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sehodreams · 2 months

Text

come inside of my heart

TW and Tags: all consensual, smut, fluff (corny moments, sorry), porn with plot(?), making out sessions, weird characters(?), fingering, Seunghan overthinking, mutual pining(?), corruption kink(?), p in v, oral sex (both receiving), dom!Seunghan, friends with benefits(?)(more like classmates with benefits).

WC: 14k (I’M.SO.SORRY)

Summary: Seunghan has a problem with letting people stay close to him for long, so when he meets you, he expects his interest to fade like it usually does, but this time things seem to be different.

Comment: Again, another weird story that didn’t end or go like I expected, my head it’s kind of weird while writing idk, I wanted it to be a story of Seunghan plainly fucking reader so much she couldn’t think anymore, but it still has porn. Also, I think this should be under a fantasy category because it’s so idealistic hahahaha.

Yeah, I should stop writing on my laptop because these stories have gone from 4k to 10k+ and my mind can’t take it, and I'm sorry, but after this, I'm taking at least a two-day break, I wasn't going to let it win but it did suck my whole soul, so Seunghan better comes back soon, let's think this is an early celebration.

Pd: I did a bit of proofreading but not much, only at the end because I realized that I always write everything in past, and suddenly it was all in present and it was so weird.

Seunghan, unlike what many think, gets easily bored of people.

He doesn't know if it has something to do with his mbti or whatever people talked about those days, but what he knows is that, since he was young, he’s liked to know people, but he also got quickly tired of them.

For him, it was easy to start the communication, and with that he doesn’t mean being the first one saying hello or introducing himself, he hated being the one making the first step, but he liked to be the first one doing the real questions. Seunghan would prefer to say he was naturally curious, but he wasn’t, he wanted to know what people’s hobbies and thoughts were with the purpose of learning how to behave and what to say to them, because more than curious, he liked to be liked.

There wasn’t anything he disliked more than useless problems and uncomfortable moments with people he didn’t care enough about, so for his own peace, and to maintain the harmony around him, he preferred to just please others.

He knew he had a talent not many had, making people comfortable came to him almost like breathing, and, therefore, many wanted to stay around him, but not many got the privilege of staying for long.

It was hard to keep him entertained, so it was common to see different people flying around him, whether he was the one talking or listening, it didn’t matter, people felt attracted to his presence, and he enjoyed the attention even when he didn’t say anything at all, so he let them approach him, but if they didn’t have anything else to offer than their company, he’d go and find another person that picked his interest until he got bored and repeated the cycle again. Still, even knowing they wouldn’t last long, everyone wanted to stay by his side, and they would work hard for it, but if Seunghan didn’t want them in his space, he’d softly push them away by filling their roles with other characters, and not finding their place beside him anymore, they’d slowly leave him without making a scene.

To your luck, or disgrace, you somehow had caught his interest this time.

As expected, after you caught his attention, he decided to dig as much as he could about you, however, what was unexpected, was the kind of person you were and how you caught his attention.

He had a type for everything, at his age he knew enough about what he usually liked. He liked smart opinionated people who always had something to say, he liked how being seen with them always elevated his status and profile in everyone else’s eyes, so they were most of the people that always flocked with him, and of course, that included pretty girls with energetic voices. The way they would follow the conversation with witty remarks and would understand his humour left a lingering feeling of satisfaction he tried to savour as long as he could when he flirted with them, and he couldn't deny it, he was a sucker for pretty faces, he loved the way their smiles would shine and illuminate the room, and how they matched his eagerness for the public attention.

Surprisingly, in the curse of his life, he hasn't had a ton of dates, he’s had his fair share of relationships and an impressive quantity of received confessions, but he carefully chose who to give such opportunity to before he decided to accept the other's feelings. Going out with him had to bring something into his life for him to decide they were good enough to receive his time and effort, and since he knew how easily he could get tired of them, they had to make him think that he would enjoy their presence for at least a decent period of time.

He's never had to chase anyone, he's always been the chased one, or he was until you arrived, and what bothered his mind every time he ran to you was that you weren't his style at all.

You didn’t check any of his boxes.

In first place, you weren't energetic at all. You never matched his conversations with equal happiness, you didn't understand his jokes most of the time and you didn't even try to continue the flow of his conversations. With no remarks and no comments, you'd let the contact die as soon as you could, which always itched something in the back of his head. He can even remember what your first messages looked like. He would send two or three lines of whatever went through his mind, being extremely polite to you as his classmate, wishing to be on your good side, and you would answer with the driest ok he had ever seen in his life.

Hi, just a quick question, what do you think about moving the meetings to my house? I think it'd be better for all of us since none of them would have to pay for coffee and I have everything we might need in my place, it's just something that went through my mind and I wanted to send it to the group chat but I know you live kind of far from here so I wanted to ask you first, so what do you think?

He still gets annoyed when he remembers your past messages.

In second place, you weren't the bright person he usually liked to hang out with. You would never make anyone turn back to see you twice, sometimes they wouldn't notice you even if you were in front of them, and you'd often get ignored if he didn't repeat your comments while working together, which honestly impressed him since you only talked if you had something useful to say, so he would expect others to stay silent when you showed intentions of entering the conversation, but your voice would simply get lost between everyone spitting random ideas and opinions that were rather pointless. You were still kind enough to answer each of them before everyone followed your ideas, receiving no appreciation back from anyone, and it did bother him to see that happening every meeting, hoping that at some point everyone would learn to shut up and give you your time, but it bothered him even more to see that you didn’t care if they listened to you or not.

At least, after a couple of meetings, it was almost established that his seat would be always next to you because no one, except him, found being near you important.

And last but not least, your face wasn't his type. You weren't ugly, but you weren't the prettiest girl in the room either. You were rather normal with your round brown eyes and your dark hair, unlike the girls with caramel eyes and smooth hair that always looked as if they just arrived from a hair salon appointment, you simply had no spark, and you didn't try to get one either. You would wear plain clothes with no sense of style, only thinking in your comfort instead of what others said behind your back, and he couldn’t imagine himself going hand in hand with you looking that way.

Seunghan almost never got involved with people like you, dull and boring. He was sure that if it wasn’t for the project, he wouldn’t have learned your name, and if it wasn’t for the unexpected turn of events, you’d have ended like one of the numerous faceless people in his past.

The way you slowly and effortlessly took a spot in his head was unconventional. Unlike the continuous messages and invitations most people did to get closer to him, you only did your stuff, working on your tasks and lending a hand if anyone asked for help, but it was kind of endearing how someone who looked so uninterested in everyone else and their opinions would work hard to help if needed. Even if they ignored you most of the time, you had no resentment at all, and when Seunghan asked you if you minded that they called for you that much, your answer was so short it made him analyze each of your words for days, ‘’Well, the work has to be done’’.

He wanted to know if you were a fool letting yourself be taken advantage of or if you simply wanted to end things as fast as you could, and he was inclining more into the latest seeing your blank face writing over your keyboard and yawning unbothered when most of them had left and you stayed to finish their parts because, just like you had said, I won’t open the document once I cross your door.

‘’Aren’t you mad?’’ he then asked.

‘’Not really, why would I get mad?’’ you said without stopping your work.

‘’I don’t know, I just feel like you should’’ Seunghan bit his lip and watched you skillfully go through the document introducing commas and changing words, not wanting to interrupt you but doing it anyways because he couldn’t stay with the doubt in his mind, ‘’don’t you ever get mad?’’

‘’Uhmm no’’ you answered without stopping your work, ‘’I do get mad, I don’t mind correcting other’s work on the computer, but I hate washing other’s dishes.’’

That makes sense, he thought, because you never offered yourself to help him wash everyone’s cups once they left you two alone, and he didn’t realize it until that moment, but the common thing would’ve been to at least offer yourself to take them to the kitchen, thing you never did.

Another question popped into his mind.

‘’Don’t you work in a restaurant?’’ he, after a long time, asked.

‘’Yeah’’

He laughed for days when that conversation replayed in his head.

A routine had been formed after many reunions. Every member of the group would go to his house each Thursday for a couple of hours to show what they had advanced for the big project and the little work the professor left through the semester. You’d arrive a couple of minutes earlier than them since you finished your shift in the restaurant you worked at, and you’d stay there silently scrolling your phone while he revised the shared document. Then, when they all left, you would stay to check with him his work, he trusting you to respectfully correct him and help him just like you did with the others.

It was one of those numerous late nights that, whatever you had, started.

You were biting your lower lip while reading his paragraphs, making a couple of changes every now and then, not paying him any attention on your side, and he doesn’t know what went through his mind, you were calmly doing your own thing, you weren’t any different than usual, with your plain t-shirt and your glasses reflecting the screen light, no colour on your cheeks and hair strings poking out of your ponytail, when his hand moved on its own, accommodating them behind your ear.

Your hands immediately paralyzed, and your eyes stayed glued to the sentence you were about to change, surprised by his sudden action.

‘’Sorry,’’ he apologized, feeling surprised even with himself for doing that.

‘’It’s okay’’ you said and continued.

When you finished his part, you quickly grabbed your things and left, leaving him alone in his apartment with a sour taste in his mouth, repeating in his head how stupid he was for not being able to control his own hand.

You didn’t mention anything about it to anyone, and not that he had thought you would go and scream it to the public, but there was something that told him to be careful with you from that moment on, because you weren’t his prospect, and he couldn’t let you catch unnecessary feelings for him.

The next time you stayed to check his work, he kissed you.

His mind couldn’t function with you around. You, again, had done nothing different from usual, you sat beside him focused on your screen the whole time, correcting his progress, acting as if nothing had happened, making him feel like the only one overthinking the past situation. You showed no interest in him and he had repeated in his head that he should be careful with you that afternoon, he was so into it that when you arrived, instead of sitting beside you until the others got there, he went to his kitchen and rewashed the cups he gave each of them, yet when everyone had left and you were saying something about him reading a certain book to write more about the topic in his part, his hand moved to your neck, and making you face him, he pressed his lips over yours.

He had never done that before, he had never stolen a kiss, even less from someone who showed no interest in him, with no previous flirt and tons of flattering messages directed to him making clear that he could go for it.

You were reluctant at first, not corresponding to his lips movement, mouth hard like a stone. That almost threw him off, but when he was about to leave you, your mouth finally opened to him, letting him interlock his lips with yours, stealing some of your air and sensing the rare softness you had, a touch of inexperience with coffee flavour.

So smart for everything except that, he felt like he could finally teach you something, and that fired the last doubt inside him.

From that day on, every time you went to his house, he would kiss you until everyone else arrived, leaving you with glossy eyes and a different air around you that they noticed but commented nothing about, and when they left and you finished with the last touches of the document, he’d kiss you again, making you bolder and bolder to accept him with every session.

If he went to his kitchen and tapped your hand you would follow him without a word, if the last person about to leave went to the bathroom he wouldn’t doubt to quickly kiss you before they came back, and if you were doing nothing while waiting, he only had to walk to your side for you to lift your eyes and met his lips.

You showed no eagerness to start the kisses, but you always received him with appetite, and that was enough for him to not want to stop.

His preoccupation about you saying something was long forgotten, just in those meetings, even when it was only the two of you, you said no word about the kisses, a silent pact to keep what you had in secret and only behind his doors.

Also, another thing that helped him go around campus with an easy mind was that you showed no intention to change yourself. Usually, when he dated girls they would put more effort into their appearances, they would ask him to buy couple accessories to show off what they were, and then they would match his style, introducing clothes with colours he liked or constantly wore into their wardrobe, like a distinction to show off they were with him, but you didn’t try to do any of that at all, going around with the same clothes, not asking for a single thing from him, not even taunting the idea of having a shared accessory.

You weren’t dating, he knew you didn’t think you were a couple at all, so maybe that was why.

You didn’t ask him what you were, you didn’t pressure him into asking you out, or even insinuate that you liked him. He didn’t understand how you didn’t put any of those cards on the table, you had the chance every time you went to his house, but you didn’t. Seunghan couldn’t understand how you, unlike others, even himself, had no interest in grabbing the opportunity of getting a higher status and being the centre of everyone’s attention, by being with him you could escalate the pyramid, but it seemed like the invisible pyramid he always saw in his head was the last of your concerns.

He was kind of grateful that you didn’t see the point in telling others what you were doing in his living room because thanks to that he felt relaxed beside you. He knew you wouldn’t tell anyone if he did anything wrong, if his lips were too dry when he kissed you, if maybe he was using too much tongue, if his nose kept bumping yours, he didn’t feel the need to think each of his movements or to keep his perfect image, and that finally let him breath and discover how he liked to kiss, helping you discover how you liked it in the way too.

I need to breathe, I want to push my tongue more, can I bite your lip?

Both of you would sometimes throw questions in the middle of the sessions, and none of you judged each other if one wanted to try something new or wanted a break, but they were almost always short ones, enough for you to inhale air for a couple of seconds before Seunghan went back for it.

However, even if he thought the situation was perfect with you not asking for more from him in terms of the pseudo-relationship, he had started to do it without noticing.

Again, he knew how to make people comfortable, and after getting to know you all those days alone, he understood that the best thing to maintain you at ease was directly not trying to hold intruding conversations, but now instead of ignoring you until the next reunion like he always did the first times, he’d send you texts asking if you were going to class or if you had seen the new thing one of the members had written in the shared document, and then when you answered him, he would sneak a personal question in the chat, How was your shift? Did you eat already? What are you doing?

Not thinking too much about it, you gave concise replies and then forgot about him if he didn’t continue with his questions, but you had started to notice his change too, not understanding why he had decided to act like that out of nowhere.

You thought his interest in you was based more on the lack of your enthusiasm to have him around after you two were done, and your indifference to his actions outside his apartment, you thought it was that at least, reason why you felt weirded out every time he asked personal stuff.

You had no expectations of him, you convinced yourself it wasn’t worth it, and you did wish for his touch, but not for his words, not even for his ear to listen to you and agree with what you had to say. You were merely there, ready to accept his lips over yours and ready to leave his house as free as when you entered, which made him strangely confident whenever he was with you, but uneasy when you weren’t.

Still, even if you didn’t try to sustain anything with him, you’d do what he asked you to without doubt, like sitting over his lap when he patted his thighs, or walking to his kitchen when he said he wanted your company until the others arrived.

‘’Why did you arrive so early?’’ he asked one day between kisses. Your soft lips caressing his made him think you had prepared to receive him that afternoon, filling his mind with the idea of you hoping to see him earlier that day and the image of you applying lip balm before crossing his door.

He had you over his counter, your boring and plain blue jeans letting him thrust his clothed erection and enjoy the pressure, but not allowing him to differentiate the form of your cunt over him. That day he was getting impatient with not putting in, the idea had gone through his mind since your last meeting, but you hadn’t shown any intention of fucking him, so he contained himself. That was a step he wasn’t sure he should take alone. Unlike kissing, fucking you would bring another level of intimacy to the dynamic, and he doubted you would continue being the same after that, you were only a girl at the end.

‘’Coworker arrived early’’ you answered. Short, clear, and concise.

You didn’t try to satisfy his greed with an I missed you or an I wanted to see you, you let things go on their own flow, and he liked how fresh everything was with you, almost laughable of how unique your honesty was, and he wanted to keep it like that.

‘’I see’’ he smiled, a part of him disappointed but at the same time relieved.

He trusted you to always tell him the truth, even if sometimes brought him back to reality and humbled a little, he felt better knowing you wouldn’t feed his delusions with pleasant lies.

Everything was going well, each of you without mixing their lives apart from the Thursday afternoon in his house and the short conversations by text, and he was able to contain himself without problem, until that day.

Seunghan rarely had a problem with people from his past, usually once he cut the contact with them, they would get tired of reaching out to him, but this guy was one of the few pesters he couldn’t shake off.

He had been his school classmate in his last year, and Seunghan thought he wouldn’t have to see him again ever again after graduation, but he still called him every now and then to ask him to hang out.

Seunghan definitely had better things to do, but having met him outside his campus and saying hi while he was with his other friends, the boy dragged him into having dinner with other old classmates, making him think that maybe it’d be a good occasion to see old friends again, just a light conversation before they all went to do their own thing.

Seunghan should’ve known better at that point that an asshole would never change.

Arriving at one of the numerous restaurants near his house, he thought that at least, if he got bored, he could quickly escape with an excuse.

At a table on a corner there was his old classmate waiting for him, and the minute he saw that the table was just for two, Seunghan knew no one else would appear.

He tried to run away, but once the other made eye contact with him, it was too late.

‘’Hey man’’ the other greeted him.

Seunghan had no option but to sit.

Immediately he sat the other started to ramble about himself.

Trying to distract himself while the other talked, Seunghan directed his whole attention to the menu.

It was a normal chicken place that worked as a pub at night for groups to drink and play until late, he could already hear a few other people chanting for members to have shots and ordering more and more alcohol, the music was nice and the light was perfect to feel comfortable getting drunk without feeling judged, making him think that, if the other hadn’t lied, he could’ve had a good time with his old friends.

‘’Welcome, what can I get for you?’’

Seunghan instantly recognized your presence, your voice, your aroma, everything.

His eyes shot up and he looked at you, trying to distinguish if it was really you or his mind was playing him a bad (not so bad since he was glad) joke, but there you were, the one and only you.

You were wearing the kind of clothes you’d always wear but with an apron over them and a tag on your chest with your name, clearly showing that you worked there. Unlike him, you didn’t show any surprise to see him, keeping the stoic expression you always had, and the corners of his lips went up without him noticing, a smile almost taking control of his mouth, happy to see you out of the classroom or his living room, but no word came out of him.

Should he greet you like he wanted? Should he call your name and say what a surprise? Should he say he didn’t know you worked there? Because he really didn’t know.

Questions accumulated inside his head, and missing his chance, his old classmate ordered for both, and you, not displaying any disappointment or happiness or any feeling at all, left them alone.

Seunghan started to feel even more down, firmly believing that you decided to pretend you didn’t know him, was that what you wanted? To not know him out of his house?

He knew you would never act giddy to see him, you would never scream his name and run to his arms if you saw him on the other side of the street, but he had hoped that you would at least say hi, to acknowledge you knew each other, after all, you were classmates, and he didn’t want you to act like one of the girls that had a crush on him, but he didn’t want you to ignore him either.

‘’So, what do you say?’’ the annoying guy brought him out of his thinking.

‘’Sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you with the music’’ Seunghan was lost the minute the other started to yap, and he didn’t feel like hearing him anymore, but the least he could do was be polite enough until he said goodbye, the last thing he needed was to hear how the other spread into the chats that Seunghan was full of himself now that he was in college, but the boy didn’t help him to stay calm at all.

Even with the big sign inside every restaurant saying that it was forbidden to smoke in shared spaces, he put a cigarette in his mouth and held it while he searched for his lighter.

‘’My friend has a booth in this club and a ton of pretty girls go all the time, you should come with me, we’ll have fun, and if we’re lucky, a better after night’’ he laughed while lighting it.

Seunghan didn’t want to meet him exactly because of that. They never shared interests, he was a lost cause always living in parties ever since they were in school, and Seunghan could say no to those outings when he was a minor, but since graduation, the other had been more and more insistent now that Seunghan didn’t have enough reasons to reject him anymore.

The other, just like when they were in school, wanted him to show up, attract a bunch of pretty girls and trap one of them to fuck them with his friendship with him as an excuse to appear more desirable.

‘’Sorry, I have class tomorrow early’’ Seunghan said, and trying to fan the smoke from his cigarette the other way, coughed before he continued, ‘’I think we should leave if you want to smoke, there’s a big sign that says not to smoke inside’’.

‘’Don’t worry about that, but talking about leaving, I think you should come with me, my friend always pays for all our drinks.’’

Shit, he started to think. Seunghan perfectly knew that tactic, typical from guys like him with no charm and no capacity to attract a girl that was in their full senses.

He hated that kind of guy, and not wanting to stay with one of them in front of you, he started to plan an excuse to leave, needing to go home and forget that night ever happened.

The other didn’t stop talking or showed any sign of putting off the nicotine stick, making him bite the inside of his cheek anxious with the idea of bringing you problems since you’d have to tell his friend that he couldn’t do that there, and knowing him, he wouldn’t stay quiet with a mere waitress telling him what he could and couldn’t do.

‘’I really think you should put that out’’ Seunghan interrupted him after a couple of minutes. The other was already in half his cigarette and Seunghan had resigned in having to put his pretty clean shirt in the dirty laundry because the smell of his cheap little vice was already impregnated in the fabric that used to have the warm and fruity aroma of his softener.

‘’Don’t be such a bummer man, light up a little’’ he joked. ‘’I’ll tell you something, if you come with me, I’ll stop, what do you say’’.

Seunghan found his offer tempting, but if he couldn’t escape there, how would he escape from the club? Well, he could get lost in the middle of all the people, and he had already decided that he would take a shower again to clean the smell of the cigarette, so it didn’t sound too bad after he contemplated the idea.

‘’Hey, go and fuck yourself, he already said he doesn’t want to go.’’

His friend almost choked with the smoke he was holding inside his mouth when he heard you, and Seunghan’s eyes opened while his mouth and thoughts completely shut down.

‘’What the- do you know her?’’ the last question was directed to Seunghan and he didn’t know what to say, his head almost shook saying no like instinct, but he stopped himself before doing it, staying still.

‘’He doesn’t have to know me, everyone here can hear how you’re trying to force him into going with you, so let him alone before I tell my boss you’re smoking here when that big ass poster clearly says you can’t, or apart from not listening you can’t read either?’’

You said all that without an ounce of fear and Seunghan couldn’t understand what was that feeling that had started to grow inside his chest, was that embarrassment for not being able to talk for himself? or embarrassment for being seen with someone like that guy? He wasn’t sure at that moment, but what he noticed was that it was mixed with another thing, annoyance. However, he didn’t know if it was with himself or with the stupid brat in front of him, and it increased once the other stood up from his seat and tried to lift his hand at you.

It was impossible the guy punched you, but just the idea of him touching you with a single finger made him interfere, something he never did.

Seunghan’s body moved on its own and grabbed him before he tried to even brush you, dragging him outside without giving you a second glance.

You didn’t flinch at all, you had met tons of worse clients, he was nothing to you, and you’d have probably ignored the whole situation if it wasn’t that Seunghan looked so troubled sitting there. You had a pact with yourself to not butt in situations that had nothing to do with you, but you knew Seunghan, he couldn’t say a frankly no for the sake of looking good, and he could easily lead people into leaving him in peace, but the other boy had bad news written all over his face, and you doubted someone as pacific as Seunghan could use his tactics with him.

You watched the drinks on the table, two untouched beers that your manager would ask why they stayed like that there, alone, and unpaid, and you just hoped that little spur of bravery didn’t bring you problems with anyone else.

Outside the restaurant Seunghan left the other guy’s arm free and, scrunching to touch his knees with the palms of his hands, he exhaled to control himself.

He started to count in his head, repeating It’s okay, It’s okay, to convince himself that nothing had happened.

‘’Woah I should talk to the owner, how could she talk to a customer like that, that girl shouldn’t be a waitress.’’

It’s not okay.

Rage started to fill him and for the first time, he felt tempted to use his punch over someone else.

‘’Don’t call me ever again.’’

Seunghan started his way to his house, not looking back, feeling that, if he saw his face again, he wouldn’t be able to control his hand from not flying directly to the other’s eye.

When Seunghan arrived at his house he saw one of the numerous flyers on his entrance, right next to the plate where he left his keys and any little thing that he received or bought on the street, recognizing the name of the restaurant where you worked at, and just there a memory came to his mind, you leaving that little paper with an ugly old design, sighing and saying I don’t know if I’m cursed or anything, but my work seems to never leave me alone.

Now he understood why when he saw the direction the other had sent, he felt so eager to go, because even if he couldn’t remember it, his body did it for him, wanting to be near you.

He tossed his shirt into the laundry. He had worn it that day believing it would still be clean enough the next day and he’d be able to wear it in front of all the group, but especially, in front of you, and when he tried to sleep, but the whole night the only thing that occupied his mind was how would you see him that afternoon.

When the clock marked the hour in which you usually arrived, he started to clean his table, again. He had already spent most of his morning cleaning his place to receive the group, but he didn’t know how to stay still with the memory of the disastrous previous night. He kept wondering, what would you say? Would you think he was like his friend? Impossible. Would you pretend nothing happened like you always did? That seemed pretty possible.

He kept convincing himself to not bother you with questions on his part, like, would you always act like you didn’t know him in the streets? Did he have to ignore you every time he saw you out there? Did you think he was pathetic for not being able to give a straight no? Because he thinking it was enough to torment his night, and sure the next ones would have him meeting the same fate too.

His watch alarm sounded while he was dusting his couch pillows for the third time, making him feel anxious because it usually sounded when you were already there, with him, accepting his kisses and his hands grasping your body as much as he allowed himself.

You didn’t arrive until much later when all the other guys were already there.

At least you took your seat beside him like you always did, making him feel at ease a little bit.

It wasn’t enough, Seunghan felt his hands sweating and he couldn’t stop his leg from moving under the table, so after many lost minutes, he decided it was enough, and tapping your hand he signalled the way to his kitchen, telling you to follow him in silence.

Thankfully, and as expected, you didn’t protest, leaving everyone else concentrating on their own stuff.

When you two got to his kitchen, you perfectly knowing your way at that point after so many afternoons watching him move around, to get busy, you filled his kettle with water to boil it and make more coffee, to have an excuse for disappearing from his living room.

‘’Did you get in trouble after we left?’’ Seunghan started.

You played with the force of the fire in his kitchen, and finally leaving it as high as possible, you answered.

‘’Not really.’’

‘’Will they cut the beers from your pay?’’

‘’Nah, you can have a couple of drinks for free a day, so my coworkers had them.’’

The way you looked so recollected should’ve brought him peace, you didn’t get in trouble, which was good, a happy ending, but he got more stressed.

‘’Why did you get involved?’’ he asked the one thing that bothered him the most the last night.

‘’Are you really asking me that?’’ you laughed, ‘’I just felt like doing it.’’

‘’But why.’’

‘’Why do you care so much Seunghan? I’m sorry if I brought you problems, I didn’t mean to, okay?’’ you wanted to leave the topic behind, so you didn’t look at him, nails busy scratching a point of dust off his counter.

You, just like Seunghan, hated getting involved in uncomfortable situations, but unlike him, you didn’t have the ability to swiftly change topics or help everyone involved feel better, resorting to abruptly trying to end discussions with apologies, to then ignore the problem.

That irritated him, how you avoided his eyes and tried to keep yourself busy to not take your part in the situation.

Seconds passed by, and he could hear the water starting to boil, so he knew he wouldn’t have much time until the others started to wonder what you two were doing in his kitchen alone.

His hand grabbed yours when he got tired of you not looking at him, but you kept your eyes down, directing them to his floor titles this time.

‘’Look at me’’ he ordered, and you, not being able to not follow his words, looked up at him.

The silence wasn’t like the one you had when you arrived, it was tense, and it had started to pick on your nerves, pushing you to talk again. ‘’He was bothering you, and you looked uncomfortable, I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to intervene.’’

His grip on you got softer and he exhaled through his nose, a tenderness installing on his chest with your eyes looking at him and your voice wavering but finally answering his question.

He then felt bad, he was no one to talk to you like that, and he never had discussions like that either. He knew how to keep the waters calm and get the other person to participate in the talk, making them feel heard and making them listen to what he had to say, but with you he forgot how to do that, carrying the conversation to another direction instead of the one he wanted to take. ‘’No, I’m sorry, I just wanted to thank you, I don’t know why it sounded as if I was complaining’’ he said, mind not as foggy anymore.

‘’I’m sorry’’ you said again, making him smile this time, because both of you would never stop saying sorry if he didn’t change the tone of the conversation.

‘’Thank you for helping me’’ he said to leave everything behind on good terms.

You nodded, air less tense and comfortable enough for him to move his body closer to you, and hand in hand, cornering you to his counter, after you moved your eyes from his eyes to his lips, he felt as if he had permission to take his Thursday kiss, giving you a peck, to then leave other, and other, until they stopped being just pecks and converted into a deep one.

His other hand went to your waist, playing with the hem of your long plain t-shirt, they never let him sneak a hand to touch the skin inside because of how long they were, and that kind of bothered him, but at the same time it made him smile with his lips over yours, liking the softness all your clothes had.

He had changed his softener to yours after you told him what you used, it was a cheap brand, but it does the job, and he liked to share something as banal as that with you.

The kettle whistle didn’t make him stop, and with the same hand playing with your clothes, he turned off the kitchen, so it didn’t sound anymore.

He had to prepare the new round of coffee for everyone outside, so after a last long-lasting peck, he let you go, but with one last order before you went outside to sit with everyone else.

‘’Don’t pretend to not know me in public.’’

Time went flying after that, and finally able to concentrate, he wrote as much as he could while waiting for everyone to leave you two alone to continue your routine.

When all of them left, you surprised him once again.

Standing with him, you grabbed a couple of cups to take to the kitchen with him, making him grin because that was just so uncharacteristic of you, and he knew you wanted something else to happen.

In his kitchen, alone, you stayed beside him watching him wash the cups and everything he had used that afternoon while he talked about the book you had recommended to him, and once he finished, he dried his hands on the towel you handed him, to then push you to his kitchen counter and taste you.

Your lips he had missed for a week had a different flavour, sweeter this time, still kind of bitter because of the coffee, but there was just something else.

Perhaps it was because you started the kiss this time, pulling his belt until his chest was touching yours and his eyes looked down at you with attention, or perhaps it was simply something else that he didn’t know, maybe you put more sugar in your drink? He didn’t care enough to keep guessing.

One hand going to cup your cheek while the other roamed your waist, he sighed when over your lips when a whimper left your mouth.

His hips were getting impatient, and he had started to thrust onto your clothed sex without thinking, but it was an automatic motion his body did for him, not that he had thought for so many days how your sweet insides would feel, or taste.

He wouldn’t fuck you; he had decided that.

Kisses were more than enough, he tried to convince himself.

But Hong Seunghan was just a man, and mere kisses were never going to be enough, so pulling apart, he tried to think he was stronger than what he really was, and he really tried it, until you grabbed his hand to cup you.

‘’Are you sure?’’ he asked you, hand cupping your pussy harder but still decided to let you go if you didn’t want it.

He had stolen a kiss from you before, but doing something like that without your firm approbation was too much for him.

‘’Just do it Seunghan’’ you replied, opening your legs for him even more.

You were wearing jeans and the rough material felt good against his clothed erection, but not against his hand, so he opened your button and pushed his hand inside your underwear, feeling your clit and drawing the direction your lips showed him to find your entrance.

‘’You’re wet, been thinking about me?’’ He murmured against your ear.

Your tailbone was against the hard marble counter of his kitchen, feeling the border of it sink strongly against you, but it felt so good to have his hand touching you there while he whispered right next to your ear.

He had you opening your legs for him while he situated himself beside you, one leg between yours, his right hand smearing your arousal, and the other gripping the counter to not get too lost in you.

You didn’t answer, ashamed of letting more embarrassing noises out when he was just taunting you.

He wasn’t doing anything, just feeling you with the palm of his hand, and you still felt something forming in the pitch of your stomach you had never felt with anyone before.

Seunghan knew you were a virgin, he was the one who taught you how to give open-mouthed kisses after all, but you never imagined he would be the one making you feel that way.

You two were so different, you had seen him walking around campus with his friends, his sole presence making everyone turn their heads to him, you would’ve never expected to end in a situation like this one with him, or that he’d be the one taking all the first steps.

‘’Stop laughing’’ you said when he continued still.

You had weeks of building up, going home with your panties dripping after he kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, you needed more, but he wasn’t taking the first step anymore, only kissing you, rutting his boner in your entrance and letting you go with a painful smile.

You were too proud to tell him you wanted more, and you wouldn’t have followed him to his kitchen with the cups of coffee if you hadn’t had enough.

Never helping him that way, tired of doing it every day at your job, you thought this was the time.

This was the time before everything fell apart.

You knew how fragile human relationships were, reason why you didn’t want to have a boyfriend or anything like that before.

You had seen in first person how people could change from one day to another, and how anything, didn’t matter how deep looked like, could end in a blink.

Yesterday you felt it was over, you thought that Seunghan would push you away and the make-out sessions would never happen again, but he had kissed you, so you decided to take the first step to feel him more before everything ended.

You thought, everything would finish at one point in time, and if it wasn’t because of a discussion, it would be when the project was over, whatever happened first, so you didn’t have enough time to be proud anymore.

His hand moving brought you out of your thinking, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, you felt his fingertips brushing your clit, sending a shiver through your spine and making you open your mouth, surprised.

‘’Feels good, right?’’ he asked with a smile, drawing circles and feeling as good as you just by looking at your face showing exactly all you were feeling.

Mouth open and eyebrows frown, you let him do what he wanted with you, trusting his experience to take you to an unknown place.

‘’Answer’’ he ordered, stopping his fingers from pressing that little bud and making you shook your head.

‘’Yes, it feels good’’ you answered, letting your head fall to his shoulder and sighing before grabbing his wrist to move it again, but he was a lot stronger, and you could only wrap your hand around him, not being able to close your fingers of how big he was.

Although he had pretty hands, they were still manly, strong, and a lot bigger than yours, and moving his hand again, he showed you the pace you should take when he wasn’t with you, but you doubted you’d be able to feel the same way if it wasn’t his hand the one touching you.

‘’Remember, just like this’’ he said, flicking his index on your clit and making you whimper.

He had that fucking grin on his face the whole time and you couldn’t dare to look at him, feeling at disadvantage to his knowledge.

You were smart, you knew a lot of things, you proofread his work, you checked everyone’s work, and you know you’re always right when you answer questions, but right there you were nothing compared to him, and that made you furious, but it calmed you at the same time.

He might have that grin, but he was treating you so well, softly showing you how real pleasure felt like, you doubted you would’ve felt that comfortable with anyone else in that situation.

Pushing one finger inside, the middle one, he let the other fingers rest while his thumb continued with the caresses to your clit.

Your panties were slightly pushed down with the way he was touching you, and the hard marble was now touching directly at your skin, but the cold sensation of it with the warmness of his hand made everything better, making you stay focused on what was happening the whole time.

‘’Oh god,’’ you cried when his finger started thrusting your entrance.

The spongy and smooth texture of your walls welcomed him without problem, and he cursed at how good you felt.

Getting dizzy, he thought about how you would receive him, how you’d wrap him, and how he would make you used to his size since he’d be the first person fucking you, which filled his chest with something else he couldn’t recognize, was that happiness? It was more like relief.

But it also terrified him.

The need that was increasing inside him to have you near, close to him, with him, it terrified him.

He’s not used to that kind of emotion, he feels tired of people, he knows that, but would he become tired of you?

‘’Seunghan,’’ you moaned his name, pushing your hips down to his hand so he fucked you with his finger again.

He looked at your face, eyes glossy and red lips after all the kisses and how you bit them to not cry out loud, and he added one more.

‘’Why did you get involved yesterday?’’ he asked you again.

You couldn’t understand his words, it resonated inside your mind, but you couldn’t think of an exact answer with his fingers fucking you harder and faster.

‘’I couldn’t let him… he was bothering you…’’ you said as you could.

‘’Good’’ he said, still fingering you, ‘’Will you ignore me outside again?’’

You were moving in unison with his hand, meeting him each time he pushed his fingers and his palm pressed your clit.

‘’No,’’ you cried, feeling that tight sensation form in your abdomen again, more intense, painful.

‘’Good, now cum’’ he ordered.

You cried on his shoulder pretty loud when he gave you permission, you didn’t know you would need one to have an orgasm, maybe that was why you couldn’t do it on your own, but it was life-changing how real, intense, and amazing, pleasure could be.

Trembling on his chest, your head still on his shoulder, and you trying to catch your breath, he made you face him to leave a couple of pecks on your lips again, almost loving and incredibly peaceful, as if you had done that many times before, making you feel comfy on his presence and with his hand still prying inside your underwear.

A couple of minutes later he helped you pull up your jeans again, but they were a mess, so he made you follow him to the laundry room and gave you a pair of clean boxers.

‘’Better than nothing’’ you said when he apologized for not having anything better.

He gave you a pair of his numerous grey pants and seeing how you were struggling to keep them in place, offered to walk you to the bus stop just in case.

‘’You looked good yesterday’’ you said to fill the silence after many minutes.

Seunghan regretted having offered to keep you company to the stop, walking on an uncomfortable silence that seemed to only affect him, you completely calm beside him, but when you said that, he smiled, feeling glad for doing something different for once.

‘’You too, that apron fits you’’ he said in a teasing tone. For him, it felt like flirting, for you, it felt like it too, but you weren’t used to it, so you only nodded and didn’t talk until your bus arrived.

Even if none of you said it, something had changed in the air after that.

When you met in the corridors, first he’d look at you from the distance, debating if he should get closer and talk or not, but then after much thinking (and many days doing the same thing, staring from feet away), he decided that saying hi to his classmate wasn’t anything out of the world.

The first time your eyes met his and he, instead of looking the other way, walked to you, you thought that something wrong was about to happen, sending a nervous shiver and making you grip onto your backpack straps.

‘’Hey, how was class?’’ he asked, just standing next to you while you waited for your water bottle to be filled.

‘’It was okay’’ you said, still not daring to see his face.

The first times were incredibly uncomfortable, but soon you got used to that, it was just talking after all, nothing special, so you let him talk to you about whatever crossed his mind until he was called by someone in his group, and you had started to accept him more, trying to maintain a decent conversation at least, all innocent and he being cordial with one of his many classmates.

In his house, however, he’d corner you and get you all heated until the others arrived, and when they left, he’d finger you until you came over his hand and cried on his neck.

You didn’t say anything when that happened, accepting him just like when he kissed you the first weeks, and like that, another routine had been formed.

From the first time he gave you a pair of his boxers, he washed your dirty pair of panties to give them back to you the next time he saw you, but that next time you’d leave another dirty pair again (more like, he would snatch them from your hands before you could say anything), changing into the clean pair he had washed, so the new routine would consist in you cumming over his fingers, leaving your wet underwear, and he washing it to have it ready for you the next time.

He never told you because you didn’t ask, but every time you left your panties, he would smell your orgasm on them, jerking off with the picture of you opening your legs for him until he came over the fabric, and appreciating the look of your wet spot with his cum over it, he’d wash them carefully by hand.

You still haven’t fucked.

Things were getting too intimate for Seunghan even if you hadn’t had sex, and he loved it, he loved how you left something yours in his house, he loved to be the only one giving you pleasure, and the only one seeing your face when you had an orgasm, but he had started to ask himself, what did that mean?

He wasn’t your boyfriend, you weren’t his girlfriend, and he enjoyed that silent pact at the start, but so much time had passed that it had started to confuse him.

Next week would be the last reunion before the big presentation, and after that, what would make you go to his house? Did he have to ask you out? Could he really let himself be seen with you in public?

In the confidence of his room, he didn’t have to give anyone an explanation, not even you since you never asked for one, but out there he doubted it could stay like that. He could already notice how people looked at him when he talked to you in the corridor like a mere classmate, what would they say if they knew all he did to you in his house?

Seunghan was so lost, he couldn’t understand any of his actions, not his body making him run to you in public, his mouth rambling every time he had you near, or what he was doing there in front of your work at that moment.

You could go on your own without problem, you’ve been doing it for weeks, you knew his address and his house like the palm of your hand, so he couldn’t understand why all his thoughts told him to go and wait for you to finish your shift and then walk you to his house.

He was looking down at his feet, dusting the dust out of the floor as if it was his job.

His spotless sneakers were kicking air by that point, and he didn’t know if to stay or leave, telling himself to just walk in and order something and pretend he was passing by.

‘’Seunghan?’’ you asked before he could even decide.

You had a couple of plastic bags on each hand that seemed heavy, sure you didn’t only took orders and washed dishes, but he didn’t imagine they would also send you to buy stuff.

‘’Oh, hey’’ he said, trying to act nonchalant, ‘’I was just passing by…’’ you hadn’t asked anything and he was already giving you an answer ‘’and I remembered your shift was about to end so…’’

He had talked incredibly fast, and you almost didn’t understand the last part, but you heard shift and end, so, blinking, you nodded to his words.

‘’I see’’ you said, and silence came to surround you again, ‘’well, it’s true my shift was about to finish, I just had to leave this inside, we can go together to your house if you want’’.

Seunghan exhaled, thankful for you to talk.

‘’Okay then’’ he smiled, giving a few awkward steps to you.

You were pretty close to the local, you were in front of it and only had to cross the street, yet he couldn’t see you struggling with the bags, so taking them from your hands, he walked you inside, only giving them back because you had to leave them in the kitchen.

Sitting in one of the booths, he checked his phone to wait for you.

It somehow felt natural, waiting for you to then go back to his house, and he had a knot in his throat forming with that thought.

‘’Seunghan?’’ he lifted his gaze from his mindlessly scrolling to see the same old friend he had told to never call him again after the incident, ‘’what are you doing here?’’ he then said, looking at him weird out by seeing him alone.

‘’Soobin…’’ Seunghan murmured, he hadn’t expected to see him at all.

After that day he stopped contacting Seunghan just like he had asked, and he had totally forgotten about him until that moment, making him nervous because Seunghan didn’t know how to act with him anymore now that he had seen his uncool, angry and exasperated side.

‘’Are you waiting for someone?’’ he asked.

Seunghan left his phone on the table and, not knowing what to say, only nodded.

‘’I see… well, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, I made you go through an uncomfortable moment that day, sorry.’’

Not believing what he had just heard, Seunghan, lost at words, only nodded again.

‘’I was really an asshole’’ he laughed, making Seunghan laugh too.

‘’It’s okay, I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I’m sorry too’’ Seunghan finally said.

Standing and giving him his hand, both of them laughed and punched each other’s shoulders.

‘’But tell me the truth, you know that girl, right? The waitress who told me to go and fuck myself’’ Soobin said, laughing even more with the memory.

Seunghan didn’t know what to answer, pushing both hands to his pockets, he bit the inside of his cheek and, contrary to all he was thinking, denied.

‘’Not really’’ Seunghan said, looking at his feet and seeing the light reflection of his blue shirt over his white sneakers, without thinking he had worn the same shirt he had used that day.

‘’Uhm, if you say so’’ Soobin said unconvinced, ‘’she said you had classes together though.’’

Surprised, Seunghan stayed silent, and before he could explain himself, a girl had called Soobin, who said a quick goodbye and ran to her without looking back.

Seunghan saw the other smile at the girl and take her hand, proudly taking her bag from her and putting it on his shoulder as if it was his own.

He seemed happy, and not like an asshole anymore, what seemed unbelievable until that day, making him think that, maybe he was the only one who would never change.

He didn’t understand why he had denied knowing you, he was the one who told you to not pretend to not know him in public, and you had been true to your words, while he, even if hadn’t promised the same thing, felt like a liar.

You came out minutes later, and he had never been grateful to the world for not having you close at every moment, but in that moment, he was, because at least you hadn’t heard how pathetic he was, again.

‘’My boss gave you this, says thank you for carrying the bags’’ you showed him a can of beer, ‘’tsk, I was the one who carried them all the way here.’’

You looked incredibly offended, and accepting it, Seunghan looked behind you, where a big man met his eyes and gave him a thumbs up before he could say anything, and suddenly, he was laughing from the bottom of his heart again.

You smiled with him for a second, and walking out of the local, he told himself to stop being such a coward.

Walking in silence, Seunghan had both hands on his jeans pockets, while you had them over your backpack handles.

‘’I can carry your backpack if you want’’ Seunghan offered.

You denied, ‘’It’s okay, I can do it.’’

‘’I should be clearer, what I meant to say was that I want to carry your backpack’’ he said.

The sun was going down and he could see the orange lights of the sunset, tons of lights were starting to appear thanks to the numerous businesses around there, and he wanted to look at them, but his entire attention was on the way a little touch of red started to appear on your cheeks.

‘’Okay’’ you said, passing him your backpack and letting him carry it for you.

‘’It’s still early, we can buy some snacks before going, is there anything you want?’’ he asked, sliding his arms on the handles, and letting it sit on his back.

It was a bit tight, used to be carried only by you, but he wore it like he could.

‘’I’m okay, I just had something’’ you tried to not look at him, looking at the pavement instead.

He let you go a step in front of him, you had shorter legs and he had no problem reaching you, but he let you, you seemed to want that little distance, and that way he could also see more things of you he hadn’t noticed before.

Your hands didn’t have anything else to grab now that he was wearing your backpack and they seemed unnatural on your sides playing with nothing. Now that he noticed, you were always doing something with them, whether it was writing on your keyboard, writing something, or simply scratching any surface that you had near, but right there you had nothing, and he thought that maybe, he should hold your hand to fill that emptiness.

Not a maybe anymore, his hand wanted to interlock with yours, and slowly approaching you, he almost touched the side of your left one.

‘’If you want to buy something we can stop in that convenience store’’ you pointed to the store next to you, open and almost empty, and he woke up from all the ideas that were lurking inside his mind. To hold your hand, wasn’t that a bit too much for someone who wasn’t your boyfriend?

‘’Yeah,’’ he said, walking in and buying the first chips he saw just to buy something.

You were waiting for him outside, checking your phone, and he couldn’t stop seeing the way your eyelashes were really dark, and how you, just like him, bit the inside of your cheek pretty often.

When he moved his eyes from you to the cashier, he talked before he could think, ‘’One box of condoms too, please’’.

The other boy didn’t even flinch, too used to hearing that sentence, and scanned the little code on the machine.

Seunghan shoved the receipt and the little box into his back pocket, brushing the bottom of your backpack in the way, and his heart started to pound while he held the plastic bag in his hand.

‘’Chips with coffee?’’ you asked with a soft smile, and he showed you a wide one back.

‘’I bought coke today’’ he said, walking next to you the rest of the way to his house.

Getting to his house, he opened the door and let you walk in first, watching you take off your shoes and then turn to him, waiting for him to do the same.

When you showed him your hand, he didn’t understand what you wanted, so he gave you the plastic bag with chips.

‘’Seunghan, my backpack’’ you said, making him release an embarrassed little smile before taking it off and giving it to you.

You grabbed it, and going to his kitchen, you left the can of beer your boss had given to him inside his fridge.

Seunghan walked behind you, looking at you move around with such normality, you had been going there for weeks, and that was the last reunion before the presentation next week, so of course you’d be comfortable enough by that point.

Things with the work were going smoothly, different from all the ideas that circled his mind about you. You had made that tedious job bearable, and he wished all his other projects could go as easy as that one.

They would arrive still in a considerable time, and seeing you bend down to inspect his fridge, he gulped, seeing the little outline of your body swimming inside that oversized t-shirt.

‘’You bought Sprite too’’ you affirmed before closing his door, ‘’what’s the occasion?’’

‘’It’s the last meeting, I thought it would be nice to give them something that wasn’t instant coffee’’ he murmured.

You walked to him, looking at his hand organizing the bags over his counter and folding the plastic bag from the convenience store into a drawer. ‘’The last meeting…’’ you murmured too, not believing that so much time had passed, and how probably that would be your last day together like that in his kitchen.

Catching your attention, a piece of paper was showing in his back pocket, and you shouldn’t have done it, you don’t know why you did it, but you grabbed it, it easily slipped from his jeans without making a noise, so he didn’t notice it, and you and your wandering eyes read what was written in the little paper.

Nothing seemed out of normal, the different chips were listed with their price right next to them, but one word caught your attention.

You had never bought it before, but you recognized the name of the brand, it was popular and all the stores had it, so you had seen it in the health section in the supermarket and posters of it in convenience stores.

Not wanting to make it obvious that you knew, you let the paper fall to the floor when he stood up again.

‘’That fell’’ you said, and he, following your eyes, saw the white paper on the floor, picking it up and making it a ball before he tossed it to the trash can there in his kitchen.

You swallowed the saliva accumulating in your throat, and he didn’t say anything, he didn’t know you had read it, so when the air changed and he met your eyes staring at him, he smiled, thinking it was you wanting a kiss from him.

Getting close to you, things were different this time, he was going just for a kiss, there wasn’t much time before the others arrived, but you put your arms around his neck and opened your mouth, wanting a deep one this time.

Sliding his tongue and caressing yours, one of his hands went to your back, feeling the clasp of your bra through your shirt, while the other shamelessly went to the small of your back, drawing lines and circles just to keep his hands busy.

You whimpered and he couldn’t help but push his mouth even more against yours, pressing you to his counter and groaning when he heard another whimper come from you.

‘’The others are going to arrive in any second… I’m sorry’’ he said.

‘’Why are you sorry?’’ you asked.

‘’Because I can’t make you cum, there’s not enough time’’ he sighed before giving you a peck over your lips.

‘’Later then?’’ your voice almost broke and he saw your brown eyes gleaming, thinking how they were the prettiest pair he had seen, and how they were focused solely on him.

He nodded, ‘’Later.’’

When the others got there, they all focused on giving the presentation the last touches, and once they were done, they all celebrated with the chips and the sodas Seunghan had bought.

‘’I’ve never had a group work as much as this one, I’m thankful to all of you for coming here even with your busy agendas, thank you for everything’’ Seunghan said, making them all smile, and of course, the praises for him didn’t take much to appear.

Everyone left not much later, and being alone, you helped him recollect the cans and then step over them to recycle them.

Finishing the work in silence, you helped him clean, and once nothing else was there to do, Seunghan made you follow him to his room.

You haven’t been there many times, but you remember it, you remember the dark blue walls, and his black furniture, especially the way even his window frame was black too.

It looked like someone had designed it for him, knowing his style, just like his whole house, and you couldn’t help but feel the difference with your place when after spending hours there you had to ride the bust to your little studio apartment.

But Seunghan had never shown any sign of caring about the difference in your situations, he knew you worked in a half bar half chicken restaurant, that you used cheap softener for your clothes, and that you repeated outfits many times, but he had never commented about it.

You couldn’t help but feel kind of special, and just that day, when you saw him waiting for you in front of your workplace, you felt your heart flinch, because not even in your wildest dreams you had thought you would see that scene.

You knew him enough to know he usually overthought things about others and how they saw him, needing to appear perfect all the time, but even with that in mind, just perhaps, things were different with you.

Closing his door while you saw the pictures he had on his desk, you didn’t say a word once he got behind you and one of his hands rested on your abdomen.

You let him kiss you again, receiving him and giving him your full attention, to him, to his fingers, and to the way he wasn’t containing anymore.

He made you walk to his bed with him, and pushing you there, he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

‘��I’ll take it off’’ he said, and when you nodded, he showed you a smile, ‘’I’ll finally see what you have there.’’

‘’Shut up’’ you laughed and lifted your arms, so he took it off.

Showing him your chest, you felt exposed, it was the first time you let him see you like that, he had sneaked a hand before, but he never took off your t-shirts, not even your jeans, touching you inside your underwear and making you cum with his fingers before he gave you your clean pair of panties and let you change yourself while he turned to watch a wall or went to put his shoes on while you changed alone in his room.

His eyes on your chest made you conscious, and he noticed it, but even if he wanted to stop so you felt comfortable, he couldn’t.

‘’They’re pretty’’ he said, and you gave him a half smile, not daring to see his eyes inspecting you.

His hand caressed your cheek, so you looked at him again, and trailing down the valley between your breasts, he smiled when you whimpered at his hands cupping your tits.

Nipping the naked skin that your bra let him see, he felt the softness of that part of your body, looking up to your face to not lose your reactions.

He took off the pretty blue shirt you liked to see him wearing, and that part of him naked, he showed you his tender skin, white, spotless and as pretty as him.

Of course, he’d look perfect without clothes too.

He didn’t unclasp your bra, he pulled it down, which felt uncomfortable, but you couldn’t say anything when his lips went to your nipples and left soft licks over them, making you arch so your chest continued meeting his mouth.

Untouched down there, you were sure your panties were already a mess since he kissed you in his kitchen hours before, and needing him, your hand went to his erection.

You weren’t that bold before, you could press your cunt to it when he asked you to sit on his lap, but you never touched it.

You wanted to touch it so bad, you let him keep attending your chest while you grabbed him over his pants.

‘’I want to touch you’’ you admitted, and he, without the smile you always saw, pushed your hand away.

‘’Not yet’’ he said, moving away and unbuttoning your jeans.

You, again, helped him to take it off you, lifting your hips so you helped him.

With hands sweating, he tosses them to the side and sighs glad that they didn’t slip from his hands. You looked so fucking good under him, nude bra down enough for him to see your tits, and a blue pair of panties that definitely didn’t match, but for him, they looked amazing together, because you were wearing them, and that was enough.

Looking at you, he can’t help but admire all the little places he wants to mark, the side of your neck, your collarbone, your chest, your tummy, and his eyes go all the way down until he sees the inside of your thighs.

Creamy, soft, sweet, they were calling for him, and without saying anything, he went down to taste them.

You let him, you just let him, and adoring the way you wordlessly opened your legs for him, he bit you there, breathing over your underwear the aroma he recognized a bit too well, leaving little pecks until, after pushing your panties to the side, left a single long one over your clit.

Glowing under his bedroom light, he can’t help but give big licks, down and up, recollecting your juices to taste you properly, and like he had been wanting for so long every time he smelled your panties in the confidence of his room.

All those times making you cum with his fingers and containing himself from dropping to his knees and drinking your orgasm to push another one had come to that, and he couldn’t stop now.

Tongue flat against your clit, he made you squirm, but maintaining you on your place with his arms under your thighs and his palms over your tummy, he made you accept him.

‘’Wait- Seunghan’’ you said, propping on your elbows and looking down at him, the sight of his dark eyes meeting yours and his mouth working so eagerly over you making your head spin, and one of your hands, needing to touch him, went to his hair to feel him.

With shaking hips, you met his mouth whenever his chin went upwards, pulsating against half of his face and leaving a mess.

Your pretty pussy lips had a reddish colour, furious with him and his teasing, so to alleviate them a little bit, he inserted two of his fingers in one thrust.

You didn’t need preparation for that, he knew you could take them, so many times cumming over them, your entrance recognized his fingers as an invited guess, so you could only cry when that little place that he always found squelched.

Cursing, you let your head fall, and arching your back, you came with his fingers and his mouth, legs almost closing around his face but being stopped by his big hands.

He left a mark of wetness over the place he touched with the fingers he had pushed on your insides, and you knew you were dripping all over his bed, yet you couldn’t care less.

He pushed down his pants and his underwear, kicking them away from his feet.

‘’Come here’’ he called you, and you, still not back in your senses but always listening to him, sat in the border of his bed as you could.

With drowsy eyes, you gulped when his member stood in front of you. Looking amazing, you didn’t know if dicks could be pretty, but that was the only adjective that came to your head when you saw it.

Pink, veiny, and long, the tip was slightly thicker and darker, and you waited for him to tell you what to do.

His palm wrapped him in front of you with one hand, and with the other, he grasped on your hard nipples begging for more attention, while your pussy was leaving a big spot over his bedsheets with how wet you were after he made you cum once.

‘’First use your hand, okay?’’ he said, and you didn’t need to hear anything else before your hand went to his member, ‘’you seem to like it’’ he snickered.

He didn’t want to tease you, he didn’t mean to, he’s not used to doing that, not even with his exes that could easily form comebacks and throw them at him, but with you, he couldn’t help it, so gorgeous, quiet, and always accepting, his ugly side kept floating out, and he liked your voice telling him to shut up or the almost mute giggles that escaped your chest.

‘’I like it’’ you said, and he licked his dry lips, watching you attentively. The way your wrist did its best to move in and out, and seeing your mouth get closer to his shaft, opening and letting the tip touch your tongue, made him groan.

‘’Take your bra off’’ he ordered, needing to see your tits bouncing with the little force you were using to jerk him off.

He suddenly remembered each time he jerked off to the smell of your panties and the memory of your eyebrows frowning when you came thanks to him, and he smiled, proud of seeing you so eager to attend him too.

His little doll, after all those orgasms, would you say yes to anything he said?

When you toss your bra away without stopping your licks to the tip of his cock, he knows the answer is a yes.

‘’Try to take a bit more’’ he inhaled hastily and, helping you do your job more comfortably, with his hands he pushed the loose strings of hair away from your face.

The first day he didn’t understand why his hand moved on its own to push that hair behind your ear, but now he sees that little dot on your cheek, close to your ear, and he thinks that he did it to see it without any obstacle covering it.

You opened your mouth for him and let him slide deeper, half his cock is inside you, and you looked at him with teary drunk eyes.

He moans at the image, so pretty for him, all for him, he’s the only one who had seen you from that angle, and he hopes it continues being like that.

Your cheeks hollowed and you tried to take more of him, stopping your lungs from taking air in so you could suck him better, and he could see it, he could see you struggling and doing your best for him, so he pressed a thumb on your cheek to show his approbation.

You thought he was getting bored, his usual smile was not there, and his eyes were looking at yours too much, so you stopped to make sure you were not doing all that for nothing, ‘’Sorry, am I bad?’’ you asked with insecurity pouring out of your eyes.

He shook his head, his little genius was all nervous and unconfident, and he felt like he had hit the fucking jackpot seeing such a tranquil and collected girl ask him if she was doing a good job at sucking his cock.

‘’You’re perfect’’ he assured, guiding his cock back to your mouth, to which you answer by letting a bit of spit over his tip, smearing it with your lips kissing him and taking him again.

Where the fuck did you learn that? he asked himself, but with the security of you not doing it from someone who isn’t him, he only sighed and let you continue.

Seconds later he felt himself getting closer, and he can’t let himself cum in your mouth, he needs to do it in your insides, so telling you to stop, you do as your told, watching him in your spot searching his jeans and the box of condoms he had bought in the convenience store on the way to his house.

He opened the package with his mouth, and you remembered all those times you’d heard you shouldn’t do it like that, and echoing inside your mind, you pushed those voices to the back when you pulled down your panties and kicked them under his bed.

‘’This is how you put one on, the next time you’ll do it for me, so watch’’ he said, and you nodded, juices leaking with the idea of doing it for him the next time.

He teaches you how to grab the pointy start with his fingers, and how, with the help of his other hand, you’ll have to slide the latex all over his length, until it ends a finger away from the base of his cock.

You batted your eyelashes without thinking, imagining how the pressure of him opening your insides would feel, and to that your thighs shook with excitement.

He kissed you to take away the last doubts you could have, not knowing that you were yearning for it as much as him.

Helping you lie on his bed with him between your legs, he pushed you more into the mattress so he could kneel over the same bedsheets you’ve been dripping all over.

‘’Tell me if you want to stop, I know it can hurt at first, but I’m confident you’ll take me without problem’’ he said, brushing his tip over your clit and then going lower to put it on your entrance, only pushing his thick tip inside, stretching you enough to make your breath get all messy and your mouth fall open, pushing the air out of your lungs with the sensation of his cock finally fucking you.

‘’Fuck’’ you cried, feeling more of him slide in, and he tried to not show how much he was feeling to not make you nervous, but your gummy walls were so hot he felt like he was melting inside you, and that stole the last sanity he had, biting his lips to not let any embarrassing sound out.

‘’I told you, you could take me’’ he said proudly when his entire dick was inside you, and you cried a needy yes and searched for his eyes to look at how good you were being for him.

Your legs were as wide open as they could, and you pulled him in for a kiss before he rutted into you.

He wanted to be soft, it was your first time, and he knows how important it is for most girls, but you make him so crazy he’s forgotten how he did to not act on his wishes anymore.

His hips clasped with yours at that pace and you cried with each thrust, trying to not be too loud with the hits, however, the curve of his cock was making punching a certain place that feels more intense perfectly, and soon you were gripping onto his bedsheets to get a hold of yourself.

His mouth launched to your neck, chest pressing yours while fucking you, and he started to leave little spots on your neck and collarbone while one of his hands moved from your hip to the wrist of one of your hands, holding it there to feel you closer.

You were practically stuck to him, yet he needed to feel you more, and soon he was pushing your thighs to your chest to watch and confirm how deep inside you he was.

Looking at his cock disappearing inside your plump lips, he frowns because its all so perfect, you under him, taking him after all those weeks, and his thrusts became harder, touching the deepest part of your insides to pull out until the only thing connecting you to him was his fat tip, to then harshly pound into you again.

It’s all so messy he can see you dripping on his bed and how the lube appears dull compared to the glow of your juices on his pelvis.

A moan almost escaped his throat when he saw little tears falling on your cheeks, he knows they’re not from pain, and that’s what pushes him to let his grunts and moans out.

‘’Taking me so good, I’m the only one who can make you like this, right?’’ he asked, but it sounds almost like begging, and you didn’t dare to tease him as he did with you.

‘’You’re the only one’’ you cried while his dick kept punching your insides.

‘’Fuck, I’m going to cum’’ he warned, covering you with his body but not crushing you, his weight doesn’t affect you and you wanted more, so the hand he wasn’t holding moved to his back and scratched him, making him hiss and move his hand to between your bodies, to thumb your clit and push you to cum with him.

Twitching inside you, he came while murmuring a soft my girl, and you tried to ignore those words, thinking that was just something that came to him because of pleasure, and that he would forget later.

He fell over you, this time he felt heavier, but you still didn’t mind, and pressing the tip of your fingers over the scratches you left on his back, you sighed, relaxed to have him there.

‘’Sorry,’’ you said after, when you were on his bed and he was showing you his back, only wearing his boxers and searching for your shirt while you were covering yourself with his bedsheets.

‘’Why?’’ he asked curious of your words.

‘’Your back’’ you answered, and he turned to see the side of his back in his mirror, which indeed, had lines done by your nails.

He smiled and walked to you, sitting beside you and caressing your cheek before he trailed his fingers to your neck, touching the purple spots he has left.

‘’Then I’m sorry too’’ he said, making you smile too.

‘’Maybe we should stop saying sorry’’ you laughed.

‘’Yeah, maybe we should’’ he answered, laughing too.

He didn’t know what else to say, but he didn’t want to be a coward anymore, and he wanted to say something because he wanted to, not because he thought you were the one who wanted to hear him saying it, and if he was being honest with himself, he knew you wouldn’t like him to say what he was about to anyway, because you, just like he does often, think that you know what he’s thinking, so he guessed that you were probably thinking a way to leave his house to not be a bother to him, but he didn’t want that, and he knew you wouldn’t know it unless he said it.

‘’Stay with me’’ he said, it sounded almost like a command, but you knew it was a question.

‘’Okay then’’ you said, accepting to stay with him, sounding nonchalant, like he usually did, but you looked as relieved as him, and he felt glad that he finally took a step further.

#riize x reader #seunghan x reader #riize smut #seunghan smut #riize fluff #riize scenarios #riize imagines

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psychedelic-ink · 8 months

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak.

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm.

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you.

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone.

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything.

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone.

Then you found Jackson.

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead.

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical.

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back.

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.”

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.”

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?”

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.”

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den.

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds.

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile.

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?”

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.”

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.”

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away.

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.”

“But—”

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone.

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.”

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort.

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?”

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones. “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.”

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.”

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.”

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.”

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.”

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds.

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.”

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.”

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?”

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.”

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.”

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.”

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.”

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten.

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth.

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon.

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes.

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing.

And no one.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal.

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things.

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here.

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent.

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows.

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest.

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask.

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?”

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear.

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.”

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway.

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.”

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst.

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—”

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand.

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally.

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You’re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?”

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.

It’s Tucker.

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off.

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously.

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian.

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson.

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore.

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.”

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.”

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?”

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle.

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood.

O W L

A week had passed since Tucker’s death.

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control.

You also visit Joel and vice versa.

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write.

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go.

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.”

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours.

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.”

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?”

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.”

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?”

“I. . .” Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said.

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?”

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“S-Say what?”

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.”

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you.

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever.

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock.

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame.

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing.

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.”

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt.

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.”

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together.

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.”

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.”

“Be my guest.”

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you.

“Turn around,” he says.

“What?”

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.”

“On—On your face?”

“Where else?”

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked.

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.”

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails.

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.”

“What a noble way it would be to go.”

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face.

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips.

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks.

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.”

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked.

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs.

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—”

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .”

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?”

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts.

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward—

And all hell finally breaks loose.

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body.

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper.

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips.

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine.

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.”

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up.

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.”

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over.

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?”

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds.

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer.

On your second try you find something else.

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully.

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline.

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel.

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear.

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.”

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?”

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.”

“Really?” you ask and he nods.

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?”

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours.

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.”

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?”

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.”

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.”

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor.

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?”

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?”

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask—

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead.

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.”

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.”

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?”

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.”

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?”

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel.

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.”

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?”

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin.

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.”

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.”

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?”

“W-What?”

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does.

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips.

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?”

“I—I don’t know.”

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins.

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.”

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.”

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.”

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.”

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.”

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.”

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.”

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times.

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love.

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there.

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes.

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel.

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor.

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way.

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim.

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest.

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be.

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask.

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you.

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once.

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out.

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys.

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask.

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off.

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light.

Joel.

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second.

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours.

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you.

“Wait!”

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair.

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you.

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal.

“Let go of me! Let go of me!”

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition.

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.”

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!”

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.”

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?”

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation.

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger.

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.”

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest.

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.”

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.”

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?”

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.”

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.”

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?”

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips.

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.”

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.”

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.”

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.”

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy.

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.”

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply.

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame.

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.”

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it.

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.”

“Does. . . Does Maria—”

Tommy cuts you off, “No.”

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.”

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore.

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes.

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest.

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?”

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief.

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them.

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.”

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones.

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours.

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says.

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance.

Tommy cradles your face tenderly, urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise.

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort.

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves.

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach.

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear.

You don’t answer him.

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.”

“What about Tommy?”

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.”

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more.

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin.

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction.

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts.

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.”

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.”

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches.

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.”

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—”

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.”

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing.

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.”

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name.

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—”

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you.

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs.

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness.

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown

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cerastes · 2 years

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The internet is carried on the backs of sub-10k subscriber tech support youtube channels that have the most specific ass solutions to the most specific ass system errors, tech stuff is the one thing I recommend not Googling and instead slamming in a Youtube search.

All the top hit pages in Google for tech support and how to fix this or that are “10 Ways to Fix Error!” and then they go on a soliloquy about what Windows is to fill word quota. We KNOW what Windows is. We make fun of online recipes where the author tells you about how much those mashed potatoes were a beloved family tradition dating back to 1937 when the author and her sister would play in the woods and get bitten by ticks and get Lyme Disease and then after a lot of playing, they’d come back home and eat the most generic ass recipes, yeah, we do that, but we oughta start doing that with tech “support” pages too like god damn, “10 Ways to Fix Error!” except the first 3 “ways” are “Reboot your computer <3″, “make sure you updated your PC <3<3″ and last but not least, the world champion heavyweight nothingburger, “open the Command Prompt as administrator and run sfc/scannow </3″ LOCUSTS UPON YOU, MAN, if I can’t fix the problem, and it is a problem, no fucking way Microsoft software is gonna do jack fucking shit.

The “way” number 4 is, you know it, the sponsored product of the day. Install Krunklo Driver Manager! The best Driver Manager software out there! Here’s a trial version that has fuck all and the paid version is 39.99 each second.

Way number 5 through 10 are various things like exsanguination, putting mercury in your bloodstream, a jar of snake oil, or leaving aromatic substances near your vagina so your hysteric uterus comes back betwixt your loins.

So you just wasted an hour or two on the equivalent of vigorously dancing around the flames the rid yourself of the malaise, and all your god said was “well it’s just 39.99!”, FUCK that, you go to Youtube, copypaste slam whatever the error was in the search bar, and there’ll be one specific ass person out there in the world that solved this and made a video on how to solve it, just for you. The video will be from 2019, and you didn’t even know computers existed back then, but they DID, and this FUCKER OF MOTHERS, may they fornicate many parental figures of their preferred disposition, made this video for YOU. There is meaning in you perusing that video.

It’s 1:14 minutes long and immediately eradicates the problem decisively. You are now oathbound to take a bullet for this beloved stranger, your computer is back in action, and you are not 39.99 poorer. Krunklo Driver Manager will not have its day.

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youandtom2 · 2 years

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Praise You Like I Should (CEO!Tom Holland) 18+

Summary: You were always a people-pleaser, desperate to do right by everybody no matter what they asked. Being an intern, your boss Jackson exploited your people-pleaser tendencies in a very unprofessional manner, and CEO Mr Holland wasn't happy about it... Themes: smut! little bit of fluff and angst, dom!tom and sub!reader, oral (m+f), major praise kink, sir kink, overstimulation, masturbation (alone) , slight jewelry kink w/c: 10k+

MASTERLIST

You look over the dimly lit hall before you, tables decorated to the nines with hand-folded serviettes, silver-ware suited for royalty, gleaming as they sit on a fresh white linen table cloth, surrounded by tall plum-coloured cushioned chairs. There’s about twelve tables dotted around the hall identical to one another, waiting to be filled by guests in about an hour or so. The room sparkles with the metallic colouring of birthday banners and balloons floating around the room, illuminated by the dancing, multicoloured disco lights.

The surprise birthday party you were instructed to organise is for Mr Holland’s business partner, Taylor. They’re each other's yin and yang, mixing together like oil on water but somehow they make it work. The informal Taylor bases his relationship with his employees on friendship and a sense of mutual equality, where the formal Mr Holland prefers professionalism and respect on top of trust. Nevertheless, both are equally respected as bosses and businessmen in their own right. It doesn’t necessarily mean you all prefer one over the other, but if you had to make a choice as to who you would rather hang out with, the answer is an obvious one.

As an intern, it isn’t exactly part of your remit to organise and host birthday events, but your boss, Jackson, ordered you to do it. Jackson’s notable within the workforce for several reasons; he’s outgoing, social, ambitious, confident, and is unofficially Taylor’s kiss ass. He appointed himself (ahem, you) with the responsibility of organising Taylor’s surprise party, not because he thinks he’s capable, but because he’s looking for recognition. What people don’t know is that he’s actually a lazy guy who has gotten himself drunk with the taste of superiority, abusing you as his own personal slave for favours both big (entirely consequential and out of your depth) and small (worthless and petty). Unfortunate to be his first intern, you’ve realised how gluttonous he’s become with you at his disposal how and whenever he pleases. However, being placed at the bottom of the pecking order, you’re not at liberty to say no.

Jackson’s not your favourite boss by any means, but by God he keeps you busy. It tooks weeks for you to organise the venue, the catering, the entertainment, the decorations, the invitations, most importantly the cake, and the little oddities that everyone forgets about like hand-written name tags and having straws at the bar. You’ve been working relentlessly and after weeks of stress, late and often sleepless nights, numerous phone calls and emails, cancellations and rebookings, tonight is the night that all of that can end. The curse of being a perfectionist and a people-pleaser can finally release its hold on you.

Just as you finish clarifying the itinerary with the hotel’s bar staff, you notice a dark figure walking through the entrance. Your eyes trail nervously from the black patent shoes to the white shirt peeking beneath the black suit of which belongs to Mr Holland. He has his tortoise shell glasses perched perfectly on his nose, reflecting the colours of the disco lights as he walks towards you, stoic and poised. A silent ‘fuck’ crosses your mind.

Being the CEO eight floors above you, Mr Holland’s face isn’t one that you see as consistently as Jackson’s. He’s at least 6 tiers above you in the pecking order, one of two to take superiority over a long line of directors, specialists, managers, supervisors and assistants before you. So you can hardly blame yourself when you start to feel nerves gathering in your chest, despite how well-respected he is amongst the workforce.

His eyes finally find yours and he clarifies your name. You can appreciate that he’s at least taken the time to learn your face. “You're Jackson’s intern, right?”

Wow. He knows you more than you thought. “Yes sir. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, thank you. I was just coming to take a look around. I’m normally part of organising the celebrations but this year I’ve been too busy.” He wordlessly waves a hand before weaving in and out the tables, reading each name tag as he passes by. You watch nervously as he inspects the room until finding himself in front of what you call The Shrine with folded arms, almost bursting at the seams. More simply, it’s a collage of photos of Taylor taken over the years pieced together in a mosaic standing on an easel, gathered and no less arranged by you, of course. Next to it stands an empty corkboard, waiting to be filled with pictures from tonight's celebration, provided by the pop-up photobooth beside it.

“Whose idea was this?” There’s a warm smile on Mr Holland’s face.

“Mine, sir.”

“And the handcrafted name tags?”

“Also me, sir.”

“I love it. It’s very creative.” You exhale loudly, relieved. The people-pleaser inside you starts to buzz, fluttering wildly at Mr Holland’s praise. “Did you…” His eyes squint narrowly, honing in on you. “Did you organise all of this?”

“Yes, I did. The venue and catering took some negotiating but once that was planned, the rest came with time.”

“Impressive.”

You’re about to thank him but you're interrupted by the obnoxious calling of your name in a voice that booms from the entrance of the hall. Jackson marches towards you and you stand a little straighter. He doesn’t notice Mr Holland standing in the corner of the room next to the shrine. Instead of Mr Holland announcing himself, which is what you expected him to do, he sinks his hands into his pockets and quietly observes from afar.

“I need a rundown--” Please, that would be great. “--and for the love of God where is the present I was supposed to get Taylor?” Thanks for getting me a present for him, I’ll pay you back.

Your answer is succinct and to the point. “I’ve left it in your hotel room; it’s a dinner reservation at Keens Steakhouse in New York. As for tonight, the bar will be open for guests when they arrive at 6:30pm, Taylor will arrive between 7:00pm and 7:15pm for his surprise, the buffet will open at 7:30pm and cake will be served at 8:30pm. Last orders are at 11:30pm and the curfew is midnight. Everyone has checked in and has their hotel room key, although Kelsey couldn’t make it tonight, so her room is spare.”

Jackson gives a gruff nod, mumbling something intelligible under his breath. He cautiously looks to the bar, then narrows his eyes at you with a pointed finger wavering in your face. “I need tonight to be perfect so I need you to be sober. No alcohol. Got it?” In other words, I can’t be bothered making sure everything goes smoothly so I need you to stay sober while I get shit-faced. You nod, pursing your lips angrily as he walks away from you without a final word.

With Jackson no longer in sight, the tension finally deflates and your shoulders relax. You hate that every interaction with Jackson is a test of your skill and knowledge, caught in a vicious cycle of having to prove yourself worthy time and time again.

As Mr Holland emerges from the corner of the room, it’s an observation he also confronts having finally witnessed Jackson’s true authoritarian nature. His eyes are fixated on the golden doors in a stare so firm it could burn holes through the metal, and just when he steps into the brighter lights of the bar, his overall demeanour changes.

His jaw ticks when he finally faces you. “Jackson’s keeping you on your toes tonight it seems.”

“He always does, sir.” You shuffle awkwardly on your feet, recounting the numerous occasions his brutal demands have worked you to the bone.

“I don’t think I appreciate the way he talks to you.”

“Oh I’m used to it by now.”

“So he talks to you like that all the time?” Shit. In truth, Jackson would never have spoken so harshly to you had he known anyone was in the room let alone Mr Holland, but that was his mistake. One you’re not sorry for. “Well, if he isn’t going to tell you what an amazing job you have done, I will. You should be proud of organising all of this by yourself, it’s not easy. Well done.”

Your chest swells with pride as Mr Holland pats a gentle hand against your upper arm. Finally, your first taste of positive reinforcement. “Thank you, sir.”

Mr Holland’s smirk quirks at the edges. His hands find themselves deep within his pockets once again as he coolly and oh-so-calmly exits through the doors.

~~~~

You are insomnia personified. As relieved as you are that the night is going exactly to plan, with the nervous anticipation over, you just cannot wait to get to your bed knowing that the stress is over. You have hours of sleep to catch up on, a stone of weight to put back on and friends and family to respond to, and without a single alcoholic drink to lift your spirits, you’re finding it harder and harder to keep the exhaustion at bay. Beyond the exhaustion, however, there’s a sadness hidden deep within your conscience and while you glance over the decorations you hung up as the melodic singing of ‘happy birthday’ rings in the air, it spreads. It’s clear that people are oblivious to what makes you so downcast on a celebratory night as they pass nothing more than a glance your way, but in all honesty, you much prefer it to be that way. You wouldn’t want anyone to see the tear building in the corner of your eye.

For now, you thrive on the compliments you’ve heard about the venue, the decorations, the drinks and the food, each and every one of them satisfying your perfectionist mindset. Okay, so what no-one knows you organised the party, and sure, you can oversee the fact that none of the compliments are directed to you in particular, because in the end, you’ve gained Mr Holland’s approval and that’s enough for you.

Well, it was enough until Taylor took to the stage for a speech.

“...and a special shout-out to Jackson for putting this all together for me. This is absolutely amazing, I couldn’t have asked for more.”

Your heart sinks in your chest and your ears instinctively drown out the clapping and cheering of the crowd around you, eyes set in stone as they watch Jackson accept the dedication so graciously that it makes you sick to your stomach. It takes every ounce of energy you have left in you to suppress the wobble in your lip at the sight of Jackson soaking up the glory like a sponge. Jackson taking the credit for your hard work was something you should’ve expected from him. After all, he is lazy and will never be willing to admit it, definitely not in front of Taylor. Still, the chase for recognition was always going to be a losing battle for you; you’re an intern for fuck’s sake, you are merely just a name and a face for most, unfulfiling of the protagonistic arc the people here want in their stories. Jackson, the kiss ass, makes much more sense being the hero than an underdog intern.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, accepting defeat.

You claim an empty seat at an empty table in a dark corner of the room, far from the crowd mingling on the dance floor and you remain there as the party continues into the night. The glass of tepid water looks pitiful in your hands, its lack of taste offering no respite from your sorrow.

With fifteen minutes until last orders, you begin counting down to the moment you can retire to your bed which you know won’t arrive until after you’ve cleaned up the hall. You’re jealous of some of the guests who have already decided to leave the party.

The chair to your right suddenly scrapes across the floor and you’re slightly taken aback when Mr Holland sits close beside you and abruptly rests an elbow upon the table, blocking your view of the crowd and demanding your attention. A cedarwood scent silently announces itself and you inhale it deeply, finding sanctuary in its presence despite how startled you are by it. Your breath is simply taken from you when he shuffles himself closer. He isn’t wearing his usual attire; something a little less formal, but likely to be just as expensive. With that expensive taste comes his expensive appearance: clean, styled, decorated admirably and booming with authority. A warmth starts to take a hold of you.

His movements are harsh and his body moves with brute intention, but behind those curls, his eyes hold sympathy, knowing what is upsetting you before it even spills from your lips. You try to fake a smile but he can see right through it.

“I thought it was you that organised the party,” he calmly states.

“I did. But because Jackson instructed me to plan a party means he takes responsibility for it.”

Mr Holland doesn’t waste a single second. “It isn’t right. It’s one thing to speak to you so rudely, but it’s another to take credit for your hard work, and I’m starting to believe that Jackson doesn’t value you as an intern as much as he values the superiority that comes with it, am I right?”

Anxiously, your eyes catch Jackson lazily hanging over the bar and demanding another drink. If Mr Holland were to know the truth, it would get Jackson in a lot of trouble and the people-pleaser inside you is screaming at you to just deny it all. Your skewed perception of professionalism means skipping over these things, something about snitching just seems so petty and childish, and that’s not the impression you want to give Mr Holland of all people.

Mr Holland’s stern voice brings you back. “You’re not answering to him now, you’re answering to me. Am. I. Right?”

You gulp. “Yes, sir.”

“I intend to have a word with Jackson--”

“Mr Holland, it’s okay, really--” You try to protest but he quickly rests his hand on top of yours, his warmth enveloping it completely, and your mind halts. Your heart flutters the moment his fingers curl just the little bit tighter, a compassion that says more than words could. It’s genuine, caring, but firm in a way that’s supportive, pledging to do right by you.

“He will apologise to you and let everyone know the truth.”

“Please, I don’t want to cause a hassle or stir anything in the office, I just want to do well. And what would it change if people knew the truth? It doesn’t bother me that much, honestly. Besides, you know the truth. That’s all that matters to me.” Desperately and without thinking, you twist your hand and your fingers interlock, returning the squeeze with a soft smile. Mr Holland tries his best to return the sentiment but you can tell the whole ordeal still troubles him and sits discontented by your side, a regretful sigh heaving through his lips. Soon, after a silent plea to let it go, he eventually sits level with you with a brighter sparkle to his eyes and instantly, the mood is lifted. You notice how his hand doesn’t leave yours.

“You at least deserve a drink.”

“I shouldn’t, I’m closing up tonight and I’m working early tomorrow.”

He scowls for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, facing issue after issue the more you expose Jackson’s true nature. “It’s Saturday tomorrow, you should be having a day off.”

“It’s laughable you think I get a day off,” you chuckle. The sad thing is, he thinks you’re joking. Jackson often sends you his overdraft of reports to complete over the weekend and has the cheek to deem you lucky that he gives you so much wisdom and experience. You can’t imagine Mr Holland being aware of this…

“Don’t be silly darling, everyone is entitled to days off. Even Taylor took a day off today for his birthday.”

Again, your scathing laughter meets his ears and he tilts his head, that skewed eyebrow lifting high into his forehead. “No offence sir, but with his position, he can afford to. I don’t think interns have that same benefit--”

“Of course you do, it’s company policy that everyone is entitled to a day off on their birthday.” Before you get a word in, he’s already pulling out his phone from his suit pocket. “Tell me when your birthday is so I can make sure you get it off, and I know when to get you a birthday present. Taylor too--”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

“We do it for all our employees, regardless if you’re an intern or not.” His calendar flashes to life before his eyes. “So when is it? June? July?”

Your mouth suddenly goes dry and it gawps like a fish, not a usual response to such an easy question. Your fingers knead together on your lap as the sadness once again materialises and Mr Holland quickly senses something is amiss.

“It’s…it’s today. My birthday is…was today.”

Mr Holland’s eyes widen with horror. It’s no less than a minute later that he finally replies. “And Jackson has you working?”

“Since 7am this morning. I had asked for my birthday off two months ago because I did actually read the company policies, but he said interns can’t request holidays because they’re not permanent. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“What?! For fuck’s sake…” Mr Holland twists his chair violently, its legs colliding with the table as he tries to face you more directly and leans forward, your knees slotting into the space between his. The wave of his anger has rolled back even higher in its tide and now, unlike before, there’s a vein popping at his temple. “Let me just make this clear, okay? Correct me if I’m wrong. You’re telling me that Jackson has knowingly denied you of your birthday holiday entitlement and instead had you plan someone else’s birthday just so that he can take credit for it, make you work through it and clean up after it as well?”

God. In his words it sounds so desperately sad. Up until this point, you were able to distract yourself from getting caught up in the tragedy of it all, but now there’s nothing stopping the gates from opening and wallowing in self-pity. Although your blurring eyes tell of your true emotions, the forced smile on your lips does everything it can to convince both you and Mr Holland that you’re not bothered by it. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Mr Holland’s heart inevitably sinks. In that moment, he thinks of the cruelty behind Jackson ordering you to buy and wrap his present for Taylor when you have none to open. He thinks of you, alone, buying the candles of the birthday cake you wouldn’t be blowing out. He thinks of you, just hours ago as the crowd sings happy birthday to another person, blissfully ignorant of your sorrow. He thinks of the hours you spent working when you should have been with your friends and family. It’s all of the things you truly deserve, but have been robbed from you.

He reaches once again for your hand, now resting on your lap, and the tips of his fingers graze your thigh. You would be a fool to miss it. “Darling,” he sincerely murmurs, almost as quiet as a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

The fake smile takes lead and the rebel tear is wiped away. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

“But it’s not okay. You…you didn’t even get to have a drink.” Damnit, your cheeks are wet again. “Did you at least get a break today?” Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO.

In fact, you spend so much time failing to not cry that Mr Holland assumes the worst. He takes in a long, deep breath and lures you into his embrace with a hand creeping up to the back of your head, and the second your forehead hits his shoulder, the dams break.

“I’m just so tired,” you sniff.

“You’ve been overworked, darling, that’s why.” His hand passes over your hair, gently cupping the curve of your head as he takes in every hiccup. His breath flows past your ears smoothly, broken up every few seconds with whispers of comfort. You feel horribly embarrassed, crying into the expensive suit of your CEO at the party you organised on your birthday: definitely not the definition of professionalism you are chasing.

“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually like this.” You retreat from his shoulder but the hand cupping the back of your head prevents you from travelling too far and you’re stuck, just inches from Mr Holland’s pitying eyes. He keeps you concealed from the crowd, but it’s not enough to hide from the burning glare of Jackson, his eyes drawing daggers at you from over Mr Holland’s shoulder. He’s somewhat frozen in a stupor, scarily steady for a man who was flailing over the bar minutes ago, but anger is a quick cure for intoxication.

Mr Holland’s voice sidles quietly into your ear. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Get yourself up to bed, I’ll deal with Jackson.”

“But--”

“I will not take no for an answer. Now go.” You shiver at the stern tone, appearing only as he turns to lock eyes with Jackson who’s faring a guilty look upon his face. As Mr Holland brings you both to a stand, he gently encourages you towards the golden doors and although you should be indulging in the relief of finally being let off, you can’t pull your focus away from Mr Holland’s cold stare that refuses to stray from Jackson. In the few seconds that it takes to walk from your chair to the doors, a clear, obvious shift in mood transpires, one that is felt by the entire room because now it isn’t just you that notices Mr Holland’s sudden decline in temperament. Evidently, everyone is quick to sense the tension. The crowd’s lively dancing now settles into an awkward shuffle and the singing dulls into hushed whispers because they know to never underestimate the seriousness of Mr Holland’s anger. It’s uncomfortable and intimidating, even more so if you’re the reason for his vexation and if that’s the case, you should be on your knees begging for his forgiveness. It’s the one power Mr Holland holds that Taylor, his business partner, his equal, doesn't possess. This is your first time seeing him exercise this power and it’s incredibly daunting.

The beat of your heels clicking their way up the staircase is a quick one, not daring to hang around the unease any longer. The fresh smell of washed cotton that greets you in your room winds you down and you don’t spare a second of reflection before you strip yourself of your stiff dress, blister-inducing heels, thick make-up and the heavy stress. You slip right between the sheets, ready to drift asleep.

The lights are switched off, your eyes are closed and your body properly relaxes. Yet inexplicably you can’t settle into your bed no matter how much you toss and turn. Rationale convinces you that it’s because you’re in a bed different from your own, that the mattress doesn’t have the mould of your body imprinted on it, and although it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, your inner conscience is telling you something else…

Flashes of memories made just half an hour prior spring to the surface and suddenly you’re watching yourself converse with Mr Holland again. But it isn’t exactly how you remember it.

For example, his hand is on your lap, gripping the curve of your thigh with his heat scorching through your skin when you know that, in reality, it was nothing more than a soft sweep. And when you both stood, you know he guided you with a gentlemanly hand, yet your dream sees his hand curving down the slope of your ass and squeezing the flesh. You have to refuse the idea of you shivering with arousal from hearing Mr Holland’s stern growl because truthfully, it was nerves.

Or…was it both?

You try to ignore it, but the seed has already been planted. Now all you can visualise is his fleeting touches, his soft voice praising you and calling you darling, the twinkle in his eyes as he sympathised for you, the caress of his hand through your hair as he comforted you, the way he cared for you, and fucking hell, the exhilaration of seeing him protect you so defensively when no one else did. His taut jaw, his clenched fists, his dark eyes, the pulsing vein at his temple, his eminence that commanded the room, the list is endless.

“F-fuck,” you stutter, succumbing to the pleasure of your own fingers toying with your clit. You don’t quite remember the exact moment your hand slipped beneath your underwear, too caught up in your fantasy of Mr Holland to realise. Regardless, the movie in your mind continues to play out and by now, none of it reflects any real events from tonight - it’s all purely fictional.

His hand slides up between your thighs. He dons a devilish grin because he knows there’s a whole crowd blissfully unaware behind him. An innocent gasp slips from your lips and it lures his eyes to your mouth, panting as he traces the letters of his name over your covered cunt as a sign as to who it belongs to. Overrun with anticipation, you bite your lip, feeling the pad of his finger slip beneath your thong and…

“Oh my god! Shit!” Your body seizes, curling into itself as your fingers dull to a small twitch between your clenched thighs. There’s a blissful moment where you ravish the hot rush of blood pulsing at your pussy, letting it bubble until it slows to a simmer, and only when you come down from your high minutes later do you fully realise what has just happened. Eyes split wide open, you rise from your bed.

You just masturbated fantasising over your CEO.

What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?

~~~~

The morning comes surprisingly quickly and the hotel's thin curtains don't fully shield you from the sun's glare. It’s bright, directly in your face and if you didn’t know any better, you would think that it’s spotlighting you because it knows what you did last night. As if you forgot…

The guilt still ruins your conscience and you feel nothing but regret; fantasising and sexualising Mr Holland’s kindness is just the pinnacle of everything you disagree with and it doesn’t exactly define the sort of professionalism you strive for.

Shaking it off as best you can, you refresh yourself with a shower and a harsh splash of cold water to your face, and by the time you open your laptop it’s 9am. There hasn’t been any emails from Jackson so far which you’re not too sure if you’re shocked by. It’s typical on a Saturday morning for Jackson to send you multiple reports with deliberately vague instructions that you would somehow have to decode and translate for yourself. But regarding last night’s events, perhaps he’s heeded Mr Holland’s words and decided to honour your weekend entitlements.

The white screen stares back at you, watching you nervously bite your nails as if you’re expecting a red notification to pop up, attached to an email from Jackson with hungover words. A minute or two passes by and alas, nothing. Not a word. In all honesty, you don’t have an issue with it, not at all, but it means that your routine is completely disrupted and you’re struggling to decide what to do with yourself. And without work, you have nothing to distract you from last night’s sin while it plagues your mind.

A new sweat arises and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, and that’s the part you think is the worst. Why did it feel so fucking good?

What brings you out of your self-loathing is three quick, quiet knocks echoing from your door in quick succession. Curious, you open the door and when you see who stands there in all his formal glory, you wish you hadn’t. Your heart immediately jumps to your mouth.

“Oh, Mr Holland--hi. I wasn’t expecting you…” Your words fade into a soft whisper when your eyes spot a small pink bag, its ribbon handles hooked daintily onto his fingers. Surely that can’t be what you think it is…?

He’s painfully quiet, a small smile painting his lips at what he sees; he’s never seen you dress so casually before and he wants to take a good long look at you, unsure of when he’ll see such a sight again. The weight of his stare burns holes through you, heating you from within.

Not a second later, he holds out the pink bag towards you and you forget to breathe.

“Happy belated birthday,” he gently voices. Your fingertips graze each other as you take it from him. For such a small, delicate bag, it’s certainly weighty and your stomach drops thinking about how much money he’s stupidly wasted on you…

“Thank you sir, really. You didn’t have to do that.” A nervous chuckle escapes your dry mouth. “How…how did you get this so quickly? It’s barely past 9 in the morning.”

“I have a few contacts who owe me a few favours. And I just felt so guilty about you missing your birthday. Sorry you couldn’t celebrate it like you should’ve.”

“Like I said, it’s okay--”

He shakes his head disapprovingly but surely, a taunting smirk begins to form. “Am I going to have to give you the same ‘talking to’ I gave Jackson last night to make you realise that it is definitely not okay?”

Yes, yes, yes, fucking yes. “No, no, of course not. Sorry, I suppose that’s just the people-pleaser in me.”

Mr Holland stands stoic before you, his head slightly tilted and his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes are watching you endearingly, drawing you into him, but everything else about him oozes something that makes you want to swallow a little harder. His confidence in himself is mildly intimidating and you wish you could feel the same. Just his being here creates a dizzying effect on you that you just can’t shake.

“You can think of this as a congratulations of sorts too.”

You tilt your head. “Congratulations?”

“Mh-hm,” his eyes flit over your confusion, a devilish, haunting smirk gracing his wet lips. “Congratulations on becoming a permanent member of Taylor and I’s company.”

Mr Holland admiring you be damned, you find yourself taking a step back in shock. “Are you…are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious, do you think I would lie to you?”

“Not at all, I just, I thought it was going to be Jackson’s decision. I am his intern.”

You aren’t a fool to miss the way his jaw ticks at the mention of Jackson’s name and all too quickly, a ferocious fire consumes his eyes. A small shiver cuts through your skin. “You don’t work for Jackson anymore because Jackson no longer works for me.”

“What?!”

“What did you think when I said I was going to deal with Jackson? That he was going to continue working for me even after finding out he was treating you badly? Or finding out that he orders you to do his work over the weekends? Or even when he blackmails you into doing jobs beyond your remit? How could you possibly think that I would let that sleazy bastard feed off my pay when I know he isn’t capable of the job? You’re far more deserving of the position than he is, far more deserving of the appreciation and beyond capable.”

“Sir, I…I can’t thank you enough. I’m very grateful. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“I know you won’t. Although I do sometimes wish you would’ve told me or Taylor about Jackson’s behaviour sooner. I don’t tolerate that kind of exploitation, not even for a second and you shouldn’t have either.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just so caught up in wanting to do well that I would’ve done anything to please the company.”

“Maybe you should stop spending your time trying to please other people, and focus on pleasing yourself.” His face gravitates just a hairsbreadth towards yours and in quieter, darker words, he whispers… “You were certainly capable of pleasing yourself last night.”

You take a timid step back, mouth agape. You can’t think of anything to say, not when the ringing in your ears starts to resonate louder and louder. Shame swells like a disease and you can feel the bile rising in your throat. You are almost certain you didn’t hear anyone outside your room last night, how could he have possibly known?

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

He smoothly leans against the door frame, his wicked grin tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say. Nevertheless, he explains, not to worsen how mortified he knows you already feel, but to reminisce of the surge of adrenaline and lust that coursed through him last night.

“I came by late last night to drop off your present. I didn’t think you would still be awake so I planned on leaving it at your door, and just as I bent down to place it there, I heard just the softest of moans—“

“I think you must be mistaken—“ An uneasy chuckle barely covers your tracks, leaving you just as compromised as before.

“I thought you might’ve been with someone, but I then didn’t hear any other voices, so I assumed you were by yourself.”

“Sir,” you squeak, intending to finish your sentence but you just don’t have the words nor the confidence to deny him of what he already knows. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, exposed and vulnerable without the faintest idea of how to get yourself out of his commanding presence.

A million and one emotions rage through you and drown you in a fluster. Your feet shuffle nervously beneath you, slowly inching your way back into your hotel room as you sense yourself losing control over the conversation. With a mouth drier than the Sahara desert, there’s not much else you can do or say to avoid falling victim to both Mr Holland’s taunting and your own taunting; last night’s images playing out before you more vividly now that he resurrects them.

The subject finally diverges, but it doesn’t mean you're any more comfortable with it. “Do you know you’re the only one that addresses me as ‘sir’?”

You shake your head, eyes inevitably averted. You didn’t know that, you just thought it was professional.

“You never corrected me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I liked hearing it. Just as much as I liked what I heard last night. But I need to know,” he takes a step to cross the threshold of your hotel room. “Was there anything…anyone in particular crossing your mind?”

“There was…” His jaw ticks furiously and you instantly get the notion that denying him is simply not a choice here.

“Who?” He demands in that stern voice you’ve heard only once before.

One word sits on your tongue and you know that as soon as it breaks the silence, the professionalism you worked so hard to build up will crumble before you. But the risk is entirely worth it.

“You.”

Mr Holland’s lips part and releases a snicker as if he knew, and the curl of his smirk becomes dangerous. He lets the singular word ring out into the air, and the tension envelopes you both in a suffocating bubble until he finally speaks. “You…what?”

“You, sir.”

His chest rumbles with approval and you even feel its vibrations fluttering low in your stomach. Desire consumes you; a desire to know what he’s thinking, to know what he’s planning to do with that compromising information, to figure out whether he’ll respond to it in a way that satiates your more promiscuous desires like the ones that distracted you last night. You would give anything to see what’s going on inside his head.

Inexplicably, he nods towards your pink bag, easily brushing over your last conversation like it was nothing to him and it completely throws you off. “You should open it.”

It takes a second to drag your eyes away from him. You actually forgot you’re still holding it in your hands. The tissue paper rustles loudly as you reach in-- “Inside.” Mr Holland urges. With a short nod, you lead the way, allowing him to slowly close the door behind you with a gut-wrenching squeak and a thunderous boom.

The second the door shuts, the air becomes taut, strained and harder to breathe and you dedicate all your efforts into ignoring your last conversation just as easily as he had, but he’s standing right behind you and the warmth of his breath skates past your ear and it’s all you can think about. Even without disclosing what he now knows, the presence of Mr Holland alone would bring about such unnerving effects, so you don’t find yourself at fault for struggling to keep it together.

From the pink bag you pull out a small white and gold box, wrapped with yet another ribbon. Inside is a silver chain, light and dainty, but the pendant it carries is nothing alike. The reflection of the sun hits the circular-cut diamond, becoming iridescent as it hits your eyes. The stone is slightly on the larger side, bigger than any other necklace you own, but it sits perfectly in the balance of being flashy yet classy. Expensive yet tasteful. It’s a piece that you can’t price and that exact thought scares you.

“It’s beautiful,” you softly murmur. The chain cascades elegantly across your fingers, almost mesmerising to watch.

Your eyes catch his movement in the mirror in front of you and steals your attention away from the necklace. He holds out his hand by your side, soft but firm.

“May I?” You almost flinch as his words hit your ear, the ripple of your shiver continues for long after. As the chain pools in his hand, he is equally gentle, handling it with expertise while he lifts it carefully over head and rests the pendant tenderly in the dip between your clavicles. Its icy cold touch seers your skin, heat radiating with each grazing touch of his fingers as they clasp the chain together behind your neck. Once secure, you admire the way it shines brightly against your skin tone, eyes momentarily lost in your image until you realise that yours are the only pair looking back at you. Mr Holland remains engrossed with the curve of your neck, his proximity close enough to be counting the beats of your pulse as it thumps beneath your skin and for all you know, it’s elevating, thrashing harder and harder while you watch with wide eyes as Mr Holland presses his lips against it.

The second his lips meet your skin, his hands find your hips, holding you steady to prevent you from buckling. A numbing tingle shoots through your nervous system at the feeling of Mr Holland swiping his tongue across the reddening bruise he’s leaving behind. Every kiss is with purpose, targeting each and every sweet spot as if he had a map to each of their location: the peak of your neck that connects to your jaw, the sensitive spot just millimetres below your ear, the slight curve of your shoulder that sits beneath the chain. He instantly claims you, and you show no sign of resistance when you find yourself voluntarily tilting your neck, begging for more.

You finally meet his eyes in the mirror, realising how cavernous his blown-out pupils are; that if you search too far you’ll become trapped. “This…” he whispers, planting another kiss to your ear, his hands beckoning to the chain, “is the only thing I’ll allow you to wear while I fuck you.”

A shameless, breathless mewl whines from your throat and a rampage of endorphins consumes you. As the first piece of insight to his mind, you don’t get nearly enough time to let it process in your head before his clawing hands are tugging at the drawstrings of your joggers.

The small nip to your neck is a wake-up call. This is real and this isn’t a fantasy of yours, only that it will be a recreation of what had you orgasming last night.

“You know, I can be a people pleaser too.” His hand slips beneath your joggers, but refrains from slipping beneath your underwear. “I can please you in so many ways.” As a testimony to his words, his fingers trace over the silk of your underwear, catching your bud in its travels and a silent gasp bursts from your lips. “But not without earning it. Do as you’re told, and I’ll do exactly that.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, words vacant, eyes rolling.

“Are you listening to me?” The hand on your hip squeezes harshly and you jerk in his arms. You have never agreed to something quicker in your life.

“Yes, sir! Oh—”

“Good. Then you can start by closing those curtains over there.”

His hand slips fluidly out of your joggers when you force yourself away from the subtle torment. The light dims a little, however you think it’s more for privacy than for light. When your back turns once again, Mr Holland sits himself on the edge of the bed, legs spread and leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Whatever it is about him in that single second triggers something in you; attraction, lust, sex appeal, or all of the above. Whatever it is, it compels you to give yourself in to him.

A messy mixture of want, need and unrelenting desire brings you to your knees before him. His eyes sweep over your face, examining, analysing, translating every desperate twitch. He can even see your lips parting where he spots the remnants of teeth marks from when you had nervously bitten them in hidden moments. Smoothly, the pad of his thumb brushes over your lip, tugging it into a pout because that’s what he wants to see; you, desperate, pouting, begging for him. It soon pops back into place, his hand now curling around your chin and pulling you closer. His own lips are nothing more than a breath away from yours and you think he’s going to finally kiss you, but annoyingly, he only allows you to feel the shape of the words as he whispers them to you.

“So what is it about me then, hm? What do I do that turns you on?”

“It’s…it’s stupid.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Let me rephrase.” The grip on your chin tightens and your noses collide. “Tell me what it is about me that turns you on.”

“Last night at the party, you were the only one that…cared. You made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.”

“What else?”

“You stood up to Jackson for me - you just looked so determined like you were unstoppable.”

He tilts his head in the other direction now, leaning in just as close, your breaths mingling together. You’re so desperate to feel his lips on yours. “And?”

“When…when you touched my thigh--”

“You were burning.”

“I was nervous--”

“Because of me.”

“Of course because of you. I was scared of disappointing you.”

A small snicker escapes him and leaves behind a wicked smirk. Two hands now firmly cradle your jawline and you think the moment has finally come. Why else would your heart be thumping in your chest?

“Not possible. I always knew you were a good girl. And I think you like being told that, don’t you? You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it. I saw that coy little look on your face the first time I told you how impressed I was. It was obvious that no one else had praised you like I did - you couldn’t keep yourself together. And I bet if I kept telling you how fucking sweet you are, and how much of an perfect angel I know you are for me, the second I slip my fingers into your tight little pussy, you’d be an absolute mess.”

Well, he’s not wrong. You’re already soaked.

“Please, sir,” you whimper. “Please just kiss me.”

Finally, finally, he pulls you in for a long, languid kiss, his tongue takes lead to taste every part of your bitten lips as they slot perfectly in between his, lingering longer with each time he captures them. The blood rushes so quickly through your veins you think you might implode, overwhelmed by just how good it feels that your hands suddenly grapple onto the cuffs of his shirt.

A satisfied hum buzzes against your lips, twisting your own into a small grin that unbeknown to you, Mr Holland could actually feel.

“Let me see you,” he demands, his hands plucking at the hem of your sweatshirt. When you don’t do it right away, a tight grip coils around your neck and stops the gasp leaving your mouth. “Do. As. You’re. Told.”

You’re baring your all for him (all except a diamond necklace) in a matter of seconds, standing before him as he leisurely leans back against the bed, resting on his elbows. Those predatory eyes roam your body, mapping out the shape and details, and imprinting them to memory.

“So fucking pretty…” He deliberately watches for your reaction and you crumble under the praise resulting in a mirthful laughter to shake his chest. His arms reach for your waist, luring you in with the tight grab of your hips until his lips sit just below your ribs. The heat from his breath hitting your skin makes you involuntarily wriggle, but he doesn’t allow for any movement from you, not unless he permits it. You feel his lips suddenly, trailing across your ribs and up your chest. “Do you know what good girls like you do for me?”

“What?” You breathlessly murmur.

“They get on their knees,” Mr Holland pauses to let you act on it. Now you’re looking up at him as his knuckle ghosts over your cheeks and he mingles closer. “They look at me right in the eyes and they beg me to give them a taste, to let them suck me off because they’ll do anything for a reward, even if it is just a few words of praise. So let’s hear you, pretty girl. I want to hear you beg me with that sweet, innocent voice of yours.”

You take a cautious breath. “I want to taste you so badly, sir. Please. Will you let me?”

“Hmm.” He purses his lips. Shit. It isn’t good enough for him and he spots the panic in your eyes. All of a sudden, you begin pleading in such a desperate, childish tone you didn’t know you were capable of. Even your lip begins pouting as the need to please him becomes so overwhelming that, unexpectedly, your eyes water, like you’re facing life or death. And he is the decider.

“Wait, wait, no, please, I want to make you feel so good, so, so, so good. I can do it, I promise, and I can be good for you if you let me. Please sir, I really need it. I’ll do anything.”

Mr Holland smiles and gently kisses you with approval, just the shortest of pecks of reassurance before he leans back and nods towards the zipper of his suit trousers, tented with the erection that’s pleading to be satisfied. You waste no time in unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling free his hard cock that almost dwarfs your hand and you stare at him with such bewilderment, a stare that is returned by a certain smugness, a confidence that has you licking your lips.

There’s a surge of instinct coursing through you and your brain convinces you that there’s nothing else you should be doing, that your whole purpose at this very moment is to do as you promise; to please him, to make him feel good, so when you hear his moans the second you wrap your lips around him, your heart flutters with fulfilment. It’s a sensation you keep chasing, growing stronger the longer you bob your head up and down his cock, every time his praise seeps from his lips, and you just about lose it when his fingers comb through your hair. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. Not too little, not too much. Consistency is key.

You’re not sure how much of an idea he has about just how dedicated you are in your mission to prove yourself to him, that you’re desperate to show how capable you are by what you’re willing to do; perhaps a horrible side-effect of having to constantly prove yourself to Jackson with each conversation, but with Mr Holland, there’s an element of belief and confidence: a contradiction between Jackson’s ‘I don’t believe you until you prove it’ versus Mr Holland’s ‘do it because I know you can’.

Mr Holland’s head falls back, his eyes closed, and falls into an eerie silence. If it wasn’t for his hand still combing through your roots, you would’ve thought he wasn’t satisfied with you. Still, you keep going, running your lips and tongue down his shaft and returning slowly back up again where you get a teaser of the bitter-sweet taste you’re vying for. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re undecided of whether you’re doing so well that he’s speechless, or you’re not doing enough that’s worthy of his praise. It’s hard to tell with his head tilted back, and you begin to lose faith. You’ve become so drawn into his voice and words that you feel lost without them.

‘You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it.’

“Sir,” you meekly voice, leaving a beat to suck on the head of his cock. “Am I making you feel good?”

The depth of his growl sends a spike of arousal straight to your clit. He spits out his words in a manner that’s uncontrollable. “Fucking incredible.”

His head finally lifts and his eyes pin on you, fully blown and dilated. “Look at you - oh fuck - taking me so well. Knew you’d be a good girl but f-fuck, I don’t know if I can hold it in any longer.”

You reply with a wanton mewl, your dopey, tear-stained eyes saying the words your mouth can’t. You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto the carpet, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens.

Mr Holland swings forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath. It's slightly tense and panic-inducing but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you have proved yourself.

“Fucking hell,” Mr Holland pants. His grip loosens around you and your lips release him with a pop. The instant your lips are free, he claims them, humming into them with adoration. “That was…” A soft, tender kiss. “The best goddamn…” Then another. “Blow job I’ve ever had.” He kisses you for a final time with a smile laced through it, and rests his forehead on yours to give himself some time to catch his breath. “So good…” he breathes. “So, so, so good. Sweet angel. My sweet angel.”

There isn’t anything to describe the burst of achievement that swarms your chest when you hear those words and your cheeks inevitably heat under his hands. You’re smiling, obviously smiling and no matter how hard you bite your lips to hide it, the pull is too strong. You make yourself far too goddamn easy to read so when Mr Holland catches a glimpse of your reaction, he smirks, clearly amused, and simultaneously reaches down the length of your body until his hand finds sanctum between your thighs.

“Hmm, you’re soaked, darling. Don’t you think we should do something about it? After all, you’re earned your reward, and I’m dying for a taste of that messy, little pussy of yours.”

You release a shaky breath when his fingers start exploring. “Yes, oh god, yes.”

“Yes…what?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Better. Let’s not make that mistake again.”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now--” In a vice-like grip, Mr Holland encircles your waist and your body burns against the rough cashmere of his suit. It’s surprisingly stimulating as he casually hauls you off your feet, but you would much rather the heat of his skin. Nevertheless, your back soon meets the soft cotton of your sheets as he lays you to rest on the bed, remaining shadowing above you basking in the sight of your naked, wanting body. The diamond that nestles deep into the base of your throat twinkles obnoxiously in his eyes and he almost grows jealous of the way it hugs your neck. However, it's a jealousy he can overlook as his eyes wander over the peak of your breasts and your glistening cunt, because he knows that they are all for him.

Mr Holland promptly sinks to his knees, placing his head in between your thighs, his eyes never straying from your cunt. There isn’t a moment of hesitation when he swings his arms to cross over your hips, dragging your legs effortlessly over his shoulders and diving, tongue first, into your cunt. It’s a complete invasion of his touch, his tongue immediately swirling around your clit with a careful, consistent pressure that deep down, you know will end you in minutes. The gasp is telling of your struggle to keep composed, gradually crescendoing into a moan as that amorous tongue descends down your slit, licking you up in long, fat strips. An urge in your hips begs for attention, wanting to raise higher to ease the tension building deep in your stomach, but you're trapped, locked in place with no routes of escape and you have to tell yourself that you just have to tough it out.

But it’s harder said than done when he begins slotting his tongue into your hole, tasting and caressing every inch of you he’s capable of reaching. Digging deeper and deeper, his mouth consumes the entirety of your cunt, humming into it to push you further over the edge. He knows you’re hanging on by a thread, but it doesn’t mean he’s willing to slow down. And just then, an evil, malicious thought spawns in his mind which he voices immediately.

“You’re not cumming until I say so. Understood?”

The feeling of you clenching to stop the impending orgasm has him chuckling. He knew you were close.

“Such a sweet, little angel. So obedient too, right?” He blows a gentle breeze onto your clit and you simply whimper in response. “Right?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Mr Holland has your cunt in his mouth again, salivating over its taste as he suckles on your clit, your folds, your skin, anything to lure out what he knows he’s going to get eventually, but it makes it twice as appetising when he knows your orgasm is only at his command.

Meanwhile, your heart stammers in your chest with each tug of his lips. Whatever sanity you have left to cling onto, you claw at it with desperate hands, fighting to hold up the wall that blocks the blood rushing to your cunt, holding your breath to stop the bubble from bursting, because fuck, you are ready to snap. You can’t help but notice how he’s taken a page from your book, pleasuring you at a steady consistent pace, not too much but not too little. Unsurprisingly, the result is the same but the conditions are far worse.

“Oh my god, please let me cum, I can’t hold it anymore.”

His grip only tightens, his tongue moves faster and his mouth gets hotter.

Your hands, of a mind of their own, decide to condemn your obedience and push at his arms around your hips in an attempt to get away. Despite his obvious strength, you somehow manage to get a microsecond of respite, but his mouth only sucks you back in again, murmuring only one word that runs laps around your head.

“Obedience.”

“I can’t, sir, please, I can’t h-hold on. Fuck!”

“Oh dear.”

“NO! No, no, no, no, okay, okay, I’ll do it, I can hold on. Just…please go slower.”

His dark cavernous eyes meet yours from behind his arms, unmoving even as he relishes the taste of your slick, challenging you for only a second before he thankfully listens to your wishes. Weakened, your head flops back onto the bed with a small bounce, eyes drifting shut as the feeling in your stomach calms and a small relief hugs your heart. It’s a small price to pay to lose the feeling of euphoria that was going to course through you…only if Mr Holland had let it or if your people-pleasing traits had failed you, none of which had actually happened.

The feeling deflates but the pleasure still lingers.

“You taste so delicious, darling. I could eat you all day.” Arousal jumps to your clit like a flash of electricity. “And you’re doing so well for me, how could I ever stop?” This time, it’s his tongue, soft and caressing. “And this pussy; so pretty, so fucking pretty, I could just play with it for days.” His finger begins circling your clit not too long after he spits into it. By now, you realise what he’s doing. He’s feeding into your need for praise that, along with the small touches and sweeping licks, builds you up just as quickly and suddenly as before, and once again you’re struggling to cope. “I know you can be such a good girl for me, I know you can do as I say, and you have no idea how much it turns me on when you do.”

“Sir…” You warn. He instantly recognises the desperation.

“I’ve got one last instruction for you, angel.” He sucks on your clit for just a couple of seconds, just to get you closer and closer to falling apart. “Cum for me. Cum in my mouth.”

“Fuck!” You scream as an endless stream of euphoria consumes you, hitting you in a sudden white wash of heat that riddles your entire body top to toe. You can feel your cunt clenching erratically, between homing an orgasm and suffering under Mr Holland's continuous lashings, it can't, not for one second, rest until either relent. You feel your own slick, hot and bothered, trickling down your ass but before it gets the chance to meet with the white sheets beneath you, Mr Holland sweeps it up expertly with his tongue, partnered with a primal growl of pleasure.

By the time Mr Holland has finished cleaning up every inch of your cunt and ass with his tongue, he proceeds to kiss his way gently up your body, not forgetting to leave your tits untouched and pinches your buds between his lips. You have just enough energy to cradle his head, allowing yourself the pleasure to run your fingers through his hair, moving with him while he leaves sharp kisses to your chest, your collar bone, your neck, ear and jaw, until once again, those hungry lips claim yours.

Still somewhat recovering, you purr quietly, content with the overall sense of pleasure, both of your sexual and people-pleasing needs.

Your lips slowly part. The kiss ceases but your noses brush off one another gently, still basking in the blissful, intimate aftermath of what's just happened. Your CEO above you remains, hovering over you with admiration in his eyes, running over your features as if it is the first time he's seeing them, adoring them all over again.

There's two words sitting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind a smirk because he knows what he'll see when he speaks them.

"You're beautiful."

Of course, his prediction comes true. Your cheeks redden, your eyes roll away and your teeth sink into your swollen lips, muttering incoherently about it not being true but thanks him incessantly, but Mr Holland is too caught up in your coy modesty to rebuttal. It's just like the first time he complimented you, and he realises then and there that he's addicted to being the person that makes you shy, blushed, diffident.

Being a CEO, he does indeed posses significant power in the palm of his hand, obtained by hard work, dedication, commitment and sacrifice, but for him, there isn't a power stronger than the one he has over you and all it takes is a few, simple, praising words.

"We still have another three hours until check out."

Your eyes and ears perk up. "Sir?"

Cautiously, he shuffles above you, innocent until you feel his cock sliding into you and he relishes the catch in the back of your throat at the sudden pressure forcing its way fluidly into you. You're simply speechless, questioning if it'll ever end as he pushes every inch of him inside you, breaching and stretching the boundaries of your walls. Mr Holland snags your bottom lip between his teeth, harshly biting as a relief for the tight grip that surrounds his cock.

When your ass eventually meet his hips, you both release a groan in unison, breaths mixing and mingling until Mr Holland breaks the silence.

"You're gonna look even more beautiful when you're all fucked out and dumb for my cock, all with a diamond wrapped round your neck."

His hips snap back at a frighteningly fast pace and thrusts in even more aggressively. The pain is immeasurably exhilarating. Your thighs squeeze his waist, mouth agape without a single breath escaping.

"Think of this as a second birthday gift." Like before, he draws back and slams into you without mercy. "Do as you're told and you'll get your third on Monday in my office."

Somehow, your gut tells you that you won't have a problem with that. Not at all.

#dom!tom holland #ceo!tom holland #soft!dom!tom holland #sub!reader #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #smut #angst #peter parker smut #one shot #peter parker #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #praise you like i should

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gallavich-fic-club · 12 days

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We are hosting our very first writing event ~ so stuff all your pens, notebooks, and art supplies into your favorite backpack, bring water and snacks, and join us for Gallavich Summer Writing Camp!

What is it?? Writers and artists will team up in “bunks” and write a story together, paired with accompanying art (if desired!). Stories will post the 3rd week of July - during our weeklong virtual campfire.

What kind of stories can we write? * The theme of your story is ... ☀️ SUMMER ☀️ * Story word minimum: 10K * Please make sure your stories and art are tagged properly

How do I join a bunk? * You can form one with your friends! Each team can have any combination of writers, artists, and betas - we recommend 3-4 people per group. And we'll expect a cute name for your bunk too :) * If you would like to be assigned to a bunk, we’re excited to find the right one for you!

Got my group, now what? * Once you have your bunkmates assembled, please fill out this Google Form by Friday, May 10 to let us know your plans. Just pick one representative from your bunk to complete it. * If you’re signing up solo and would like to be assigned to a team, you can indicate that on the form too + your preferred role.

The week of May 13, we’ll contact each group to let you know your assigned posting date ~ and then you can start writing and creating!

Posting Week: July 22-26; we will check in midway through to make sure you’re on your way or if you need anything as you work toward your posting deadline.

We’ll have a Collection on AO3, so at least one person in the bunk should have an account.

The Fic Club on Discord will set up a channel specific to this event where you can ask us questions and chat with fellow participants. If you’re not on the server yet, come join us!

We can’t wait to hang out by the fire, roast marshmallows, and read stories together!

#Gallavich Summer Writing Camp 2024 #gallavich fan fic #gallavich fan art

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yawntu · 1 year

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Golden Hour

A/N: ngl i’ve been fiending to write more Tsu’tey but y’all can’t let me become a one trick pony fr. This one’s a little self indulgent my legs be kicking and shit. This isn’t proof read but will be eventually LMAO. I just wanted to get it out bc ppls were messaging me, I tried giving u actual plot this time. Sully reader, Neteyams twin <333 why does tumblr always eat the end half of my posts what the FUCK

pairing(s): Ao’nung x (Sully)(f) Reader

word count: 10k

warnings: NSFW MDNI, weed oop, squirting, 2 little slaps but they’re not hard, consent king, mating, standing sex?, dacryphilla, semi public, a little bit of degrading / mean bits but not really, he just thinks you’re real pretty idk, size kink, brat taming if u squint readers got a bit of a catty attitude, you both have attitudes, idiots in love, PINING, idk i have a soft spot for idiots in love, Ao’nungs so in love with u, i’m about to start getting ppl to read these over and do the tags for me bc idk how to

na’vi glossary: skxawng: moron, Ole’eytkan: clan leader, kurkung: asshole, vrrtep’ite: demoness, Nga yawne lu oer: i love you, tanhì: star, kxener: I took park of the word that describes the act of smoking, idk I’m out here making up Na’vi slang.

Perhaps you were in such a delightful mood today because of the rich scented soaps and the pretty shimmer body oils that left your skin hydrated and vibrant after your bath, or perhaps it was the fact that Tsireya had just done your hair with little pearls and shells the night previous.

You’ve grown to love so many things that Awa'atlu offered you. You think, however, that your favorite thing was the sheer amount of turquoise geothermal warmed springs scattered around the bustling seaside village. You had often found yourself alone now that you had grown up, appreciating the peace that solitude brought you. Soaking in the warm watered spring of the mangrove beaches not terribly far from the village only added to said peace. Besides being a good place for one to watch the sun rise in the morning, it was also a good place to be left alone. As it wasn't an increasingly popular place to bathe it meant you got to spend your morning with pretty scented soaps, oils and creams while eating fruit and enjoying a kxener all in your preferred solitude. It wasn’t that you didn’t love spending time with friends and family- in all honesty a war torn childhood made you appreciate them and the peace you now lived in even more.

A fact you attempt to remind yourself off when an obnoxious smack of feet against the rocky grounds of the warm springs past the mangals pull you from your fruit eating haze. Your head snapped over to the sound, ready to scold someone for disrupting your tranquil morning- yet your eyes fall upon Aonung’s advancing form. You can’t help but allow a quick smile before your act begins. Your faux scowl at his towering approaching form.

“I literally just got in, what could you possibly want of me this early in the day?”

It’s a lie you tell as you lean back on the rocky wall of the spring, pointing two accusatory fingers towards him. You had been in long enough to quickly wash your hair and body. Even enough time to oil the ends of your hair, and though you were quick with it if he ended your bath here you’d at least have enjoyed your little acts of self care. No doubt you’d have to get dressed and follow him somewhere to help with something you’d much rather not be doing on your supposed free day. If the Eyktanay was saunting over to you, then no doubt your perfect morning would be a fleeting moment crushed to dust at your feet.

He gives you an look of dumbfounded distress, brow muscle jutting up into an arch while his lip curls up into a contemptuous grin,

“And to think I thought we were dear friends who enjoyed each other's company, vrrtep’ite,”

He is silly looking, as he squats at the edge of the spring, large imposing arms dangling between his legs, his tail curved towards you, eyes unnaturally trained at the horizon despite the fact he’s apparently cross with you. You can’t help but grin up at him, enjoying the quips and banter he often offered you; yet showed you enough respect as to not oogle at you.

Part of you was surprised to have him stumble upon you, as of late he is usually too busy to share a moment with him before the eclipse. He grabs the kxener next to your bowl of fruit, and the flintstones, barely looking at you. It’s endearing, how he holds the smoke between his full lips, his too big hands managed to spark rocks together to light it. For his towering frame, Aonung moves rather gracefully. His jaw is sharp as it clenches when the herbs spark at his face, eyes fluttering. You watch the muscles of his neck and shoulders flex when he puts the tool down and moves to hold the kxener with his left hand. He grabs a berry motioning towards you,

“What?”

His voice is haughty as he notices you staring. Even as he talks out of the corner of his mouth, lips holding the kxener smoke from fully creeping past his pointy white canine and incisor. The way his face contorts makes you giggle, resting your arm on the rock he was perched on,

“I don’t know. It’s silly seeing you act so civilized,” you say as you run one of your nails down his ankle to mess with him, “Decide you want to enjoy my brunch, huh? What, wrestling a tsurak too brutish today?”

He is instantly making a face, mimicking your voice in a faux girlish shrill as he finally grabbed hold of what he was smoking, seating himself fully, then plopping the fruit in his mouth giving you a displeased look.

It had been a long time since he was a truly troublesome, rough edged hooligan and though you would have still called him a hooligan to this day, Ao’nung was proud of how he had grown. Though he had his stubborn and even volatile moments he had won the close friendship of your twin brother, and even the younger siblings he once put in perilous danger. You had all long let that dead pa’li lie.

“You are the jungle savage,” he jokingly sneers, handing the kxener back down to you, then poking at your forehead for annunciation.

The mix of the thickly sweet and tangy fruit on top of the sour, peppery and earthy taste of the kxener is pleasant, but the fact that you can taste the balm that was on his lips is what makes your tail swish slowly in the water.

“You’re mad your mother likes me better than you right now,”

You nod matter of factly to the freshly added tattoo creeping up his shoulder, an obsidian addition to his growing collection. Ronal was displeased with who had done it, not so much the design. Soon he'd be covered in them, rarely a part of his pretty face untouched by ink. Ronal knew this, yet it was in her nature to be argumentative. You didn’t stick around for the argument as by the time Ao’nung walked completely into their home, you and his sister had made a quick dash out as to not inherit the wrath of Ronal. The two had been bickering over everything since.

“Ha!” His laugh is boisterous and booming like the storms that would crack down over the ocean, “I am my mothers favorite! She’d drown you before-“

Drown was a funny idea. And now that he didn’t have your lit morning smoke in his hand, there was nothing defending him from your swift hand clutching the wrist closest to you, dragging him forward into the depth of the spring. It was a quick decision really, you had been a little shocked you did it considering if you didn’t pull him with such force he’d have surely hit the rock you were currently seated on- and this rather foolish quick decision meant that poor Ao’nung was as equally not prepared for the assault. The splash of his bulking body is huge, unceremonious and forces you to quickly turn half your body to avoid the brute of its wave.

The mischief is worth it as he rises from the water unharmed yet in disbelief. His sea-foam eyes wide open, curls sticking to his forehead as they fall from his silly little bun. Seeming to be dumbfounded that you dared to pull the practically aquatic man into such waters. As if he hadn’t stepped towards a rocky plateau as he stood up, and that the water barely reached his belly button.

“At least you did not drown-”

Perhaps if it wasn’t for the pesky second eyelid of the Metkayina then the water would have blinded him long enough for you to playfully escape from the splash he sent your way; far too powerful of a crime as the ends of your hair rewet and stick to your torso. It’s a foreign feeling as your hair had already begun to dry under the intense heat of the sun previously.

“You’re the worst out of the lot of you,” he interrupts himself with a sneeze from inhaling the water he wasn’t prepared to breath in, “i’m still clothed, skxawng,”

It makes you laugh, he seems genuinely annoyed but it still bemuses you. They were always wet and in and out of the water. How could it have possibly mattered to him, you were sure he’d have gone diving once he was content with ruining the peaceful start of your morning.

You knew him. You knew he came here to pick on you in his usual manner until something else caught his attention and he’d leave you alone and unfortunately missing him. So you’d enjoy your moment of terrorizing him back. You liked humbling him. Especially now that he’s growing closer and closer to being Ole’eytkan.

You obviously wouldn’t have ever grown to be as forward with your hazing had his sister not emboldened you; and though he stands ahead of you, almost posturing, you both knew there was an unspoken rule that Ao’nung lets you tease him. Though you danced across the exasperated too-far line, Ao’nung would take a great deal from you with a playful surrender. You huff the herb one more time before passing it to his dripping form, a peace treaty.

“You interrupted my bath, it is only fair,”

You’re far too occupied with how soft the almost too warm skin of his hand was when it was wet, and the tantalizing shivers it sends up your arm when your fingers make contact with him to notice that he sees you. Maybe he had inhaled too much water as you had caught him off guard, or maybe he had just inhaled smoke too deeply immediately after you had stolen the physical breath from the vacuum of his lungs, but Ao’nung is entirely too entranced with the moment that plays in front of him that it makes him dizzy.

The sun rising behind him was finally starting to lose its pinkish hues, casting warm golden rays onto your freshly washed glassy skin. The oils across your azure skin reflected the sparkly luminance that only the crushed up shells of Awa’atlu could provide. He can’t help but think the sun looks its best reflecting off the amber of your eyes. Though you are one of- if not the most beautiful girl- he had had the pleasure of knowing, the golden rays of the rising sun dancing across the apples of your supple cheek weren’t where his eyes have trailed to. In fact, your long hair moved slightly from where it had been covering your out of the water torso. Though you had never really worn much coverings, the fact that you were not only nude, but comfortable enough to be relaxed nude around him made his chest feel just as fuzzy as his head.

He’s glad you’re lost in thought so he can take a split second to stare at you breast without you noticing, despite the almost painful desire to stare at your gracile forest form he doesn’t want to be caught staring. He’s only been caught staring at you once- not by you of course. For someone so clever he was surprised you were so oblivious to the world around you sometimes. No- he had been caught staring by your twin brother who had rightfully punched him right in the back, making contact with a rather fresh, and rather painful tattoo. Though it turned into a light hearted, overly rowdy horseplay between friends, Ao’nung understood the undertone. If he touched you, Neteyam might just kill him.

“If you wanted me to take a bath with you, you could have just asked,”

Why in Eywas great paradise did he say that? He was just thinking about how your brother might knock his teeth out for the fact that he had been staring at your bare chest and he felt as though stupid mouth spoke on its own accord.

He was glad you turned so red at his words though- probably out of anger at the implication. It overshadowed how he had embarrassed himself- drew your attention away from the embarrassing mauve heat creeping up his own neck. He hated how visible the contrast of flushed skin was compared to yours. The splash of the water you sent towards him forces him to hold the half done kxener far above his own head.

“I’m surprised you even know how to bathe, kurkung,”

He thinks it’s cute how quickly one arm covers your chest as you go to sit up slightly- suddenly very aware that you’re more exposed then usual, despite the fact you didn’t seem to care before- reaching to grab at his arm and try and snatch the kxener from his hand. It’s his turn to laugh at you know, and plop himself down on the water smoothed stone you had lounged on.

“I’m very clean actually. It’s hard to have such magnificent hair,” He hands you the kxener and with his other hand motions to his bun.

You snort, rolling your eyes and taking the herb you had both been using as a peace treaty from him. Your body turns towards him, head propped up on one of your pretty delicate hands, and the other holding the kxener to your pretty plump lips. Had he not embarrassed himself once already he’d have just sat here and blatantly watched you smoke in the morning light.

“It is going to grow thin if you keep it up all the time,” You motion to him.

Though you knew it was probably a pile of talioang dung, and that his hair would be fine despite the past five years of his well known bun- you couldn’t help but love when his long curly terraces fell down the expanse of his prodigious back. You wouldn’t waste an opportunity to convince him to keep it down.

“I’ll tattoo my bald head,” he’s grinning when he tells you, mimicking the way you had propped your head up on your hand, and reaches to swirl one of your own wavy strands around his finger, “Probably shave yours in your sleep to get back at you for jinxing me,”

“Your mother would scalp you if you did such a cruel thing, very unbecoming of the Eyktanay,”

You mock his status over you. He supposed that was fitting for you. The eldest daughter of the Toruk Makto was sure to have an issue with authority,

“Well this is rather unbecoming of me. I could be doing countless other things but sitting in a spring with you smoking a kxener and watching the world go by,”

His argument is valid. Though you know he’s joking there is a twinge in your stomach. An argumentative spark that tells you he isn’t joking- that he did not prioritize you the way you had grown to prioritize him.

The snippy comment rolling off your tongue dies as Ao’nung’s shoulders hunch slightly, leaning his head further down into your space. At this point you were close enough that he could hit the rolled smoke from your own hand.

It was ridiculous. Evil even. How Eywa dangled what you wanted so cruelly in front of your face. The cruel waltz of tension that has suffocated the friendship as you aged. The fact that you can feel your stomach drop at the feeling of his lips so close to your fingers, could taste the shared air between the two of you. Here you sat almost stunned in the shadow of his form.

The Metekyana were large- huge even. An’oung was large amongst them. Well into ten feet you’d assume considering he was ever so taller then his father when he stood straight up. In comparison to his big, stubborn bull-head, your sylphlike hands holding the mostly finished intoxicant to his tantalizing lips looked delicate and small. He could break you. He could toss you around like a rag doll and you’d even thank him after.

You feel bad for the addled look on your face, it’s just been increasingly vexing growing into adulthood due to this bastard. You know you really want to be grinning at his close proximity and the fact that he trusts you so close to his face with something burning. You should be cooing over the fact that he flutters his pretty eyes closed and admires his long eyelashes. Yet you couldn’t stop the bubbling of an attitude under your skin. You knew you were attracted to him, most people had known you had fancied him. Especially when he had grown comfortable enough around you to privy you to the earnest, callowly charming and flustered side of him- but there was something about the way life turned out that kept you both in this tense ‘we aren’t together’, but we are very obviously much more than friends.

You were an older sister at your core. Bossy and with a desire to be the center of attention; Ao’nung thought it was a game to play, and would never fall at your feet the way you charmed others into. At least he’d put up a fight in the pathetically self imposed game you had both committed to.

“Others would gladly take your place, leave then, find somewhere else to be,” you find your resolve finally, after your embarrassing pause.

With a roll of your eyes, you snatch your hand from his lips. In annunciation of your irritation you had stood up slightly, careful to not remove your body from the turquoise waters of the mangrove spring as you began to move towards the end furthest from him.

He doesn’t really like the years-long game you’ve been playing at this moment, and he really doesn’t like that you have moved away from him. He’s tired of competing in this ridiculous long winded courting ritual with you. He’s been at it since he had made you sob when he left Lo’ak outside of the reef all those years ago. It was the first time Ao’nung had been embarrassed by his own actions. He had been spoiled his whole life, taking whatever he could want- and for the first time he realized he had taken something from someone else. He had taken happiness from someone. He thanked Eywa for letting Lo’ak return relatively unharmed, and swore the wretched sobs that had fallen from your lips never again even ticked the back of your throat.

Year's. Years he has gone out of his way to emulate the humility you so easily radiate. You had forced him to grow; for year's he's learned how to be a man who deserved you. He wasn't a perfect man, in his eyes still not very deserving of you; he was still loud, impulsive and painfully cocky. It’s probably what had pushed him to wrap a large hand around your delicate wrist, unceremoniously pulling you back until the back of your thighs touched him, tail squishing between you and the muscle of his thigh.

Though Ao’nung would pride himself in the fact that you haven't sobed once or even cried often in years, he can't say you didn't hiss. As you are right now, a soprano squeal of a hiss right in his face. Now that the kxener was finishing you were pleasantly buzzing; and the quick drawback of your body had made you dizzy. It’s not his actions that have you embarrassed; you're embarrassed your stomach is fluttering at the feeling of coming into contact with his legs and torso, comfortably aware of the heat he added to the warmth of the water. You try to hide the embarrassment of being close to him like this with only half-real annoyance. Had you not been so civilized Ao’nung was sure you would snap that pretty little jaw at him bite a chunk out of his face,

“I am naked!” Your voice cracks as you yelp, hand landing on his thigh, using the waters aid to help elevate yourself off of his lap, mortified as you were far too close to the water's surface to enjoy the privacy the turquoise water had provided you with yet the idea of your bare skin on his was somehow scarier.

“I am not,” he remarks, taking the kxener from you, moving the hand that had grabbed you to land on your thigh.

You freeze in his lap. Now that the sun's completely up there's nothing to hide you. No beautiful colors to bounce off of your face that you can pass off the blushes accreditation.

“Sit and finish it, you wanted to enjoy a relaxing morning- you do not seem so relaxed,”

You blame the softly buzzing high for the softness you feel for him at this moment. Assuring yourself that his stupid oval head wasn’t terribly handsome and that his warm blue eyes didn’t make your chest tighten. You wouldn’t admit to any of the stupid love sick thoughts that have plagued your mind the entire time he’s been here with you.

More so, you certainly wouldn’t admit that despite his usually rowdy behavior and need to bicker with you, sitting against his imposing form made you feel safer than ever before. It was the work of a herbal paranoid if he dared poked fun at you for how it did not take much convincing for you to sit yourself down on his lap. Flinching at the feeling of the fiber of his tweng against the nude back of your thigh and glutes. You hope he doesn’t notice, even going as far as to lay your head on his chest before doing as he told you and lifting the dwindling end to your lips,

“Don’t you want to finish it?” you ask him, refusing to look up at him. Instead you stared intently at the sun over the sea. He runs his fingers across the expanse of your shoulder.

“It’s yours, I want you to enjoy your morning. Besides, unlike you I have real things to do this afternoon,”

You huff at his jab, knowing he respected the work you did around the village and the aid you offered his mother. A small part of you aches over the lingering idea that he didn't think you enjoyed the time spent with him.

“I've already enjoyed my morning. It’s not often the future Ole’eytkan spares time for me and graces me with his presence,”

You know he's busy, you'd never actually hold that over his head. And when you feel him move your hair off of your shoulder and lay his head on top of your own you almost feel bad for reminding him he’s so busy. Especially when he so sweetly caresses your decolletage as well. You didn’t understand how you always danced this edge with Ao’nung. Years of this pining and yet you’d both always end up here. Stuck in a strangely intimate moment that neither of you would dare go past. You are glad to finish though, finally tossing the item that had kept you both in this painfully frustrating stalemate, maybe you’d go sulk the rest of the day as he was busy doing Eywa knows what.

It’s your ego really, that makes you want to end the morning. Or embarrassment. How could you be sitting naked on top of him; how could you have let this go on all morning. Not just this morning actually, how could you have played this game so long with him when you were so unsure of his own feelings.

“I’m going to prune though so we should get out,”

Your voice is snippy when you speak to him. Hurt evident in your voice as you look up, and finally notice that he’s staring intently down at you. Committing the sight of your nude lissome Omatakyan form perched on his lap to memory. His wagging tail rippling the water and allowing him to watch the waters reflection dance across the bare sapphire of your skin. You were often close to Ao’nung. He didn’t make you uncomfortable in the slightest. You had sat in similar positions, been casually intimate- hell when you were younger the whole group of you would sleep in piles. Being pressed against him wasn’t new to you, yet this is very different. He had made the situation you were in very different in the span of minutes.

“Ao’ i’m serious-“ your voice cracks, “We’ve been here far too long, i’m sure someone will come looking for you-”

“Only me, you and Eywa here,”

It’s said with such a coy yearning you can’t help but flush purple. It wasn’t often that he had ever caught you off guard- at least not to this extent. Despite his usual impulsive nature he was usually relatively predictable when it came to you,

“Y-you’re never serious,” your ears flatten, when you try to turn your head, however his hand is quick to catch your cheek, and he uses his thumb to smush both together.

It’s not as easy for your tail to wag submerged in the water, not as easy as his does. You’re fighting against the water but you can’t help the flick of your tail- there was too much going on. You felt too much. You’re not really sure why you keep up the charade. He knew you had a great deal of admiration for him surely he wouldn’t have drawn this out had he not been interested in you?

“How could I not be serious when the most enchanting woman in all of Pandora is looking up at me like that?” and his big hand is dwarfing your cheeks and you can swear that you’d choke if you spoke, “Huh? All shy now are you?”

You weren’t shy. How could he call you shy? Shy was hiding away from him or avoiding conversation. He couldn’t call you shy if he did things to embarrass you into dumbfounded silence.

“You drive me ins-”

Your scold dies at the feeling of his kiss on your lips. It’s soft and his breathing against your face makes you smile. It's embarrassing how instant the grin is. How can you be mad when he’s kissing you finally. Perhaps you’d just say you were throwing a nantang a bone when your greedy berry stained tongue eagerly glided across his lip, or when your hips dug down into his lap, curling your tail around his thigh. Ao’nung could justify that his hands gripping and groping frantically as your sun warmed torso pulling you back into him was him doing the same.

And when one of your hands falls to caress your nails against the skin of his lower abs he can’t stop his hips from jerking and thrusting upwards into you, sending your body jostling up. Prematurely ending the oral exploration of both of your tongues.

There’s a string of his saliva connecting you together and his hands brace your jolted form. He means to ask you if you’re alright much quicker then he does. He can’t help but get distracted by your pretty flushed cheeks and with your wide amorous amber eyes. It set him a thrill with a sense of his own stomach warming bliss. He can’t shake his worry though. Worried he had pushed too far too suddenly.

“C’mon, you’re not ready for all this yet,” he rubs his nose against yours, and lets you kiss him softly again.

He paws at your hip, and then motions back towards the village with his head breaking your lips apart. How could you have possibly wanted to go back to the village now? You give him a queried look at his cocky barb,

“Perhaps you’re the one not ready for me,”

The raillery in your voice is a comfort that would have made his knees buckle had he not been seated. He smiles, because he knows you’re both right; and his cheeks hurt from the grin as he watches your eyes flutter close as your noses touch once more. A magnetic force that kept bringing your faces close to one another. You couldn’t see him now that your eyes were closed and you were enjoying the comfort of being close to him. It made him shift in his seat. You couldn’t see him. Not now. Not when he wanted you to see him so terribly. See how hard he had worked for you- see how badly he wanted you to just tell him you wanted him so he could move past this terrible feeling of insecurity he had over you. Then again perhaps, he thought it meant more in this moment that you knew him. Knew him so well that you could see past his coyness. As if to coax him further you bite down gently at his lip.

How could he leave you wanton like this? He relishes in the the sweet wiggle of your body at the gentle press of the pads of his calloused fingers roaming the length of your spine and dancing across the valley of your breasts. Soft and slow—just for the sake of caressing you. He has wanted to touch you like this for as long as he could remember. None of his lingering touches or platonic embraces could pale to the invigorating pulse your skin against his gave him. And he’s barely touching you- ghosting over your pretty sapphire skin and you’re trembling. Trying to squirm away from his lithe hands as to prevent his gliding fingers in their pursuit towards your peaked nipples. He’s sure the drag of his fingers as he groped at you was probably more tortuous than any direct overstimulation he could cause you but he wouldn’t grant you that clemency. Not until he feels satisfied that you’ve been disproven. That he was more than capable of taking care of you, more than ready to.

Ao’nung is competitive, and you know this. He knows you know this. How often have you both gotten into trouble over silly competition? He can’t help but huff at the thought that you knew how to press his buttons and roll his hips up once more. The sound of water squishing between where you meet makes your ears fall flat against your head and your nails dig into the soft skin below his abs.

“Ya, yer gonna see,” He moves with you easily, sliding from under you and propping your knees up on the smooth stone you had both sat on previously, standing behind you.

Ao’nung casts an imposing shadow over yourself and the ground around you. The water only offers to cover you to the top of your thigh, rendering you the most exposed you’ve ever been for him. You can’t help but shift your weight and squirm at the feeling of Ao’nung wrapping his hands around the freshly cleaned halo of curls that were your last sense of modesty. Now that he’s pushed your hair over your shoulder there’s nothing stopping him from seeing all of you. You attempt to focus on how the ends of your hair dip into the water, or how tan your freckling hands and arm appear next to the light lime wash of the smooth stony structures of the springs.

You feel strange, knees on the smooth stone you had originally sat on, palms bracing yourself on the stoney ledge as his prodigious hands dance up and down the shape of your curves while he causes in the water to plop rhythmic against your skin as he gives into his desire to rut against your form quickly. He is even quicker to catch himself and return his focus to you. You should feel much more vulnerable than you do at this moment- quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Yet the cooling overcast of his form protecting you from the sweltering rays of light made you feel far more secure then you had previously thought.

It’s tantalizing- dizzying even when you feel his fingers run down the expanse of your back. It was easy for him to become distracted with the enchanting visage of your form arched prettily in front of him.

He knows you were right. He was nervous. For more reasons than one. Firstly the longer the sun made its ascension into the sky the more likely anyone could have the misfortune of stumbling upon you. More importantly he knows he should not mate with you right here. That you deserve much better than this. He aches knowing this is the closest he has ever gotten to it despite years of literally grasping at sand for the chance to be mounted over you like he was now.

Ao’nung did not have the resolve of a man you deserved though. He couldn’t swallow the anxiety he felt over the fact that perhaps if he didn’t come across you today someone else would have. And you would have been bent over for them. He wanted to do this much better for you- as cliche as it sounded. Yet, when he watched his hand dwarf the intricate and soft dips of the dimples that framed the sides of your softly twitching tail, his resolve snapped.

“Yer’ gonna be my Tsahìk?”

He watches you jolt under his sudden slurred words, the added stimulation of his left palm gripping the pliable sphere of meat that was only centimeters from his own longing groin adding to your need. Gripping just a bit too roughly. He didn’t mean to handle you so impolitely, he could not bring himself to have any resolve as his fingers curl against your skin to pull you apart for him. He’s embarrassed at how excited he is to receive the reward of your pretty moan at his chilling intrusion. He had been blessed with hearing your whiney groans and faux whimpery cries many times before, but he had never been privy to such an entrancing sound as your desperate moan.

He can’t stop his upper body from clambering down, hands quickly bracing his imposing form down on the same rock that held you up. His face instantly in the visible crook of your neck. All you can do is turn and gaze dumbfounded at his hand that twitches almost too closely to your own while you listen to him practically pant in your alert ear. His panting breath cracks in your ear when you raise your hips slightly, the feeling of the ridge of your tail, and curve of your ass against his ever throbbing manhood results in his own guttural moan followed by a sloppy open mouth kiss under your ear.

“Ao’nung, please,”

You don’t know what you’re pleading for him to do and he can’t believe you could be the one pleading right now considering how tightly you had wound him up already. He can’t bring himself to understand the complexities of your own emotions when he can now fully feel his body on top of yours.

“Please what, huh? Want me to mate you? G’onna be mine?” He enunciated his words with uncharacteristically gentle kisses to your neck.

You hear the wet plap of him forcing the fabric of his tweng down enough for you to feel the weight of him on your back. You’re unsure if the tender caress from your sensitive belly up to the valley of your breast from his free hand is what makes you shiver, or the feeling of the heavy tip of his cock that still manages to hang down onto your body despite Ao'nungs desperate grip at his own base.

Instantly one of your hands reaches to clasp around his wrist that has moved electrifyingly close to your breast, dinging your nails into him ever so slightly, causing him to jerk slightly. You huff at the feeling of his tip smearing precum across the small of your back.

“I thought you wanted me to enjoy my morning- why must you torture me instead,”

There was that pretty desperate whine. That inexorable and perpetual babble that you put on to get the things you wanted from those around you. He wanted to say he had better resolve then them, but the sound of your frustration laced whine has the weight of his cock twitching against the pudge of your ass. The wrist you had grabbed onto continued its ascension up your body, fingers dancing up your neck until he could hold your mandible.

It’s endearing really, the view he’s greeted with. With the easy squish of the cute chub of your cheeks together between his big hand, he’s effortlessly forcing you to look up at him. The Metkayina were expressive, maybe because they signed to each other a great deal- you wouldn’t know. But you’d still thank Eywa for it, as you can’t deny the aura of pure desire that radiates off of his face like the heatwaves the morning sun had begun to cast across the horizon. Eyes blown out wide, and the ends of his kiss swollen lips curled into a soft smile.

A soft smile that doesn't match the feeling in your stomach when his big hand leaves your ass and wraps around the base of your kuru. You swear you see Eywa in his eyes, and he swears he hears her in your gasp. He’s quick to push his lips back onto yours despite the unnatural position. And though your spine and neck ache from the arch he has pulled you back into you can’t help but clank your teeth together as you kiss again. You’re not sure who’s spit is all over you both; all you know is the sloshing sound of your mouths and the embarrassing sound of water sloshing at the disturbance of his rocking hips that ground his twitching cock against your ass. He wanted to reach down and force your tail out of the way so he could relish in the feeling of you hammocking his throbbing cock- but he had something far more important to deal with.

The most beautiful girl in all of Pandora was sparkling in the sun below him, and you wanted him as terribly as he wanted you. He really did want you to enjoy your morning and promised himself you’d enjoy every morning after this one too.

“I need you,” You’re whining into his mouth.

The very woman he has painfully longed after- the love of his life- was moaning into his mouth as he kissed them. The huffy and croaked out, “Need all of you,” should have been all he needed to hear from you. All he had ever wanted to hear from you. Nonetheless, Ao’nungs egotistical charm was a facade. In actuality he was terribly insecure. In fact he couldn’t truly wrap his head around how he had even gotten this far with you. He grounds himself in the feeling of your heavy breaths against his lips before he speaks,

“Tell me how bad you want tsaheylu. Tell me how bad you want me to be your mate,”

He doesn’t mean the growling undertone of his voice, or the side to side grind of his hips against your ass, but he loves the feeling of your cute little tail rolling over his cock at the motion and he can’t control how good he feels. Your wide eyes would be enough consent, the adoration in your topaz iris unmistakable.

“Nga yawne lu oer,”

One of your hands reaches up to hook around his neck, letting your delicate hand wrap around the base of his own kuru. And in the same breath you just loved him in, you assure him-

“I see you, Ao’nung. I see the real you. I want you so bad,”

He would normally laugh at the weakened tug at his kuru, but all you want is for him to kiss you again. How could he laugh when his pretty girl is begging him so nicely? How can he not kiss you once more and run his big hand down your delicate kuru. Dance his fingers across the pretty, intricate and adorned goddess loc protecting it. Had he felt a bit meaner he would have twisted the little curls that escaped it’s end just to hear you squeal and whine.

He had more pressing matters. Something far more interesting for him to focus on. You had a bundle of nerves practically dying to be connected to him, flailing tendrils kissing the bottom of his abs. Desperately swiping across the water slicked skin of his stomach looking for his own nerves to curl and wrap into. You wanted to feel him. All of him and it drove him wild. By the time his fingers trail the nerves of your tswin you’re crying. Actual tears that clump your pretty long lashes together and redden the tip of your cute crinkled nose.

His throat hurts. Choking on his breath at your sparkling tears. He can’t help but use one strong arm to cradle you into his body, pulling your torso taught against his own and relishing in the feeling of your boobs squishing against his arm. He tries to sooth you, hushing you with a voice uncharacteristically gentle for the man you had spent the end of your childhood roughhousing and bantering with.

“Shhh, tanhì,” his head is besides yours again, and you welcome the feeling of your cheeks rubbing together, and the gentle nuzzling of his face into the crook of your neck, “Nga yawne lu oer, why do you cry pretty baby?”

He feels you clench below your tail when he asks, and he feels bad for the bead of precum that squeezes on the dip of your spine again. Your soft quivering,

“‘s too much,” as you shake your head a bit, “feel’s too much,” your rounded red eyes peer up at him again. You’re blushing now, purple and pretty for him.

“Let me feel it with you then, ya?” Your noses are slotted against each other when he moves to speak against the crown of your head, ending his question with a kiss to your slightly furrowed forehead. He lets the arm bracing you against him slowly begin to tweak your ridged nipple between his fingers. Letting himself enjoy the feeling of it hardening between his thumb and pointer finger, “Please, Ao’- wanna feel you,”

There’s a chuckling undertone in his huff as you drop forward on your arms again, bracing your palms onto the watery ledge. Though he had wanted to pull you back up, the sight of you arching your back and grinding yourself back into him grants you reprieve from having to hold yourself up.

It was almost difficulty, shaking your hips against him as well as you could from your knelt position, yet the stones assault on your knees was barely an afterthought as you had finally arched yourself in such a way that Ao’nung’s balls had finally began to drag blissfully across your swollen clit.

He doesn’t think you’ve ever sounded so pretty. Practically purring under him and gasping as you grind yourself against him and he paws at your breast. He’s proven wrong when he watches you jolt at the feeling of the hair at the end of his kuru raise towards where he dropped yours against your back. You feel the teasing kisses of his own tendrils on the skin just before where your own danced wildly waiting for him, “One more time baby, tell me you want me. I need you t’be sure,”

Had you not been driven mad by the slow pace he had subjected you to you’d have felt bad for the obvious crack in his voice. You hated that he thought you didn’t love him, it’s what drove you to reach up and grab for the base of his own braid,

“Ao’nung if you don’t i’m going to lose my-“

You don’t finish your reprimand. You can’t. Not when you feel his tswin latch onto yours, pulling you tightly into him. Tsaheylu. You had ridden ikrans and ilus of course- but this was different. Like a rush below your skin that left you panting in his arms. You had never felt like this before. Never throbbed like this before. All you could do was squeal as a relentless wave of wetness practically leaked from your twitching cunt. In a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the sudden rush of fire across your body you raise you hand from the base of his own kuru to the mass of curls held up in a bun.

You didn’t mean to yank at the tie that kept them out of the way. In fact, you were shocked when his inky tresses fell forward, covering you in a curled veil of obsidian and forcing you to drown in the smell of salted ambergris of the sea and smoke that was permanently locked in the ringlets of Ao’nungs mane. It blocked you from perceiving anything that wasn’t him, not only could you feel him, you couldn’t see anything besides him. He had engulfed your senses the same way he had engulfed your mind.

“Oh f-uck,” Eywa save you, his throaty whine makes you drop your body weight against the arm that had originally only been ghosting across your breasts, rendering you into a blubbering pile of putty forced to listen to him practically moan into your ear that, “I had no idea you were feeling so good baby,”

You can hear the swish of his paddled tail as it escapes the confines of the spring that you’d blame the sweat accumulating on your body to. You can feel how absolutely delighted he was. Though you couldn’t physically see where your nerves became his you couldn’t shake the picture between your eyes. As though the pretty loop of your braids had been branded behind the eyelid of your third eye by your mate.

“Ma’ pretty mate wants me so badly,” his opposite hand meanly grips at the fat of your hip, pulling you up to him.

You felt like a rag doll, pulled up against him just so he could grind you up and down against his length. He can understand why you were crying now. You felt a lot of emotions for having such a small form, it’s probably why you had the attitude problems you did. The mixture of panic and uncontrolled longing that tickled the pit of your stomach was an addicting feeling to him however. He makes a cruel grab at the base of your tail caressing his thumb on the smooth, sensitive skin under your tail.

“You’re either gonna move your tail out of my way or I'm going to move it for you,”

He’s straightening his back a bit as he speaks, arm sliding to let you go slightly, though his grip on your tit stays firm. Almost too quickly your tail curls up to give him a view he’s been dying for since he’s stumbled upon you this morning.

You’re swollen and flushed and so wet. He wonders how long you’ve been this sticky. And you don’t even care that he’s practically drooling over the sight of your pretty tail curled up because that pretty useless head of yours is too busy swirling with silly little thoughts about how much you loved him. He was sure it was some evolutionary effect to get people to keep having kids to keep their species alive, but to Ao’nung nothing has ever felt real to him. Maybe love was a scam for everyone else, but for him? Eywa herself couldn’t offer him more than the moment in front of him.

“Prettiest thing I ever fucking seen,” His hand had to leave your azure tail to palm at himself. He had only just began to realize how badly he was throbbing for you, “Need you so bad too,”

You rub yourself against him, pushing one of your hands down on the rock to offer more pressure

“Ao’nung please, i’ll be okay you can-“

You’re cut off with your own shaken breath when you feel him rub the blunt end of himself against your sticky slit.

“Nu-uh,” he’s hunched forward over you again, rubbing the head of his cock against your slit, “you can’t take it like this,”

It’s your turn to feel shared panic. Not that you focus on it, choosing to clutch to his arms as the speed of his steadily rubbing intrusions picks up. It feels good. Too good on your still stoned, too stimulated body. Too good considering you can feel how good he feels. Every time the tip of his cock slides over your swollen clit and catches another glob of slick that only makes it easier to speed his assault up you moan.

Your thighs clench against him, but it does little to deter him. Not at his size. Not when he’s obsessed with the fact that he’s so much bigger than you. There wasn’t a thing you could do to keep him from making you cum. It really was foolish for you to clench your thighs. It only served to create a new angle for him to rub against. The smile you can hear in his moans is almost as embarrassing as the sloshing sound of your cunt at the enjoyable pace he had set.

He really did want to finger you, he wanted to feel your pretty cunt clench down around his pointer and middle finger too terribly but he can’t avoid the painful throb of his cock any longer. He’d been ignoring the pulse of his lower stomach since he had first seen the heavenly image of you sitting nude in the water watching the pink and lilac sky kiss stars goodbye. He was glad you seemed to like the intrusion of him practically jerking himself into you. Coating his cock in the enticingly scented albumen of your slick. He could cum probably, if he wasn’t already buzzing with overstimulation.

The naive part of him is confused when he watches your hips roll away from him, thighs clenching. Maybe it means you want him away from you, but all he can feel is the part of you screaming in his brain to keep going. So his hips follow yours so he can continue the sloppy drag of his cock-head though your folds. He’s starstruck when he catches on your clit rather roughly and is gifted with the sight of your spazzaming leaking cunt.

He’s so occupied with the liquid leaving you’re pretty swollen hole that the hand holding your chest up drops down to your tail again, yanking your hips up. He drops his cock from his hands to continue his assault on you with his fingers to rub faster then he previously was. You scream and he’s never been happier. The sight of him holding you up by your tail (that now wraps up around his forearm) while you brace yourself up by your hands as he rubs an orgasm from you, extending it as far as he could.

He knows he made you feel good and it only adds to how good he feels. If he was a bit more shameless he’d have probably busted the second you started leaking onto his swollen tip. His patience was almost in vain as he watched you lay your head on your arms, sitting up on your knees more to arch your back for him.

“Ao’ wan’ you to feel good too,”

So considerate of him always. He can feel the throb of your pretty pussy from where he still holds your tail. He laughs a little, he can’t help it. It’s a little mean when he sends a softish spank to where your ass meets your thigh. It’s mostly just to see your pretty body jolt under him, and to hear your pretty whine but it’s also to give him a second to compose himself. He’s not trying to claim your pretty azure skin with his cum yet.

And you look at him with those pretty slitted eyes, plump lips curled into the softest snarl he’s ever seen on your bratty little face. He doesn’t mean to so unceremoniously hunch down to catch your face in his palm and kiss you. He’s just so excited that he finally has what he wants.

“I can put it in ya?” He mumbles against your lips,

“Gonna let me make you feel good?” He questions again, and it’s his turn for a twitch to shoot up his cock to the soft patch of fat below his abs at your pretty moan.

“Ao’ you can! You y-you don’t have to ask,”

He ignores the amusement over how snappy your sentence started, yet ended in hiccupy adoration filled stumbles. Once again he’s lining himself up against your slit, and with the added force you can finally feel the girth of him. You’re thankful he hasn’t let you see him fully yet, worried the sight might have unsettled you more than the feeling.

He has to refrain himself from shooting forward, shoving you full in one snap of his hips. Has to stand up and slide his weighty dick between your cheeks to lay it on your back just to remind himself how deep he’d be in you. Sliding against you for a few lazy thrusts just to admire the view. He's dumbfounded at how intrusive his cock would be in comparison to whatever Omatikaya loser Eywa had intended for you to be mated with before he had set his eyes on you. One hand moves to spread your cheek one more time, the other returning to its place on his cock to help guide him between your folds. He starts groaning as he pushes the tip in.

Warm. Fuck you’re warmer then the suns rays on his back. Warmer than the heat his downed hair traps around him. And you match his moan. A hypnotizing harmonization that’s only paused when he feels a foreign stinging. A warm burn where he had never felt pain before, and though it was nothing more than an inconvenience he couldn’t stand the idea of his girl in any pain. You didn’t even get a chance to whine at the stretch before two if his large fingers are clamoring over your bud, trying his best to roll tight figure eights to lessen the sting for you.

Ao’nung can’t help but be confused. He can feel you slicking up his cock as he pushes in, the sheer wetness welcoming him in with almost ease. The only resistance the clenching muscle could offer against his intrusion was the sheer tightness of it.

Why is one hand reaching up to dig your pretty nails into his thigh, to scratch and push at him even though you’re feeling so good? Do you forget he can feel you? Can he blame it on you feeling too good? He’s not even half way into you and yet your hips keep stuttering away from him. He’s even paused his movement to appreciate your little huffs over being split open on him,

“You are alright,” you feel one his hands wrap around your waist, guiding you to sit up on your knees all the way out of the water, forcing his cock to slide out slightly. He makes sure to guide your face up towards you, forcing your eyes to lock on his.

His big hand then sides under your thigh and pulls your one leg up. It’s an embarrassing display, Ao’nung holding one of your legs up against your chest so he could force the remnants of his aching cock into your hole.

“Ya yer pussy knows it’s mine. Good girl sucking me right in,”

Both of your round exultant eyes are locked onto each other as he bottoms out, his words making you clench down. You marvel at the flush of his face and the hiss that falls past his teeth after the wet plap of his balls hit your ass. You swear you can feel him against your fruit filled stomach. As though he had truly impaled you on something. There was no way he could have prepared you for such a stretch. It was nothing like any of the self imposed violations against your cunt by your own fingers- what Ao’nung was doing to you was entirely different. This was beyond any girlish fantasy that had ever crossed your mind about the man.

"I need a second please-wait,” you sound so desperate for someone who knows that he’d never think of pushing you past your limit- not this time, not like this. Not when you’ve been so kind as to let him mate with you. He doesn’t answer you, kissing up and down your neck and shoulders. Allowing himself to bite and suck as he rolls your clit between his fingers,

“Deep breath baby, I already taught you how to breathe. Don’t make me do it again,”

There’s a smile against your throat as you feel him suck particularly hard, it makes you smile too. You don’t know why you listen to him, taking in a deep breath and craning your neck to lay against his chest.

His ego has skyrocketed. Feeling how much you liked being crammed down on his dick while he played with your pretty clit, legs spread wide for him. He hasn't even really gotten started and you feel twitchy like before you came. He can admit you’re clouding his brain quicker then he intended. He hadn’t felt so brain dead since his very first rut (which he had spent the entirety of silently fixated on you). He doesn’t really mean to shift his hips, doesn’t mean to push his fat cock deeper into your sweet little hole-

"Ah fuck, too big- it's too big!"

The sight of your furrowed eyes looking up at him makes his chest tighten and his dick a little harder. You didn’t mean it- even if he could feel the aftershock of the burn that dances across your nervous system into his. He knows you don’t mean it cause you’re grinding your pretty cunt against him. Chasing the high his fingers against your clit are providing.

“Stop ya whining,” he knows he’s been nice enough to you. Which is why he pinches down on your swollen clit ever so gently, twisting softly between the pads of his fingers ruining how close to a second release you were. It feels good when it makes you jump and impale yourself deeper against his cock, "Maybe you're just really fucking tiny,"

And with his words he begins the slow roll of his hips forward. After the few experimental rolls of his hips in conjunction with his comforting mumbles that you would be fine, Ao’nung feels that he can finally pull almost all the way out of you. You hate the feeling of being empty so suddenly, and are almost too loud when he begins to deliver shallow thrust into you. The water of the spring is splashing below you, and the sound of the spring mixed with the violent wet slapping of your skin together would alert anyone who got too close to the springs as to the torture Ao’nung was putting you though.

As if he is reading your mind (he probably is in one way or another) his mean hand grips the fat of your thigh tighter, and forces the leg higher in effort to open you more- so far even that you feel your lips part completely- as he uses the fat of your thigh as reigns to deliver deeper thrust.

“Ya yer right, anyone could walk out here with your legs wide fuckin open for me, huh?” he starts, and you wrap your tail around his torso to keep yourself stabilized against his thrusts into you, “Toruk Maktos daughter getting fucked stupid in public,”

He’s biting you again, just to hear that pretty little squeal and feel your pussy clamp down on him. He knows he should wait just a little longer before revving up the brutality of his pace- but the sight of you drove him to madness. And feeling your fingers reaching up to knot into his hair and yank only spurs him on more.

Feeling you cum felt better the second time then the first time. Is dizzying how quickly this one crashes over you. He’s a little disappointed that there’s a lack of liquid to splash against his muscular thighs this time, but promised himself your third would be messy after seeing the creamy ring you left around his cock. A welcome addition of more lubricate so he could comfortably drag against your spongy wall. It mind numbing how good it felt to fuck you though it- he was sure you were tearing up his thighs with your pretty up kept nails but he couldn’t be bothered with the white hot burn when he feels the lingering throb of your orgasm.

“Wrap your arms around my neck, baby,” he pleads with his lips against you, thrusting at an almost animalistic pace.

The up kick in the power of his thrust distracts you. You don’t move quick enough for him as he growls, smacking at the bundle of nerves between your legs. It’s all it takes for you to jolt and snap your arms above you and wrap them around his neck.

It knocks the wind out of your smoke assaulted lungs when his other arm loops around your other thigh. Heaving you out of the water into his arms. You see the world from an uncomfortably high angle as he stands straighter. Gasping as you grasp the inky tendrils of his hair in a painful tug.

“Oh fuck,”

It’s sinful, the way he’s slamming you up and down on him. Bouncing you in the air like a toy. Small and weightless in his hands as he used you to cum. There was an ache in your hips at the position, the sea breeze against your exposed cunt only edged you on more though. You were shaking in his hands, and he’s never seen you so delicate and vulnerable for him- he’d be sure to make fun of how quickly his dick turned your sour bratty mood into nothing but a brain dead euphoric smile.

“All you fucking needed all these years, huh?” he asks you, “Woulda saved me so much grief if I had just mated with you then, huh?”

He isn’t expecting an answer, just mindlessly babbling to himself as he slides against the spongey spot of your cunt. It’s amazing to him how you jerk in his arms, stretching yourself backwards to clutch onto his neck better, straining your head sideways to pull at his hair and yank him into another sloppy kiss. Your wet lips are chilled by his breath as he pulls away,

“Touch your pussy for me baby, I wan’na cum so bad,”

As if he needs to feel your orgasm rip across his nervous system to make him cum. How could you deny the pretty aqua eyes pleading with you. It doesn’t feel as good when you do it considering you had grown so used to his much larger fingers padding against you but it still felt good. Too good to be so dirty. Too good to be mated in the early hours of the morning in a public space. His hips jerk up to match the painful drop of your ragdolled body against him and it makes you see stars. Stars that were successful in blinding him as well.

“Ya that’s it baby, don’t stop-“

It hurts to clench down on him. The painful snap behind your belly button could only be met with you dead weighing your body down deeper onto his cock and the fluttering push of your plush cunt.

He could have topped over with the speed he used to look down over your shoulder. He didn’t want to miss the sight of your pussy cumming for him. Not when you show him how much his pretty pussy can gush for him. He thought the small splash of liquid from your first orgasm was squirting- but at the sight of the liquid that sprays against the rocks ahead of you his thrusts grow sloppy. He doesn’t know how he was so lucky to have your juices splash up into him but he’s thankful for it- never wants the smell of you to leave his face.

How can he not want to cum at the feeling of your body completely giving into him. Laying limp in his big arms while he fucked up into you. There was no clenching resistance of your fluttering hole or pulling yourself up off of his body. Only his pretty girl in his arms getting filled the way no other man could ever fill her.

He hates how bad it hurts to slide out of you when he feels himself starting to cum. You offer no support in keeping his composure as your fingers slide down from where they rested on your cunt and gently caress the tips of your fingers against his tightening ballsack.

“You’re gonna make me cum,”

He knows he’ll never live down the breathy gasp of his words or moaning the way he does for you. He prays no one is within earshot of the wanton moans that leave his throat but he can’t help himself. You’re so wet and warm and tight. He swore there wasn’t a pussy in all of Pandora that would milk him half as well.

And Eywa, when he finally finds the strength to give in and pull out and your small palm wraps around the head of his cock, twisting and jerking him until an embarrassingly fat load shoots from him- he can't stop the loud growl that his moans turn into.

He would accredit the buckle of his knees to the fact that you were failing at aiming his cum towards your belly due to the erratic jerking of your hand against the tip of his cock, sending his cum not only over your pretty body, but shooting haphazardly onto the floor and most likely into the water. But the real reason for his weak legs was the sweet and huffed way you were babbling that you would love him forever.

#avatar x reader #avatar (2009)#avatar the way of water #ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung smut #avatar fandom #avatar smut #neteyam #sully!reader #aonung x reader #aonung smut #aonung imagine

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theostrophywife · 2 years

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need to know.

(rhysand/cassian/azriel x reader) author's note: i would like to preface this by saying that i have no idea what came over me when i wrote this. it's truly unhinged. please enjoy. warning: this is just 10k of pure filth and a foursome with the bat boys. the smut in this made me question my whole existence. summary: rhysand, cassian, and azriel have shared plenty of things in the past, but their friendship is put to the test when all three of them get down and dirty in the same room.

You weren’t quite sure how you managed to find yourself sandwiched between the two Illyrian warriors while Cassian thrusts into your mouth as you rode Azriel’s face, all while the future High Lord of the Night Court pumps himself at the sight of you getting absolutely obliterated by his brothers, but with your mouth stuffed and sex full, you had no room to complain. Not that you had any intention to.

After all, you wholeheartedly agreed to the proposition that put you in this compromising position in the first place. As Rhysand sends you a wink from across the room, you made a mental note to thank the smug bastard later.

The predicament you were currently in was odd to say the least, especially since you initially started the night thinking that you’d be stumbling into one Illyrian male’s bed and not all three at once. Perhaps the faerie wine had gone straight to your head, but even without the effects of the alcohol, you were already expecting Rhysand’s visit to turn into a marathon of the filthiest, kinkiest sex that you’ve been craving for months.

It wasn’t very often that Rhys was in town and while you’ve had plenty of lovers before him, none of the males or females you’d invited into your bed were nearly as good as the heir of night, so you made the most of it every time he was allowed to take a break from his rigorous training. Thought you hadn't explicitly discussed becoming exclusive, you knew that neither one of you sought the pleasure of anyone else, but that meant enduring weeks and sometimes months on end without being properly fucked.

Needless to say, it wasn’t even an hour into the night and Rhys had already taken you inside the bathroom of a seedy tavern and again in the dark alley outside before you finally made your way back to the cabin. As Rhysand winnows you to the remote area of the Illyrian mountains, the two of you drunkenly stumble through the door while his tongue slides against yours. With his wicked mouth dipping between your breasts, the dim light glowing through the window didn’t even register as he effortlessly hikes your legs around his waist.

You giggle as Rhys knocks over a lamp on your way to his room, knowing full well that his mother would never let him hear the end of it when she discovers yet another piece of furniture broken by the rowdy winged males occupying her cabin. The thought lingers for a brief second before you busy yourself with sucking on Rhysand’s neck, making his violet eyes roll back into his head.

“Keep doing that and I’ll have no choice but to take you right here in this hallway,” the Illyrian male groans into your ear.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Rhysand smirks. There wasn’t a surface in this cabin that he hasn’t already taken you on. “I’ve missed you, kitten.”

You chuckle in response. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you were beginning to grow a heart.”

He grinds his erection into your backside, nearly taking out the painting behind you as your back presses against the wall. “That’s not the only thing growing on me, darling”

“Do me a favor and put that smart mouth of yours to good use. Preferably between my legs.”

The dark chuckle that emanates from his lips is full of promise as he nudges you towards the door. He pauses for a brief second, violet eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “It seems as though we’re not the only ones occupying the cabin.”

You crane your neck over his shoulder, noting the soft light flooding the hallway from underneath his closed door. From within the room, the sound of a familiar moan followed by a creaking mattress fills the entire cabin as you stifle a laugh.

“Is that…Cas?” you ask incredulously.

Rhys nods. “My brother seems to be in the midst of entertaining a female.” The sharp smack of a chair toppling over joins the creaking before sensual groans echo in tandem with Cassian’s grunts.

For the second time that night, surprise blooms on his handsome face. “I stand corrected. Both of my brothers appear to be engaged in illicit activities in my room.”

You shrug. “Like you said, it’s your room. I’m not missing out on sex just because you Illyrians can’t seem to keep it in your pants. Besides, it’s nothing that Cas and Az haven’t seen before.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” The utterly wicked smirk that curls through Rhysand’s lips makes you shiver with anticipation. “Try not to be too loud, darling. I wouldn’t want to show off in front of our guests.”

“You’re a cocky bastard, Rhysand.”

The heir of night grins. “Maybe so, but you love it.”

Ignoring the fluttering in your stomach, you playfully roll your eyes and tug at the nape of Rhysand’s neck. “Shut up and kiss me already.”

He only laughs at your aggressiveness, loving every second of the back and forth banter between you. “So needy for me. I suppose everyone else in this cabin will just have to endure you moaning my name over and over again. Though my brothers should be used to it by now."

Though he wasn't technically wrong since you were sure that Cassian and Azriel were more than familiar with the rather loud nature of sex with Rhysand entailed, you still took it as a challenge to wipe that smug smirk off his face. With a wicked grin, your hand dips down the front of his trousers, palming his erection through the fabric. Rhys practically purrs into your mouth as you slide your tongue between his parted lips. Those violet eyes of his darken with lust as you pull away to give him a shit eating grin.

“It seems to me that you’re the needy one, Rhysie.”

“Fuck,” Rhys growls as his cock tightens at the front of his pants. “Have I already told you how much I’ve missed you?”

“Yes, but you know I’ve always been a visual learner.”

With a chuckle, Rhys kicks the door open with you still in his arms. Through a heavy lidded gaze, you vaguely made out the shape of wings flaring across the room. Cassian grins at you from underneath the covers, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he disappears beneath the sheets. The only indication that he was still there was the moans echoing off of the pretty nymph’s lips as her back arches off the mattress.

From across the room, Azriel rolls his eyes and gives you a brief nod. The petite pixie on his lap was currently latched onto his neck, lips forming a hot, wet trail down the column of his throat. Shrouded by shadows, the golden glow of the shadowsinger’s eyes settle over you while his brother discards you onto one of the three mattresses lining the spacious room. You felt a shiver snake down your spine at the hunger in Azriel’s eyes, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on it as Rhysand looms above you.

To anyone else, the current situation would’ve seemed peculiar, but you were comfortable enough around each winged warrior to not give a single fuck that you were all simultaneously having sex within the same vicinity. After all, the first time you met Cassian and Azriel, they had accidentally walked in on Rhysand eating you out in this very room. It seemed like ages ago when you first went home with the future High Lord after a few drinks and flirtatious comments at Rita’s. That fateful night when he took you back to the cabin was the start of your friends with benefits arrangement with Rhys and it’s been going strong ever since.

Without warning, Rhysand pulls you by the ankles, pinning you beneath his toned body as he pulls the comforter over the both of you. While you were busy ogling his brothers, he’s already wriggled out of his trousers, discarding them to the side of the bed where it fell onto the floor. You eagerly help him out of his shirt, mouth watering at the feel of his chiseled abs beneath your fingers. On your left side, you could feel Azriel’s blatant stare as you lick Rhysand’s six pack, tasting a mixture of rain, salt, and citrus on your tongue. His sensual laughter awakens goosebumps upon your skin.

“Someone’s a bit eager, aren’t they?” Rhysand nips at your neck, dragging his teeth along your soft skin. “If your intention is to devour me, all you have to do is ask. You know I’m not in the business of denying you, kitten.”

Gods, you forgot how much you loved the filth that seemed to flow so elegantly out of Rhysand’s mouth. You trace the tattoos inked upon his golden brown skin with your tongue, fingers tangling through his dark hair as you pull him down by the nape of his neck.

“I want to taste every inch of you, Rhysand. I don’t care if it takes all night.”

The guttural sound that crawls up his throat makes you chuckle with delight. This was always his favorite part. As silver tongued as he was, Rhysand still couldn’t believe he found someone who enjoyed dirty talk as much as he did. You matched his energy word for word and he loved every second of it.

Cassian seems to share the sentiment as he perks his head up from between his companion’s legs and smirks at you. The arousal that it ignites in your core turns your hands into wandering extensions of yourself as you pull Rhys down to you, kissing him so fiercely that your teeth clash against his mouth as you eagerly bite down on his bottom lip.

Whatever control Rhys had slips as he rips open the bodice of your dress. In one swift movement, he slips the entire thing right off of you and finally makes good use of that smart mouth of his. Wet, sloppy kisses cover your exposed breasts before Rhysand takes a nipple between his lips, sucking and swirling at the sensitive peak with expert precision. Your back arches off the mattress as a moan makes its way past your parted lips.

The two males on either side of you paid more attention than they should, hazel gazes locking onto your writhing form. Rhysand grins against your skin, violet eyes drinking in every moan and whine he was eliciting out of you.

Looks like we’ve got an audience, Rhys teases within your mind. Shall we give my brothers a show?

You gave him a slight nod, smirking as you flip positions. With you on top and straddling his lap, you had a perfect view of Rhysand’s handsome face as you pushed back his raven locks, sweeping the light sheen of sweat coating his golden brown skin.

Locking your legs on either side of his hips, Rhysand leans back on the pillows, an arrogant smirk gracing his features while he throws his arms behind his head. You playfully rolls your eyes before sinking down onto his cock, grinning with absolute satisfaction while he groans at the wetness of your cunt coating his length.

“Godsfuckingdamn,” Rhys hisses as his large hands grip the side of your hips. His fingertips imprint against your skin hard enough to bruise, but neither of you cared. The euphoric feeling of Rhysand filling you to the brim makes you moan in ecstasy. "So fucking perfect."

You rake your fingernails over the marks on his chest, slowly rocking your hips back and forth in a steady rhythm. Rhysand palms your bouncing tits, taking the opportunity to wrap his lips around them as stars wink into existence within that sultry violet gaze. The imagery of his mouth circling your nipple while he pinches the other with his free hand is enough to make you want to cum right then and there. Rhysand looks up at you through thick, dark lashes as you ride him with reckless abandon. You brace your hands onto his shoulders and continue grinding on his cock while you tilt your head back in pure bliss.

Across the room, Cassian growls as your eyes meet. His large hands grip the nymph’s waist as he takes her from behind, matching the rhythm of his thrusts to the same tempo that you were currently riding Rhysand with. His partner cries out in pleasure as he fucks her into the mattress, but the grin he shot your way was all for you.

You blush as your gaze takes you to the opposite side of the room. Azriel’s heated gaze was locked on yours as the pixie kneels before him, taking his entire length into her pretty little mouth. The moan that slips past the shadowsinger’s lips makes you quiver. Azriel smirks, fisting the female’s hair into his hands while she chokes on his cock. Shadows pulse around them as Azriel hits the back of her throat again and again. He quirks a brow in your direction while he thrusts into her mouth. A silent challenge.

That suggestive gesture spurs you to bounce even faster as Rhysand sits upright, his hand fitting around the hollow of your throat like a custom necklace. Your mouth gapes open as you gasp for air and the heir of night prods his tongue inside, swallowing the moans crawling up your throat. When he pulls away, Rhys is grinning from ear to ear.

Showing off, are we? He purrs into your thoughts.

“I can’t help it,” you respond out loud. “You feel so fucking good, daddy.”

Rhysand growls in response. The nickname unleashes the animalistic instinct within him as he quickly flips you over, rutting into you at a relentless pace until you’re nothing but a whining, writhing mess underneath him. You’re panting as Rhys slowly pulls out of you before slamming his hips against yours, hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out his name.

“Fuck, Rhys,” you moan. “I’m so close.”

He alternates between shallow grinds and deep thrusts, making you whine in desperation.

“I don't recall you asking for my permission, darling."

Sweat coats your temples as you look up at that smug smirk. “Can I please cum on your cock, daddy?"

Rhys answers by plunging into you faster, his pace quick and sloppy while he drives you to the edge. By the third or fourth thrust, your toes were curling as the orgasm rocked your entire body. With your back arching off the bed and your walls contracting around his cock with an ironclad grip, Rhysand groans as his own release fills you to the brim. His seed trickles down your leg, the last of his spurts spilling out of you while he rolls onto his back.

Making good on his promise, Rhys puts his wicked lips to work as he devours your pussy, sucking and swirling while your fingers tangle through his hair. The teasing kitten licks intensifies your orgasm and even more so when he picks up the pace and expertly flicks his tongue against your clit. Before long, you’re nothing but a whining, panting mess as you squirt into Rhysand’s mouth. The arousal dripping out of you like honey makes the male grin against your skin as he kisses his way up to your mouth. The taste of you coats his mouth while his tongue prods into yours, his arms snaking around your waist as he pulls you into his lap, kissing you so deeply and purposefully as though he couldn’t get enough.

“As much as I love eating that pretty pussy of yours, this is what I missed most,” Rhys says in between kisses. “You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, darling. I think about kissing you all the time.”

Despite the mind boggling sex, Rhysand’s words are what makes your cheeks flush. Kissing is such a deeply intimate act, arguably more than any of the endless positions and kinks that you often tried with one another, which made his declaration that much more impactful. You respond by kissing him slowly, taking your time as you savor his taste. The familiar scent of citrus and the sea makes your head spin as you continue exploring his mouth with your tongue. Gods, you’d missed this. Missed this male more than you cared to admit.

Rather than saying the words, you relish the feel of him underneath your fingertips, savoring the taste that inexplicably wove you under his hypnotizing spell, and showing him all the emotions you can’t put into words as you kiss him like your immortal life depends on it. Minutes pass before either one of you open your eyes again, blissfully fucked out and euphoric.

“You’re probably my favorite person, Rhys.” The Illyrian male smiles as you cup his cheek. Not a smirk, but an actual smile - one that lights up his entire face. Rhysand has always been devastatingly beautiful, but even the stars would be envious of the sight of his genuine smile. “Though if you repeat that to anyone else, I’ll vehemently deny it.”

He chuckles, kissing your temple. “You’re my favorite too, darling.” Rhysand’s gentle smile curves into something more seductive. “Though I may have a proposition for you that’ll earn me a permanent spot.”

You raise a brow, intrigued. When you look around the room, you’re surprised to see that you were the only ones left. You tried not to dwell on the disappointment washing over you at the absence of Cassian and Azriel.

“Did we scare the others away?”

Rhysand raises a knowing brow, brushing the sweaty strands of hair clinging to your cheek. “Quite the opposite. My brothers left to escort their companions home. However, they were wondering if you might be open to playing with them when they return.”

Despite the fact that your sensitive sex was still pulsating from the aftermath of sex with Rhysand, the proposition of three Illyrian males rolling between the sheets with you makes you throb with anticipation. Your arousal wafts up to Rhysand’s nose and a wicked grin spreads across his face.

“I’ll take that as a yes, kitten.” His gaze darts towards the door. “Which is just as well because the eager bastards are waiting in the hall.” Rhys caresses your cheek. “Do me a favor and put them out of their misery. They’re dying to taste you.”

You swallow thickly, voice low and raspy as you call out across the dark room. “Come in.”

The door creaks open and Cassian and Azriel saunter in. They hover by the door with uncertainty as Rhysand chuckles.

It seems that my brothers need encouraging, Rhys teases silently. Good thing you’re an expert on making males beg.

You smirk, crooking your finger at the Illyrian warriors staring you down. “I heard you two wanted to play. So who wants to go first? Cassian or Azriel?”

Rhysand pulls you into his lap as his brothers loom by the edge of the bed. He toys with the inside of your thighs, spreading them open for Cassian and Azriel to see. “Don’t worry, boys. She most definitely bites.”

The shadowsinger steps forward first and the sight of him crawling towards you will forever be burned within the abscesses of your mind. Calling Azriel beautiful seems like a gross understatement, but there was no other word fit to describe the male before you. You reach out to grab his scarred hand, pulling him towards you while you both fall backwards on the mattress. Rhys kisses the top of your forehead before perching himself onto the velvet settee in the middle of the room while inclining his head towards Cassian. He briefly nods, signaling his brother to join you.

It’s not long before Azriel’s mouth is on yours. His kisses are soft at first, tasting and testing, but they turn demanding as you take his bottom lip between your teeth. The shadowsinger gently shoves you back on the mattress, powerful wings flaring behind him in a show of dominance while he takes your face in his hands, slipping his wicked tongue past your parted lips. Azriel tastes different from Rhysand’s mint and whiskey flavor, but just as intoxicating.

As you fist his hair between your fingers, Azriel slips his hand between your thighs, hissing when he finds you soaking the sheets.

“Are you always this fucking wet or has my brother neglected to satisfy you?” the shadowsinger asks with a dark chuckle.

Rhys growls from his seat. “Don’t get cocky now, Az. I’m sharing out of the goodness of my own heart, but I can just as easily revert back to being a selfish, territorial bastard."

You chuckle at their brotherly bickering. “Ignore him, Azriel. I’ll nurse his bruised ego later, but right now, I want to make you feel good. Where do you want me?”

The grin on Azriel’s face was purely feral. “I want your dripping wet cunt on my tongue, angel.”

Always the broody one out of his brothers, you almost didn’t recognize the power and authority exuding from the shadowsinger. The old saying was right. The quiet ones were always the kinkiest.

You gladly oblige Azriel, bracing yourself on the foot of the bed while the male lies on his back. He guides your hips over his face while his shadows tie your ankles to the bedpost.

“Hang on tight, princess,” was his only warning before he licks a stripe over your sex.

The slew of curses that fall from your lips makes Azriel chuckle underneath you. His sensuous laughter vibrates between your legs as his marred hands clamp down onto the tops of your thighs. Sloppy wet kisses cover your loins before Azriel sucks harshly on your clit. The action makes you grind against the shadowsinger’s face, riding him like you rode Rhys earlier.

“That’s right, angel,” Azriel coos below you. “Keep riding my face just like that.”

The moan that slips past your mouth is swallowed by Cassian’s lips. You groan as he fists your hair into his hands, tilting your mouth up to his in a demanding kiss. The utter possessiveness he displays has the slickness growing wetter between your thighs and the ever so generous shadowsinger licks up every last drop of your arousal, his tongue moving in ways you weren’t even sure tongues could move.

“I want to taste you, Cas,” you say huskily, tugging at the front of the Illyrian male’s breeches. When your gaze dips up to his eyes, your toes curl at the sheer lust burning within the male.

“Your wish is my command,” Cassian responds with a smirk. He unbuckles the front of his breeches and his erect cock springs up towards his ridiculously muscled torso.

Your mouth waters as he walks towards you, lips parting as Cassian swipes his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Open up, sweetheart.”

In your dainty hands, Cassian’s length appears almost too big to take, but you welcome the challenge with newfound brazenness. Lounging lazily on his velvet chair as though it were a throne, Rhysand watches through heavy lids while he palms his erection in his hands as Azriel buries his tongue deep within you, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as you shamelessly grind against his mouth. The shadowsinger gives your ankle an encouraging squeeze as you lick the tip of Cassian’s cock.

His precum coats your tongue with salt and musk as you grip his shaft, slowly pumping him into your mouth while the Illyrian cups your cheek. You lick up his shaft before taking all of Cassian between your lips. The male curses above you, hands fisting in your hair while you look up at him through your lashes. Drool collects at his groin while you sloppily suck him off, suctioning your cheeks tighter as Cassian thrusts against the back of your throat.

“Such a pretty little mouth,” Cassian declares with a groan. “I love the way your lips wrap around my cock.”

“Exquisite, isn’t she?” Rhys teases, mouth falling slack as he continues to pleasure himself to the sight of Cassian fucking your mouth while Azriel continues eating you out.

Does this turn you on, kitten? Letting me watch while you suck Cassian’s cock and soak Azriel’s face with your arousal?

You lower the mental shield within your mind, sending a message of your own.

Don’t be jealous, Rhys. There’s plenty of me to go around.

The dark caress of his amused laughter echoes through your thoughts.

“You taste so sweet, angel,” Azriel moans against your clit. “I can see why my brother’s been keeping you all to yourself. We’ll change that, won’t we?”

“Fuck, yes Az,” came out garbled as you choke on Cassian’s length.

You were pretty sure that you’d agree to anything Azriel asked you to do at this point. The shadowsinger seems to sense this too, because his shadows flutter up to your nipples, pinching and twisting as he brings you closer and closer to that sweet release.

“Gonna cum for me, angel?” he asks teasingly, cupping your ass lightly while he swirls his tongue against your clit.

You nod while pumping Cassian with your hand, bringing him to the edge of his orgasm while Azriel guides you toward yours. The two of you reach your peaks together and you swallow up every last drop of Cassian’s seed as he spurts into your mouth. Azriel clamps down on your thighs as you squirt all over his face, soaking the bed with your juices while he laps up your arousal.

With Cassian collapsing next to you, Azriel pulls you underneath him, that devious grin looming over you as he smashes your lips together, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your teeth clash together as you greedily savor the taste of Azriel, nipping at his jaw, neck, ear - basically any surface of skin that the shadowsinger allows access to.

“Are you ready for another round, princess?” he whispers raggedly, hiking your leg over his shoulder and kissing the side of your knee. “I made you come with my tongue, but I wanna feel that pussy squeeze around my cock.”

Cauldron boil you, Azriel was absolutely fucking filthy. You were so aroused that your skin felt like it was on fire.

“I want you,” you manage to draw out. “No, I need you, inside of me, Azriel.”

That damned smirk of his was going to be the death of you. “You don’t have to ask me twice, princess.”

Azriel teases the tip of his cock along your slit, coating himself with your arousal before he slips two fingers into your cunt. You whine at the pleasure of his touch and your eyes widen with full blown lust while Azriel brings his middle and pointer finger to your lips. You suck them clean, fluttering your lashes up at the shadowsinger while he flashes you a proud smile.

“Good girl,” he praises. His gaze leaves you for a second as he glances behind him.

Rhysand and Cassian switch, the latter taking the seat in the corner of the room while the former crawls in behind you, kissing the back of your neck while he presses your back against his chest. The future High Lord cradles you between his thighs as his fingers splay against the hollow of your throat, turning your head ever so slightly before possessively sticking his tongue down your throat. Your head spins, lost in the taste of him while he smirks against your mouth.

“I was starting to feel left out, kitten.” Rhysand’s hands wander over your body before he’s spreading your legs open for Azriel. “But I’ll play nice and share with my brother.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Ready, princess?”

You nod, flashing him a smile. “Ready, Az.”

The shadowsinger plunges himself into you slowly, releasing a grunt as your walls stretch to take all of him in. Still sensitive from the orgasm he generously brought you through, your pussy pulsates while his cock fills you the the hilt.

“You take my cock so well,” Azriel breathes, caressing your cheek. “It’s like you were made for it.”

“Isn’t her pussy so wet and tight? I think about burying myself inside this sweet little cunt of hers every waking moment,” Rhys groans in your ear, his filthy words making your eyes roll back.

Azriel grunts in agreement and begins to move, snapping his hips to yours while he hikes your legs over his shoulders. Rhysand kisses the side of your neck as his thumb rubs dizzying circles onto your clit. Not to be outdone, the shadowsinger’s strokes quite literally hypnotizes you as he buries himself deep within your walls, the tip of his dick curving to hit the sweet spot at the top of your cervix. Azriel’s dark wings encompass the entirety of his back as they flare with each thrust.

He dips his forehead lower to yours, surveying the way your head rolls back onto Rhysand’s shoulder, hands pushing back at Azriel’s chest as you whine underneath him.

“You’re too big, Az. I-I can’t take any more,” you whimper.

Azriel caresses the inside of your thigh and presses a tender kiss to your temple. “You can and you will, angel. You’ll take every inch of me that I give you because you’re my good little girl, aren’t you?”

Rhys tilts your chin up as Azriel pushes your legs against your chest. “Azriel asked you a question, kitten.”

The shadowsinger nudges your nose with his, waiting patiently as his shallow thrusting teases at your entrance.

You nod, swiping at the sweat and tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. Gods, these males were pushing you to lengths you weren’t even sure you had the stamina to endure, literally and figuratively. But the pleasure outweighed the pain and you wanted to please Azriel. To hear him call you a good girl until he was filling you up with his arousal.

“I can take it, Azriel. Fill all of me.”

Azriel lovingly pats your cheek, kissing you deeply before parting your lips with his tongue. “Open wide, princess.”

You oblige the shadowsinger and your jaw falls slack. Azriel puckers his lips and spits into your open mouth. Your eyes widen in disbelief and you can’t help but think that whatever Azriel was showing you tonight was merely a small glimpse of the moves he had in his arsenal. The shadowsinger was an absolute freak in bed and you weren’t sure that one encounter would be enough to satiate your curiosity. Especially since Rhysand literally opened you up to it.

“Such a good girl,” Azriel moans before once again plunging into you.

You both groan in pleasure, relishing the tight fit while Azriel bucks his hips at a punishing pace. The Illyrian was quite literally fucking you dumb. With every thrust, stars glitter behind your eyes as the pressure builds in your lower abdomen. As if that weren’t enough, Rhysand’s feather light touch roams all over your body, toying with your nipples in one hand whilst the other rubs against your clit with just the right amount of friction.

“Can you show Az that iron grip, kitten?” Rhys purrs into your ear.

The shadowsinger’s eyes widen as you clench around his length, nearly coming right then and there as your vice grip holds his cock in place.

“Fuck,” Azriel curses, his head dipping to the crook of your neck. He sucks at your collarbone, running the tops of his teeth over your skin. “I can see why you race home to see her every chance you get, Rhys. You’ve been a selfish bastard keeping her all to yourself.”

Cassian groans from his seat. “He’s just afraid she’ll like us more than him.” Rhys growls, but his brother only smirks. “What’s the matter, Rhysand? Can’t handle a little competition?”

You chuckle, tangling your fingers through Azriel’s dark locks. “Play nice, boys. Everyone gets a turn.”

Rhysand chuckles darkly. “Getting greedy now, aren’t we? Do you need a reminder of who fucks you best, kitten?”

The words skitter over your skin. This possessive side of Rhys was turning you on more than anything you've done this entire night. You loved that you awakened this side of him.

It's you, Rhys. It's always you.

Satisfaction blooms in those violet eyes. Don't you ever forget it, darling.

Azriel sneers. “I think you might need a lesson in manners,” the shadowsinger says with a mischievous grin. “The fact that you're even able to talk means I’m not doing my job properly. Let’s fix that, princess.”

He gestures to Cassian who strolls forward with his length glistening in his hand. His brother points towards your chest and it takes a second for you to realize what he was telling Cassian to do. The Illyrian warrior places his strong thighs on either side of you, hovering a few inches above as he cups your breasts in his large hands. He presses your tits together before sliding his dick through the crevice.

At the same time that his slickness slides over your chest, Azriel pounds into you with newfound fervor, determined to fuck you silly until you couldn’t even remember your own name. Rhysand’s erection presses against your back while his brothers completely devour you.

The mewling pants echoing through the room told each male that you were close to release. As Azriel bucks his hips against yours, waves of pleasure wash over you again and again.

“Harder, Az. Please. I want to feel all of you.”

Azriel responds with a punishing snap of his hips and it knocks the breath out of you as you feel him deep within your guts.

“You like it just as rough as I do,” the shadowsinger chuckles with amazement.

“Absolutely.”

“Fucking.”

“Filthy.”

He slams his hips with each word, eliciting a whine out of you.

“Az, I’m so fucking close. Gods, right there-“

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ Cassian curses as you both cum at the same time. His load blows all over your face while you cum around Azriel’s dick.

Cassian rolls off of you, kissing the side of your neck while Azriel prods your mouth with his glistening length. You open your mouth and lick him clean until every drop of your juice is cleared off of him. It doesn’t take long until Azriel cums, spilling ribbons of his hot seed on your tongue. It mixes with Cassian’s arousal and you swallow all of it at once.

Azriel wipes up his cum from the corner of your mouth, kissing you on the cheek. “My greedy little cock fiend,” he murmurs against the side of your mouth. “I love watching my cum drip out of you.”

“I’m glad you enjoy the sight brother, but it’s my turn now,” Rhys growls, tilting your head to meet his lustful gaze. “Switch.”

The shadowsinger rolls his eyes, but moves nonetheless. Rhysand settles between your legs and cradles your face in his hands, pressing kisses all over your flushed cheeks. “Are you alright, darling?” He nuzzles his nose against yours, examining your features. “Do you need a break?”

Azriel pulls you into his lap, lips brushing against your neck. “We can stop any time you want. You’re in control tonight.”

You nod, feeling the aftermath of the back to back orgasms hit you at once. “Can we lie down for a second?” your gaze flickers up to Azriel shyly. “I think I just need to catch my breath.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Cassian says from your left side, raking his fingers over your hair.

The scalp massage felt heavenly and had you crawling into his lap. With your head resting between his crossed legs, you twine your fingers through Azriel’s scarred ones, pulling him flush against you. You take Rhysand’s hand and place him behind you and he chuckles, resting his chin on top of your head as he spoons you.

“C’mere angel,” Azriel beckons.

His soft hazel eyes are warm and inviting and you sigh in contentment as you nuzzle into his neck. He smells like sweat and sex, but the underlying notes of night chilled mist and cedar peaks through and fills your senses with his delicious scent. Despite how tired you were, Azriel smells intoxicating and the hollow of his throat was practically begging to be kissed. His husky laugh vibrates against your lips as you drag them over his neck.

“I thought you were resting.”

“Kissing is resting,” you reply.

The shadowsinger chuckles. “Well, in that case…” he trails off, mouth meeting yours in an eager kiss. The little sound of satisfaction he makes has your skin heating all over again.

Ever the jealous male, Rhysand tilts your chin and kisses you long and hard while Azriel trails open mouthed kisses along your neck. Rhys squeezes your ass, grinding his erection against your backside. You gasp at his hardness, but your attention is pulled towards Azriel as he flicks his wicked tongue against your nipple. He releases your tit with a pop before moving onto the other, his hand dipping between your thighs.

The shadowsinger is delighted to find you sopping wet, juices glistening on his fingers as he brings them between his lips. His eyes roll back as the sweet taste of your arousal fills his mouth. Azriel grips the back of your head, mashing your lips together while you groan with need.

Rhys is quick to respond, slipping his own fingers into your pussy while you continue kissing Azriel. Your hand grips the heir of night’s erection, thumb swirling the precum around his tip. As Azriel’s hand clamps around your throat, you guide Rhysand’s cock along your entrance. He groans as he buries himself inside you, feeling the slickness coat him while he slowly slides in and out.

Above you, Cassian’s hardness presses against his thigh and you grip him in your hand while Rhys fucks into you. It’s overwhelming to feel him filling you up once again, but he makes sure to give you plenty of encouragement.

“Daddy missed your pretty pussy,” Rhys growls into your ear. You groan into Azriel’s mouth as you grind down onto Rhys. The future High Lord smirks against your back, biting your shoulder while you continue to ride him. “Why is it that every time I have my cock in you, you turn into the filthiest little slut?”

He grips your hips, stopping you from sinking further down into him. You whine as Azriel watches you with amusement.

“P-please Rhys. I need to feel you.”

Rhysand swirls his hips and teases you with his tip. “That’s not my name.”

“Please, daddy.”

Azriel chuckles, toying with your hair before kissing you again. Rhysand lets out a pleased hum into your neck and rams himself back inside of you. You cry out in pleasure, rubbing your hand along Cassian’s length while he eagerly ruts against your fingertips.

With Rhysand’s pace growing quicker and sloppier, Azriel’s shadows expertly rub at the nub of sensitive nerves of your clit and bring you closer to yet another orgasm. Ever in sync, you and Rhysand reach your release together. The future High Lord practically leaves teeth marks along your back as he bites down, spurting into you as you clench tightly around him. He tilts your chin towards him, shoving his tongue down your throat, claiming you with a growl.

I may be sharing tonight, but don’t forget who you belong to. This pussy is mine and so are you, darling.

When you open your eyes, Rhysand’s possessive stare pierces through you. You caress his cheek, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb.

I’m yours, Rhys.

Grinning, he kisses your forehead and inclines his chin towards Cassian.

Good, now open your mouth. Daddy wants to watch you swallow.

With your fourth or fifth orgasm of the night, you were feeling quite generous, pumping Cassian faster while he shudders above you. He growls, spreading your lips while he positions his cock into your mouth.

“Wanna feel that wet mouth around my cock while I cum,” the Illyrian pants as ribbons of his hot seed spurt into your open mouth. “That’s right, sweetheart. Swallow like a good little whore.”

You’re nearly soaking at his words and judging by the smirk on that handsome face of his, Cassian knew exactly how much you enjoyed being called a whore. It would’ve been degrading in any other instance, but the soft kiss he places on your forehead while he tenderly cleans you up told you that he’d only ever use those words to heighten your arousal.

Tuckered out and in serious need of a water break, Cassian rises from the bed, the sheets sliding off of his naked body. You whine at the loss of his warmth against you, but he only winks in response.

“Don’t think we’re done yet, sweetheart. You made me cum twice tonight and I have every intention to return the favor, but for now, I think it’s only fair for you to take care of Az.”

Cassian strokes your hair before leaving the room. Once you’re done ogling his backside, you face the shadowsinger once again, your wandering hands already wrapping around his erection.

“I want to take care of you, Azriel,” you tell the male with a wicked grin. “But I need to get on my hands and knees for that.”

You look back at Rhys and chuckle as realization dawns in those vivid violet eyes. He nods to Azriel, who was staring at the both of you curiously. “She wants me to take her from behind while she sucks your cock.”

“I won’t say no to that,” the shadowsinger says with a wink.

The door opens as Cassian trudges in with a jug of water in his hands. He winks when he notices your gaze lingering on his nakedness, handing you the glass with a kiss.

“Drink up, sweetheart. You’re going to need it for what we’re about to do.”

Not realizing how dehydrated you were, you just about down the whole jug. Cassian chuckles in amusement and swipes at the droplets of water trickling down your mouth. He sets the jug down and gestures to Azriel, who was waiting patiently as he cradles you between his legs.

“Now where were we?” you ask as you crawl on all fours.

On your hands and knees, you’re surprised to find Rhys letting Cassian take the lead behind you while he watches from the edge of the bed. The future High Lord raises a brow.

“Perhaps tonight is the night I finally learn how to share,” he says with a feline smirk.

Cassian doesn’t have to be told twice as he grips your hips, pumping himself twice before lining himself up at your entrance. When he plunges into you, it felt like the girth and length of his dick was going to split you in half.

With shaking palms, you turn your attention back to Azriel. The shadowsinger cups your cheek, swiping at the tears leaking out of your eyes as Cassian pounds into you. With tonight’s unexpected refresher on multitasking, you pump Azriel’s erection into your hand. You lick up his entire shaft, swirling your tongue around his tip before giving it a sloppy kiss.

“It’s my turn to pleasure you, Az.”

He chuckles darkly. “Come on then, princess. Let’s see what that wicked tongue of yours can do.”

The challenge rushes through your veins as you take him deep, gagging on his length as he hits the back of your throat. You hum against Azriel and the vibration reverberates through his entire body, making him involuntarily buck his hips further into your mouth. Full of smug satisfaction, you suck and swirl, suctioning your cheeks while the shadowsinger writhes underneath you. It’s a reward in itself to hear him moan so beautifully, the sound echoing off the walls while you attempt to tamper down your own pants as Cassian continues fucking into you.

You wanted to cum so badly, but you made sure to deliver on your promise to Azriel first. As you lick, spit, and suck his dick, you take the time to cup his balls in your hand, taking each one between your lips while the shadowsinger’s growls grow even louder. You can tell he’s close by the way he’s twitching against your lips.

“Cum for me, Azriel.”

The words take him by surprise and his orgasm hits him hard, filling your mouth with hot liquid as you swallow his cum. Some of his arousal spills on his groin, but you don’t miss a single drop, lapping it up with determination.

Azriel murmurs his thanks, planting kisses all over your face before tasting himself on your mouth. “My kinky girl,” he says breathlessly. “I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”

Cassian hums in agreement, fisting your hair in his hands. “Now come on, sweetheart. I believe I owe you an orgasm or two.”

“Gods, I feel like you’re tearing me apart, Cas. I don’t know if I can cum two more times.”

The Illyrian warrior tugs you backward, shoving his tongue down your throat while you groan in pleasure. “Are you whining, baby? Because bratty girls get spanked.”

Fuck. That awakens a whole new need within you. Cassian senses the shift in your scent as the comment practically makes you cream on his length.

“Cauldron boil me, you do want to be spanked.” He cups your ass, kneading the soft tissue and making you moan in response. With a wicked smirk, Cassian brings his large hand down and slaps your right ass cheek.

The impact makes you lurch in surprise, launching you directly into Azriel. He sees the delight in your eyes and chuckles.

“I think she wants more, Cas.” Those hazel eyes flicker through your features before he braces you against his solid chest. “Spank her again.”

Cassian obliges and smacks your left cheek while Azriel holds you up. You whimper, feeling hot all over as Cassian turns your chin towards him, kissing you roughly.

“Do you like that, baby girl?” he asks in a gravelly voice, laced with lust and desire.

“Yes, Cas.” You look into those hazel eyes, tracing the slit over his right brow while he shivers underneath your touch. “I love it when you spank me.”

The roar that comes out of his mouth sounds purely predatory as he palms your ass again, his lips lathering each cheek with open mouthed kisses. Without warning, he smacks you so hard you wouldn’t be surprised to find his handprint imprinted onto your ass cheek.

“Harder.” You wail as Cassian mounts you again, tangling his fingers into your hair while he grinds himself into you.

“What was that, sweetheart? I don’t think I heard you. You’re going to have to be louder than that.”

You bury yourself into Azriel’s neck and the shadowsinger steadies your shaking arms.

“Spank me harder,” you plead. “Please, Cassian.”

Cassian smirks at you, but gladly obliges. His free hand comes down on your ass so loudly that the sound of his spanks echo through the entire cabin. The filthy ringing of his smacks combined with the squelching sound of his cock in your pussy is too much to bear for the both of you.

Your back arches as Cassian ruts into you at a faster pace, leaning over to kiss the base of your spine as you cry out in pleasure. He palms your bouncing tits and pulls at your hair while pushing your head into Azriel’s lap. Your cheek rests against the shadowsinger’s thigh as you feel yourself about to reach the precipice of another orgasm.

“Let go, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

At Cassian’s words, release racked through your body. The intensity of the orgasm hits you all at once and your pussy throbs sensitively while Cassian pulls out and replaces his cock with his tongue. His kitten licks lap up all of your juices as he spreads you wide, sucking harshly on your clit while you whine.

“You’ve got one more in you, baby,” he growls between your thighs.

Tears of pleasure coat your cheeks and Azriel kisses each drop away while encouraging you to ride it out. You turn over, body limp as your gaze falls to Rhysand who’s watching all of this transpire with slightly parted lips. Thanks to Cassian’s skilled tongue, it’s not long before you’re brought over the edge again and pleasure slams into you so hard that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

Please, Rhys. I need you beside me.

Rhysand doesn’t even think twice before sliding into the mattress, taking you from Azriel’s arms as he rocks you back and forth. The heir of night cradles you, praising you for doing so well before tucking you into his chest. He cleans you up with a hot towel that one of his brothers brought in from the bathing room, all while whispering soothing words and holding you gently. Absolutely fucked out, you lean into him and let him spoon your aching body into his own. You melt into Rhys, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace as he pulls you tightly into him.

He presses a kiss onto your temple as your lids grow heavier by the second. “You can rest now, darling. I’ve got you and I’m not letting go any time soon.”

Exhaustion pierces you like an ash arrow while Rhysand cuddles you.

“Goodnight, Rhysie,” you murmur softly into his neck.

Unbeknownst to you, the nickname tugs at Rhysand’s heartstrings as he brushes your hair away from your face. The last thing you remember is the fond smile on his face while he kisses you goodnight.

“Goodnight, kitten.”

The next morning, you wake to the sounds of clattering metal and hushed voices. Sunlight streams through the window as you slowly open your eyes, groaning when you find the spot next to you empty. You’re not alone for long though because Rhysand was now pushing through the door with a tray in his hands.

You perk up at the sight, mouth watering as the delicious smell of waffles fills your senses. Your favorite.

“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”

You blink, examining Rhys from head to toe, grinning at the pink apron tied around his torso and the streak of flour clinging to his cheek.

“I think I might still be dreaming,” you say with a chuckle. “Because there’s no way Rhysand, infamous Illyrian baby, is actually bringing me breakfast in bed.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “I’ll have you know, I’m a perfectly capable cook.”

A sneer echoes from the hallway as Cassian and Azriel enter the room. The latter is holding a glass of orange juice which the shadowsinger carefully sets on the bedside table before kissing your temple. You smile shyly up at him, still in awe of how beautiful the male was. How beautiful all of them were, really.

“Capable isn’t the word I’d use, brother.” Cas teases with a laugh. “I saw the burnt batch you threw out. What were you trying to do? Burn the whole godsdamned cabin down?”

“You’re just cranky because Rhys didn’t save you a waffle,” Azriel points out with amusement.

Rhysand groans. “Can you two let her have a moment of peace before you march in here with your incessant hovering?”

Cassian grins and shoots you a wink. “Sorry sweetheart, Rhys is right. We should let you recuperate after last night’s strenuous activities.”

The heir of night sets the tray before you with a nervous smile. Well, as nervous as he could manage with a face like that. It was almost seductive, honestly. Just like everything Rhys did.

You smile sweetly at him. “Thank you, Rhysie. This is so sweet of you.”

You had to give it to the male. Even if your waffles were on the crispier side, you could tell that he put a lot of thought into arranging everything on your plate, adding silvers of bacon on the side with slices of butter and a pot of syrup positioned on each side of the plate.

The three of them watch you in silence as you eat and you can’t help but grin. Azriel hands you the glass of orange juice as soon as your gaze dips to it while Rhys and Cas perch on the edge of the bed. The way they were fussing over you was almost comical, preening like mother hens despite the fact that all three of them had taken turns obliterating you last night.

As you chew, Cassian swipes a piece of bacon from your plate and pops it into his mouth.

“Stop hogging all the bacon, Cas.” Rhysand reprimands, swatting his brother’s hand away.

“You’re one to talk, you hog.” Cassian responds with a roll of his eyes. He quirks a brow at you, smirking. “Last night would’ve happened a lot sooner if Rhys wasn’t such a possessive bastard. Though I can’t say I blame him. I wouldn’t want to share you either.”

The blush that creeps up your cheeks was ironic, given all the filthy things that were uttered in this room just a few hours ago. You found it oddly comforting that you were all still able to act normal after all that transpired between the four of you.

“Yes, yes,” Rhysand says with a dramatic wave of his hands. “I’m a selfish bastard, but I’m learning how to share.”

Azriel chuckles. “Thank the Cauldron for that because I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, angel.”

You beam at the three males. “Giant Illyrian babies, each and every one of you. Haven’t you ever heard the saying, the more, the merrier?”

Rhysand laughs. “Believe it or not, I don’t think this is what the original speaker intended, but I’m glad to see that you’re recovering well.” He glances at his brothers with a smirk. “Now if you two are done hovering, kitten and I would like some privacy.”

The Ilyrians males roll their eyes. Azriel takes your hand and presses a kiss onto your knuckles.

“Until next time, angel.”

Cassian ruffles your hair as he pecks your cheek. “We’ll come out to play again. After my brother has had his fill of being a needy, clingy bastard.”

The door shuts behind the winged warriors, leaving you alone with Rhysand. He smoothly slides the tray away from your lap and nuzzles up to you with a grin.

“Feeling especially cruel this morning, aren't you Rhysie?” you chuckle as he sidles up to your side, arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace as he pulls you into his lap. “Was it really necessary to kick them out?”

"Give me some credit. I played nicely and shared with my brothers, but now I want you all to myself.” Rhysand prods his nose into your neck, lips grazing your soft skin. “I meant what I said last night. I really did miss you and not for the reasons you think.”

“I missed you too, Rhys.” You gaze into those violet eyes, at the male you wholeheartedly trusted with your mind and body. And perhaps also with your heart. “I always miss you when you’re gone.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “That reminds me. I did have something important to tell you before you pounced on me in that seedy tavern restroom.” You playfully roll your eyes, gesturing for him to continue.

“My visit isn’t just the usual break from training. I’m coming home. To Velaris,” he pauses, weighing his words with an uncertainty that you’ve never seen on him before. “To you. If you’ll have me.”

You grin so widely your cheeks ache. “Of course I will. You’re my best friend Rhys. You know me better than anyone in this realm. I trust you with my mind, body, and heart and I’ve known the latter for longer than I care to admit.”

“I know,” the heir of night says with a smirk. “And I feel the same way about you, too. I’ve been in love with you since the moment you marched up to me and demanded that I buy you a drink at Rita’s.”

“I love you too, you smug prick.” Rhysand goes in for a kiss, but you dart out of his way. “Forgetting something? I don’t think I ever heard a formal request to be your girlfriend.”

The future High Lord only smirks. “I made you breakfast, darling. That’s the equivalent of me getting on my knees and begging. Though if that’s what you truly want, all you have to do is ask.”

“Funny. I’m usually the one on my knees for you, boyfriend.”

Rhysand’s dark laughter caresses your consciousness as he grazes his lips over yours, loving the way the new title sounded.

“That can be arranged, girlfriend.”

taglist: @cest-la-vieve, @cherryjain17, @laaurasaurr, @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets, @blurredlamplight @maddietheshoe, @moony-thoughts, @strawberyseas

#i am not sorry for this #okay maybe i am a little but come on #azriel #acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel smut #rhys smut #cassian smut #rhysand smut #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhys x you #cassian x you #rhys x reader #cassian x reader #masterlist #jess writes

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qqueenofhades · 2 months

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the people in those reblogs all 'he did this to distract from palestine' as if......that materially changes anything about the debt that is now cancelled for so many people?? people whose lives will be significantly improved by not having to worry about their debt or some portion of it, i doubt they care why it was done, but that it happened.

also lmao the president is doing way more things than focusing on one single issue. how do they not get that

I mean. They spent MONTHS yapping about how Biden wasn't doing anything on student debt. Then he announced an ambitious, first-of-its-kind student debt relief program, and they complained it didn't personally cancel THEIR debt and give THEM a pony (even though it would have canceled at least 10k of debt, and up to 20k for low-income borrowers, for everyone). Then SCOTUS overruled it in said bullshit ruling, which was also Biden's fault somehow, because the Online Leftists said so, and HE HADN'T DONE ENOUGH ON STUDENT DEBT. Then he started working with the Department of Education to find long-term ways of doing it that didn't rely on the executive-order magic wand that most of these people seem to want (even though it almost never works). And now they couldn't care less, BECAUSE IT'S ONLY TO DISTRACT FROM PALESTINE!!! (????) Or something.

Aside from the fact that, yes, the American president has many things to do every single day and Biden continues to work on improving things he can control in America (which notably does not include the actions of the Israeli government), this is what happens when you have Terminally Online Conspiracy Goggles locked on your face. Instead of this being a logical conclusion and development in Biden's policy over many months, clearly related to things he has done before and will continue to do, and which represents something they themselves have bashed him for and continue to wildly move the goalposts about, etc etc it's secretly a cynical psyop to distract from the one thing they prefer to shriek about now instead, and/or nefariously trick people into thinking that Biden is a good president and voting for him accordingly. OH NOES! DIABOLICAL DEMOCRAT CORPORATE CENTRIST BOOTLICKER PLOTZ!!! ZOMGZ!!!

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #they're so stupid #they will always be stupid #we know that but it's still frustrating

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stuckinapril · 3 months

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don’t know if you’ve already shared (or if you wouldn’t like to) but i’d love to hear about your resolutions and goals for this year!

Hi so sorry for how late this is!! I have quite a few!

Ins —

Being more decisive. Trusting myself w calling the shots. Just making a decision and sticking w it.

Financial literacy