ass cheeks, harsh grip eliciting a yelp as he continued to delve into the taste of your arousal. A delicacy if you ask him. Tongue teasing your entrance to the point just enough of the tip penetrated you.
You tried your best in touching yourself or at least rubbing him off with your feet but he always pushed you away, grunting at your disturbance. Feeling his tongue lap at your folds, circling around your clit, and sucking on it harshly then softly. Becoming a pattern that throws you into a frenzy.
Feeling your stomach coil and your legs start to give up on you, you begged him to just finish you off. To let you cum since he hadn’t done so when he was fingering you but he didn’t budge. Instead he continued his assaults on your sex; his face had pushed further in and you could feel how his soft rosy cheeks collected your cum on them.
You wanted to see his face badly. To see how you’ve stained it and glisten in the sunlight. If he already looks beautiful, you believe your essence will make him even more so.
“I didn't want to treat you and look where you have me. You’re so lucky I love you.” He grunts, laying his tongue flat on your cunt. You laugh at his statement but hear it become a moan at that. His warm, soft, velvety tongue licking away your own mockery.
You feel his hand come flat on your ass, whipping your head to look at him but his cold glare didn’t allow for any words to leave your mouth, not even the moan that was product of his harsh treatment. “Are you close?” He grins, separating himself from between your legs. Fingers collecting your arousal and pushing it into his mouth.
Nodding feverishly, you bite your lower lip. Watching him thoroughly suck on his nimble fingers, not leaving a drop behind. Your breathing was labored and you could feel sweat accumulate where his hands had been holding you; you were no longer cold. Donghyuck’s actions alone elicited shaky moan after moan but what caused them to come with no end was how beautiful he looked behind you.
His caramel locks stuck to his forehead, perspiration threatening while his honey skin glowed under the sun’s rays. The same rays that made the lower half of his face glisten with the layer of your cum he was graciously licking at. The longer you looked at him, the longer you noticed how his lips were swollen red and his fingers pruning up.
He didn’t lie when he said he loved your taste.
What you intended to let out as a moan came out as a cry. Feeling your heart heavy and needy but most of all your stomach felt sick. Twisting and turning in hopes that he was to finally fill you up like you had asked.
You were also needy and the image behind you made that worse; you felt desperate. The kind where you could throw a tantrum for not getting what you want and what you want is his cock to your hilt. Letting his frustrations out on you.
“Is my baby needy? Are you that needy?” He mocked. Pouting his lips to grip your hair again, lifting your head slightly before leaning in and pulling you to him. You nodded with a whine, chasing his lips but even that he denied until you sighed in frustration.
“Tell me how much you want it.” He pecked your lips, taunting you every time he pulled away. “Tell me how much you need and want my cock…” His grip tightened on your hair, a cry leaving your lips against his own. He swallowed it, tongues connecting instantly in a sloppy kiss.
“Only mine.”
He growls in a low voice against your lips. Glaring directly into your eyes with the tightest grip on your hip and hair. And though he searched for any guilt from you, he was met with your own angry glares, getting fed up with his elongated foreplay.
“I do want it. I’ve wanted it for so long but I was not going to give you the satisfaction of touching me just yet. Call this your actual Christmas present.”
Your voice filled with its own pent-up irritation, glaring at him the longer he kept you from feeling good just because of his jealousy fits. Here he could see you hadn’t put it all past you but instead ignoring it until he fucked your brains out. He didn’t know whether to laugh or continue his bitterness but what he did know was that his dick was hard and hurting from his own restraint.
“And I beg that you release all your frustrations out right now because my abstinence better be worth it.” You let out through gritted teeth, eliciting a bitter and angry chuckle from him. “Because one of us has to be loyal.” Your pupils shake, enlarging the second he releases his grip and harshly pushes your head away.
Your labored breath became louder every second he shuffled behind you. His tight grip on your hip pulling you towards him whilst his tip rubbed against your delicate cunt. For a moment he halted any of his actions, the background noises becoming overwhelming and your throat betraying you by releasing silent cries. At least only you could hear them.
But he took that silence away, letting strings of spit slide from his tongue to your entrance and using it as extra lubricant before penetrating you. He was different from Mark. While Mark was long, Haechan was girthy and with just the first few centimeters in, you could feel the stretch his fingers hadn’t granted you.
Those earlier cries became louder, struggling to cover your mouth the longer he pushed himself in you. It wasn’t painful but it felt foreign . It had been months since he’s been in you that your body was beginning to forget how he felt. While he hadn’t moved just yet, his pretty groans became the source of your satisfaction.
It didn’t take him long to start moving. His strokes were slow but long, rugged if you will but they knocked pretty disgruntled noises out of you and that was enough for you both.
While he thrusted into you, his hands moved from your hips to your waist all the way to your breast. His warm hands enveloping them, massaging and squeezing softly.
His hands were soft in comparison to Mark’s that became calloused the longer he continued with harsher techniques in his projects. They’re also warmer, was it because of the sun coming out or his body temperature; you found yourself to rejoice in his touch.
In that instance his thrust became harder, fingers toying and twisting your nipples before pinching them. First softly then hard enough to elicit a masochistic cry. “Hyuckie!” You yelp in pleasure, hair covering your pretty face. He lets one of his hands fall from your tit, reaching for your hair and pushing it away just to see how your features contorted for him.
Just like you enjoyed seeing his soiled face, he liked seeing your expressions from pleasure.
“Scream my name all you want. No one’s here but you and I!” Donghyuck laughs, kissing your sweaty skin with each of his thrusts. But it wasn’t just you two, there will always be Mark.
Having woken up minutes prior; Mark’s habit of searching for you early in the morning led him to tip-toe around the house searching for any sign of you — and your husband to avoid problems — but when he had no luck even in the pits of the basement, he knew there was only two options at hand.
One: Hyuck and you abandoned him for the grocery shopping you both had mentioned in the car ride. Or two: his dear best friend had taken you to the beach. And given the car and keys were where they had been placed last night, the clear choice was the latter.
Not giving it much thought and only pulling the sweater he tossed on the couch the night prior, Mark groggily made his way behind the house. Dragging his feet and blocking the incoming sun rays with his hand. Struggling through branches and pesky rocks; Mark knew he’d be disappointed the second he saw you two but he didn’t expect to be heart broken.
At most Mark expected to see you two hold tightly like you had been when arriving to Magi’s house or holding hands while walking along the shoreline but here he was hiding behind a boulder, freezing from the shade and breeze, and witnessing his best friend fucking you.
Donghyuck no longer held you from behind, instead he had helped you onto your back. With one leg up on his shoulder and another around his waist, the position made him go deeper than before. All Mark could focus on was your moans. They were so genuine and raw that it broke him when he heard you utter: “Fuck, I missed you...”
He didn’t notice when his mouth had gone agape or when his chest began feeling heavy but Mark felt sick and no one could fix that. It didn’t help that Hyuck took your lips with his, ensuing in a passionate kiss that held both of your anger and desire whilst spewing vile on how you were his and his alone. The only thing holding him up is that you didn’t confirm his statement.
Mark wanted nothing more than to stomp where you two laid and tear Hyuck apart from you. To feel his clenched fist come in contact with his perfect cheeks and not stop until that crimson liquid he’s always been scared of told him to stop. He wanted to keep his best friend away from you and tell him to never come near you again. Scream how you were his and his alone— just like Hyuck was claiming for himself.
But he couldn’t move. His feet had sunk in the wet sand and his legs felt weak. He only had the willpower to move a few more steps and it was either his impulses or head back home and slump in the comfort of his room. Yes, Mark has decided to wallow his sorrows privately.
With a knot in his throat, Mark dared not look behind and instead walked as quickly as his wobbly legs allowed him. His hope hadn’t dwindled but it had been hurt.
While Mark tried maintaining his composure, not allowing his world to come crashing around him for the second time this year, both you and your husband remained clueless. Too enthralled with the pleasure and satisfaction you both granted each other.
Holding off for months was beginning to catch up with Donghyuck and it showed with the pained cries he’d spill whenever he felt himself close. Each thrust he gave, you could feel spurts of precum shoot into you and slide against your walls, just for them to coat his cock and push it further in.
You had lied about your abstinence but sex was sex and you had been craving his touch for a while. You just had to settle for Mark for the time being. Whimpers and moans escaped your lips, begging him to swallow them every time you’d pull him by the hair, connecting your lips in sloppy kisses.
Amused by your reaction, Haechan laughed into the kiss, teeth nipping your lips and occasionally tongue before caressing it with his own to soothe the sting. He wouldn’t let the kiss last for too long, opting to see you whine from the separation. It’s the least suffering he could cause you in the meantime.
“Close?” He questions, his palm holding your upper thigh close to his waist. By this angle his pelvic bone began creating friction against your clit. Fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, mouth leaving a trail of kisses from your lips to neck and chest.
His teeth teased your nipples, scraping them along the warm flesh to deliver a sharp bite that resulted in you crying masochistically, pushing his head further to have him do it again. Your free hand scratched his back, digging into his flesh and moaning along his pained groans.
Even in sex you two had to hurt each other.
“Finish me off, Hyuckie. I can’t last longer and I know neither can you…” You mewl, tugging his hair to let him know you wanted his attention. He looked up at you through lashes, moisture clinging to them, perhaps in the process his eyes watered.
Words wouldn’t leave his pretty plump lips though. Instead he nodded, leaning in to capture your lips between his, rushing his thrusts and making them rougher. You liked feeling him stretch you out more, feeling him squeeze in as the perfect fit and feel his tip kiss your walls. Coating them with his cum was your favorite part out of it all.
A few more thrusts and heavily passionate kisses, your walls began clamping around him. Causing poor Donghyuck to feel sensitive at the pressure. It wasn’t long until he came; thus when he felt your legs shake around him and your grasp tightened, he knew his ecstasy was near.
Crying and whimpering against his lips; your eyes shutting harshly at that tight knot in your lower stomach. Hyuck’s thrusts were getting sloppy, within seconds you felt him at your hilt and you couldn’t hold off much longer. That knot had loosened completely and sent you overboard, gushing around him with a loud moan, holding him for dear life against you; small praises and cooing leaving your lips.
“You know my body so well, I could have you like this forever…”
Your voice was the catalyst. With your heavy panting against his lips, Hyuck didn’t hold off anymore and allowed himself to come. You along with him whimpered at the feeling of being filled up with his load; a wave of pleasure washing through you both until it faded and all that was left was a tingling sensation that didn’t leave your bodies.
Opting to stay in that position for a bit longer, both your breathing had calmed down. Your nails didn’t rake harshly against him and his teeth no longer nipped at your skin sadistically. Now the kisses were soft to avoid speaking. Both knew if any words spilled, they’d leave an ache.
The minutes passed, all that was heard were waves crashing against each other and the boulders. It was warmer now and perhaps much later, enough for your friend back in the house to be awake. Hyuck was the one to take the initiative in getting off of you and cleaning you off with some of the water he packed.
He didn’t speak and neither did you, the most you could muster was to look at him in silence, his soft touches creating a complex feeling in your heart. At that moment you too wanted to just leave and go back inside.
“Did you eat breakfast?”
“No. I went straight to the pool.”
He hums, putting his trunks back on and stuffing the towels in the beach bag. “Mark is probably awake. We can get something on the way to the market if he hasn’t made anything yet.” His voice was hoarse, with some laced pain on it. You gave him a side smile, tying back the swim suit and placing a beach dress over.
“He’d smoke a pack before eating breakfast. Sometimes I have to force him to have a proper meal.” You giggle, shaking off the sand from the blanket you two laid upon minutes prior. Haechan forces out a laugh, his smile quickly fades.
Right. You took care of Mark.
Donghyuck had expected this experience to make him feel better about his marriage. He wanted to think this was meant to settle the peace between you both but instead he felt worse. His chest felt warm and heavy and his eyes threatened to spill tears. Some had during the act but he did his best to not weep.
He fully understood the marriage turning this way was his fault, you had told him so many times even insinuated it way before he met the catering girl but that didn’t hurt as much. He was comfortable enough with how things went on between you two before Mark arrived. At least if it meant that it was him the one you’d think about. The only one you’d both love and hate.
What did make him feel this way was hearing you come into the room after 3 AM and smell like his best friend. How often you spend time with Mark and enjoy his company. And worst of all is that you hadn’t put anything behind.
The reason you had been civil with Donghyuck was simply because Mark was there to satiate your needs. It had only gotten to this point of accepting his touch because you were starting to get bored of Mark just like you had with him not too early into the marriage. Or so he thinks, that is was your actions are making both believe at least.
There were only a few steps left to reach the top. While Hyuck was contemplating this bond, you seemed the most aloof. There was some brightness to you and a careless attitude. On one of those steps you turned to look at him, his face was getting red and you knew it wasn’t from the sun. Something was bothering him.
It’s not like you cared to know but that gloominess was interfering with your relaxation. Stopping on your tracks and pulling him along, Hyuck throws you a confused look. You didn’t say anything yet, you simply smiled at him softly and caressed his warm cheek. He eased into your touch, feeling your soft fingers dance across his taut skin.
“I love you, Donghyuck.”
As much as he’s yearned hearing those words, this time he doesn’t know how much to believe them anymore.
“I love you too.”
They came out in a whisper, one you swallowed upon connecting your lips one last time that moment. He didn’t want to think much about it. There was a chance you were lying or that like him, you loved him in a baneful way.
Yes, that is most plausible.
He wasn’t the only one to hear your profession of love. Poor Mark had lounged around the back porch with a pack of cigarettes to his side. Like said before it wasn’t too long until you two reached the top and though you didn’t intend for Mark to hear or see everything he has this morning— it just happened.
Reaching the top by the time Mark let out a puff of smoke in desperation; a sigh at most. Smelling that familiar stench, you both turned to see him lying upon the white outdoors couch his father had decorated with.
“Morning.” Hyuck breaks the ice, giving his friend a tender smile that you mimic. Mark didn’t dare look at you both for too long, nodding in return while taking a sip of his drink. “Morning; Where were you guys?” He questions with a little pep in his words, trying his best to hide any negative emotion.
“Wanted to swim for a bit but the water was cold. Hey, did you have breakfast already? We can catch something to eat on the road before we get everything.” Mark lifts his cigarette with a smile before taking another drag, both you and Hyuck looking at each other remembering your conversation.
Hyuck chuckles with a nod. “Alright, gonna shower and we can leave after everyone’s ready, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds good.”
He let go of your hand that second, not waiting for you to follow behind as he rushed to the bedroom’s bathroom. Despite the interaction, his feelings were still a painful turmoil and if he looked at either of you for too long in the moment, he’d end up breaking in front of both.
Locking the door, Hyuck looks into the mirror before him. The bags beneath his eyes looked darker than before and his face had started to sink in. He didn’t look ill but he did look tired and sad. His cheeks weren’t as beautifully round in the time being and he knew that wasn’t good. After all, his round jumpy cheeks are your favorite thing about him. Maybe if he gained them back your ‘i love you’s’ would have real meaning to them.
He couldn’t contain it anymore. In the instance his thin fingers touched his equally thin face and let out that cry he’s been holding in this entire time. His tears felt boiling hot against his skin, the rivers of salt water wounding his face but that ache in chest was worse.
Donghyuck knew he still loved you. Hell, if he loved you through all the times you had called him useless, the times you avoided him during periods he felt like hell, and witnessed the times you made your own father cry by the way you treated him; then why wouldn’t he love you now that he accepted you yourself had an affair with his best friend? His brother.
He wondered how much he loved Mark too. Mark the boy he spent years of childhood with all up to college when both parted ways. The boy he’d let stay at his house every time his father reprimanded him for the smallest things even if they weren’t a mistake.
Mark was his wedding witness, the boy who approved of you when you two started dating and told him you were the perfect match. The boy who helped him find the perfect ring and arrangements. Mark and him have experienced many things together but sharing a lover is not one he thought they ever would. Especially not one he’s tied to by law and heart. As painful as it is.
Donghyuck bit into his fist before doing so into a towel, his silent sobs absorbed by the cloth. This was the best he could do without having you two hear him.
And while your husband is breaking to pieces in the shared bathroom, you make your way to the kitchen. Upon getting a water bottle, you felt the touch of two warm hands on your hips pulling you close to his body and turning you around to face him.
Mark didn’t show much expression, instead he pressed you against the cold steel doors. Looking at each other for a few seconds, he took initiative in connecting your lips. It shouldn’t have taken you by surprise the way it did but slowly you began to ease into his touch. You could taste the mixture of his cigarette and the orange juice he had been drinking.
Holding onto his shoulders, Mark’s own hands began to caress your body. One hand rested on your waist and the other went underneath your dress. He felt the warmth between your thighs. His fingers begin to caress the skin and make a silent gasp leave your lips. He took that opportunity to snake his tongue in your mouth.
By the time he pushed the fabric of your bikini bottoms to the side, his fingers prodded your entrance making your gasp become audible this time. When you were to moan his name, the man before you halted his movement. He separated from the kiss as well, looking at you directly the second he felt the globs of cum cling to his fingers.
Scooping it, Mark pulled his fingers out looking at them before you. He noticed the dark marks your husband sealed onto your skin. You were panting but there was no sign of regret on your face. Instead he was received with:
“What do you expect? He’s my husband.”
A threatening smile on your end tried to form but Mark couldn’t produce any words. He felt speechless and too hurt to even say anything. His face held a mixture of disgust, anger, and sadness.
With the simplest of words, you always manage to hurt them.
“Mark come on,” You call out, trying to get a hold of him but he avoids your touch. You softly scoff at the action but kept trying to at least ease the tension. “Come on, don’t be like that.”
He didn’t know what to say. Mark knew you were right, Hyuck was your husband but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking any less. All this time he hadn’t mind since you two openly hated each other but the quick change up was affecting him.
“Honey— Oh? What are you guys doing?”
Hyuck had come out of the restroom once his eyes had depuffed and he looked fine again. By the time he reached the kitchen he saw you two stand close to each other, a tense ambiance surrounding.
Mark threw you one last glance, “Nothing. I’m going to shower.” His voice sounded deeper and with that he walked away and to his own bathroom, leaving you alone with your husband again. Rather than tense, this one was awkward.
“The shower is ready, let’s go.” Haechan’s voice was laced with irritation.
The day you had been looking forward to this entire trip had come: New Year's Eve. The weather was finally thinking about the beach resident’s and decided it would be good to have the last day of the century be sunny all throughout. It may be December but a new millennium deserves a beautiful welcome.
Despite Mark’s gloomy demeanor, the both of you had been trying all morning to get him out of his room. Every attempt had been a failure and though neither of you showed it, Hyuck was beginning to get annoyed about the ordeal. Specifically your attention getting directed towards the older male. You may have been trying to balance your attention to both men but their selfish demands were making things harder.
“I’ll go try again and if not then I guess we can just go.” You give your husband a side smile, handing him the dishes to dry from your late lunch. He turned the instant they were in his hands, rolling his eyes at your insistence. “Just give him space, it’s the house that’s putting him in that mood. Makes him think too much about his old man.” But he knew his dad wasn’t the only reason he was this temperamental.
A low sigh escapes your lips, walking towards him and enveloping him in a back hug. “I don’t want him to end the year like this.” Your lips fell onto his neck, warm and soft on the flesh. He hated how much he enjoyed it. He doesn’t say anything, he simply shrugs with a low groan.
Donghyuck himself hadn’t been pleasant after the beach rendezvous, if anything he had gotten distant and silent. He always did this after sex but the worst part is that it drew you towards him in hopes to get more than a few words out of him. To get more affection. His affection.
While in the past he did it out of his selfish ways of obtaining gratification, this time he did it to avoid seeing how worried you had been for Mark. After the shower, you all had lunch in town and even browsed around the area, getting groceries for tonight. But while at it, he didn’t miss your subtle glances towards his friend who trudged behind the two of you.
If he left you two alone for just a second, he’d come back to the image of you whispering something to Mark who in return said nothing or hummed. It was no different for the remainder of the day whenever he was around but when it was just you two, it seemed like you remembered he was the one you married.
It’s not that you wanted to comfort them. You just wanted the reassurance that they were still eating from the palm of your hand and their little hissy fits were annoying you. At least for Donghyuck, he didn’t leave your side often and even now he was doing what you wanted him to— just reluctantly. As always.
As for Mark, he was being a nuisance. He was brooding like a teenager that didn’t get the car he wanted and was taking it out on all of you. Didn’t he understand that you were still married? You have to fill your role once in a while and if he hadn’t been so clingy for the past few months, you probably wouldn’t feel the need to try and get a breath of fresh air with Haechan.
Your worried facade fell the second you got out of Hyuck’s view and walked towards Mark’s bedroom. You didn’t knock, you had gotten used to walking in his room unannounced that he didn’t think about it either when he heard the creaky hinges.
“Move.” His sprawled limbs unconsciously responded to your words, scooting to one side of the bed and relaxing the second your weight dipped the mattress. All this time you hadn’t crossed the threshold of his bedroom. Compared to the one you and Donghyuck slept in; Mark’s was smaller with a horrid brown carpet and green walls.
His night stands were small of a bright yellow wood that did nothing to look good in the dark room. As ugly as the layout was, there were many trinkets of his childhood. From the multiple baseball lamps, cowboys, toy soldiers, and comics stacked on a desk that complimented the nightstands.
You’d say the most exciting part were the glowing stars stuck to the ceiling but by now they probably didn’t work anymore. His Poison Girl Friend, Depeche Mode, and Soda Stereo posters were wrinkled and on the brink of falling from the walls.
In every corner there were noticeable traces of all the years he was able to stay up until the last time his father told him he wasn’t allowed anymore. The most notable was the CD he was listening to now; the soft melody of Sade’s voice unconsciously making him stare intently at you.
‘I gave you all my love, I gave you all that I have inside and you took my love. I keep crying, I keep trying for you. There’ s nothing like you and I, baby…’
“I thought you didn’t like sports.” You smile up at him, scooting closer and closer but he doesn’t budge. His lips don’t move and his eyes tear away from you, glancing quickly at his lamps before looking up at the ceiling.
With no response and your patience beginning to run out, you turn to him. In a few quick moves your hands encased his face and brought your lips to his, landing a soft kiss against them. As angry as he was, he would never deny you a kiss. His mind, soul, and body took over allowing him to return it, shifting to where it was comfortable.
His hands took a hold of your waist, holding to you for dear life. His body missed you and it showed with the way he caressed you. His large hands slowly make their way under your shirt, squeezing your sides while his teeth softly nip your lower lip eliciting a gasp granting him access to your mouth and slipping his tongue.
“You can’t keep doing this…” He moans against your lips, deepening the kiss and bringing your body closer to him. You wanted to ask what he meant but it was quite obvious. Mark didn’t follow up, rather basking in the comfort of your body and mouth. Enjoying the sweet taste of the blueberry parfait you had for lunch, on your tongue.
He missed this. He missed having you all for himself, having you near him. Today’s kiss felt nothing like that day and as much as the memory pains him, he’s going to enjoy these few minutes.
His tongue caressed yours one last time before both your lungs decided they needed some relief. Panting when separating, Mark kisses the side of your mouth before admiring your features. “You’re forgetting about me now that he wants to touch you?” His voice was much harsher than he intended but that deep rooted anger seemed to be winning.
Your smile falters, “Are you still mad at me?” The mixture of annoyance and worry interlacing in your voice. “He’s still my husband, Ma—” He cut you off with a scoff, throwing his head back and opting to lay on his back once again. “So what? Suddenly you care that he is? What about all these months you’ve been with me?” He didn’t dare look at you, he was afraid you’d have that pout that always made him cave.
“Why are you even acting this way all of a sudden? Out of nowhere you two like each other again? Do you want me to remind you how I saw you two the day I arrived at the apartment?” He tried to shut his mouth but it had a brain of its own. Mark was beyond annoyed with your actions and neglect.
“I guess we just made peace for now.” Your meek response brewed a scowl on his face, shaking his head in response. “What about our plans, y/n? I already told you to go with me. You were so miserable before I got here, do you really want that again? I leave tomorrow. I thought you didn’t want me to leave. Isn’t that why this all started? I’m the only one here for you.”
Mark didn’t seem to hold back any longer. Envy and rage were consuming him the longer he held everything in. He was right, without him, you and Hyuck would probably live like strangers til now with only arguments as communication.
With a heavy heart and gloom look on your face — hiding your frustration — you come closer to him. Returning that chaste kiss on the corner of his lip and wrapping your arm around him as you lay your head on his chest. “Don’t be that way, Mark. I don’t want to end the year and start a new one with you like this. I’m here now aren’t I?”
Truly you wanted to let out a scoff but your words seemed to do it for him. He was convinced worry had washed upon you.
“I need you. You know that, right?”
“You need me?”
“More than anything.”
You wanted to tell him he was an idiot but you were glad needed you. Yeah, he was now going to use that.
What made it better for him was that Hyuck had just passed by and saw the way you clung to Mark’s body. He was able to see the life drain out of his best friend’s being. His color became dull and his face dropped. You couldn’t hear it but Mark fully heard Haechan’s heart break and stomach drop at the image.
It was his turn to rub it in his face.
“What’s going on?” His shaky voice made you separate from Mark, sitting up in panic and a thumping heart. But God were you good at hiding your emotions. When your eyes had met with Hyuck’s you threw him a quick smile, stretching your hand out for him to take. He was hesitant, not wanting you to see how shaky he had become but he took it nonetheless.
Mark hadn’t sat up to see what you two were doing but he could feel the movement on the side of the bed and the dip on the large mattress when you had pulled your husband onto it. Your attention was again taken away from him, as was your touch.
How quickly his spell died within you.
“Telling Mark he should enjoy the last day. It’s either that or welcome the century a loser. His choice.” You joked. Hyuck released an airy laugh, shaking his head. “You want to get out of the house, dude? Some of the locals just dropped off an invite for a beach New Year’s party.” His soft hands reached to envelope you the way you had Mark.
“If you guys are cool with it.” It’s all he musters. “Then it’s settled. Now, I need all of you to finish cleaning around and get ready for dinner.” You playfully glare at both, in return Haechan smiles, kissing you tenderly as a response; Mark a spectator to his demise.
While cleaning around his bedroom and the rooms you had told him to, worked to distract him in the meantime. Those same ill thoughts gushed through his brain the minute he was done getting ready. Looking at himself through the mirror. Glancing at his every detail, Mark sighs in hopes that tomorrow his plans flourish.
From times Hyuck stayed home during the weekends it was never this bad. You always avoided him and opted to spend time with Mark but things had taken a turn this time. Your husband stuck to your hip and you didn’t seem to mind. Especially not after telling him you loved him.
Regardless if there was something Mark had, it was hope and he hoped that tomorrow by this hour you two will be putting away your items into a moving truck to place in his new apartment. This millennium is going to be a new start for you both. Together.
In the process of making his way to the living room, Mark saw no sign of either of you. Smoothening his dress shirt while picking at the side dishes. All these hours of malnourishment were finally getting to him. He just hoped you didn’t scold him for not eating or for messing up the presentation of your dish.
This was something else that seemed to make him realize how much Donghyuck was impeding what you two had. Never in the past months have you let Mark skip meals but these few days, you barely checked up on him. How can things go south so quickly? While Mark internally complained about the changes, your husband calmly sat on the same couch Mark had lounged on that awful afternoon.
Donghyuck sat pensive, a cigarette in hand and a six pack on the glass table. Worry and sadness were visible but Mark didn’t pry. His mind only cared for his problems and feelings about you. He couldn’t care less that Hyuck legally had you.
Mark’s only solace were your passionate kisses and tender words from earlier letting him know you were there for him. How you didn’t make excuses on why you held him earlier the second Haechan saw you two. Or how before this trip, you’d always run to him rather than Hyuck when in need of company.
You wanted him, not Donghyuck. He’s sure of it.
“Invite next time.” Mark laughs, playfully slapping off his friend’s feet from the table so he can pass by. Sitting besides the younger of the two, Mark glances at him, an awkward smile following behind. Donghyuck returns it while handing him a bottle and the box of cigarettes he found on your night stand. You didn’t smoke but it seemed like you kept some for Mark.
“It’s been a long run, dude.” Mark continues. Despite holding resentment, Donghyuck will always be his savior and best friend. “It has, hasn't it? Almost thirty years together.” The honey brunette laughs, blowing smoke out and taking a swig of his drink. “It kind of sucks we didn’t get to spend the time you were with us together. Sorry about that.”
Donghyuck’s head hangs low, the cigarette between his lips dropping ashes on the floor. In a sense Mark shared that sentiment. Deep down behind the rancor and hate, he loved Donghyuck. Even if Donghyuck himself wondered how much he loved Mark.
“You leave tomorrow and all I can take away from your stay is this trip.” Despondency held tight onto his words. What he truly took away was his betrayal but sometimes he was a coward and opted to stay silent. “Really wish we did more.” He sighs, Mark’s gaze floods with apologies.
Mark didn’t understand why his guilt was manifesting itself now. Maybe because it was just them two and your presence didn’t cloud his judgment. The possibilities are endless but when it’s just them two— Mark is aware that Donghyuck has always been there to take care of him. Kinda like you take care of him.
While in the past he was aware he slept with his best friend’s wife and was wrong in a sense. Now it was punching his chest while screaming that he was an asshole. He didn’t know whether to take responsibility or blame his father’s home for cursing his existence. Maybe if you three didn’t stay here things would’ve been different and he’d gone back to not feeling as much remorse.
“We have an entire lifetime to do things together, Hyuck.” Mark finally gets a word in, exhaling through his nose while his fingers thread through his hair. A smile tugged at his lips, turning to his friend to deliver. The other returns it, a contagious chuckle plaguing both.
“Remember when your dad bought the play set and placed it by the beach between the boulders?” The image of younger Mark and Donghyuck around the ages of seven running around the slippery sand painted itself on Donghyuck’s brain. He closes his eyes, those warm hues of the summer’s sky were memorable.
Mark laughs, taking large gulps of his now warm drink. Sticking his tongue out from the disgusting taste. “And we turned it to face the beach because we thought the slide was long enough for us to slide all the way into the water. Just for you to slip on the steps and I slid straight into a boulder—”
“And we both broke our arms!”
The two said in unison, laughing at the memory. This is one of the things they could share. “Some stupid seaweed stuck to my foot and it made me slip. I just remember screaming on the way down and waking up in the room with the cast already on.” Donghyuck speaks through laughs.
Mark mimics the action, the smoke of both their cigarettes getting to him. “Dad was so mad when Taeyong ran screaming about what happened but he was more concerned with the fact that he dropped his bucket of crabs inside the house than us.” Mr. Lee has always cared more about the materialistic aspect than his own family, even at such an early age. Regardless, that was the only time he’s seen Mark’s father care for his friend.
“It’s kind of surreal I’m not gonna see you guys anymore until who knows when. I’ve gotten so used to you; it’s a little different from when I used to see you all the time as kids and growing up but living with you has changed everything.”
“How so?” Donghyuck was curious what he meant. Yes, things have changed but he wanted to hear his friend’s reasons. “For starters, I got closer to y/n.” Mark had no malice in his words but Hyuck didn’t see it that way. He was already on edge for the way he saw you two earlier and all the occurrences in the past month so the mere mention of you was throwing away that sweet moment they just shared.
Haechan’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, shoulders tensing while glaring at Mark. The older one doesn't notice just yet. As his eyes rake Mark’s figure, they spot a familiar piece wrapped tightly onto his wrist. Compared to your bracelet, Mark’s was worn out and a few threads from ripping off. The beads had lost their color and the once bright blue was now faint, almost gray.
“I can tell.” There no longer was warmth to Hyuck’s voice. It was hoarse and deep, clogging Mark’s eardrums and forcing him to look at his younger friend. That intense and angry glare confusing him but when it comes to you, even he can’t help but get defensive.
Mark squints, taking the last sip of his drink and tossing the bottle to the side. “I’d say she probably took your spot as best friend.” He jokes but it doesn’t translate well with Donghyuck who bitterly chuckles. “She said the same before she gave me these.” Pulling down the collar of his shirt, Hyuck points at the slowly fading markings on his neck.
That’s when things came crashing upon Mark. His comfort and happy bubble had burst and reality flooded around him. Why would Donghyuck just blatantly hurt him like this? Rub in that he could show off your love publicly while he had to hide it.
“Looks like I have a new best friend.” Mark ignores the action, inhaling harshly against the cigarette butt not caring about the stinging warmth against his fingers. “But you’re my best friend.” Hyuck whines, his voice playfully pitched but his eyes dark and sharp.
“And if I replace you?” Mark taunts the younger, raising an eyebrow in defiance. When Hyuck was to answer, the clicking of heels distracted them. Turning to the interruption, the two gawked at your figure. The glare of your sparkling dress was brighter than the lightbulb outside. If anyone saw, they looked like moths attracted to a light source.
While fixing your hair delicately, the two admired how the fabric hugged your every crevice. How it wasn’t long enough to cover your legs, the legs they loved so much. And when looking up directly at your face, makeup only enhanced how beautiful they already found you.
“Can one of you zip up my dress? I just did my nails.” You explain walking closer to them. Naturally Hyuck was going to stand up to do so however Mark had beaten him to it. Smiling at you who in return ignored it while blowing at your hands, fanning them to quicken the process.
You didn’t care who had taken the responsibility but they did. While Mark basked in the joy of doing these small things for you, Donghyuck glared at what happened before him. He couldn’t directly see how Mark slowly pulled at the small zipper. His fingers traced patterns on your back to have a feel of you just one more time. Even if it was this simple. And when he found the metal to reach its end, disappointment wasn't too grand as he was able to enjoy your body again.
“There.” Mark says with a smile pulling away. He hadn’t fully forgotten about the younger male but he would much rather enjoy your presence. “Thank you.” You return the gesture, throwing him a soft toothy smile.
How he loved your smile.
“You look beautiful, honey.” An aggravating voice cut through the moment. Pulling you towards him, Donghyuck takes you into his arms after spinning you around. You giggle at his comment, patting his chest to calm the giddiness.
“You think so?” Your eyelashes flutter trying to avoid his gaze, glad the blush from makeup could disguise the warmth rising onto your face. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know, y/n.” He confirms in a husky voice, his lips slotting with yours in a quick tender kiss to not ruin your lipstick. Not that it matters, in minutes it’ll be gone with the final dinner.
Reluctantly separating, Donghyuck chuckles when your eyes meet. Satisfied with the shy smile slapped across your face. “Right, Mark?” He looks at his friend, head lifting slightly just to see how his body will react.
It was to say that Mark had been taken aback. Worst yet, when you turned to look at him, a sheer blank expression was there in comparison to how you looked at Donghyuck just seconds prior.
It’s fine. It’s fine, you have to put up a front — like you have with Hyuck — before you two leave tomorrow and leave this smug asshole behind.
“Yeah. Truth be told you are, y/n.” His voice had dropped an octave. Taking the box of cigarettes from the table, Mark turns on his heel towards the house. “I’ll get the wine from the basement.” Leaving you two behind and the clanking of his dress shoes following him.
The interaction had soured the mood. When minutes prior you two happily kissed, right now Donghyuck was battling with his tongue to keep itself shut. But not even biting it was going to make him avoid the following conversation.
Once inside and placing the plates for dinner; Hyuck’s tongue had won the battle against his teeth and the brewing venom slowly slips. “Y/n?” He calls out, smoothening the cloth napkins. You don’t spare him a glance, humming in response with a scowl when noticing Mark’s traces in one of the side dishes.
“I know you and Mark have gotten close but could the affection dial down?” Your attention was now fully on his words. While you enjoy knowing he’s growing weary, a part of you feels annoyed at his request. “What do you mean?” Your actions stopped, attentive to whatever he has to say towards the subject.
He looks at you momentarily before placing the cutlery. His shoes try their best to distract with their squeaky sound. “There’s hugging him as a greeting and then there’s hugging him while laying in bed. Or him zipping you up. There's a limit to things y/n.”
The cascade of silent meek words had instead furthered your irritation. Turning to fully face him, indignation smothered your face. “Why? Do you not trust me?” He refuses to look at you, resting his weight on his extended arms against the table.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sounds like it.”
He feels your persistent glare, the radiating heat burning holes into his flesh. Hell, he could see the smoke wafting towards his eyes to keep him blind. However Donghyuck musters a deep sigh, rubbing at said organs with defeat.
“I just want you to care for my concerns.”
Mark’s presence didn’t allow for your vexatious response. For the most part you were glad; this was bound to go south with you throwing in his face what he’s done. The cycle will never end. At least for now you’ll rest assured that he’s aching like you’ve wanted him to.
Subsequently the dinner was tough to go through. While small talk made itself present, it was never long enough unlike the clinking of glasses, cutlery, and the background noise of the TV informing you all of how in hours the transition to the new year will be made. Things followed that way until you all got ready again and made your way to the beach.
While it wasn’t crossing the line to Mr. Lee’s property, it wasn’t far enough for you all to drive there. With around three glasses of wine down, two shots, and the beer bottle in each one of your hands; claiming you two were being boring, Mark had managed to tranquilize the ambiance and get you two to relax.
Through giggles or full on cackling, both men argued while recalling yet again another one of their anecdotes in this same beach. Most of them being of the torment they made Mark’s older brother Taeyong endure.
“You guys suck. I know what it feels to see their pet be made into a meal.” You pout at the story they had just finished telling. A butterfly effect had taken place that summer when the boys broke their arms. To tease the older of the three; Mark and Donghyuck had tossed his pet crabs around the beach. Through tears and whining from Taeyong, Mr. Lee had forced them to chase after the few they could salvage.
But their chances were slim and given the play set was already in their search area, the faith of the youngest two had been told. Mark’s and Donghyuck’s malicious actions led to a temporarily long painful period. Sadly to say that even Taeyong suffered from the happenings. Mr. Lee had already been angry at the boy’s actions regarding the crabs and when his eldest son had rushed in exasperatedly to the point he dropped the bucket of said pets inside the home— their faith had been sealed the instant Lee senior blamed them for everything.
That afternoon arriving from the hospital, Taeyong’s pets had become a delicious meal for the Lee family. Much to Taeyong’s disapproval and hunger strike that week.
“Come on pretty girl. We were like, what? Seven?” Hyuck defends in between laughs, his arm wraps around your shoulders to leave a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You scowl at the action, a smile following suit when he leaves another one to tease you.
While Mark wasn’t enjoying the view, he didn’t want to sour the mood. You all had finally been able to go back to what you’ve all known and he knew how much it meant to you to end and start the year well. If he has to cut off his tongue and gouge his eyes out to keep the peace, then so be it.
“I would’ve cared but those little shits always pinched me any chance they had.” Mark spews jokingly, pinching Hyuck softly to emulate the pets. Comically exclaiming his pain, Donghyuck adds a quick jump to his step. Alcohol was getting to them but you won’t complain. Behind the remorse, you wanted to see your boys happy too. At least for now.
“Yeah, well it’s not fun being excited for your meal and suddenly while you’re almost done your family drops the fact that you’re eating your pet made into a pot roast.” The memory of Lola, your cow will always live in your heart. Even if she was a cunt.
“Pot roast sounds so good right now.” Donghyuck’s jesting insensitivity made Mark almost choke on his beer, coughing through laughter while you shove Hyuck off you. “Oh come on!” He laughs, trailing behind you until he grasps your waist and pulls you close to him.
He tries to contain his laughter but it escapes regardless. You weren’t mad to say the least, you just enjoyed teasing him in a different way. Resting his chin on your exposed shoulder, the honey brunette turns to kiss the crook of your neck. The smell of alcohol embedding itself on your skin.
“Isn’t Lola the one who kicked you? That you fell into the mud?” But no one could win against his mockery. “Well…” This time you couldn’t help but laugh along, the melody from your throat letting the other two know it was fine to laugh too. “It was a really good pot roast.”
Through laughter, jokes, teasing, and more drinking; within minutes the three of you found yourselves by the shoreline viewing the ebullience of every partygoer. String lights amongst every pole, clumps of people drinking and dancing amongst themselves. For miles all you could see were masses with glasses reading ‘2000’ or mardi gras beads.
Greeted with sparklers and beaded necklaces around your necks, the three of you swished the wands around. The yellow sparks fly off and dwindle quickly. “In case our bank accounts get drained or locked in a few hours… Cheers!”��
It hasn’t been the easiest year or for that matter the best last years of the decade but if for just this night you’d all ignore your wrong doings then you’ll be assured that there’s something out for you. Seeing Donghyuck prance around with his best friend, the happiest smiles on their faces would have made you feel as giddy in the past but alcohol is treacherous.
While it treats them well, it’s tossing you around. Playing with your heart and brain, mocking you for what the universe will do to this friendship. You won’t deny that having Mark stay with you had brought back peace and happiness initially. But after a while of giving yourself to him, he became a bore, almost like you had drained him of any fun.
Donghyuck had turned out that way long before his friend arrived. Maybe it was because of work and the exhaustion it piled on him. But he was more silent and avoided you, especially whenever he knew an argument would happen. It may have bothered you but you failed to see that your constant berating had made his light dwindle.
Seeing them act so freely amongst themselves, laughing as if nothing has happened stabbed your chest over and over. It wasn’t guilt or sadness. On one hand you hated seeing them this happy while you weren’t but on the other, you’re glad that at least they can enjoy their company until the older one leaves. And after so long this is the first time you’ve seen them cling to each other lovingly. Like the brothers they were before all this.
But life will never grant you the gift of happiness. You’ve made too many mistakes to have that now.
While the hours passed in which you’d all laugh, danced, and sang about the bliss of life; Donghyuck parted momentarily from you two to get more drinks leaving you alone with Mark. The latter took this opportunity to close the gap Donghyuck had been occupying. Sliding his way to you and pressing himself against your back.
The sensation caught you off guard, exasperatedly looking around to make sure your husband wasn’t witnessing this. “Not here, he’ll get back soon.” You swallow the lump in your throat as your hands battled on whether to push him off or let the drunken lust win over.
A breathy sigh expelled from his lips, softly nipping where Donghyuck had kissed you upon arrival. “One last dance of the year, baby. You’ll kiss that asshole when the clock hits midnight let me have this at least.” The coarseness of his voice made your eyelashes flutter, the sensation of his chapped lips drawing you further into temptation.
Maybe falling victim to your needs one last time wouldn’t hurt.
Your hips began swaying against his own, pressing your back further into his chest whilst he held you tightly. Both dancing to the sensual melody without a care of the outside world. The trail of his fingers against your exposed skin left a boiling feeling. Your blood attracted to his touch like the first time.
You looked up at him through lashes, giggling when his own stare was glued to you. Mark himself chuckled when your eyes met, smiling while biting his inferior lip and leaning down to capture yours with his. Temptation had won against your restraints, forgetting that your husband wasn’t far away.
But a harsh tug made you stumble and the painful crack of Donghyuck’s knuckles against Mark’s cheek brought the two of you back to reality. Shock filled your body and your breathing felt short. It was all crashing down on you at the worst time. Twenty minutes till midnight, this will be your end.
“What’s your fucking deal, asshole?!” Mark angrily reproaches at his friend, holding his cheek, wincing with every touch. “What do you mean what’s my fucking deal? You’re kissing my wife, you dick.” Haechan pushes against Mark’s chest, making the latter stumble. He might be angry but a taunting chuckle leaves his lips.
“One of many times.”
“What did you say?!” Earning himself another push, this time nearly tripping over his feet. When he stabilized himself, he returned the gesture to the one assaulting him. “One of many times, dickhead! On your bed, couch, bathroom, kitchen, car, hours ago!” Definitely, Mark extends his arms in an open invitation to continue.
“If you weren’t such an asshole she wouldn’t have looked for someone else that could treat her better.” He gnaws the inside of his mouth, wincing again when accidentally gracing his cheek. Alcohol had proven to betray Mark. Hours earlier it was his best friend and aided him in loosening up but now it was spewing all his wrong doings and rubbing it in his brother’s face.
“Hyuck, it was just a kiss. Please, don’t make a big deal.” Your attempts at calming the situation had failed, instead making him grow angrier. How can it be just a kiss when Mark just confessed about your affair? “One fucking kiss? You stink of him almost every night. But no only I’ve fucked up!”
Donghyuck clicks his tongue, shaking his head with irritation. “If anything she’s only doing it to piss me off. She only fucks you to get it out of her system. This whole time she hasn’t run to you now that she has me. Her husband.” His venom clung to Mark, etching down every single one of his words onto his mind.
No. No, Mark knows you love him and you wouldn’t just use him. You love him. That word: husband. Husband can only mean so much when the people in the party are happy and not miserable like you all are. But why does it hurt every time it’s said without correlation to himself?
“You guys are fucking unbelievable. The year is about to end and you’re ruining it for me. You just had to be men, claiming and possessing as if we don’t have our own say. Useless as always!” Your angry words cut through their direct dialogue; turning to your figure walking away from the scene. People had started to pay attention however you’ll be damned before you’re the joke of any town.
They weren’t of any help, the two argued as they followed behind. Not too far to lose or not be associated with you. Regardless they’ll drag you down with them even if they don’t intend to.
“I’m tired of you throwing that word around as if it had any meaning to you. The same person that forgot his anniversary and left her crying and came back smelling like whores with cheap lipstick stains? Do I have to remind you how you threw the shirt away instead?”
You had reached your wits ends. In the instance Mark’s words left regarding your husband’s second plausible affair, you stopped in your tracks to look at both. The fiery pits of hell decorating your pupils and rivers of agony pooling at your waterline.
“But you reproach me about hugging mark? Are you fucking serious, Hyuck? Again?” A sob tried sneaking into your words, clutching onto your mouth to not let your voice betray you. You didn’t look back at them, if you knew anything about either is that Mark would smugly turn to Haechan and mock him while the latter tries to beg for more time.
Again. Donghyuck had been unfaithful to you in the past and just this night Mark was first hearing about it. Any guilt from earlier into the affair was now gone. If he could, so could you. The news might have killed him earlier but now he rejoices in knowing that no morality will stand between you and him anymore.
Donghyuck takes your hand into his. As much as you tug to get away from him, his grasp shows to have gotten stronger. “I haven't done anything! At most they threw themselves at me, you know the meetings are always at clubs, y/n. Please… I said I wouldn’t do this to you again, I promised.” The sob you failed to expel, he did instead.
You tried avoiding his sad puppy dog eyes but his touch will always be a weakness of yours. Regardless, you won’t let him see your vulnerability. Mark had witnessed it and instead he was using it against his friend’s neglect. They were all the same.
“You haven’t done anything?” Your voice slips between your gritted teeth. He shakes his head exasperatedly trudging behind while you continue until you’re finally by the sliding doors of the porch. “Just like you didn’t do anything with your catering girl?!”
The increase in tone of your voice catches both off guard. Confused but intrigued, Mark watches as you pull your arm from Haechan’s grasp while he’s left with trembling eyes. “I wish the cheek kisses were more than just that…” Hearing you recite the words, Donghyuck knew it was back to square one.
“Y/n, stop.” He begs, walking to reach you but you back away. “I want to hold you again and again. To wake by your side like last night. To feel your warmth and kisses until we both die.’ I want to hold you… feel your warmth until we die. You’re so full of shit.” The lump in your throat wouldn’t pass, it suffocated you with every passing second but it hurt more reminiscing the contents of those letters than dying from asphyxiation.
While he may be part of this, Mark was out of place in this instance. He was just another spectator now like all those masses outside.
“You can recite them all you want but I never lied to you about what happened.” His voice was apologetic with a lingering sadness after every word. “Right.” You roll your eyes, finally reaching for a glass of wine to sedate your anger.
“Yes! I never lied to you about what went on unlike you! You said it was purely platonic between you two. Indignation all over your face when I brought it up then and today and you still want to act like I’m the only liar.” Even now you couldn’t find it in yourself to admit you were wrong. At least not anytime soon in this lifetime.
Raising your glass with a shrug, “Okay, I fucked him. So what? You fucked her too. We’r–”
“I never fucked her for fuck’s sake! Listen to me for once! I never fucked her! Kissed from time to time and slept in the same bed but we never fucked! You didn’t want to console me, so she did.”
Mark had been the shoulder you cried on when Donghyuck’s actions broke your heart but now you’re leaving the stubbornness behind to understand he had his own shoulder to cry on.
“You're supposed to be my best friend, my ride or die and instead you’re fucking my wife! You’re supposed to be my fucking brother!” Donghyuck screams out in a sob, turning on his heel to see a stunted Mark. The older of the three needed a long time to process what he was hearing.
Time has run out for you all. It was too late to forgive and forget. The fireworks illuminating the dark outside and screams of glee embedding itself into all of your minds. January 1st, 2000: The end of the world to many but for you three in particular.
All there left was disappointment and sadness. This isn’t how you wanted to start or end your year but consequences will always come to those with malicious intent. Even if it refers to revenge.
“Always have to ruin everything.” You spit out, glaring at your husband and directing it to Mark. The words stung in Donghyuck’s fragile heart. Enduring years of your vicious words was making it harder for him.
Things went for worse when you took Mark’s wrist into your hand, dragging him towards his room. The younger’s heart began beating achingly at the image before him. His ears went hot and he felt light headed seeing his friend comply with you.
“Wh- where are you going?” His question went unanswered.
“Y/n! Where the fuck are you two going?!” Panic constrained his mind. Many scenarios played in his head and they all ended the same way. With you and Mark intertwined on the smooth sheets of the bed. Caresses and kisses over nude flesh while he could do nothing about it.
All through the transcript of dragging Mark to his bedroom and locking the both of you inside, Donghyuck hadn’t stopped his whining and crying. Begging you to not do anything stupid and for you to stop this torment.
Truth be told, you believed that your husband hadn’t slept with the catering girl but it did hurt to know he went to someone else for comfort. While it is your fault he caused those extremities, you couldn’t help that rage within you. Bringing up the subject made you feel like that sixteen year old when your father’s way of coping with your mother’s death was by remarrying another woman.
Why couldn’t any of them just cope your way? Why did they always have to resort to other women? If they couldn’t deal with how you wanted them to, you had to make sure they felt your pain, one way or another.
The banging on Mark’s door kept getting louder by the minute. Donghyuck’s grueling cries begging you to get out of there brought a sense of peace while Mark felt terrified. He’s never heard Haechan beg like this for anything, not even as a child when he threw tantrums.
Moreover, Mark’s senses began to calm down as Donghyuck’s banging did too. All that’s left was hearing the younger sob through the wall begging you to not do something stupid and to think about the marriage. Under the impression that you had dragged his friend to fuck under his nose, Donghyuck was distraught and broken.
Once and for all, Mark felt triumph. He was the one you dragged inside with you. The one you’re laying next to even if it’s just to stare at the old glow in the dark stars stuck to his cieling. It was him you’ve chosen and that’s enough for him to know you loved him. Him, not your husband.
At what point did he go wrong? He’s always loved you even through insults and arguments that made his self esteem die. All he needed was someone to care for him in his lowest point and the person he needed most left for a three month work period. Leaving him to rot and wallow in the pain of mourning.
While he may not have loved the seaweed girl, he liked that she was there for him. But maybe that’s where he went wrong. Using her and giving her hope led to his bad karma and here he was, begging his vengeful wife to not fuck his best friend, his brother for who knows how many times. To spare him of any more pain but it was hopeless. Hope is a dangerous thing for a man like him to have.
Haechan had lost a brother that year and now he’s lost another.
The seasons had come to an agreement and decided to stick to what they’re known for. It was the coldest and gloomiest time to begin a millennium. In contrast to yesterday’s heat, today the prickling wind wouldn’t stop torturing your cheeks.
Streets were empty and stores had at least a handful of people. Everyone was either rejoicing the world didn’t end or hung over from all the alcohol that coursed their bodies. You only hoped many didn’t start it the way you three did.
“Welcome in! Order when you’re ready!”
The diner at the train station was the most packed compared to any other store you’ve passed by. While the elderly waitresses greeted everyone that went in, Donghyuck and Mark found each other sitting silently in one of the booths. You had decided to order some coffees but the line was longer than expected.
Nothing went past subtle glances and sighs. If it wasn’t for the no smoking inside policy, Mark would’ve pulled one out by now to aid his restlessness. As the seconds passed and you didn’t come back, the older of the two sighed one last time and finally decided to open his mouth.
“We didn’t do anything last night.” Hyuck doesn’t question or care to continue. Unlike him, Mark’s conscience was corroding. If you were to leave with him in minutes, he wanted to make peace with his oldest friend. There’s a chance his father will keep him around and whenever he sees the two of you at functions, he doesn’t want things to be awkward.
He shifts in his seat, leaning over the table. “I’m sorry things turned out this way. She’s just– I don’t know, she’s great.” He fondly chuckles yet Donghyuck’s chuckle was anything but that. If you were to follow Mark's plan, then Haechan hopes Mark can endure the hell you’ve put him through.
“I don’t care, Mark.” The eldest stops to look at his defeated friend. Hyuck had been playing with his wedding band while Mark talked and though it may cause a twinge of jealousy, it shouldn’t be long until he himself has one. RIght?
“I don’t care how things went. All I know is that you’re a fucking traitor. I could’ve expected this from anyone but not you.” Mark tries to apologize but Hyuck’s dark glare shuts him up. With all the pain he’s caused him, why is he acting like everything should be alright between the two? Maybe Mark and you did deserve each other.
“You know you’ll always be my best friend right? My brother.” Mark’s words weren’t malicious but after everything, Hyuck can only stare at him before letting out a scoff that comes out as a chuckle, granting Mark a grin of disbelief. “Yeah. I believe you.”
Mark responds with a smile but the sour taste in his tongue can’t be scraped away. He’s aware Donghyuck is being sarcastic, he just hopes in the future that he’ll forgive him. As much as this unknown feeling pains him.
“Here, I didn’t want to prepare them and have you two annoy me if it was too sweet.”
Nonchalantly you included yourself in their conversation as if last night’s scenario was nothing but a nightmare. Early in the morning you had woken them up, sweet talking both of them with a bright smile on your face. Things might have gone south but after a long restless night you weren’t going to let your year go to waste because of them. This is about you and you alone.
Consequently this is what Donghyuck was thinking about. How soon you were going to ignore any of your wrong doings and sweep them under the rug. You were going to force him to forget any ill word you’ve thrown at him for the sake of your peace without regard for his own.
He may be selfish now since the period of you finding out about his affair but he had learned from the best.
Regardless he couldn’t take it anymore and sought his way out towards the restroom where he could have some time alone. If he didn’t have at least five minutes he’d burst your bubble and it was best to not awaken that hurtful beast within.
Neither of you spared him a glance; raising your cup to be polite towards Mark, you take a sip of your coffee, biting your tongue after the liquid burnt it. “Do you want me to go get your ticket while he’s gone?” Mark breaks the ice again, his spoon swirling the mixture of liquids.
“Hm?” Your confusion catches him off guard, mirroring your knitted eyebrows as you take another sip of the coffee. “Train ticket, y/n.” He nervously chuckles, the spoon in his hand clanking against the table. His words didn’t ring a bell in your mind and all it caused was for an anxious whirlwind in his chest to form.
“For what?”
“You’re leaving with me aren’t you? I mean, you stayed with me last night while he cried his heart out. That should mean something, right? It was your answer, right?”
His voice pitched increasingly the longer you gave him a blank stare. “That’s just a normal argument. Why? Did you get scared?” You giggle, throwing him a smile, acting like you didn’t just burn your tongue for a second time now.
He tried his best to avoid the feeling of hate and sadness. In his brain you were just joking around with him. A part of him reassured him that at the last minute you’d tell Hyuck he could go to hell and you’d accompany Mark’s journey for eternity after. He was so sure of it after all he’s witnessed. But worry and doubt would never failed to fuck with him.
“Y/n… Last night you– I love you, y/n.”
“How low can one get to sleep with his brother’s wife? I don't see that as love.”
The sentence had cut deep in him, enough that no type of medication could cure the ache in his heart.
“We had plans, y/n for fucks sake.” His voice cracked, lips trembling ready to cry. “No, you had plans.“ It slips through gritted teeth, his eyes sharp like your tongue that spewed venom into his heart.
“If you took a second to listen to those plans, you’d realize how selfish and self centered they are.” You were beginning to get angry. Mostly for the fact that he’s bursting the bubble Hyuck was avoiding. The facade was over, Hyuck knew about you two, and Mark wasn’t being mindful of your own feelings.
“How?”
“How? I move out with you and start a new life in which I’ll be staying at home and you’ll work. How familiar does that sound?” The wind gushed outside, slapping the windows in order to make Mark put some effort.
“It’ll be different…” he cleared his voice, it was meek and silent, an obvious restraint in wanting to admit it wasn’t too different from what you have right now. “How is it going to be different, Mark? Tell me how.” The whirlwind in your own chest contradicted his. While he felt anxious you grew annoyed.
“So are you leaving with me today or not?” Mark raised his head, finally looking you in the eye. There should be a part of you that preferred him regardless, no? After everything you two have experienced and the way he’s made you feel, why wouldn’t you choose him? He needs you for fuck’s sake.
Placing your cup down to look back at him, a grimace of annoyance decorated your lips. “You haven’t learnt anything have you?” You leaned over the table, feeling the lifting wood poking your ribcage. “My grandma always used to say: If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.“
“God can laugh but I still have my plans. Now it’s up to you if you slip out of his grasp and move in with me. I’ll figure out how to make it different eventually. I’ll be waiting for you.” His eyes betrayed the harsh tone in his voice but Mark wanted it to be clear that he’d do anything to cater to you. Even if it meant that you’d break his heart from time to time.
Mark looked outside the window, sand from the beach danced across the platform entrance. Like Donghyuck, he couldn’t bear being in your presence now. Accidentally bumping into the table while he stands, Mark makes way towards the door, not before throwing you one last glance.
However you weren’t too keen on putting others over yourself.
“Donghyuck is my husband.” You spat, back angrily hitting the cold plastic booth backrest. In his desperate agony, he fumbled out the door with those same words ringing as loudly as the entrance bell.
The mentioned man had gotten out not long after Mark had left, questioning his whereabouts but dismissed by you asking him to walk along the shoreline while you all waited for Mark’s train to arrive.
After speaking with Mark in which he took refuge in the platform benches, it allowed for both you and Hyuck to take the opportunity to bask in the presence of each other.
What was there to say? Any argument and reproach had been screamed last night, enough to hurt everyone involved but mainly him.
For someone that wanted to avoid a horrible start of a new age, you had failed and all that was left was the mixture of resentment and anger towards the two men in your current life.
Hyuck similar to you, shared those sentiments with the exception he wasn’t too angry. Rather than so he was sad. Sad at the fact that his best friend, his brother, could've done that to him. To smile and laugh under his roof while fucking his wife and not feeling guilt whatsoever. In fact the bastard gloated as if you had chosen him instead.
While he had no room to judge, he still had the right to feel horrible about this now confirmed betrayal. He wondered if you felt this pain when you found out. You had expressed your anger through destroying the house and becoming cold towards him until Mark showed up but that was about it. He never had the chance to see you cry about what he had done and he believes he never will.
You did cry of course. Despite the way you treated him and tossed him around, ignoring his cries for help, you still loved him. You loved how attentive and kind he was. You loved that he stuck by your side after your lashings and the nostalgia of how sweet he was when pursuing you. So to realize that there was a possibility of him doing all that for someone else broke you.
Why would he confess profound love until his final breath just to go on and have a fling with the next girl that gave him attention while you’re gone? Well it was easy and while he started telling you last night, you needed more.
Stopping in your tracks, feet away from the platform and people; you turn to the ocean, watching the increased height of the crashing waves. Their splashing kisses your skin and the wind makes your hair dance across your face.
When noticing, Hyuck turns his body to you, tucking away the strands behind your ear. His warm hand lingered for a few seconds on your cold damp cheek, staring with sorrow embedded into his pupils. It’s fascinating how often your bodies contradict each other. He didn’t say anything, all he did was look at you, eyes flickering across your stoic face. Many things crossed your mind but your face never showed it.
Up until he dropped his hand and stood beside you to be consumed in the whirlwinds of today’s weather; your voice interrupted his silence. No thoughts in his head but now the melody of your voice swirled around in his cranium.
“Do you think in another universe we could’ve been happy together?”
You didn’t turn but he does, the confusion on his face easing when the question washes over him.
“Perhaps when we learn to fix our mistakes and flaws.”
“What flaws? Yours?”
“Right.”
He laughs exhaustedly. In this universe or any other, he didn’t believe you’ll ever be able to accept that you’ve also fucked up. It was notable that you were able to admit you and Mark had been fucking but even that you blamed on him. He wouldn’t complain, there’s no doubt that you did it out of spite but regardless he knew what he was talking about.
You couldn’t wrap your head around last night’s information. Maybe because your affair consisted of pure carnal desire but you couldn’t understand how Donghyuck didn’t take that approach with the catering girl.
“W-why her?..”
There was no intention for your words to come out shaky. What you feared was your walls starting to crack at this information. On his part, Hyuck didn’t want to speak much anymore. He knew if he told you more, you’d be upset and he feared you’d throw a fit again but your insistence by holding onto his arms and hesitating to pull him close was enough.
Glancing at you with worry, he sighs. His head drops and turns to the sea hoping it could swallow him. “My brother died a week before and you left, y/n. You left me for three months when I needed you most and you barely answered any of my calls. And I know you didn’t just leave for work, I know you didn’t want to deal with me but she did.”
Your world came crashing down on you. He was right, you did leave to not deal with his emotions to get away from him and to avoid the feeling of grief all over again. When his parents had come over to tell him the news it reminded you too much of your mother’s death. Sad part is that when you came back he too had replaced you with another woman the same way your father did with your mom.
At the end of the day your plan had backfired on you. You didn’t know how to comfort him nor wanted to, dealing with the strong emotions of others was never your thing. But till this day you’re paying the consequences as he is.
“She listened and comforted me. I guess I confused it with love because the second you came back all that flooded my mind was you regardless that you left me or all the times you called me useless for not doing things your way. You could add that to the reasons. She was nice, if I made a mistake she wouldn’t berate me and instead helped me with it. Why did you change, y/n? You were so sweet and suddenly you just… dropped the act.”
To hear it come from his mouth crushed your heart. To an extent you knew your actions would have led to this outcome but you always put the blame on him.
You shrug, throwing him a quick glance. “I’ve always been like this, Hyuck.”
“No, the girl I fell in love with was sweet and playful. You became mean and cold after we got married.”
“You changed so much too. Once you started getting promotions you became such a pompous ass. Constantly staying out for meetings till 2 AM, always smelling like alcohol, and lessening the help at home. Then after the affair you gave up so fast in trying to amend anything that you became worse and that’s when the constant fighting began.”
He couldn’t forget of course. He still recalls you shredding to pieces the book of poems he wrote to you and binded. He felt his heart go when you had done that; watching his hard work and feelings just thrown away over a petty argument of who would walk the dog next. Sad to say when those poems were destroyed the dog went out next. Every fruit of your love withered little by little.
Donghyuck took refuge in his job to stay away from you. Despite how in pain he was, he still had hope things would get better, that maybe you’d forget and try to work it out again. By the time Mark had arrived, that hope had died out and he was tired of the cycle that he just mimicked your way of treating him.
Nevertheless in the past months that you changed how you treated him, it blossomed again. Of course, good things never last and when his suspicions kept being thrown at his face, he understood what life had brought upon him.
He hums as a response, sighing loudly in the process. “I don’t think we can be happy any time soon but at least this is making us actually talk about it now.” His deep voice adds, turning to you to get a sweet answer but he was simply met with a cheeky smile and: “So we’re even now?”
He laughs finding it unbelievable. No apology or anything of the sort. Some things won't change too fast but regardless his sentiment was similar. “Yeah. We’re even.”
A relieved smile spreads on your face, nodding in agreement. “Till death do us apart.” No matter how much you two confess your disdain for each other, you’ll always be together. Call it sadomasochism or exhausting familiarity but you and your husband are sticking together.
All these years you were waiting for Donghyuck’s downfall and having him confess it has been happening all along had alleviated that weight on your shoulders. You had done it and he was paying for hurting you. Some sentiments never change but even with that information, you aren’t satisfied. What you two had was ruined and everyone involved ended up losing.
The locomotive was louder than expected. In addition the conductors and ticketing people were heard even from where you two stood. This was it, Mark’s time was over with you two.
Cocking his head for you to follow him; with hooked arms, the both of you make way to the bench where Mark sits nervously. His legs shake from either the cold or wondering if you’ll still leave with him. Even now that he sees how close and happy you and Hyuck look together, he’s willing to convince himself it’s another front.
“Got everything ready?” Hyuck calls out for his friend. Mark stands from his spot, nodding as he releases the smoke of his millionth cigarette. “Yeah, yeah. Just–” He lifts the stick between his fingers. “Can’t have one in there.” Mark chuckles, his vision removing itself from you two.
“I’ll call you guys when I get to the apartment. Taeyong and mom are going to help me get the paintings out. Do you want me to do anything before I leave the key?” It was mostly directed at Donghyuck, that sliver of hope clinging tightly. You were the one to speak instead.
“Maybe water the plants if they’re not dead yet.”
In recollection of what you two did together, Mark had remembered the plant you two helped sprout. The last time he paid attention to it, it was bright and green. Now he imagines it dull and dead.
He nods with a tight lipped smile, inhaling from the warm cigarette butt. Silences lingered momentarily but Hyuck was the one to cut through it. “We’ll see you for your housewarming, alright?” Mark nods, standing when you two stopped clinging to each other.
“Take care, okay?”
“Okay.”
The hoarseness in his voice threatened him the longer he clung to Donghyuck. This was it for the two of them and he had thrown it out for lust. His only rock was leaving him. When it came to you, the hug wasn’t tight enough, something in his heart told him that you’ll be joining him soon.
But little by little as you and Donghyuck make way down the steps and out the platform, he wonders how much longer till you run back inside to get your ticket.
His hope had dwindled slowly back at the diner when you had cruelly crushed his expectations. Up until now that flame was left but not seeing even your locks had turned it off. All that is left is the delusional idea that you’d actually fall through with the plans he made for the both of you. Chances fell slim the closer last call came around.
There was no trace of you or Hyuck outside the station, all there left was the cold winter with the addition of families or couples enjoying themselves oblivious to his pain dispersing through his entire body.
His teeth shattered while he shivered, the cigarette in between his lips doing nothing for comfort or warmth; Mark was alone and cold. The only source of physicality came from the ticket staff to let him know this was the last call before the train left. He nodded, giving one last look around, feeling his face scrunch up after ridding of his cigarette.
The cold bit him harshly, tears smeared his face holding back his sobs now that reality had settled. His cold hands wiped away the boiling streams that burnt his cheeks but it only made his skin ache more. He didn’t care if people could see his sorrow painted on his face. All he has now are memories, paintings, and pictures.
He will never see you two again.
taglist: @haknyeonsju @bbymatz @seungjiseyo @theskzvibe @wonyofanclub @lovingvoidgoatee
#neohub#nct-writers#kwritersworldnet#kdiarynet#nctcreations18#mark lee smut#haechan smut#nct smut#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#mark lee#haechan#mark lee x reader#mark lee x you#haechan x reader#haechan x you#nct fic
284 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sacred Oasis
Word Count: 3.6k+
Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader (established relationship)
Warnings: Drinking and driving (not really though). Unprotected sex. Blink and you miss it knifeplay. Angsty boy Rhett Abbott
Author's Note: "Heard you weren't doing anymore x reader fics, O." Yeah, but a bitch is down bad so forgive me, father, because I am SINNING.
If you want more of these two, please check here: Beautiful and Shiny.
Ao3
Music’s too loud.
Between the alcohol and the social interaction, the music became a blaring siren in your mind, beat increasing in frequency until it signaled time to go.
Walking to the bar to settle up, you stop, staring at the unmistakable back of Rhett. Last time you saw him, he was over by the jukebox. You’re half certain he was the one feeding the machine and the music, knowing exactly what gets under your skin and all.
Bar’s surface is small and he’s sitting dead in the middle, head bent over his beer or his phone. Hell, it’s late enough now that he’s probably moved onto tequila. Or whiskey. Or some deadly combination of both that’ll see him pissing on the side of the road because home’s just too far away.
And there’s nowhere to go for you but one of the empty seats on either side of him. Of course, you could come pay it all off tomorrow but it was a couple of shots and half a beer so not handing Gertie the twenty in your wallet just because you don’t want to talk to him? That’s just about as fair as him somehow occupying every blessed space you’ve stepped into tonight.
Pulling up beside him, you signal for Gertie on the other side of the room and wait, looking anywhere after but at the man to your left.
“She won’t take your money, baby.”
“Excuse me?”
He takes a swig of his beer, bottle tilting upward as he raises a finger for you to hold your thought. I’ll be with you in one second, honey.
Loosing a breath when he sets the bottle down, he wipes at his mouth and stares, bright eyes weighed down by exhaustion and inebriation.
“Said she won’t take your money,” he repeats himself, picking his drink back up, “baby.”
“Fine, I’ll bite. Why won’t she take my money?”
“Cause I settled you up when I bought this,” he tells you. “Figured you’d had your fill of Miller Lite and vodka redbull for the night and I’d take care of it so you could just go home—sleep it off so you could do some more thinking in the morning or whatever it is you do with your old soul and your big ass eyes.”
“Rhett…”
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, baby?” He gestures to your outfit and takes another drink. “Showing up here wearing that? You knew where I’d be.”
“Everybody’s here, Rhett,” you tell him. “This is the only fucking place there is, I didn’t come here to tease you—I came here because I thought you had a competition tonight and I didn’t want to sit in my dark ass room hoping this wouldn’t be the time you get gutted by a wild animal on a dirt stage.”
“So you put on the skirt I love the most and a top low enough that any asshole in this bar can and will think about when they’re fucking themselves—or their wives—later instead?”
“You’re a real son of a bitch, Rhett Abbott.”
He huffs a laugh. “You are more that woman’s child than I am at this point. She got two sons and neither of them can keep the daughters she always wanted around. What kind of god did she piss off, huh?”
“You’re drunk, Rhett,” you insist. “She didn’t piss off a god, you pissed off your girlfriend. You did this so don’t blame some deity you don’t even believe in.”
He smiles, lips half rising in that cocky smirk he wears when he thinks he’s being clever. “Who said you weren’t the god I was talking about?”
Shaking your head, you turn on your heel and head towards the door, not bothering to put on the jacket held firmly in your hands because it’s the cold you want. When you push through the doors, you’re hit with a blast of pseudo fall weather just cold enough to be considered winter back where you were born and raised before your parents left civilization to claim their inheritance of a shitty plot of land and a few sick cows in your seventh grade year.
That might as well be how long you’ve been with him, those navy blue eyes that only truly shine in the light following you around like a sad puppy the moment he caught sight of you on the other side of the fence. Rhett Abbott—the boy next door.
Of course, he’s not that anymore. He’s the boy on the other side of the bed in an above barn apartment he built out over two years. And he isn’t a boy anymore, he’s a man who makes shit decisions and thinks it’ll all be okay.
Footsteps catch up to you in the hard dirt, dust kicking up around you in warning before he falls in line to your side.
“Seriously, Rhett, what are you doing here?”
“Getting my girl back,” he responds. “I got used to sleeping next to you, come home.”
Stopping short to turn towards him, you scoff. “That’s it? You got used to me?”
“Baby, I’m really not good at all this romantic shit.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
He scrubs a hand down his face, skin pulling taught around his jaw before he scratches back against the scruff. He looks like shit.
“Perry said he saw you walking in here with your friends, I wanted to show you that you’re more important to me than riding.”
“Okay,” you laugh, “we both know that’s bullshit, baby, but okay.”
“No, it’s true.”
“That is not what you said when I begged you to quit three weeks ago as I drove your ass two hours to the nearest hospital for your broken ribs and your fucked up hand, Rhett!” You’re yelling, half in his face with eyes on you from across the poorly lit parking lot. “That’s not what you said any of the other times that I told you this was stupid and that watching you get hurt for fun wasn’t my idea of a good time.”
“But you never left!” He yells back. “You never left me over it, it was all talk until you showed up the next time and the next. It was all empty fucking threats at that point, baby, you can’t wave steak in front of a hungry dog and expect it not to bite. You were always there with your soft hands and a much needed massage”—he steps forward until your back is pressed against the wall of the building furthest from the light—“maybe you shouldn’t have sucked my dick all those times,” he whispers down at you, “or told me I’d be better soon. If you wanted me to quit so bad before this, you would’ve fucking left before this but that’s not what this is about. This is about those girls who showed up asking to take pictures and fucking with my hat before I rode, who ran to my side before you could get down from the bleachers but you’re too cool to admit that. Right?”
He stares down at you, braced hand bracing his weight against the wall as he turns to shield you from the few onlooking eyes.
“Did you drive here, baby?” He asks, wiping a tear away from your cheek.
Bunching the fabric of his shirt up at both his sides, you shake your head as you pull him closer. “I came here with Casey.”
He nods. “Well, Casey’s a really shitty friend because she left you to fend for yourself about half an hour ago so she could ride Billy Tillerson.”
You laugh. “She pegs him, actually.”
“I bet she fucking does, and good for them, but”—he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger—“I want you to come home.”
“Rhett—“
“Don’t give me that shit, you know there’s only one girl I want in my bed and it’s not any of those likely underage, bad dye job having dipshits. It’s only you, only ever been you.”
You wrap your hand around his wrist and turn your face into the palm that cups your cheek to press your lips against the rough skin. His answer is to press himself closer to you, a kiss to your forehead and then down to your nose, finally ending at your lips while his body relaxing on an exhale against yours.
“Is that a yes, baby?” He asks, planting his forehead to yours to keep his eyes level.
You nod your head. It is a yes. It’s a yes that you were jealous of those girls, putting themselves close to him, fawning over him like they could fix his broken ribs or his bad decisions or the bloody knuckles he gets from fights protecting his brother. It’s a yes that you want to come home, wrap up in his arms and not some threadbare quilt your mom’s had since before you were born.
He all but drags you to the truck, hand holding tightly to yours as if he’s afraid to lose you across the expanse of the parking lot.
“Rhett, baby,” you turn as he helps you into the passenger side, “you’ve been drinking.”
He laughs. “I had one beer, I’m fine.”
“You look like you’ve drunk ten.”
“That would be exhaustion, honey, because I haven’t slept since the night you told me you were gonna go stay with your mama and daddy.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be driving”—you reach your hand out—“give me the keys, Rhett.”
He shakes his head, “your four drinks is equivalent to my ten, we’ll be fine.”
The door slams and he jogs across the back of the truck, sliding quickly in next to me as he turns the key in the ignition and slings an arm around the back of my seat to back out of the space.
Truck’s quiet as you head down the main road towards home, windows half open with no music to fill all the space available inside and out. You feel the storm before you hear it, raindrops falling inward, sucked in by the steady speed. Then the thunder claps and it all comes down at once, sheets and sheets of icy rain soaking you through the bone in an instant before you can get the windows up.
Rhett slows to a stop and pulls off to the side of the road, cutting the engine and the lights before turning to you. “I can’t drive.”
“I'll do it.”
“The fuck you will, you’re not wearing your glasses and I already know you’re gonna be hungover in the morning, if I can’t see in this shit, you can’t see in this shit. The answer’s not just no, the answer is fuck no, sweetheart.”
You pull your legs up into the leather bench and you lean your head down, blinking up at him as your eyes adjust to the lack of light.
“You're soaked,” he says. “You look cold as hell.”
“Both very good reasons to take me home,” you tell him. “What if the storm doesn’t let up at all?”
“Then we stay out here tonight and I get chewed out by Royal in the morning when we finally do show up. The real question is, what will we do to warm you up?”
He’s got half a cocksure smile on his face, smirking like he’s made the biggest play of his life, and you can help the way it makes your stomach flip.
“Not sure, Mr. Abbott,” you tell him. “I can't think of a damn thing.”
Reaching out, he threads his fingers through your hair, grip tightening slightly as he drags you forward toward his lips. You can feel his body slide towards you, one leg crossing over the bump in the floor that separates passenger from pedals.
“Don't be shy, darling,” he whispers into your lips. “Get up on my lap.”
He’s hard already, straining against the thick denim against your core when you oblige him. Hands find purchase on your hips beneath your skirt and he groans, pressing himself up against you as he pulls you down.
“Is that what you really missed these last couple of weeks?” You ask him, fingers pulling at the buttons of his shirt to expose his chest.
He squeezes your hips and rests his head back. “I’ll have you know that I missed it all, sweetheart,” he says, smile widening as another clap of thunder makes you jump. “Ass. Tits. Mouth. Tongue. Your eyes. Your pussy. Your soft, sweet little hands and the weight of you against my body. The knowledge that you’d be there when I left and you’d be there when I came back.” He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “I don’t like who I am when you’re not there and I sure as hell don’t feel right laying in that big old bed without you.”
He looks up at you with his midnight, ocean blue eyes clouded over black in the darkness, soft and searching your face for any hint of how his words land. His hands meet you at his belt buckle, helping you undo the metal clasp and then the button. He pushes your hands out of the way for the zipper, giving out a deep sigh of relief as he pulls it down to give himself some room.
Lifting yourself when he prompts you, his hips following yours upwards as he slides the layers that keep him from you down, loosing his cock to lay up against his stomach.
Rhett’s tongue darts out again, wetting his lips as he hooks a finger into the bridge of your panties, rough knuckle grazing against your clit before running back and forth through the slick gathering in the seam of your sex.
“Fuck,” he says. Removes his finger, he leans forward and opens the glovebox behind you, searching around for something as he holds you close to him.
“If you’re looking for a condom, there’s no need,” you tease him. “I promise I didn’t fuck any other guys while we were apart.”
His chest puffs out against yours momentarily, a half hearted laugh until he’s leaning back again. “Not a condom, baby,” he says. “I need a knife.”
Before you can ask what for, the sharp sound of the blade loosing from the handle sounds and he hooks a finger into your panties again, this time pulling them away from your body as far as they’ll go.
“Rhett, what are you doi—“
The sound of fabric ripping easily permeates the space followed by another clap of thunder, this one accompanied by a lightning strike in the field off to your left. Something clatters back into the glovebox and he laughs. “Fucked up hand,” he says, raising the arm with a brace on it, “can’t tear your panties right now.”
“So you decided to put a knife near my vagina?”
“You liked it,” he laughs, lifting himself once more to press his lips to yours. “You liked it so much that I bet I can—oh”—he presses himself into your entrance and guides you to a fully seated position—“I can. Slid right in,” he says, biting down on his bottom lip.
“I think my pussy missed you just as much,” you tell him, pulling his head back by the grip you have on his hair. “Do you know how awkward it is trying to masturbate when your parents’ house is also their job?”
“Baby,” his lips drag against yours. “We had to listen to Perry and Rebecca try for a baby for years all while my hand was clamped firmly across this pretty little mouth of yours. Even with our own space now,” he shakes his head, lips pursing in thought, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you give more than a little whine.”
“Do you want me to scream more?” You ask him. “Yell? Chant your name like a god like all those people do for you when you manage to stay on the bull?”
He bucks up into you on that last question, soft groan and a heavy breath falling from him. He reaches up and grabs at the neckline of your shirt, fingers threading through the straps on either side to pull them down and off your shoulders, exposing you to him. His lips. His tongue. His teeth.
The storm rages outside, the sound of rain soundtracking the hot, heavy breathing exchanged through open mouths as he guides you, pulls you, fucks you to a thoughtless daze.
It’s animalistic, close and intimate, as he whispers praises into your ears and lips about you and the sweet warmth of your cunt until he’s nothing but a babbling mess, your name and endearments flowing out of him as easily as the movements he’s making against you.
He presses his thumb to your clit and rubs tight little circles into the bundle of nerves, one arm wrapped around your hips to keep you from shying away from him and the borderline over sensitization he’s driving you towards.
“Come on, baby, you can do it,” he encourages. “You take me so fucking well, you always have.”
Tightening up around him, you collapse against his chest as another wave of thunder rolls across the sky, crying out for him as he grinds your hips together at a faster and faster pace until he stills, neck straining as he throws his head back to shout expletives at the heavens.
Taking a deep breath, his hands relax on your hips, fingers flexing across the soft skin there before he wraps his arms around you again.
“Rain stopped,” he whispers into your ear. “I guess we can home now.”
You tuck your face into his neck and take a deep breath, rain and salty sweat and aftershave on his neck. “Can we stay like this for a minute?” You ask him. “Just a minute, Rhett.”
Rhett rubs your back as the clouds move across the sky, stars and moon becoming visible again with every minute that passes or soft kiss he plants.
“I am jealous of those other girls,” you tell him finally, sitting up to look into his eyes. “I’m not as pretty or done up as them, I don’t cheer you on like they do their men.”
“Baby,” he shakes his head, “they don’t have men out there. They want to have men out there. I don’t want you cheering for me like that anyway, I like that you call me fucking stupid every time you drive home. I like the desperate kisses you give me when I fall and you can’t get to me fast enough.” He clenches his jaw, grip tight on you again as he sits up. “And don’t you ever say that you’re not pretty or done up again, at least not in front of me. Don’t do that shit to me and don’t leave me again because of it, just talk to me.”
“I don’t know,” you say. "If you fuck me like that when I do, I might have to start taking more trips and picking more fights.”
He laughs and removes his shirt, throwing it over your side of the bench before gently helping you maneuver to sit on it. When you’re settled, he throws his head back again and rubs his eyes with a deep breath.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” he nods, looking you over as he turns the key in the ignition to let the truck warm back up. Rhett tucks himself back into his pants, doing up the zipper but leaving the button and the buckle hanging open, before sliding back into the driver side. “Yeah, baby.”
“You look sad,” you tell him.
“Yeah, I just”—he takes a deep breath and slides the gear shift down, guiding the truck back onto the road—“you said something earlier about how I just got used to you but I really need to make it abundantly clear to you.”
He rubs at his eye before adjusting in the his seat, throwing one arm behind you again as he cuts you a quick glance, eyes darting from your face to how you’re sitting and back at the road.
“Silence is very cle—“
“I didn’t just get used to you in my bed, baby. I built you that bed, I built you that apartment. I have fuck all else to offer you except what I can do with my hands. What I build for you and how I touch you”—that muscle in his jaw ticks again—“th-that is the only way I know how to worship you. I didn’t get used to you, baby. I never will. But if I’m not doing right by you, you have got to tell me because I don’t have a lot of examples of good love.”
He pulls into the entrance to the ranch and down the long dirt driveway to the barn. He doesn’t say anything else as he cuts the engine for good this time, just quietly gets out and comes around to your side of the truck. It’s late but you can see Cece and Royal peaking out the windows—one with a big smile and the other with a stoic look you’ve learned to discern as happiness. Rhett leans across you and presses the button for the buckle.
“Hey, Rhett?”
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, light reflecting off the glassy shine of his eyes. “Yeah?”
Kissing him before jumping down into the mud, you press your body close to his bare chest and look up into his sad eyes. “You’re doing right by me.”
#rhett abbott#rhett abbott fanfiction#rhett abbott x you#rhett abbott x reader#outer range#outer range fanfiction
425 notes
·
View notes
Text
long personal ramble below 👇👇👇👇
fuck it I am just going to go make friends!!!
i have been in a state of chronic and debilitating loneliness for most of my young adulthood. realistically, much longer. and there are so many obstacles to social interaction in my path that i’ve been stubbornly clinging to since i was a teenager. i have severe anxiety and depression. i hate small talk. i get triggered every time i take the bus - or do anything else. the traumas i have experienced in my life make it really difficult for me to connect with others in a meaningful and lasting way.
but i am done caring about that bitch!!! i am going to do what every therapist on the planet has been begging me to do for years now and just start going to one of those stupid lesbian book clubs on meetup. and it will be horrible. i will probably feel really isolated and unfulfilled at first, and the commute will drain my soul, and i will almost certainly be the only person at the function having a full-blown out-of-body experience and/or contemplating imminent death.
but you know what? at the end of the day…that shit literally doesn’t matter. bc if I keep sitting here on my intimacy-starved ass hoping the connection I’m searching for will drop out of the fucking sky, i simply will not survive the winter. i’m too mentally ill to take that kind of risk with my own stability, and even if I wasn’t, I have zero desire to remain in a state of perpetual misery and desperation anyways.
would it be great if some some sort of ao3-found-family-meetcute scenario smacked me directly in the face like a hyperrealistic dildo? sure. but the odds of that happening are probably close to zero. so as much as hate it, I’m gonna have to accept that my social needs will simply ~not be met~ until I actually go put the boring, unflattering legwork in to fulfill them.
anyways….thoughts and prayers for me, i guess. i wish this country’s social support systems were less idiotically structured, and i wish caring and being cared for didn’t feel like such a drastic survival need for me right now - because, truly, it is PROFOUNDLY unsexy. but thems the grapes. so I just gotta do the damn thing and hope something good comes out of it in the end.
#personal#mental health#literally should’ve been born into a Paleolithic hunter gatherer tribe or something but here the fuck we are#there was so much I was supposed to be doing instead of typing this screaming crying
21 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
hadassahbox
Untitled
tuapaz
Um café e um cafuné ☕️🛋️
dailyames
i'm hootless!
elephantpants77-blog
LAUREN
soepz
soupy