#and i promise you will enjoy sex & alcohol a lot more if you wait until you are better prepared and know how to engage safely

[whorekneecentral]

Winter Wonderland

Toto Wolff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: toto would do anything for reader, some friendly teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a bit of an age gap (reader's late 20s/early 30s), handsy toto, the two of you are kinda drunk, daddy kink, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slight edging, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Word Count: 1,772

Author's Note: this one goes out to all the dilf lovers.

merry smutmas series

--

Your husband skips out on Christmas every year due to work but this year, he ends up in London. You make it your mission to introduce him to some holiday fun.

Toto had one last work engagement to do this week before he's officially off for the holidays and it took him to London. So by extension, you made it to London as well.

Your husband had left you in the hotel, promising you that he'll be back in a few hours after doing his final work meeting before he was on holiday break.

When he returns, he finds you in the same spot he left you, on the couch. "Babe, have you not gotten up all day?"He asks, shrugging his coat off.

"I did, I ordered room service so I had to get it from the door," you tell him, eyes glued to the TV.

Toto laughs, making his way over to sit next to you. You lean into the man, his arms wrapped around you and you can still feel the chill on his skin despite him wearing a coat when he was outside. It takes him a second to realize that you weren't in your pyjamas, but you were dressed as if you were going out.

The man looks at you with raised eyebrows, there's a hint of a smile on your face. "I know that look, what are you up to?" He asked.

"Okay I know you're probably tired but we leave for home tomorrow and I really wanna go!"

"Go where?"

"Hyde park," you tell him, showing him the pictures of their winter wonderland on your phone. "I saw the ad already for their winter wonderland today and then I looked it up and I fell into a loophole, so now we have tickets." You smiled sweetly at him - if there was one thing more important to Toto than work, it was you and your happiness.

"Are you serious, y/n?"

"Yes, now come on," you get up, trying to pull him up. Toto huffs, "I have emails to answer." He reluctantly follows you to the door.

"The emails will still be here when you get back," you handed him his coat before putting your own on. "Let's go."

Toto drives, of course - not like he ever lets you drive anyways. The first half hour was just the two of you trying to find your way around, it was a lot more packed than you were expecting but to be fair it was a week until Christmas, so it was to be expected you suppose.

You grab his hand and pull him towards what seems to be a circus tent. Toto looks at you a bit unsure for a moment, "is this.. an actual circus?" He followed you in and his question was answered; it was.

He sits next to you in the back row, the two of you waiting for the show to start. "Are you 5? Why are we at the circus ?"

"I mean, in comparison to you, I basically am." You smiled and he chuckled, his hand in yours as you two watched the show.

He would never admit it to you but he enjoyed doing things like this with you, it was nice to see that you kept a bit of your childishness alive.

After the circus, you made your way around the park once more, taking a million photos and trying out all the games until Toto was lugging around a big bag with stuffed animals.

"Do you think that's enough?" He asks, walking towards the car. You shrugged, "I guess but I'm hungry now."

"Dinner then?" He suggests, nodding to the busy street. You're not, fingers interlocking with your husband as you walk down the street towards no actual destination in mind. You were just hoping to stumble upon a place that wasn't too busy.

And eventually you did, a little restaurant tucked away between all the madness. You and Toto sat at a table by the window, the table covered in junk food and a bottle of cheap wine.

"Did you have fun tonight ?" You asked your husband, popping a fry into your mouth. He shrugs, taking a sip of wine. You can't help but roll your eyes, "you totally did! Don't lie."

Toto laughs, a grin on his face. "Yeah, okay. I did have a little fun, but maybe next time find an indoor activity?"

"Nope," you popped the P, "as your wife, it's my job to make your life unnecessarily complicated, just for fun."

He rolls his eyes, taking some fries off your plate. "You'll be the death of me."

You two ended up topping off the bottle of wine, Toto pays the bill and his fingers interlock with yours as you walk back to the car. The streets have calmed by now, but there's a few people walking around on their way to wherever.

Your husband pulls you into his side, your arm wrapped around his torso as you make it back to the car. The man has you leaning on the hood, his cold hands cupping your cheeks before he kisses you. His hands wander and you blush, stopping him.

"Not here."

"Don't tell me you're getting shy on me." He kisses along your cheek, the tip of his nose cold as it rubs against your skin.

You giggled, giving him a slight shove off of you. "We're in the middle of the street, it's more like stopping you from getting arrested for public indecency."

He laughs, opening the car door for you and letting you get in. Toto's hand rests on your thigh the entire drive back to the hotel and he can barely keep his hands off of you to make it up to the room.

His lips on your neck, arms wrapped around you from behind, the two of you giggling as you attempt to open the door.

"It's not opening," you grumbled, trying to unlock the door.

Toto pulls on the handle a bit, pressing the key to it. "Finally," he says when the lock clicks, "let me unwrap my gift."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at your husband's cheesy use of the words, but you let him drag you into the room and drop you on the bed.

He's careful, even though he's drunk - his movements are exact as he undoes the buttons on your shirt, tossing it into the pile of clothes that's developing on the floor.

"Move your legs, baby." He whispers, moving them up to rest on the edge of the bed as he drops himself down onto his knees. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Toto drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy. 

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the red lace that covered your cunt.

You smile, “I know. Wore it just for you, daddy." The name makes the man smile.

Toto can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the red lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. He knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more.

Two fingers pushing into you, he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit. 

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. 

He's sick and twisted and pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers wiped on your inner thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness. 

"I hate you," you grumbled, your husband smiles as he kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You love me."

"Sometimes."

He smiles, standing up to undo his pants. Toto pulls you back to the edge of the bed, one of your legs hitch on his hip as his hand wanders.

Your eyes fixed on his hand that was moving down your chest at the moment. Toto's lips follow his fingers, kissing and leaving little marks as he goes along his way. His tongue brushes over your nipple, your back arches involuntarily; your body betrays you. 

Your eyes find his and his hand rubbing along your thigh before pulling you toward the edge of the bed a little more before he pushes into you. The other ankle is over his shoulder now.

He fucks you the way he knows you like it; rough.

You were a sight to see; back arched off the bed, hair sprawled out in perfect curls, eyes closed and your head tilted back, his name tumbling from your lips for what felt like the millionth time.

He’s never seen a prettiest sight.

He feels you clench around him, the hand on his shoulder digs in, your nails leaving behind their own set of marks. His hand reaches between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit once again.

“Oh my god,” your hips bucked, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, your body rocking back and forth to get the most out of him.  

“C’mon pretty girl, want you to cum for me.” he says, knowing it won't be long more, especially not after him leaving you on the edge earlier.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me." He whispers, kissing you softly.

A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge.  He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, he follows behind you. 

It takes you a second to gather yourself and register that your husband has collapsed on top of you. Your hands rubbing over his back.

"You okay?" you asked him quietly and the man nodded, moving so you two could lay comfortably.

Your leg draped over his, his arm wrapped over your shoulder. You catch him staring at you and you smile, nodding. "What?"

"We should come to London every year."

"Yeah," you nod, resting your head on his chest. "I'd like that."

---

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#merry smutmas xoxo #toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut

[nocxta]

Hate the Club

AbbyAndersonxReader

pairing: Bottom!Abby x Top!Reader

word count: 5.2k

TW: 18+ | minors, please dni <3 | Smut | Mommy kink | Vaginal Fingering (a! receiving) | Strong Language | Vaginal Penetration (a! receiving) | Infidelity | Oral Sex (a! receiving) | Mention of OwenxAbby | Strap-on Use | Mention of Alcohol | Slight Fluff | Aftercare | Thigh Riding (a! recieving) | Nipple Clamps | Blindfolding |

a/n: Please do not hesitate to let me know of any warnings I might've missed! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy <3

Your friend had finally managed to drag you to the new nightclub downtown that had opened over the weekend. You were reluctant to go, but they had promised to buy you your favorite drink if you were willing to spend at least an hour with them. You didn't drink often, but it sounded like a fair deal to you.

As you sat at the bar and nursed the drink your friend had bought for you, you kept looking at the time and thinking about all the things you could be doing at home. You were just about to decide that you'd had enough of the loud music and the crowds, before you laid eyes on her. 

Abby Anderson. 

Tight black dress, light makeup, hair down (maybe the first time you'd seen it that way). All dressed up and smiling as she grinded against some idiot guy who was spilling his drink all over the floor as he playfully thrusted into her from behind. Her brawny arms reached for the sky as she continued to dance carelessly-- that is, until she caught your burning gaze from the bar.

With a suggestive eyebrow raise, you raised your glass in her direction-- grinning like a supervillain as you finally recognized the derelict gyrating against her. It was Owen, her ex. Or, more specifically-- the guy that had begged her to stop fucking you behind his back as the news was getting all over town and ruining both of their (his) reputations. She has gotten back together with him after all. And now, here he was, completely oblivious to the fact that the two of you were practically eye-fucking each other from across the room.

The moment your eyes met, a familiar ache had begun to bloom in your chest. One that she seemingly took notice of, as her steel-blue eyes failed to leave the tops of your breasts that threatened to spill out of the tight dress shirt you were wearing. Even from nearly 20 feet away, she was still struggling to conceal her infatuation with you. As her eyes met yours yet again, you gave her a suggestive head tilt and a questioning look before moving toward the front door of the club. You were aware of the effect you had on her, and you were so not above mercilessly exploiting it. 

"So, what do you think? Is this place worth the hype?" Your friend practically shrieked as she yanked on your bicep from behind, almost making you drop the drink in your hand. 

"Yeah, totally." You shouted back, blaring music disorienting you, nearly making you forget about the 5'10 bodybuilder whose eyes were boring into the outline of your ass in your black suit pants.

"Well, where the hell are you going? You look like you're in a hurry!"

"I, um... have a headache, I'm gonna head home. I'll catch you later!" Your friend looked absolutely mortified, and you couldn't help but feel bad for leaving her high and dry.

But she'd be fine.

You pushed through the sea of people, feeling the heat emanating from their bodies as you made your way toward the front door, feeling her eyes following you as you walked. You were almost to the front door when an overwhelmingly sweet perfume invaded your nostrils and you felt a warm hand close around your own. "Y/n," Abby all but whined into your ear as she allowed you to drag her out into the parking lot.

"What the hell are you doing, Abby?" You asked as you continued to pull her along, making your way toward your car.

"Y/n, wait. Stop!" She tugged on your arm, pulling you back against her. "Can we talk for a second?"

"About what? About the fact that you're back with Owen?"

"It's not like that! I-it's not that simple," She reassured you.

"Abby, I honestly don't care," You began, allowing your gaze to gradually fall from her pitiful gaze to her soft lips.

"You know," She started, her voice trembling slightly as she took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "We could never go public with our relationship, Y/n."

"Don't need'a" You whispered against her lips before taking them into a bruising kiss. Your hand fell onto her hip as your other gripped her chin, forcing her to hold still as you slipped your tongue above hers and licked the inside of her mouth, savoring her sweetness as her tongue took the role of prey to yours. 

"Wait," She groaned into the kiss, trying and failing to push you away before you deepened the kiss and pressed her up against the wall of the club, earning a few whistles from some foolish teens smoking between the cars.

"You're so beautiful," You mumbled against her lips as you allowed your hand to roam across the length of her body, her curves filling the palms of your hands as her breathing became shallow. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

"Y/n..." She warned, trying desperately to hold onto any sense of self-control she had left. "Owen's still in there, we can't do this."

"Yes, we can." You insisted, reaching into your back pocket and retrieving your keys. You clicked the lock button twice before opening the passenger door of your car for her. "Come on,"

"Y/n," She sighed, looking over her shoulder at the club before shaking her head. "This is such a bad idea."

"Abby," You called, cupping her cheek and pulling her attention back toward you. "I'm not gonna wait another month for you to call me and tell me that you're single again. I can't,"

Abby sighed and pressed her eyes shut, taking a few moments to calm her breathing before she climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Good girl." You cooed before shutting the door and making your way around the front of the car, taking a second to scan for Owen while straightening your collar. The moment you stepped foot in the driver's side, Abby's hands were on your cheeks, pulling your face to hers. She kissed you sloppily and desperately, chest pressing flush against your own as she not-so-discreetly ground her hips into the plush of the car seat. 

"Y/n," She whimpered between kisses before you pulled away and returned your grip to the bottom of her jaw. 

"You're so fucking needy, sweetheart," You purred before placing one more rough kiss on her lips.

"Drive, please?"

"And so, so polite," You let the last "o" drag as you turned the key in the ignition. "So pretty, too. I can't keep my eyes off you."

"T-thank you," Abby whispered, eyes already threatening to roll back as she clenched her thighs together tighter and sped up her movements against the seat cushion. The speed bumps you passed as you pulled out of the driveway causing the car to jerk a few times, only deepening her pleasure and drawing a few more sweet sounds from her tightly shut lips. 

"What's the matter, honey?" You taunted. "I thought you said you didn't want to do this?" 

"I didn't!" She gasped, her hips moving on their own accord, desperately chasing after the friction her body craved.

"Oh, no?" You chuckled, glancing at her through the corner of your eye as you kept one hand on the steering wheel. "So, this is all a figment of my imagination, then?"

"N-no… Yes! No, just-- keep drive--driving, please,"

"Aw, you poor thing. Look at how much you need it," You teased, bringing the palm of your hand to her bare thigh, pushing the hem of her dress up as you squeezed and caressed the pale, freckled skin. "You're  s'fucking strong, sweetheart." 

"Y/n," Abby's moans got increasingly louder as you inched higher and higher up her muscular thigh, brushing the pads of your fingertips over the wet outline of her throbbing cunt over her panties. 

"Holy shit," You cursed under your breath, biting back a moan as you applied pressure to the spot just above her clit, forcing a strangled moan to escape her lips. "Look at you, grinding against the seat like a little bitch. I'm barely even touching you,"

"Y/n, p-please, fuck,"

"Please, what?" You cooed, pressing the heel of your hand down on her clothed pussy and rubbing in small circles before moving back down to her trembling thigh.

"M-mommy," She panted, her hand shooting down to grip the one that was on her thigh and guide it up the rest of the way, forcing two fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and between her slick folds. "Touch me, please,"

You finally oblige, following her movements for a few moments before suddenly shoving both your middle and ring finger into her fluttering hole. "That's it, baby," You encouraged as she let out a loud moan, her back arching off the seat. "You're taking my fingers so well, such a good girl,"

"Y/n," She cried, her head thrown back as her hips thrust upward. "So g-good, so fucking good."

"Oh, yeah?" You hummed, keeping your eyes on the road as you slowly slid your fingers out, ignoring the way she whimpered at the loss, and brought them to her parted lips, as you merge lanes and turn at your exit. "Open up, baby."

She obeyed immediately, eagerly licking and sucking the digits into her mouth, coating them with her saliva.

"Good girl,"

The praise sent a shudder down her spine and she moaned around your fingers. You chuckled at her desperate state as you used your left hand to turn your steering wheel. Drawing your soaked fingers from atop her tongue to the back of her headrest as you reversed into your drive and parked your car. 

"Such a messy girl," You chuckled as she continued to writhe and pant on the seat next to you, her juices beginning to seep through her panties and stain the car seat. "Come here,"

Without hesitation, she moved to sit on your lap, her legs straddling your waist as her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Painted fingers wove themselves into your hair as she rocked feverishly against you, tequila-ridden breath fanning in hot waves against the skin of your neck. You could feel her wetness seeping through her thin panties and onto the thigh of your slacks as she fucked herself stupid on the expanse of your thigh. 

"So, so pretty like this, Abs," You muttered into her sweaty neck, palming at her tits over her thin excuse for a dress. A small and pitiful nod from her was all it took before you were yanking the fabric down her body, exposing her small, perky breasts to your burning gaze. You smiled devilishly as you took one of her erect nipples into her mouth, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh as your free hand twisted and pinched at the other.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Abby chanted, her grip on your hair tightening with each bite, every harsh suck, and pinch of your teeth.

"I missed you, honey," You spoke against her breast before moving to the other one, paying it the same, toe-curling attention. The tell-all tremor in her hips let you know that she was getting closer and closer to reaching her peak. She was always extra sensitive after she'd been away from you for too long-- subjected to the languid and shoddy licks of Owen's tongue, the fast and uncoordinated pump of his hips, the unpleasant bites to her clit that left her sore for days. 

Her broken cries of pleasure filled the small interior of your car along with the thick smell of sex and liquor. Her hand was quickly drawn from the mess of curls(strands, braids, locs, idfk) on your head to the car window beside her head, nails frantically scraping at the fogged-up glass as she bounced in your lap. A short, choked-out scream sounded throughout the small space as you closed your fist around the front of her muscular throat. 

"Yeah, sweetie? Y'getting close?"

"Y-yeah," She choked out, nodding frantically as she picked up the pace. "Can I c-cum, please, M-Mommy?

"Of course, you can, honey," You whispered, your tone low and dangerous as you reached behind her with your free hand to remove the keys from the ignition and shut the engine off. "Go ahead and cum all over Mommy's leg like a good little whore, baby. Cum all over my suit, pretty girl."

You hiss sharply as Abby bites your shoulder to keep from screaming, shaking with her first orgasm of the night. "I know, I know," You coo, running your manicured nails up and down her rippled back soothingly. "I know, baby. Let it out"

"Thank you," She mumbles, chest heaving and body shaking, pussy pulsating and gushing against the soaked fabric of her panties and your expensive trousers.

"Did so good, honey," You hummed, kissing the tears from the corner of her eyes before you turned to open your car door. "Need me to carry you, sweetie? I know how shaky those legs of yours can get." You tease, smiling up at her as she raises herself up and from out of your soaked lap.

"Fuck you," She groans, her voice hoarse and shaky as she pulls the hem of her dress up and over her breasts.

"You know what? You're right," You say, climbing out of the car behind her before briefly digging in your pocket to retrieve your house keys. "Maybe I should just go to bed."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I, though?" You asked, a sly grin tugging at the corner of your lips as you held the front door open for her, eyes raking down her disheveled figure. You'd pulled on her dress so much in so many different places that it bunched up in random spaces across her body-- making the tight dress appear even more fitted to her curves than it already was. She had left her shoes (heels) in the car, her stature still no whither to yours, but slightly less intimidating than it was when you first laid eyes on her in the club. Her face and neck were all red from her blushing and your rough kisses-- the crimson hue nearly dark enough to conceal the crossroads of hickies and bitemarks you had littered across the top of her chest and collarbones.

She moves slowly past you, sure to brush her frame against yours as she steps through the threshold and into the dark house. "Y/n, it's been a month since we last fucked," She reminds you, turning to face you after you had finished locking the door behind you, turning the porch light off with it.

"And?" You ask, setting your keys on the table beside the door before moving toward the kitchen. "That's hardly my fault, Abby."

"You could've called me," She insists, following you into the kitchen.

"You could've called me too, Abs."

"You know I can't,"

"Right," You sigh, turning around to face her as you spoke. "Because of your boyfriend. Because of your reputation. Because you're a fucking coward. There's always a reason with you."

"Can we not do this tonight, please?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the countertop, gaze pleading as it met your intense one. "Believe me, I have enough arguments at home."

You stood in silence for a few moments, watching her as she nervously fidgeted under your gaze.

"Take your clothes off."

Her head snaps up at your order, her eyes wide and confused.

"What?"

"I said, take your fucking clothes off, Anderson," You growled, taking a step closer to her.

She immediately backed up until her back was pressed against the fridge as you walked toward her, your eyes narrowed and menacing as you took ahold of her jaw, forcing her to meet your gaze.

"I thought you wanted to get off," You whispered, your thumb gently caressing her bottom lip. "Isn't that why you followed me out of the club? Why you bounced on my thigh like a bitch in heat after I drove you to my flat? Why you came inside?"

"Y-yes," She whispered, her voice wavering as she tried to tear her gaze from your own.

"So, what's the problem?" You tilted your head with an exaggerated frown.

"N-nothing," She whispered, hands moving to rest on your hips as you closed the distance between your bodies, pressing your frame against her own.

"Then take your clothes off," You whispered, pulling your hand from her chin and dropping it down to her bare shoulder before trailing it down the rest of her unbelievably toned arm.

Abby nods, her trembling fingers reaching for the zipper on the back of her dress. You watched intently as she slowly began to unzip her dress, revealing her toned body. You hummed in satisfaction as you trailed your fingertips over her defined abdominal muscles.

"You're so beautiful, honey," You whisper, leaning in to kiss along the length of her neck and jaw. "You know that? Absolutely stunning,"

Abby lets out a soft whimper as your lips and tongue trail across the column of her neck, leaving a wet trail along her sweat-slick skin. Her arms wrap around your shoulders and she pulls you close, burying her face in the crook of your neck as you continue to kiss and nip at her pulse point. Your hands begin to explore her body yet again, scanning for any changes that might've occurred since you'd last been together. You wait for that familiar sound of her breath hitching after you trace your index finger along the waistline of her panties.

"Upstairs, now." You order, stepping back to allow her to move past you. She nods obediently before grabbing her discarded dress and heading toward the staircase by the foyer. You watch expectantly as she rounds the corner and her footsteps fade into the silence of the night. 

You take your time removing your shoes, belt, and blazer-- neatly placing them on the counter before you move to the coat closet in your foyer to retrieve Abby's favourite strap-on from the top shelf. You quickly check the battery life on the vibrator lying beside the large toy before nodding to yourself as you're satisfied with the charge. You also make sure to grab a few items from the end table in the hall, tucking them into your pockets as you remove your pants and begin securing the contraption around your waist.

"Y/n!" Abby calls from the bedroom above.

"What?" You yell back, struggling to keep your balance as you put on the harness.

"Hurry up!" She whines, her voice high and needy as it reaches your ears.

"I'm coming, calm down," You shout back, rolling your eyes as you finish tightening the straps and making your way toward the stairs.

Abby lets out an impatient groan when you finally reach her, pulling you down onto the bed with her.

"So needy," You chuckle, kissing down her jaw to her neck, nipping gently at her skin.

"Shut up," She huffs, her hands moving to grip your shoulders as you lean over her. She pulls you closer to her and wraps her legs around your waist, drawing your attention to the bulge in your pants.

"Watch your mouth, sweetheart," You whisper, your lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. You allow your hands to run across her muscular body, fingertips exploring every dip and curve. The muscles in her stomach tense under your touch as you move lower, brushing your fingers against the waistband of her panties.

"Didn't I tell you to take these off?" You ask, raising an eyebrow as you lean back, looking down at her with a frown.

"I'm sorry," She whispers, her gaze shifting to the floor.

"That's okay," You say, a smirk tugging at your lips as you sit back on your heels. "Take them off. Now."

Abby hesitates for a moment before slowly lifting her hips, allowing you to remove the fabric covering her core. You watch in amusement as she tries to keep her face neutral while you gently push her thighs apart, spreading her open for you.

"Don't be shy now," You tease, rubbing your thumb along her folds, applying just enough pressure to draw a soft moan from her. "There we go," You hum, leaning down and pressing your lips to her inner thigh, causing her to let out a small gasp.

"Look how pretty you are," You whisper, your breath hot on her skin.

"Y/n," Abby whines, her hands reaching down to grip your forearms. "I-I didn't shave, I didn't think that-" You lower yourself back down to her sopping core, licking a teasingly quick stripe up to her little bundle of nerves. She lets out a loud moan, her hands flying to your head, fingers tangling into your locs and bringing your face closer to the mess of blond curls between her legs. Wrapping both of your arms around her trembling thighs, you continue to lap at her cunt like a woman starved-- delighting in the pitiful moans and whines she tries, and fails to conceal with her free hand. Once you slip your tongue into her tight hole, she's shaking with her second orgasm before she can even think to ask permission to have it

"Oh, honey," You hum, a sadistic smile gracing your lips as she comes down from her high. "Did you just cum without asking?"

Abby's eyes widen and she shakes her head frantically. "No! No, I didn't mean to!" She stutters, her voice wavering slightly as she begins to panic.

You chuckle darkly as you bring two fingers to her clit, stroking it lightly. "Really?"

"Yes, I promise!" Abby whimpers, squirming beneath you as you increase the speed of your ministrations.

"Hmm... Well, I guess since you already came, there's really no reason for me to keep playing with you, right?" You ask, your tone sarcastic and taunting as you pull away from her body.

"No!" Abby cries, her grip on your hair tightening. "Please don't stop!"

"Why not?" You demand, pulling completely away from her.

"Because," She groans, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggles to catch her breath. "It feels good."

"What else?" You press, running your hands down the length of her muscular torso, coming to rest on her hips.

"I like when you touch me," She breathes, her voice barely audible.

"I know you do, sweetie," You coo, leaning down and pressing your lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "But if I'm going to continue to make you feel good, then you're going to have to follow my rules. Got it?"

She nods frantically as you raise yourself from the bed, turning to retrieve the nipple clamps you had brought up and hidden behind some clutter on your dresser.

"I'm not like your bitch-ass boyfriend, sweetheart," You start, crawling back onto the bed and straddling her hips. "If I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it. And if you don't, well..." Your words trail off as you reach for the pink silk blindfold resting atop the comforter, quickly securing it over her eyes, rendering her sightless. "I have ways to make sure you'll listen to me, understand?"

"Y-yes," She whispers, her head nodding nervously as you take the time to secure each nipple clamp on either side of her small breasts, delighting in the little shrieks she gives once she feels the cold metal clamp down on her sensitive buds.

"What's your safeword, sweet girl, hm?" You ask, tracing your thumb along the seam of her lower lip.

"Red," She replies obediently, her hands finding purchase on the flesh of your thighs.

"That's right," You hum, drawing a pink vibrator from its spot on the mattress and tucking it between her legs. You lean down, kissing her softly as you begin to work the toy against her folds. "Now, be a good girl and hold this riiight here," You instruct, placing her hand on top of yours that was holding the small device. "Don't move until I say so,"

"Okay," She agrees, her fingertips digging into the back of your palm. You chuckle at her eagerness, moving your hand from under hers and allowing her to take hold of the vibrator. Once you were satisfied with her level of obedience, you raised yourself from the bed yet again and moved toward the edge of the mattress where she lay. You watched as she continued to rock her hips against the silicone massager, soft moans and whines escaping her parted lips as her pleasure grew. After a few moments of simply admiring her, you reached down to grab her by the back of her neck and roughly pulled her up into a sitting position. The sudden movement caused her to gasp in surprise, but she didn't falter in her rhythm, continuing to ride the pink object between her legs.

"You look so pretty like this, sweetheart," You murmured, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead as you slid the fingers of your free hand between her lips. "Keep doing what you're doing."

Abby moaned around your digits as they brushed against the roof of her mouth, her tongue lapping eagerly at their tips. You smiled to yourself as she began sucking on your fingertips, coating them in her saliva. Slowly, you withdrew your hand from her mouth and moved behind her, pressing your chest against her back as you wrapped your arms around her torso.

"Do you trust me?" You whispered, running your hands down her front, cupping her small breasts.

"Yes," She breathed, her voice shaky as she turned her head toward you.

"Good," You praised, bringing both of your hands down to grip her hips tightly. She nodded frantically as you gently pushed her forward, forcing her to bend over at the waist. You ran your hand up her spine, feeling the muscles beneath her skin contract as she bent over further, resting her palms flat on the comforter. Reaching down to your waistband, you released the straps that held the large rubber dick against your pelvis, making sure that it hung loose enough for you to fuck her without restraint. You then positioned yourself directly behind her and leaned forward, grabbing hold of the base of her hairline and pulling her back toward you, forcing her head back slightly as she rested on her knees, ass raised into the air.

"Fuck, Abs," You groaned, your eyes glued to her glistening cunt as she ground herself against your strap. "Look at you, sweetheart."

"Please," Abby whimpered, her voice hoarse as she pleaded with you.

Without further hesitation, you lined the head of your strap up with her fluttering hole, biting back a moan as she pushed her hips back to meet your thrust, causing the vibrator wedged between the base of the cock and your cunt to buzz to life, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine. You slowly eased into her tight heat, inch by inch until you bottomed out, allowing her time to adjust to the size of your toy. Once you were certain she had grown accustomed to the girth of the silicone dick, you pulled out completely before slamming back into her, setting a brutal pace. Her high-pitched shrieks and moans echoed throughout the room as you fucked into her roughly, using your free hand to hold onto her hip for leverage while the other remained wrapped firmly around her neck.

"Fuck, baby-- making Mommy feel so good," You moaned, burying your face in the crook of her neck as you continued to pound into her relentlessly, the sound of your skin slapping together reverberating off the walls. "You're taking me so well, honey. Such a good girl."

Abby let out a strangled cry as you tightened your grip on her throat, cutting off her oxygen supply momentarily as you forced her body closer to yours. The pleasure was overwhelming her senses, rendering her speechless as her entire body tensed, preparing for another orgasm. As your own climax approached, you began to slow the movement of your hips, opting to grind into her instead of thrusting. Your hand found its way to her clit, taking hold of the small vibrator she struggled to keep in place as you held her other hand behind her back.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," You purred, words sliding from your lips like honey as you bit down on the soft skin below her ear.

Abby screamed as she came hard around you, her body shaking uncontrollably as she rode out her high. You watched in awe as her walls spasmed around your length, thick, white release coating your cock as it gathered into a solid ring at the base. You continued to move your hips slowly against hers as she came down from her high, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath and you struggled to chase your high. Once she seemed sufficiently recovered, you carefully removed your strap-on from her abused pussy, watching as her juices dripped from the tip and onto the comforter, reaching around her back to carefully remove the clamps before tossing them somewhere across the room.

"Holy shit," Abby gasped, her voice hoarse as she collapsed against the bed, lying on her stomach and clasping her sore breats as she attempted to calm herself. With one swift motion, you flipped her entire body so she was lying on her back, moving to lick and suck at her bright-red cunt as she squirmed and squealed in protest-- attempting feebly to pry your face from between her legs.

"Y/n," She whined, trying desperately to push you away with what little strength remained in her tired limbs. You simply chuckled to yourself as you continued to devour her, savoring her taste as she writhed beneath you. After a few moments, you finally pulled back and wiped the remaining fluids from your lips before removing the blindfold from Abby's face. The moment she saw your disheveled state, her eyes widened slightly and a blush rose to her cheeks as she quickly averted her gaze. You wore a few of her scratches on various parts of your body, and you looked like you'd just run a marathon-- your perfect tits (that she loved) rising and falling with each of your exasperated breaths. Bright-pink dildo hanging from your soft hips, practically dripping in her juices.

"You're so beautiful," She whispered, her gaze returning to meet yours once more as she brought a hand up to caress your cheek. Unintentionally ignoring her as you struggled to remove the contraption from your hips, sighing in relief when you finally managed to do so. You tossed the toy aside and climbed over her, moving to straddle her hips as you raised her leg to rest over your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her tone hesitant and confused as she tried to sit up, only to be pushed back down by the force of your hand against her sternum.

"I'm not done with you yet," You replied matter-of-factly, positioning yourself so that your center hovered directly above hers. You pressed your palm against her knee, spreading her legs apart as you lowered yourself onto her lap.

"Oh..." She trailed off, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt your slick heat press against her own.

The two of you moaned simultaneously as your folds brushed together, sending waves of pleasure throughout your bodies. Your hands moved to grip her hips as you rocked your own against them, grinding yourself against her as she bucked upward, desperate for friction. The feeling was overwhelming, causing both of your bodies to tremble violently as you continued to grind against each other. Soon, your movements grew sloppier and less coordinated, but neither of you seemed to care as you approached your climaxes. The room filled with the sounds of your moans and screams as you continued to ride one another, chasing after your releases. After a few more minutes, Abby let out a final gasp and arched her back, shaking as she came undone underneath you, sopping-wet cunt squirting it's plentiful release all over your lower abdomen. You followed soon after, unable to hold back any longer as your white release mixed into the mess of fluids beneath both of your forms. You fell forward, pressing your forehead against hers as you caught your breath. The two of you stayed like that for a while, listening to each other's ragged breathing as you attempted to recover. Eventually, you pulled away and slowly stood from the bed, making your way to the bathroom to grab a towel. Once you returned, you found Abby laying motionless on the mattress, eyes shut tightly as she took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. You knelt beside her and began gently cleaning the mix of sweat and cum from her exhausted body. She hummed softly, appreciating the gentle touches as you worked, careful not to wake her. After a few minutes, you finished and crawled back into bed beside her, pulling the blanket over both of you as you curled up next to her.

"How're you feeling, honey?" You asked quietly, tracing patterns along her sculpted forearms.

"Tired," She replied simply, twitching a bit at your tender touches.

"Sit up, please," You coaxed, helping her up until her back met your chest as you shifted to lean your own against the expanse of the headboard. "Thank you,"

Fatigued fingers drew themselves through her dark blonde hair as you gently combed the knots from it before collecting it all in one hand. Softly, you braided her hair into a beautiful fishtail-- just as she liked-- before giving it a gentle and playful tug, silently indicating your completion. With a weak smile, she nuzzled her face into your chest-- much too tired and fucked-out to fully access the softness and meaning of what you'd just done.

In all honesty, so were you. You'd just briefly remembered her telling you how Owen preferred it down.

-

#abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby the last of us #tlou x reader #tlou #wlw smut #Spotify

[turtletaubwrites]

Gag Order

Thank you, @princeasimdiya12 for this request, I had such a great time writing it!

*Please read the tags!! This is very DubCon!

Pairings: Sanji x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3268

Ao3 Link

Summary: You catch your boyfriend flirting with another woman, and you can't stop your worries. Until you decide to use your talents as a hypnotist to make sure you're the only one Sanji flirts with. He told you he only wants to be with you, so what's the harm in helping him keep that promise?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Modern AU, Implied/Referenced Cheating, not confirmed but Sanji flirts and reader gets worried, Alcohol, Hypnotism, Manipulation, Gags, Bondage, Swearing, Smut, Hand Jobs, Established Relationship, Pet Names, Sub Sanji

A/N: The reader uses hypnosis and sex to manipulate Sanji into not flirting with other women, controlling his behavior. Please do not read this one if those themes may be triggering.

Extra A/N: I DO NOT CONDONE THE ACTIONS IN THIS FIC. This is not how hypnosis works, and I would not condone it if it did. Our subconscious minds won’t accept suggestions that go against our interests. (Cults are a different story, but hypnosis sessions could not do this.) Any who, I hope you enjoy it 😊

You remembered the way you’d blushed, shaking your head at his cheesy line. Still, something about the way he’d tilted his head, crinkling his eyes just a little, made his excessive compliments creep in like teasing fingers on your skin.

And he’d gotten you. Sanji was yours, and you were his. That’s what he promised you.

So why were you in the parking lot of your favorite coffee shop watching him tilt his head at the barista, waiting at the counter to keep talking as she prepared his drink? Why was she blushing, looking at him through her lashes?

You started the car before he grabbed his drink from her hand, chewing the inside of your mouth as you drove to a bar instead.

I knew what he was like. He’s just a flirty person. I have no reason to doubt him.

But what if I do? That’s how he got me. What if he just can’t help himself? What if it’s all a lie?

Those thoughts burned more than the scotch you sipped, failing to calm your nerves.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, opening a new email from your business account. 

It should be a run of the mill client, and you fell into the rhythm of scheduling and exchanging details. 

Hypnotizing clients to break bad habits was your bread and butter. Your lips twitched with a hint of pride in your work. 

At least I’m confident in one area of my life. 

That thought brought that sickening, writhing mass back to your gut, and you hated yourself for feeling this way. 

Bad habits…

You held your glass in the air in front of you, forgetting you were about to take a sip as your mind started racing.

No. Fuck. I couldn’t…

Leaving the scotch on the bar with a tip, you followed your worst impulses out the door for an impromptu shopping trip.

~

‘I’ve got a surprise for you. My place tonight?’

He answered that text almost immediately, and you let out a nervous giggle as you set things up. 

Part of your brain was screaming at you, logic and morals getting squashed by your determination.

His knock on the door felt like the point of no return.

“Hello, my love. I can’t wait to see what kind of surprise my darling has in store for me tonight.”

His hands and lips were already on you, just enough to send heat to your cheeks. 

He’s so good at getting me flustered. 

The image of that blushing barista cooled your blood, and you placed your hands on his face, willing yourself to keep steady.

Pressing your lips to his, you grabbed his wandering hands, pulling him to the bedroom. You turned on a dim lamp to reveal the chair you’d set up, displaying your new toys.

The sight of the ropes and gags made Sanji stumble, an audible moan making your own body tighten.

“I take it you’re interested?”

His heavy lidded eyes pulled away from the chair, meeting yours as a small shudder ran over his skin.

“What are we…”

“I thought I’d finally treat you to something you’ve been asking for.”

“Mm, and what’s that, my dear,” he asked, recovering enough to tease, running his thumb along your hip as he drew you closer.

“I’m going to hypnotize you.”

Sanji’s eyes widened, excitement evident in his features, before he tilted his head toward the chair.

“Do you normally tie up and gag your clients, angel? I didn’t know you were in this line of business.”

He breathed his words along the skin of your neck, his voice raspy with heat, and you let out a soft moan.

“No, sweetie, that’s just for you. If you’re open to it, of course.”

Sanji released a low laugh, placing the ropes and gags on the bed. He sat down, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair as he grinned at you. 

“I’m glad you’re so eager,” you teased, standing in front of him. You slipped into a colder, almost professional tone. 

“Do you consent to being bound, gagged, and hypnotized?”

Even in the low light, you could see the imprint of Sanji’s dick, hard and straining against his slacks as he shivered.

“What are you hypnotizing me to do?”

He was practically liquid on the chair, breathing heavily. You leaned in over him, letting an evil smile touch your lips. 

“To be a better boyfriend.”

The small shock, and mock outrage on his face made you grin. 

“If you consent, you can strip now.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as he removed his clothes. You enjoyed the show, especially as you watched his face. 

I didn’t lie. He said it’s okay.

Your excuses were pushed away, along with your guilt and doubt as you watched his gorgeous, naked body sit before you, his heavy cock twitching occasionally as his eyes roamed your features.

As you knelt beside him, tying him to the chair, you let your voice sink into that soothing cadence. You explained what was going to happen, the process of induction, of bringing him to the relaxed state of mind needed for hypnosis. 

Trailing your fingers along his body, you asked permission to gag him, and permission to touch him.

I’m doing all of this right. He said he wants to be with only me. He wants to be mine. I’m just helping him.

The sight of Sanji bound before you, helpless to whatever you chose to do next, sent a thrill through you.

“We’re going to begin now. Are you ready?”

“Yes, darling. I’m all yours.”

~

Sanji’s mouth was parted as he stared up at your fingers, your hand above his head so that he was looking as high as he could without tilting his neck. Your other hand lay loose at your side, ready. 

This process was so natural to you now, that it had almost become your own hypnotic state. 

“Sanji. You will be totally relaxed. You will be able to hear me, and feel me, and answer my questions, and your mind and body will stay in a deep level of relaxation.”

“I am going to count from ten down to one, and with each number, and each breath, you will become more and more deeply relaxed, moving gently down.”

As you counted down, repeating the commands for relaxation, you watched his body for signs. His eyes were already fluttering, then you allowed them to close as he continued listening.

He’s going to be so easy to hypnotize.

Smiling at the thought, you started your next test. Bringing your free hand to give a loud snap at your next command, you watched his body jolt slightly before practically melting. 

“Every time you hear the snap of my fingers you sink even deeper, going deeper, drifting deeper. As your mind and body relax completely, you are open to hypnosis, open to my suggestions. As you go deeper,” *snap* “drift deeper,” *snap* “sink deeper,” *snap* “Your body and mind are accepting and welcoming suggestions.”

Normally, you’d test a client’s level of relaxation again with an arm test, but his were tied. However, you knew you didn’t need to. Some people take to hypnosis so naturally, they are the easiest clients. 

And Sanji was so easy. 

You finally brought the long count down to one, confirming and commanding that Sanji was ready to accept suggestions, and to answer questions. 

“Alright Sanji, now that you are fully relaxed, you are going to answer questions easily and truthfully. Answer me now.” *snap* “Are you ready to answer my questions?”

“Yes.”

“Good, Sanji. As you answer each question you feel relaxation move through you. Do you want to be a better boyfriend?” *snap*

“Yes.”

“Of course you do. The feeling of wanting to be a good boyfriend grows even stronger now as you,” *snap* “go deeper, drift deeper. That feeling will continue to grow as you relax,” *snap* “deeper.”

You continued snapping and repeating throughout your commands, loving how easily, and quickly he took to them. 

“In a moment now, Sanji, you will feel my fingers on your skin. You will stay relaxed as you follow my suggestions. But first answer this question honestly and truthfully.”

“Do you flirt with other women?”

“Yes.”

“Is that something a good boyfriend would do?”

“No.”

*snap*

“Good, Sanji. You want to be a good boyfriend, and now you know what not to do. It’s just a habit, and habits can be changed.”

Sanji let out a little whimper, a common thing for clients to do when facing uncomfortable information or guilt during session. 

“You are doing so well, your mind and body are relaxed and accepting suggestions.” *snap* “Now Sanji, we are going to help you become a better boyfriend. You will feel my touch now, and every touch will only bring you deeper into relaxation.”

You picked up the ball gag and traced it along his chest and arm before touching his face. You coached and guided him to open his mouth, using your fingers to gently pry open his lips and jaw. Soft noises left his throat as you fastened it behind his head, checking that it was a good fit.

He was so helpless. You didn’t realize how much you’d enjoy the sight of him like this.

“You are doing so well, Sanji. So relaxed, breathing through your nose so well.”

Sanji gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head, and your mouth dropped open when you noticed his swollen cock, precum leaking down his shaft.

You had to pause for a couple minutes at the sight. Luckily, when clients are in such deep hypnosis, you can often take a short break without them noticing. You normally need to stretch, have water, and a cough drop halfway through a two hour session. 

Right now you needed to catch your breath, trying to focus on your goal instead of Sanji’s gorgeous cock crying out for your attention. 

Fuck.

“Sanji, as you relax, you notice how your body feels. You are relaxed as you pay attention to how your lips, your tongue, and your jaw feel. As you relax now Sanji, you will continue to answer my questions. Do you flirt with other women?”

“yhh.”

The muffled sound strained from the back of his throat. You knew his answer was the same as before. 

“Is that something a good boyfriend would do?”

“ghn.”

“Good, Sanji. Now let your body remember how this gag feels. How it presses your tongue, and stops your words. You are going to use this feeling, your body is going to carry it with you, to help you be a better boyfriend.”

He nodded, small tears forming under his closed eyes. 

“Take yourself back now, going back in time to this afternoon. Picture yourself at the coffee shop. You are there now, you can see what you saw then. The smells, and the sounds wash over you. The power of your subconscious mind is bringing you back to that moment. That woman is there, the barista, speaking to you while she makes your coffee. Are you there now?” *snap* 

“yghh” 

“Were you flirting with that woman?”

A few more tears fell down over Sanji’s stretched cheeks as he grunted his ‘yes.’

“Is that what a good boyfriend would do?”

You paused after his muffled ‘no,’ his admittance of his behavior fueling your desire to see this through. 

I’m just helping him with a bad habit. 

“As you relax deeper,” *snap* “going deeper, you will go back to that moment. You will look at that woman that is not your girlfriend. And when I snap my fingers you will flirt with her just like you did then.”

*snap* 

With his tongue fully pressed beneath the large ball gag, whatever his line was that he’d used on that woman was lost, only grunts and drool spilling from his lips now.

“Your body remembers this feeling. It will carry it through, beyond this session. You want to be a good boyfriend. So now, when you want to flirt with a woman that isn’t your girlfriend, your subconscious mind will bring back this feeling. Flirting is just a habit. Now your body is helping you change that habit. Because you want to be a good boyfriend.”

Each command was accompanied by a snap, and you relished in how deep he was in hypnosis, how pliable. 

This is going to work.

“When I snap my fingers, you will say that you want to be a good boyfriend.”

*snap*

“Mn mwnn gh ghm mm ghmm ghmmrrmn.”

“We’re going to practice this again. Your mind is taking you now to another moment when you flirted with a woman that was not your girlfriend. Your mind is traveling there now.”

Sanji waited so perfectly for you as you removed his ball gag. You grabbed a soft cloth from the bed, wiping the spit that was dripping down his chin, before stuffing the fabric into his mouth. 

“When I snap my fingers, you will flirt with her like you did then.”

This fabric wasn’t as effective as the ball gag, and you tried to makeout what his line had been. 

“Whths ah ghoohthy lch ygh ghnng ng ah ghlsh lch thss?”

Even through the gag you could feel the hint of his purr, and it spurred you on. 

“When I snap my fingers, you will say that you want to be a good boyfriend.”

*snap*

“Eh whnn gh ghh ah ghoogh ghhrrnngh.”

You commanded again that his body would remember this feeling, carry it over. Then you removed the fabric, bringing your final tool in front of his face.

“Now, Sanji, in a moment I will have you open your eyes, just enough to see what I have in my hands.”

You showed it to him, then started trailing it slowly over his thighs, chest, and arms. 

“This is your handkerchief now. It will be your anchor. Everyday, you will put it in your pocket, and it will remind you of your goal to be a better boyfriend.”

You brought it to his hand, rubbing it gently over his fingers. 

“Each day that you touch it, your subconscious mind will remember.” 

You brought it to his lips, covering his mouth and clamping your hand over it. 

Again, you led him to a memory of flirting with another woman, training him to remember how this feels. 

“Your subconscious mind is accepting these suggestions, and they will carry over. Your mind will recall exactly how you have felt tonight. The next time you feel the urge to flirt with another woman, your body will remind you of these feelings.”

You folded the handkerchief, stuffing it into his pants’ pocket, unable to stifle a small smile as your heart raced, the reality of what you’d just done hitting you. 

You knelt in front of him, amazed at how hard he still was after all of that work.

“You’ve been doing so well, Sanji. I know you want to be such a good boyfriend. And good boyfriends get good things. Would you like something good, Sanji?”

“Yes,” he stuttered, finally free from the gags.

“Soon I will count back up from ten to one, and your conscious mind will let go of all that we’ve done, but your subconscious mind will remember. Your conscious mind will only remember the relaxation, and the pleasure, but your subconscious mind, and your body will remember it all. You will carry all of these suggestions with you.”

“And as I count you back to this moment, you will feel so much pleasure. You will be completely present, and happy to be with your girlfriend. You will feel so good knowing that you are a good boyfriend. Are you ready to feel good, Sanji?”

He nodded, making sweet, needy noises for you.

You started to count him out, going slowly as you traced your fingers on his lap. Continuing your commands as you teased his tip, his body started shaking as much as the ropes would allow.

“You’re being so good for me, Sanji. So good. Three.” *snap*

Stroking his cock now, you knew it wouldn’t be long. You spaced out your count, bringing him out so slowly so you could time it right.

“I wanna be a good boyfriend…”

The words came out of him without your command, Sanji’s pathetic whine making you drip with need. 

“You are.” *snap* “You are a good boyfriend, Sanji. Now, when I snap my fingers one more time you will be awake and alert with me here and now. You will open your eyes, and you will feel so good, and your body will remember.”

The feel of his swollen skin in your hand set you on fire, and you waited until you watched him twitching, feeling him pulsing.

*snap* 

Sanji opened his eyes, mouth slack as he met your gaze. Then his eyes rolled back, his come shooting straight up over his lap, making a mess. 

He let out the most gorgeous, unrestrained moans, and you kept going until every drop spilled out of him, dripping down your fingers.

His head was still tilted back, and his breath was heavy for a few long moments.

“Are you okay,” you asked, your voice soft with worry. 

What if he remembers? What if he’s angry?

“Mm, I feel incredible, my love. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relaxed in my life.”

You let out a tiny squeal of happiness, standing up to reach his lips for a kiss.

He’s all mine.

~

You waited in the parking lot the next day, hoping he’d stick to the same schedule. Again, shoving aside all the guilt and worry, you just focused, obsessing over if this worked.

Huddling down in your seat with a gasp, you watched your boyfriend walk in, staring at his profile as he waited in line. 

Sanji got to the front, pulling out his wallet as he pointed to the menu. It was the same woman from the day before, and you cringed at her playful smile. 

Sanji smiled back, and your heart sank. 

Until he reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out the handkerchief.

Sanji looked away from her as she took his card, and you watched in sick pleasure as he covered his whole mouth with the fabric, holding it over his lips just as you had. 

The woman tried to talk to him after she returned his card, but he could hardly look at her, still holding the handkerchief to his face as he nodded. 

He walked away, standing against the wall as he waited. 

Guilt and triumph filled you, and your hands were shaking as you grabbed your keys. 

You let out a little scream when your phone chirped, dropping your keys, then laughed at your nerves. You started the car, wanting to get out of there before he came outside, but you saw his name on your phone’s screen. 

More fear flooded you, and you saw that he was still waiting against the wall, staring at his phone. 

Holding your breath, you checked the text.

‘Can I cook dinner for my beautiful girlfriend tonight? Already missing your face, my love 💖’

You tossed your phone to the passenger seat, and drove away, body buzzing. You couldn’t believe how giddy you felt, and you kept squealing and biting your lip. 

Amidst the giddiness you still felt guilt, but you kept shaking it away, telling yourself it was for the best. 

Now he’s all mine, and I’m all his. That’s what he promised me anyway. 

Thank you for reading! 💜

a/n: Once again, hypnosis can't do that, and I wouldn't condone this either way. But I had fun with this one, and I hope you did too!

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[weemssapphic]

in my head (series)

Chapter One: Friends with Benefits

Larissa Weems x f!reader

next chapter | series page

words: ~2.7k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: light smut (nsfw), mentions of alcohol plot: Friends with benefits. No strings attached - no dates, no feelings, just sex (really good sex). That’s what you’d told Larissa. That’s what Larissa seemed to want, and you would do anything to make her happy. So you would be content with the way things were - for now.

“Darling, ‘mm so close,” Larissa moaned. Her thighs clenched around your head as you lapped at her core, savoring every drop of her arousal as she rode out her orgasm. 

You peppered Larissa’s inner thighs with kisses and tiny bite marks before coming up to kiss her, whimpering softly as her tongue brushed against yours. 

The bell rang and the hallway flooded with students, signaling the end of your free period. 

“My meeting with Mayor Walker is in ten minutes,” Larissa sighed, running her fingers affectionately through your hair and stopping at your jaw, pulling you in for a heated kiss that held promises of more to come - later, once official duties had been fulfilled.

You were reluctant to pull away but you had your own class coming up in a few minutes, and so the ache between your thighs would have to wait.

“I don’t think my students would take kindly to me being late for fucking their principal, huh?” You smirked, earning yourself an incredulous look and a playful slap on the ass from the older woman. 

“Must you be so crass?”

“Oh don’t even try to deny it, you love it when I talk dirty,” you grinned and tossed Larissa a wink, which was rewarded with an eye roll.

“I love it even more when you stop talking completely and put that mouth to better use,” she grumbled, the amused glint in her sapphire eyes giving her away.

You placed a hand to your chest in faux-surprise. “Principal Weems, you wound me. Here I thought you enjoyed my clever quips.”

“For that they would actually have to be clever, darling. Now I only have seven minutes until my meeting, and I am still your boss, so I must ask you to leave. Unless you’d like to be punished for being late to your own class…?” Larissa quirked up an eyebrow and you felt your cheeks heat at the implication. 

“As tempting as the offer is, Principal Weems, I should get going.” 

You reached out and fixed her smudged lipstick with your thumb. Larissa gazed at you fondly, eyes sparkling, lips tugged up into a small smile at the outer corners. “Thank you,” she murmured. You weren’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but you could swear you saw a pink tinge to her cheeks.

“If you need me,” you said, raising an eyebrow suggestively as you fetched your panties from her desk and planted a final kiss to Larissa’s cheek before turning to leave. “You know where to find me.”

“Perhaps tonight, to let off some steam. You know how tiresome the Mayor can be,” she rolled her eyes and you snorted in agreement.

“I thought you didn’t tire easily,” you teased.

“Not with you, darling.”

Larissa watched you leave, eyes fixated on the sway of your hips as they disappeared from sight behind her office door. A glance at her watch told her the mayor was due any minute now, so she shook her head lightly, as if physically trying to rid herself from thoughts of you. She mustn't let herself get distracted. 

~~~ FLASHBACK ~~~

You had piqued Larissa’s interest from the moment she’d hired you for the newly founded position of Outcast Neurostudies teacher. Your ability as a mind-reader made you uniquely suited to the position, and it intrigued Larissa - she hadn’t met anyone like you before, and she felt drawn to you from the get go. You challenged her in ways not many people had the ability to, and there was a certain charge in the air when you were around that she simply couldn’t explain.

After spending some one-on-one time together, the two of you had discovered you had quite a lot in common, and had developed a close friendship. You would spend Friday nights curled up in front of Larissa’s fireplace, sharing a bottle of red wine and talking about everything and nothing. It felt nice for Larissa, finally opening up to someone again.

Only she couldn’t get you off her mind. One such day, she was sitting at her desk, preparing to leave for Outreach Day by firing off a few last minute emails. Her thoughts drifted to you - it would be the first time she’d see you off-campus, and the thought thrilled her a bit. Perhaps she could steal you away for some hot chocolate at the Weathervane when all the students were settled into their assignments. 

Larissa’s thoughts drifted even further, wondering what you would be wearing. You always looked so tantalizing, blouses that stopped just shy of your cleavage, skirts that would hike up when you’d squeeze onto the sofa in Larissa’s office, the smooth expanse of your thighs on display. And you, so blissfully unaware of your charm. The thought made Larissa heady. 

No. Such thoughts about an employee were unprofessional.

But if they only stayed thoughts? 

Larissa slammed her laptop shut with a frustrated groan. She could feel her panties growing damp as she pictured you writhing underneath her, riding out an orgasm on her fingers. Fuck. 

She had to do something about the ache between her legs, or Outreach Day was going to be pure torture.

Larissa’s hand slipped under the hem of her skirt and dipped between her thighs, cupping her soaked panties. This wouldn’t take long, she was already so close. She began to rut against her hand, rubbing hard and fast circles against her swollen clit, the faintest of moans passing her lips. Images of you, face contorted with pleasure, screaming her name, flashed behind her eyes as she stroked herself through her panties, her stomach burning.

A knock at her office door caused her to jerk her hand up, and she coughed out a weak “come in!” whilst smoothing her skirt. 

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear - you strolled into her office, beaming ear-to-ear, wearing a tight blouse with the top button undone, hair pulled back to reveal the full curve of your jaw (oh, how would it feel to leave prints of her own lipstick along that jaw?)

“Ready for Outreach Day, Larissa? The students are waiting by the buses.” If you noticed that Larissa was flushed, her breathing labored, well, you didn’t comment.

“Y-yes, Ms. Y/L/N. I’m ready.” Larissa cleared her throat, fingers twitching on her desk as she pressed her thighs together to relieve the tension still steadily climbing inside of her.

“Great! Maybe you’d like to sit next to me on the bus?” Your innocent smile did absolutely nothing to soothe the ache between Larissa’s legs. This was going to be a long day. 

And it was. Thanks to Wednesday Addams, it was a complete disaster. 

The day ended with Larissa inviting you back to her office to share a bottle of wine as she let out her frustrations. One bottle quickly turned into two, and Larissa became aware, again, of the fire in her belly, the heat spreading rapidly throughout all her limbs.

You sat close, closer than you’d ever sat. The firelight flickered across your features, illuminating your natural beauty. You looked so eager, so receptive. When you put your hand on her forearm in a soothing gesture, stroking her bare skin with your thumb, it made her dizzy.

She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the day’s pent up frustrations but before she knew what she was doing, her lips were on yours. To her surprise, you didn’t push her away - quite the contrary, you let out a wanton moan, a moan that said “what are you waiting for?” and she pulled you closer by the waist and allowed her tongue to slide against yours.

She fucked you right there on her office sofa that night, both a little wine drunk, neither one of you caring about anything except quelling the burning desire that burned inside the both of you.

And then morning came. Larissa awoke alone in her bed with a searing headache and, moments later, the events of the previous night came flooding back to her. Her tongue on your cunt, teasing your entrance, circling your clit. Your breathy moans, the way your thighs clenched around her head as you came. 

Shame coursed through her body. She wanted to run and hide, but she knew she had to own up to her mistake, so she called you into her office for the conversation that had changed the trajectory of your relationship:

“Come in.” Larissa was sitting at her desk, head in her hands, when you entered the office. She could barely look up, unsure how she would be able to look into your eyes.

“I assume you want to talk about last night?” you asked. When Larissa finally looked up, you were biting your lip - you looked nervous, and it took everything in Larissa not to reach out and kiss you, to soothe you somehow.

She took a deep breath, slipping into her mask of professionalism, steeling herself for rejection. “Y/N… I apologize for what I did last night. I don’t want you to think poorly of me, what I did was not appropriate nor professional in the slightest. I value the friendship you’ve trusted me with and hate to think that I’ve broken that trust over a silly drunken mishap.”

To Larissa’s utter shock, you laughed. “Larissa… I don’t know about you but last night was the best sex I’ve ever had. Where did you learn to do that thing with your tongue?” Larissa’s heart began to pound, the blood rushing to her face. Was she hearing you correctly? Was this some sort of fever dream? You were supposed to be angry, to be disgusted with her. Yet here you were, staring at her with your kind eyes - laughing?

You rounded her desk, perching at the edge of it and taking Larissa’s chin between your fingers. The action made her shiver. “Hey, I’m sorry. I wanted to lighten the mood a little. I just mean I don’t think poorly of you and you have nothing to apologize for, because I don’t regret what happened last night. I enjoyed myself and if you did, too, then I don’t see why we couldn’t… you know, do that again sometime.” You smiled hopefully.

Larissa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her mind was reeling - when she’d woken up that morning she’d been so afraid you’d be disgusted with her, that you’d tell her off and never want to speak with her again. Instead, you were offering yourself to her on a silver platter. She couldn’t dare hope. 

“I have a rule against dating coworkers,” she said slowly.

“Oh, I don’t mean dating. Think of it as blowing off steam.”

There was a beat of silence where the implications of your words hung heavy in the air.

“What are you suggesting?” Larissa furrowed her brows, pulse racing as she tried to concentrate with your fingers tracing the line of her jaw.

“Haven’t you heard of, you know… friends with benefits?” Your cheeks were slightly rosy and you sucked your lip between your teeth.

Larissa snorted, her hand shooting up to cover her painted lips at the unpretty sound.

You let go of her chin and slipped behind her, soothing your fingers into the tense muscles at the base of her neck. God, that feels good… You dug your thumbs more intensely into her shoulders and she couldn’t help the moan that spilled out of her mouth.

“Friends with benefits, huh?” Larissa’s voice was low and wanting as she mulled over your words. 

“No strings attached, Larissa. No feelings, no dates. Just two friendly coworkers who enjoy each other's company and just so happen to have mind-blowing sex.” Any qualms Larissa had about staying professional, about not ruining your friendship, were slowly trickling away as your warm breath washed over neck, your hands working her muscles into putty. 

“Mmh…” You dug your thumbs harder into Larissa’s back. “I could agree to that.” She let out a moan and swiveled her desk chair around, putting an end to the massage in order to claim your lips with her own. 

~~~ END FLASHBACK ~~~

A few weeks into your arrangement with Larissa, you still got chills every time you walked down the corridor to her office. You couldn’t believe your luck - somehow, the stunning, intelligent, imposing woman had not only become one of your closest friends, but was also interested in you sexually.

Your relationship with her was almost perfect: you’d talk, laugh, cry, be there for each other like best friends, then you’d have the best sex you’d ever had with anyone - all, as you’d said, without any strings attached, without having to label anything. If sharing a glass of wine and quelling her sexual frustrations was all she wanted from you, hell, you weren’t going to question it. It was more than you could ever dare hope for. 

You reached Larissa’s office for the second time that day and knocked on the door, waiting for her smooth voice to call “enter” before slipping into the room. 

“I brought you your favorite.” You grinned, holding up a bottle of Larissa’s preferred red wine as if it were a trophy.

Larissa’s features softened as she peered up at you over the top of her laptop, her lips curling up into a smile. “Let me finish this proposal and then I’ll be right with you.”

You made yourself useful by pouring two glasses of wine, handing one to the blonde then curling up in the armchair across from her desk and watching her finish her work. She worked so intently, so diligently - her fingers flew across the keyboard, her brow furrowed lightly. Every so often she would pause, nibble at her lip, then her fingers would tap away at the keys again. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Larissa stilled, feeling your eyes upon her. Her gaze met yours and she arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You blushed and stared down into your wine. Larissa watched you for a moment before turning her attention back to her proposal, a small smile now playing upon her lips.

The next half hour passed in amiable silence as Larissa worked and you scrolled on your phone, peeking up every so often to steal a glance at the principal. Finally, she shut her laptop. She leaned back in her armchair, eyes fluttering shut, a frustrated groan escaping her lips. 

“Dare I ask how your meeting with Mayor Walker went today?” You spoke quietly, as if afraid to break the silence.

Larissa chuckled darkly, opening her eyes and reaching for her wine glass, draining it in one go. “The aftermath of this year’s Outreach Day extends farther than I thought, it appears.”

You frowned, rounding the desk and sitting on the edge, just in front of Larissa. “I’m sorry, I know how important Outcast-Normie relations are to you.” 

Larissa waved a hand in front of her face. “No need to pity me, darling, it comes with the territory. I just want to do right by these students. And now our dear mayor wants this proposal on his desk by Monday morning.” She rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“Do you want me to leave? I mean we could always take a raincheck, you look like you could use some rest and I-” Larissa lunged forward, her mouth colliding with yours, effectively putting an end to your rambling.

Her lips were warm and soft on yours, and she kissed you with a ferocious urgency that you’d rarely experienced from her. She slid her tongue against your lip and you allowed her to explore the cavern of your mouth as her hands tangled roughly in your hair.

When you parted, it was only because Larissa had run out of breath. She rested her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your face. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she murmured. “I… I need the distraction tonight.” She swallowed thickly, closing her eyes, and you could tell it was hard for her to ask for what she wanted. 

Your hands came up to cup her cheeks. “Do you want to be in charge tonight?”

x

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems #in my head series #in my head

[theonlygroupie]

Cold night

Kirk Hammett x Reader

warnings: angst, lots of swearing, mentions of alcohol and drugs

note: hey guys! this is my frst imagine ever so i really hope that you will enjoy this <3

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Me and Kirk have been together for about a year and a half. We did have our ups and downs, but we always somehow managed to stay together. For the last two weeks he has been coming home late and completely wasted, not even capapble of standing on his own and I decided that I’ve had enough.

It was four am, and I stil haven’t closed my eyes for a minute. I couldn’t stop worrying about Kirk. My Kirk. The only person that ever made me happier than anyone could. 

Suddenly, I hear a loud noise coming from downstairs. It was Kirk. I stay in bed and cover myseslf withmy bedsheets. I just didn’t want to even look at him right now. I hear more loud noises and then i hear him crawling on the stairs. 

“Baby...Where are you...?” He whispered while trying to open the door of our bedroom. I sighed and stayed quiet. He then slowly opened the door and said “Don’t you fucking hear me?”. No, not this again. I sat up and looked him. He was barely standing and staring at me. We kept looking at eachother until he came closer to me. He smelled like alcohol and cigarretes which was nothing unusual. “Hi” He said in his normal tone. Hi? is he fucking mad? He just comes here almost breaking everything in my own fucking house, totally wasted and later than he promised and a hi is all that he’s going to say? Not even a stupid apology? I got up with the urge to slap the absolute shit out of him. 

“Kirk, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He also stood up. “What do you mean?” “What do I mean? are you this fucking stupid?!” I said, raising my voice. “Alright then, let me explain what you’re doing! You never even spend time with me and all you do is drink and drugs all day and when you’re supposed to come home you don’t. I mean god knows what you’re doing when Im waiting for you here all the fucking night all worried that you might be dead somewhere in some whores house!” “Don’t you fucking call her that.” He cutted me off. “What? Who’s her? So you’re actually cheating on me?!” I yell in disbelief. I never really thought that he would cheat on me, I just said it because It’s what most men do when they come home so late everyday. Somehow I always trusted Kirk. I thought that we were the kind of couple that were head over heals in love and that all of this was just happening because he’s famous now and wants to know how it feels like to do such stuff. “So what if I am?! It’s not like you fucking care anymore. All you do is complain about the smallest things. When wast the last time you told me you loved me? Or the last time we had sex? Im fucking starving for those two things to get from you after spending all day in studio, working on the new album so you get all that you ever wanted when we had nothing and I can’t even have that?! How can you even be surprised?” It was all true. How cold I be so naive? Did I really think that I coul actually trust him? I thought that he wasn’t like others but I guess I was wrong. He just wanted sex like everyone else. I started tearing up. “Oh look at that she’s crying again!” He said with a smilee on his face. “Do you seriously think that your little sobs will make me feel guilty or something? That’s so... pathetic.” 

Tha’s it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I curled my hands into fists. “Aw, and now what? You’re gonna hit me? You know that Im much stronger than yo-” He din’t even get to finish the sentence because i punched him right in his face. I never hitted anyone. And never thought that I would, but this was just too much for me. Thanks to the alcohol, he ended up on the floor, passed out. I walked out of the house and drove off to my friends house.

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Don’t worry loves, I will write a part two, i just really want to know if anyone will even read this. 

#kirk hammett #kirk hammett imagine #metalica #metallica imagines #metallica imagine #kirk hammet x reader #kirk hammett angst #angst #kirk hammett one shot #metallica angst

[melis-writes]

Ensnared [Carlito Brigante x Reader, 18+ Smut] Oneshot.

Read on AO3. | Fanfic Masterlist | Fic and Prompt Requests Info.

18+, explicit smut oneshot.

“And whose cock is in my mouth right now? Don’t tell me you’re jealous." / “. I wouldn’t show you my face if I wasn’t a changed man ready, to tell the truth.”

Five years has passed since your fiancé Carlito was imprisoned, leaving your engagement hanging onto fate and your heartache. Fighting between what you love and know, feeling lied to and betrayed from Carlito as your heart yearns for him, you refuse to take off the very engagement ring he gave you as a sign of commitment. In bitter attempts to move on, its unbeknownst to you that Carlito's been released with only one priority in mind–finding you and convincing his fiancée that Carlito's a changed man and wants nothing but the future he promised to you before. While Gail seeking out Carlito's company too, you find yourself in a shocking position to suddenly see your fiancé once again and deny everything until Carlito ensnares you all over again with the truth and closure your heart begged for.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of prison/jail time / Mentions of drug dealing / Alcohol consumption / Heavy smut / Rough sex / Oral sex / Blowjob / Touching & foreplay / Dirty talking / Fingering / Orgasm control / Spit kink.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The Carlito Brigante x Reader smut fic we've all been waiting for is finally here!! 😩🙏🏻 Better late than never. 😅 My very first Carlito fic would be incomplete without angst + comfort, intimate fluff and much needed rough, sloppy sex. 🥵🥵 Carlito's more than eager to finally be with you after five years apart and won't relent to show you badly he wants you either. Our reader's name in this fic is Evelyn Whittaker and you'll see how you/she has felt for Carlito over the years and that it'll take a lot more than promises to mend a broken heart, but truth and closure. ❤

[ April 1993 ]

‘Friday…’ You let out a soft sigh, resting your chin over the palm of your hand as you sit at your favorite window side spot at your local café, wondering to yourself how many more times you can aimlessly stir your steaming cappuccino before letting your mind wander off even farther.

Ordering the same coffee, drinking from the same style cups, and sitting at the same table for the past six years at your café makes you realize you’re more of a creature of habit than you admit.

A lot of your own favorite things and places were also favorites of Carlito’s—just another reason why you enjoy them as much as he did.

The very café you sit at alone as the rest of the afternoon dwindles by is the very same one you and Carlito had your first date in back in 1986—seven years ago now.

Back then you’d laugh at the idea of coming here alone without Carlito’s presence, especially after the two of you memorized each other’s favorite orders; Carlito always knew you loved a classic cappuccino, and you knew his order would always be a black Americano.

In the same café at the same seat where you and Carlito laughed, joked, and had two hour-long conversations with richly delicious coffee and various sweet treats passing your lips, you were now alone, single, and had been for the past five years since Carlito was imprisoned.

Five years ago you were giddy, planning out your dream wedding day with the man you claim to be the love of your life to now sitting glumly by the window wondering when your heart will stop searching for Carlito in places you know he’ll never be in.

The initial fresh sting and pain of heartache aren’t there anymore and life has found other ways to preoccupy and distract you, but your mind’s never failed to wander and hurt you just by thinking of everything you and Carlito had from beginning to end if you didn’t make an active effort to stop thinking about it all the time.

The first two years were without a doubt absolutely unbearable; you’d barely be able to use your napkin for anything else except let it completely soak through with your tears, crying in public and always leaving your cappuccino half finished.

The pain’s never left you entirely, but there’s a familiar numbness that’s gotten you used to everything—you didn’t have a choice about that. You’d feel every ache in your heart whether you wanted to or not.

You gaze down at the engagement ring Carlito gave you upon your ring finger glumly; a two-karat pear-shaped diamond, glistening at every angle.

With your refusal within the last five years to take off the ring and last night spent crying over it until your eyes felt numb and you physically couldn’t anymore, the engagement ring now serves as a reminder for as long as you keep it on your finger, you won’t give up on Carlito entirely.

At the same time the ache in your heart tells you that such a beautiful ring over your finger is a result of Carlito’s criminality; how else would Carlito or any other person afford a two-karat diamond just like that?

‘Drug money.’ Carlito, his heroin heists, and the massive drug ring he ran in East Harlem got you this engagement ring and secured your future with Carlito, but also was a reminder as to why Carlito was in jail.

‘Five years. Twenty-five more to go.’ You feel your bottom lip trembling just thinking about the thirty-year sentence Carlito’s going to be serving, and it doesn’t look like anything’s gotten in the way to change it now.

Nothing can help Carlito or change his sentence now—at least not to you with any reasonable explanation and justification you can come up with on the spot.

You know there’s simply too much evidence that proves Carlito did everything and everything. The thirty-year sentence in a way is very much deserved when it comes to the list of Carlito’s proven charges since everyone in the courtroom including Dave—Carlito’s lawyer and close friend you can hardly stand—knew Carlito was fucked because there was little to no defense to be said against such incriminating, hard evidence.

You unfortunately remember it all so perfectly from the moment you took your seat in court until the very end when you barely had the energy left inside of you to step out.

You had never sobbed so hard in your life, silencing your tears and cries by keeping a napkin constantly pressed up to your face.

You remembered staring in horror at the judge as Carlito’s final sentence was read out and that your anxiety only doubled to cause deep nausea inside of you to watch your fiancé rise to his feet only to be handcuffed.

You remembered how right then and there Carlito had turned his head to look at you and only you; giving you a smile with a calm, content look on his face as if nothing was happening—the complete opposite from your bloodshot, teary eyes and shaky hands.

“Don’t worry, baby. Everything’s gonna be alright. Don’t you worry about me.” Were Carlito’s last words to you before the police began to escort him away and the tears pooling in your eyes blurred your vision once more.

30 years without Carlito—you didn’t have a clue as to how you’d go on, knowing you’d be almost sixty years old by the time Carlito’s set to be released.

Still, the question is the same now and will be the same every day for as long as you think of Carlito and keep the engagement ring on your finger; not to mention his belongings that are still in your apartment.

You don’t think you’ll ever recover from the fact your fiancée was a drug lord for years in East Harlem, making millions with the heroin trade and lying about all of it to you throughout the years.

The lie Carlito told you about how he made his money and what he did for a living was that Carlito bought and sold vintage, luxury cars and was also a co-owner of a diamond business on the side; all very believable knowing his stellar reputation and ability to prove it all to you when you came down to see him.

While it may have been true Carlito bought and sold expensive cars and made quite the profit off of selling diamonds, he didn’t mention the storage rooms filled with heroin; processed, refined, and smuggled out there by Carlito and his few, trusted men.

Nonetheless Carlito’s “living” was a good lie that you believed in, but a lie you also believed would sustain your marriage and lifestyle as well as the future lives of your children with Carlito too.

It was because of all of Carlito’s lies that you were ultimately confused when Carlito was arrested and went to court, simply out of being completely clueless about everything.

Even Dave didn’t tell you anything since he believed it was for Carlito and Carlito alone to tell you, but Carlito would never have the time or opportunity to—especially after he got arrested.

It didn’t take you long to realize in the courtroom what had just happened; the lies, the drugs, and Carlito’s criminality—just to name a few.

None of that stood a chance against your feelings and love for Carlito, but you only lost your fiancé that day—not your common sense.

Carlito was influential, powerful, and feared in the streets of East Harlem and kept up the same lies to you since you two met in 1985, but when he was gone, he was gone, and you had to figure out quickly for yourself as to what you would do next.

Would you go see Carlito in prison for the next thirty years as regularly as you could? Would you cut off any contact with Carlito entirely and let Dave know you’re done?

You didn’t decide on either of those—not exactly. After all, nobody ever got in the middle of your relationship with Carlito nor did they even try.

Dave had no intention of helping you; he was considered infamous in the world of law after Carlito’s case and earned the title “mobster lawyer” after the media caught a whiff of just who Dave constantly kept representing in court.

Dave could be whatever the hell he wanted to be—you don’t care about him, but the last thing you’d ever want to think Carlito as is a mobster.

You had to sit there and watch your fiancé get handcuffed and taken away from you, starting a thirty-year prison sentence.

Carlito saw the pain, heartache, and betrayal in your eyes as he was pulled away from you after his trial ended because Carlito knew alone that he was the one who fucked up your relationship, held everything back, and lied to you.

Carlito knew too that the trial would have the most lasting impact on you; he knew he was going to jail, but he didn’t know how you’d react taking in all of this at once which is why Carlito expected you to come to visit him in prison so he could explain everything to you, but he also knew deep down you wouldn’t come and you shouldn’t either.

You were the world to Carlito and he knew then more than ever that he didn’t deserve you. Even if you hated Carlito, moved on, or found someone else, Carlito would come to find you thirty years later just to say sorry and explain what happened all that time ago simply because you deserved to hear the truth one way or another. Carlito owed you the truth, but you owed him nothing.

After everything and all those revelations, you weren’t going to let your heartache and emotions get the better of you; should you go see a liar in prison and risk being lied to some more? Visit a heroin dealer? Talk to a mobster?

There’s simply too much to mention, a lot to say, many questions without answers or ways to get them, and you’d never bother trying to get any reassurance from Dave who didn’t tell you a damn thing about Carlito’s case from the very beginning.

Carlito never called you or wrote letters on the other hand not because he didn’t want to, but because he wasn’t allowed; you believed the former.

‘I don’t care.’ What you aren’t going to do is run after Carlito and have him believe whatever he was doing was right.

You love Carlito to death which is more than enough of an explanation as to why you refuse to take off your engagement ring. You’re not living in denial, but you’re still madly in love with Carlito.

Your heart belongs to Carlito but vice versa holds true too. Thirty years won’t change that for either of you even if the other doesn’t know how one feels.

‘As long as I live… I know I’ll always love him.’ Knowing you, maybe you’ll still yearn and love Carlito in thirty years’ time with no care what all that passing time does to either of you.

For now, Carlito’s engagement remains over your finger perhaps as just another bittersweet reminder. Maybe one day you’ll be ready to take it off or replace it with someone else’s ring.

‘No. No, no..’ You know you could never do that—never want that.

‘Stop.’ Brushing the thought off of your mind immediately, you take a small sip of your cappuccino. ‘Stop thinking about this shit—not again.’

Today is Friday after all and you have the rest of the afternoon to yourself to relax after work; tonight is a planned girl’s night with your best friends—ready to drink and dance the night away at a club to welcome the weekend like you all regularly did.

It’s not the end of the world after all, even though some nights had you drowning in your own tears from missing Carlito and pretending he was lying next to you in bed.

Someway, somehow, sometime, you’ll have to move on eventually and that’s exactly what you thought you could have done about six months ago.

With much insistency and influence from your friends, you went on your first blind date and if you said you weren’t interested, it would have been a lie.

The guy you met up with that night for your date was fairly attractive and cute, and because of the jewelry you wore with several rings on your finger at the time, your date neither noticed nor questioned the diamond engagement ring on your finger.

Your date was fascinated and interested in you too much to look anywhere else, trying to make the best of the night you both had together.

As you two made conversation, you learned your date worked for a law firm and the two of you got along well from the beginning of the date to the end.

When the date ended, you refused any kissing or hugs—not that it was offered because you pulled away so quickly and you didn’t want him to drive you home either no matter how much he politely insisted.

Once you got into the back of your taxi, you were already in tears. Nothing wrong had happened during the date nor was it unpleasant in any way but you were adamant you would never do these silly blind dates again or even call this guy back.

Everything felt wrong like you were explicitly cheating on Carlito. No matter how many blind dates you went on and cuter guys you met, they would never be Carlito or anywhere close to the man you truly love.

Once you got home that night, you threw off every ring and piece of jewelry except for your engagement ring.

You still hate how after five years the pain can be so fresh at times, rushing to you all at once even when the topic of love is brought up in a conversation for example.

Your heart was set in stone knowing you would never love anyone else the way you loved Carlito; he left that much of a hole in your heart but ensnared you with his love in return.

You still believe Carlito’s your soulmate, but he’s a soulmate you refuse to see and speak to even if you wanted to.

To reach Carlito in the prison he was being held in was one tricky thing, but getting to and from there was dangerous enough, not to mention being constantly watched and searched by the prison guards if you even got there.

Carlito and Dave both knew how difficult the prison made it for visitors of any kind to come, but Carlito was willing to split mountains in two and make anything work so as long as you wanted to come to see him.

But for Carlito to know for sure you’d like to come to see visit him and speak with him in prison, he would have to ask you through Dave first.

[ 1988, 3 months after Carlito’s sentence ]

Sitting in Dave’s office with tears stinging in your eyes, holding down your bitter anger and keeping your gaze off of that “asshole with a law degree”, you’re here and only here because there’s something about Carlito.

‘Bastard made Carlito look like a mobster in front of everyone, but he forgets who he is. He’s a mobster’s favorite lawyer. He represents crooks, the corrupt, murderers, and every bit of filth in this town if it means he gets his five minutes of fame. Carlito is none of those things. He deserved better, point blank.’

Dave notices how you sit on the very edge of the couch, wanting to be as far away from his presence in Dave’s own office.

He gives you a welcoming smile, but you return a scowl, causing Dave to sigh softly in defeat and adjust his posture in his seat. “Evelyn, listen… I won’t take up too much of your time because I already know you can’t stand me.”

“That’s right.” You say back, staring at the carpet beneath your heels.

“Okay,” Dave sighs again, rubbing his temples. “I understand your frustration and—”

“I don’t want your sympathy.” You glare at the floor, forcing yourself not to look up at him. “What happened, happened, and you called me last night to tell me you had something about Carlito, so just talk already.”

Dave nods at you, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough. It’s just a simple question really but uh—Carlito wanted me to ask you in person.”

You raise your eyes up from the ground for the first time in ten minutes, staring at Dave and waiting for him to get to the point already.

“Do you want to see Carlito?” Dave asks you.

“What kind of question is that?” You ask back, already feeling your heart begin to ache in your chest.

“I mean like in prison.” Dave clarifies, “do you want to visit him every now and then?”

“He’s the one asking?” You raise your brows.

“Well, yes.” Dave nods, confirming. “He wanted an answer for himself.”

“And I want the answers to a lot of things too, boo hoo.” You say back sarcastically, getting up from your seat before your emotions get the better of you. “Like why you kept Carlito’s case away from me, why Carlito lied to me about almost everything—”

“Evelyn, please.” Dave quickly rises up from his seat in an attempt to reassure you. “All of what I could have told you is and was confidential! You know I can’t tell you these things, or anyone—”

“You’re just as bad as him.” You point an accusing finger at Dave. “No, by the way. No, I don’t want to see Carlito again and you can tell him that. Don’t ever ask me this again!” You throw open the door to Dave’s office, gritting your teeth out of frustration.

“And don’t call me again either, do you understand?! I only tolerated you because Carlito called you his friend, whatever good that did him. Carlito isn’t here anymore and yes, I do blame you for much of that. I want nothing to do with you, Dave. Nothing! I don’t care if you’re New York’s next hotshot lawyer, you’re nothing to me just as you did nothing worthwhile for Carlito!” Just like that, you make your exit by slamming Dave’s office door shut behind you.

Dave grimaces, staring down at his office desk glumly before his eyes wander down to the hidden telephone on call under his desk that you aren’t aware of.

As Dave can no longer hear your footsteps or anybody’s presence around his office for that matter, he leans down to pick up the telephone and put it back on the corner of his desk. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, I did,” Carlito answers on the other end. “She’s upset, Dave. It’s normal. I expected this much.”

“Yeah, me too. Dave murmurs. “She’s…something.”

“Everything’s already gone to hell.” Carlito sighs deeply. “I don’t want Evelyn to hate me, but it might be too late for that.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” Dave slouches back down in his office seat.

“Get someone to her,” Carlito suggests. “You know what I’m talking about. I want protection for Evelyn, however, you can get it and I want that someone doing so being the most reliable, subtle guy you’ve got. Keep an eye on her, see who she’s with and where she is. I just want her to be safe, happy, and healthy but don’t get me wrong when I say this—I don’t want my lady stalked, do you understand me?”

“Yeah man, I get it. That’s a good idea actually.” Dave nods to himself.

“I care for her.” Carlito continues, “and I don’t give a damn how many years the judge said I gotta rot in here for, I just want to know if my baby’s gonna be alright. Long as I know that it’s gonna keep me sane in here.”

~

Since that day and not at all to your knowledge, Carlito had one of his men follow and track your every move.

Just as Carlito wished, it wasn’t that you were “stalked” but that one of Carlito’s bodyguards who had worked with Carlito and known him for years in the ‘business’ just kept a watchful eye on you and nothing else.

You were followed from afar at an appropriate distance and Carlito’s bodyguard changed cars very often so as not to give away his identity or have you notice him in the slightest.

As a result, it was impossible for you to tell in any way that someone was following and watching you, and at the same time, you didn’t feel that way either.

Carlito’s bodyguard had one job and only job only: keep an eye on you, see who you were with, where you were and if you were safe. Anything notable was to be mentioned like for example if you fell ill and went to see a doctor so Carlito would be notified of everything.

This way, Carlito felt that he could still be with you knowing what was going on in your life and when you’d come home for the night, the bodyguard would park with another associate outside—taking turns during the night keeping watch.

More than anything, you were just protected ever since, because it had nothing to do with a lack of trust for you or suspicion but that Carlito cared for you deeply, and knowing he couldn’t see you physically or even hear your voice over the phone was agonizing enough and in prison, Carlito had very few reasons to be happy.

As long as you—Carlito’s girl—whom Carlito still considered his fiancée—was happy and safe, then all could and would be considered alright in Carlito’s world.

Today, however, everything’s different because Carlito’s a free man—something you personally don’t know, but Carlito will make sure you come to find out before anything else.

Carlito’s not a free man today because he had a strong, credible alibi or that he appealed his sentence only to provide full proof and evidence clearing his name, but Dave exploited Carlito’s sentence on a legal technicality.

If it was one thing Dave did well in his cases, it was exploiting the fuck out of them to make sure his clients no matter how corrupt, guilty, or murderous they were, got out one way or another.

Carlito’s a free man and nothing else matters, including Dave’s unorthodox and immortal ways.

While you spent your morning routine earlier today getting ready for work, Carlito was back in court with a very displeased judge sitting in front of him not buying the “I changed” bullshit speech Carlito was telling him.

Still, today’s Carlito’s day, and nobody else stands a chance; all have no choice but to finally hear Carlito out.

Carlito didn’t care who believed what he said or what others thought of him now. Carlito knows he’s a changed man and he had to be, especially if he wants to get his old life back without crime and be a better man for you above all things.

Having a lot of truthful explaining to do to you is a priority to Carlito and it’s not something to be taken lightly and done over a phone call or a letter.

Carlito knows he needs to see you in person as soon as possible and without Dave being there. Carlito wants to make it all happen tonight on his first day out—all business and all truth finally settled for good.

After five years of dreaming about your face and touching you in his dreams, Carlito’s not going to wait a day longer when he knows now it’s in his control to finally see you.

Still, released out of prison or not today, that doesn’t mean Dave intends on breaking his word with you. Dave still refuses to talk to you about Carlito or tell you anything about him just as you asked, but it’s Carlito’s ex-girlfriend before you—Gail—whose been constantly calling and visiting Dave’s office wanting updates and just about anything she could get out of Dave about Carlito recently.

You knew who Gail was but not very well—bumping into her on the street after her dance lessons when Carlito was by your side a few years ago.

Gail knew then that you were Carlito’s girlfriend and she didn’t do anything to interfere or protest that fact, nor did she actively seek out Carlito’s comfort.

The only thing Dave let slip out of his mouth to Gail was that you and Carlito technically weren’t together anymore since Carlito was in jail, and Gail was just the perfect naïve type to believe Carlito would not only be out sooner than the thirty-year sentence he was served but that she could have a chance to rekindle her relationship with Carlito too.

Carlito would have never thought Gail would assume or want such things, but he did know one thing: Carlito’s answer was and always is going to be “no” unless it had something to do with you.

If it’s one thing Carlito has an abundance of still and without any doubts is money. Everything Carlito owned before he went to jail was all very legal in property and investments, and Dave had assured Carlito it would all be there.

Nobody could tell Carlito otherwise when it comes to his bars and clubs that he knows he’ll be coming to see one by one over the next few weeks to pick up his revenue and keep an eye on things as Carlito’s life returns to a steady normal.

The only thing that changed tonight was that on his last watch, Carlito’s bodyguard let him know you and your girlfriends were planning on going to a specific club Carlito owns tonight at 10 PM.

It’s the very nightclub Carlito co-owns with that gambling addict Saso, and if anything you’re completely unaware Carlito owns the club let alone has anything to do with it; just another thing Carlito needs to explain to you once he finally gets to see and talk to you.

Carlito’s mind is set: he’s going to see you tonight and will be at the club before you.

“Ten PM,” Carlito confirms, tapping his finger against his watch. “Evelyn will be there without a doubt.”

“Finally going to go see her, eh?” Dave pours two half cups of whiskey on the other side of his office. “And not a minute too soon.”

“She’s the only person I’ve wanted to see for the past five years.” Carlito lets out a drawn-out sigh, rising from his seat. “I’m not doing that shit on the streets no more and you know, I know it,” Carlito points at his chest. “And for Evelyn, I gotta start tonight. She won’t believe a word I say now, and I can’t blame her.”

“You’ll figure it out, man.” Dave hands Carlito a glass of whiskey, holding his. “You always do, but you’ve got other things to worry about too.”

“Yeah?” Carlito takes the glass of whiskey from Dave, raising curious brows before drinking it.

“Gail.” Dave points out, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“What about her?” Carlito licks off a drop of whiskey from his lips.

“That pretty little thing,” Dave chuckles, knowing he’s attracted to Carlito’s ex-girlfriend a little too much.

“What about her?” Carlito asks again, clearly unphased by Dave’s behavior.

“She knows your back in town,” Dave points out, “and she’ll definitely want to see you. I’m only surprised Gail hasn’t called me a hundred more times to ask where you’ll be. What do you want me to tell her? You know she’ll come knocking any day now.”

“Gail…” Carlito murmurs, a little irritated by her constant insistence to see and hear from him. “I’ll see her again sometime but differently. On my terms, and as friends. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but…” Carlito glances inside his whiskey glass, taking another sip. “I don’t wanna lead her on because there is no Gail and me, Dave.”

“Mhmm.” Dave nods, pressing his lips together. “Guess whatever was going on, went on in the past, huh?”

“Just that,” Carlito confirms, finishing his drink and setting the empty glass down. “Whatever she wants to call it now, I’m really not interested. She’s just an old friend to me now so—” Carlito walks towards Dave’s office door, gesturing to his phone. “Maybe keep her wondering where I am for now. I’m busy tonight.”

“Yeah man, don’t worry.” Dave begins to head back to his office desk. “Enjoy yourself tonight. You’re a free man after all, and you deserve it.”

“I appreciate it.” Carlito gives Dave a small wave before exiting his office.

Carlito Brigante didn’t say the words “I changed” in front of his appeal trial to appease the jury or the judge, but because he believes it himself to his very core.

Five years locked up inside has changed Carlito and for the better, reminding him that he’s going to do nothing dishonest, forget the streets, and clear his name no matter what reputation he holds now and you’ll be the first to hear about it all—truthfully.

~

Getting ready for tonight before you meet up with your girls and carpool to the club wanting to do nothing but drink and dance for the rest of the evening, you stand in front of your full-body mirror across from the foot of your bed and admire your sultry outfit for tonight.

Dressed in a mini, sequin, strapless black dress, you smoothen out the sides of your outfit and turn around before the mirror, admiring the way the sequin pieces sparkle as light reflects over it.

It’s the perfect, sexy outfit to wear tonight hugging you in all the right places but providing the perfect amount of comfort to sit and dance in a crowd all night; sleek, sexy, and effortless.

You reach down, adjusting your new, black platform heels over your feet and beginning to appreciate how wearing heels over the years to practically any occasion you could get away with has taught you how to comfortably dance in six or even seven-inch heels if you wanted to.

Moving back to your vanity table, you add another layer of mascara over your lashes but ultimately keep your makeup light for tonight, knowing you’ll practically sweat it off dancing anyways.

Checking the time on your night table and knowing the cab will pull up in front of your apartment any minute now, you grab your matching black sequin purse and sling it over your shoulder—ready to start your Friday night.

Purposefully arriving before you, Carlito steps out of his cab, and without bothering to take a look around him or waste another moment, Carlito walks directly inside his club.

Saso may have run this place (surprisingly not to the ground) when Carlito couldn’t for the past five years but nothing changes, and certainly not the ownership as Carlito’s come to collect and see just how honest his favorite gambling addict’s really been during his absence.

Dressed in a three-piece black suit with a muted shade of purple for a dress shirt and without a tie, the rest of Carlito’s semi-formal look for tonight is topped off with his signature all-gold jewelry; an 18k gold chain link bracelet, a matching wristwatch, and a pinky ring set in a square with a black stone.

If you don’t see Carlito coming, you can certainly pick up on the scent of his expensive cologne bound to raise the attention of some curious eyes passing by.

The packed club blaring with loud dance music as servers desperately try not to get their tray of expensive drinks knocked over and make it to tables in one piece to serve their patrons aside is one of the first things Carlito sees upon entering.

With everything looking relatively normal and routine, Carlito knows the club will carry on this way until at least 4 AM.

“Hey, boss!” Pachanga—one of Carlito’s most trusted bodyguards—calls out. “Ah, man, there you are.” Pachanga grins, standing before Carlito and patting his shoulder. “Came early just to see you bossman when I heard you were comin’ out.”

Things like rekindling or reminiscing over the past are far beyond Carlito who knew he’d come back to have everything under his control and ownership get right back to him—men and bodyguards included.

“Where’s Saso?” Carlito asks, shutting down any further opportunity for small talk.

“Over there, boss.” Pachanga points upstairs to the second level of the club, just towards the office.

Saso adjusts his tie in front of one of the mirrors on the wall, getting some much-needed space from the sweaty crowds around him.

“What do you think?” Carlito’s eyes dart from the sight of Saso back to Pachanga. “Think the old fuck’s gambled away all my money?”

“Not if he values his life, boss.” Pachanga chuckles, beginning to crack his knuckles. “But lemme know because I ain’t come empty-handed. Maybe we can cut it out of him.”

“We’ll see,” Carlito murmurs, beginning to head up the stairs to get to Saso.

Just as Carlito makes it upstairs and is a mere few steps behind Saso, Saso can make out his old boss’ reflection in the mirror he’s looking in which causes him to gasp and stumble back before turning around to face Carlito.

“So you already know what this is about.” Carlito raises both of his brows at the terrified-looking Saso before him. “No welcome back party for me or anything? Where’s my money, Saso?”

“I told you I wouldn’t spend it, boss.” Saso shakes his head frantically, “a-and I didn’t! I didn’t!” Saso points to the office door behind Carlito. “I kept it in the safe after all this time, y-you know! I only took a little bit to keep things smooth and running, b-but nothing else, I promise!”

“Why so scared then, old man?” Pachanga smirks, purposefully dragging the handle of his switchblade against the staircase railing as he walks up.

Saso’s terrified expression is now equally shared towards Carlito and Pachanga. “W-well, last time you come in here, you threaten to cut my liver out in front of e-everybody! Here!” Saso pulls out the office keys from the pocket of his trousers, handing them to Carlito shakily.

“That was five years ago,” Carlito points out, quick to take the keys away from Saso.

“N-no way you’ll change your mind now that you’re back, then.” Saso swallows hard.

“It’s better off this way.” Carlito rolls his eyes before pointing a finger at Saso. “Now, I’m gonna go into my office and take a look at my money. If anything’s missing or I see you skimmed off too much, I’m gonna cut the rest of your organs out with your liver, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes,” Saso stutters.

“Good.” Carlito narrows his eyes, gesturing to Pachanga. “Watch him. I don’t want the old fuck out of my sight if things go wrong. He might bolt.”

“Got it, boss.” Pachanga grins back at Saso, taking a few steps up to get closer. “Let’s spend some quality time together, huh?”

Carlito turns on his heel, approaching the office door and unlocking it. Once he steps inside and flicks on the lights, he sees nothing’s changed; not the furniture or even its arrangement—everything’s left the exact same way it was.

Carlito locks the office door behind him and moves to close the blinds of the office windows first.

Because of how well-kept and clean the office appears, Carlito already assumes Saso hasn’t stepped foot in here for five years either.

Keeping quiet and focused, Carlito uses the same combination to the safe before popping it open. Inside, Carlito notices massive stacks of cash just as he expected, and simply from eyeballing it, Carlito estimates there’s possibly about half a million dollars in here.

Only impressed by the amount, Carlito reaches in and takes out two stacks of cash—running his fingers through the money and counting it.

‘All hundreds. Solid, banded up.’ Carlito notes before putting the money back inside the safe and shutting it tight.

Carlito begins to change the combination on the safe; this is his money, always will be, and always has been.

Now that Carlito’s around to oversee the club’s operations and earnings, the cash will come to his hands before it ever reaches a safe.

The money inside the case is all for you and Carlito; the future he wants to settle on and have with you after all.

“Hey, boss!” Pachanga knocks on the office door, calling out.

“Yeah, what is it?” Carlito says back, still busy with changing the combination.

“I’m keeping our friend Saso here company but I just wanted to let ya know, your lady friend is here with some girls!”

Carlito pauses, staring at the numbers on the combination lock. Of course, he knows you’re coming tonight but now that you’re actually here, it’s a different story altogether.

“Where is she?” Carlito asks, finishing up with the combination.

“Just downstairs on the dancefloor, boss! Uhhh, she has a corner seat and waved to me when she got here.”

‘Evelyn waved at you…?’ Carlito furrows his brows, brushing off his hands. “I’ll deal with it.”

“And is Saso good to go, boss? Or is liver on the menu tonight?” Pachanga snickers.

“Yeah, let the old man go but not before reminding him whose office and money this is now. I don’t wanna see his face again tonight.” Carlito orders, moving towards the windows of the office.

“Will do, boss. Will do!” Pachanga moves away from the office door and back towards Saso.

‘Who…?’ Carlito peeks through the closed blinds, looking towards the center of the dancefloor, then to the corner seat Pachanga directed to.

Instead of seeing you sitting there much to Carlito’s anticipation, he instead sees Gail sitting next to Stephanie and another girl that Carlito doesn’t recognize; friends of Gail’s nonetheless.

A deep sense of disappointment hits Carlito at seeing Gail sitting there instead of you, but he can’t exactly ignore Gail here either.

You’re still on your way to the club with your friends but Carlito knows you’re not here yet and that’s enough for him.

Carlito sighs deeply, adjusting his tie before unlocking his office door and stepping out. He gives Pachanga an acknowledging nod before Carlito walks down the stairs and to where Gail sits.

Carlito knows the club of all places isn’t the best place to answer Gail’s incessant questions he knows will come, but Carlito may just be able to have Gail finally take a hint about how he feels about her.

Within a few minutes, your cab finally pulls up to the front of the club where you arrive with your girlfriends.

All of you can already see how packed the club is from the outside alone, leaving no room to look around and get distracted by the scenery.

Staying close to all of your friends, you three make your way straight to the bar to start with some drinks and warm up before hitting the dancefloor for the rest of the night.

Neither you nor Carlito sees one another in the club, but the two of you aren’t far from each other either.

“Hi ladies, what can I get for you all tonight?” The bartender asks as you all take a seat on the stools next to each other.

“One round of tequila for me, please!”

“Bloody Mary, please. God, I’ve always wanted to try one of those!”

“And for you, miss?” The bartender turns to you with a smile.

You lean your elbows onto the bar table, smiling back politely. “I’ll take a cosmopolitan.”

Over on the other side of the club, as the bartender prepares you and your friends’ drinks, Carlito stands before Gail’s table who is more than ecstatic to look up and see him.

“Charlie!” Gail exclaims happily, practically jumping up from her seat to embrace Carlito.

“Gail, hey.” Carlito smiles, putting his hands over her shoulders gently.

Gail giggles, cupping Carlito’s cheeks. “I knew you’d be here!”

“Did Dave tell you?” Carlito chuckles.

“Yes,” Gail nods back excitedly, “but only because I asked and asked and asked until he couldn’t keep quiet anymore ‘cause are you kidding me? You’re finally out and I get to see you, Charlie! How could I not come?”

“My first day already and it seems like everyone wants to see me.” Carlito places both of his hands on top of Gail’s, taking her hands off of his cheeks but squeezing them gently.

“I’m here for you and you only.” Gail tugs on Carlito’s arm to lead him to her table. “Food and drinks on the table, come! Come join me! I’ve got my friends here too but oh, they’d love to meet you. You’re all I’ve been talking about! Oh, you’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too honey, but now’s not a good time, you know?” Carlito doesn’t move from his spot.

“Why not?” Gail looks back at Carlito over her shoulder. “You didn’t go see your girlfriend first, so I just thought…” Gail looks towards the bar, watching you sip your cocktail next to your friends. “I thought Evelyn saw me at least, but she didn’t even come to say hi.”

Carlito’s eyes widen as he spots you by the bar, but Gail attempts to grab his attention again.

“Well, come on.” Gail beams, hugging Carlito’s arm. “At least stay with us for a while. Evelyn’s not going anywhere, is she?”

It’s right then and there that you turn your head to the side while relaxing with your cocktail that you spot Carlito and Gail across the bar, staring back at you.

‘Carlito!?’ You almost drop your cocktail from the shock of seeing Carlito there alone, and your heart instantly races in your chest in response. ‘No… But he’s in jail, right? Or was he ever?’

Carlito most certainly doesn’t look like a man who's gotten out of prison at all.

Shocked and frozen in spot, your environment blurs around you and you can no longer feel the heat of the crowd packed around you or even hear the music blaring around you.

The tips of your ears and the nape of your neck burn and prickle from the shock, but from a betrayed-like feeling and confusion—all trying to make sense as to how Carlito is here.

Carlito makes eye contact with you for only a split second before you put down your cocktail and immediately disappear into the crowd.

“Evelyn!? Girl, where are you going?” You can hear your friends calling out from behind you, but you ignore them, ducking and moving through the crowd until you get to the women’s washroom.

You duck right before you get near the women’s washroom, making it look like you’ve gone in to hide.

In reality, you’re holding your tears back and rushing to the very end of the club right up until you feel someone grab you by both of your hips, stopping you.

You squeal, feeling the firm pair of hands turning you around. You spin to see Carlito holding onto you, staring at you with wide eyes filled with anticipation. “Evelyn!”

“What are you—” In shock, you attempt to pull away from Carlito.

“Where are you going? I’ve been looking for you all night—” Carlito only tightens his grip on you.

“All night?” You breathe, instantly feeling a rush of anger come over you as tears sting your eyes. “Welcome back, Carlito. Was I going to be the first to find out you’re out of jail?! Or were you not going to bother to come to me until I saw you with Gail there—huh?!”

“Is that all that you saw?” Carlito sighs, “baby, don’t be like this—”

“Don’t call me baby!” You cry out, swatting Carlito’s hands off of you. “You’re a liar! I can’t even believe you’re here right now! Oh my God. When did you get out and why didn’t you tell me—”

“I got out TODAY!” Carlito emphasizes, trying to convince and reassure you.

“You got out today and you’re at a club?” You scoff, unconvinced. “You expect me to believe that bullshit?”

“Yes, because I also expect you to believe that this is my club. I own it.” Carlito stares at you, waiting for a response.

“What?” You mumble, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“This?” Carlito extends out his arms, gesturing around the packed nightclub. “This is all mine. I own this club, legally. I’m too old to come up here dancing and drinking and you know that. Now, will you please come with me?”

“Where?” You feel your throat tightening and a sense of guilt beginning to hit you.

“To my office, upstairs.” Carlito points up. “Come on, come with me, please. I have so much to tell you.”

On the verge of tears, your hands begin to tremble. “Carlito…” You still can’t register to yourself that your fiancée is here right here and now, having no idea what’s going on yet at the same time feeling like you’re about to have a nervous breakdown.

Carlito gently wraps an arm around your waist as you nod at him glumly, looking away. He pulls you through the crowds and leads you upstairs without having a single person bump into you.

Gail looks up from where she sits wither friends, watching Carlito’s protective and loving hand remain over your hips as he guides you to his office—leaving her all alone tonight.

Gail frowns but pretends it doesn’t bother her, looking away. She’ll get through the evening by continuing to eat and drink as she said to Carlito she would.

As you come upstairs, you see Pachanga—one of Carlito’s old bodyguards or more so known to you as just a “good friend” or “Carlito’s assistant”—smiling at you like he’s been waiting to see you all night too.

You really begin to believe now that you’re not having some sort of fever dream but that everything’s about to make sense—or at least you desperately hope so—on Carlito’s behalf tonight.

Carlito opens his office door and you practically stumble inside, still staring at him in disbelief as he locks the door behind you—leaving the two of you alone from the heat of the club face to face for the first time in five years.

Carlito turns around, letting out a soft sigh. In your eyes, he sees hate, betrayal, and a million questions—nothing relieved or reassured whatsoever but it’s what Carlito’s been expecting from you for the past five years, righteously. Carlito’s presence means nothing now without answers.

“Baby, listen.” Carlito puts his hands up, taking a step towards you.

You immediately step back, raising both of your brows at him. “Who are you referring to—me or Gail? The first person you really went to see as soon as you got out of prison, Carlito like I’m still supposed to believe all of this.”

“You think I’d lie to you?” Carlito frowns. “What do I have to do to—” But Carlito catches himself on how ridiculous that question would sound now considering he did lie to you almost religiously for years on end.

“Because you’re a liar!” You scowl, crossing your arms. “Because you lied to me for years and will do so again so I don’t believe a goddamn word that comes out of your mouth nor will I again.”

“Then why did you come up here with me?” Carlito raises a brow, asking you.

You stare back at Carlito, feeling tears pooling up in the corners of your eyes before you shake your head. “Goddamn you, Carlito.”

“What are you really upset about, Evelyn?” Carlito begins to approach you again slowly and this time you don’t back away—tears streaming down your cheeks. “Because if you ask me, the only fucking thing I care about is you, not whoever else decides to approach me at the club because they pestered my lawyer to find out where I was. I know you didn’t want to hear anything about me, Evelyn, but how could I get to you in another way?”

“If you’re out…” You swallow hard, “then why wouldn’t call me or come to my apartment today?”

“Because you’re here.” Carlito points to the ground.

“How did you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, growing suspicious.

“That’s not important.” Carlito shakes his head. “What’s important is that—”

“No!” You push Carlito’s hand away from you again. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me, okay? You owe me too many answers and apologies before you can even think of laying a finger on me.”

“Okay, okay, honey.” Carlito shows you his hands, moving back and respecting your space. “At least hear me out, please. I know that’s the only damn thing you’ve wanted to do for five years now and I was fuckin’ dying to talk to you too.”

“Yeah?” You sniffle, looking at Carlito with teary eyes and only feeling all the worse for cutting off all contact related to him.

“But like I said…” Carlito paces around his office before opening up the mini fridge near the corner of the room. “I knew you were upset and angry with me. You have all the right to be, I won’t tell you how to feel or what to do.” Carlito takes out a bottle of coke and whiskey, setting it down on the counter.

“Right…” You bat away your tears, watching him.

“I know it.” Carlito shuts the mini fridge door, standing back up and taking the two liquor glasses on the counter, beginning to prepare drinks throughout his conversation. “Firstly… There’s nothing between Gail and me. She called and wrote to me in prison but what good did that do her? Or better yet—” Carlito opens the can of coke, adding an equal amount to both cups. “What did it change? Nothing. Her coming to see me tonight is a surprise, considering I told Dave to keep his mouth shut because I knew this would happen but there is nothing between Gail and me, baby.” Carlito looks back over at you, “and there will be nothing. You know how she gets.”

You watch as Carlito adds the whiskey over top of the coke, giving the drinks a quick stir before holding both glasses in his hands and turning to you. “But like I said, this place? I own it. It’s my club. She knows that too, but it’s public knowledge. You can look it up for yourself too, you don’t have to take my word for it.”

“Maybe I wasn’t planning on it,” you murmur, keeping your arms crossed.

“I think you were.” Carlito walks over to you, handing you a drink.

“How would you know?” Curious as to how Carlito will answer this one, you take the drink from him.

“Because of this.” Carlito points to your engagement ring, causing your cheeks to flare up scarlet from blush and embarrassment. “You know I haven’t forgotten about that either. That I don’t consider it any other way.”

“You still think I’m your fiancée?” You’re surprised you can even get that sentence out without breaking down into tears again.

“Yes actually, I do.” Carlito reaffirms. “Now or in thirty years, I still do.”

“You actually expect me to believe that too, don’t you?” Another tear slides down your cheek, and you’ve never been more relieved for wearing waterproof makeup tonight.

“I do.” Carlito extends out his free hand for you to take. “Because I know damn well you wouldn’t have stood in here for a second with me if you didn’t believe me. You wouldn’t wear that ring knowing what it means to both of us and our relationship and because you know I’m here for you with nothing else standing in the way of what we had and what we have. Nobody’s ruining that for me. Not tonight, not ever.” Carlito notices your eyes widening as you listen to him. “Whatever damage I caused between us was my doing, Evelyn. I wouldn’t show you my face if I wasn’t a changed man ready, to tell the truth. I don’t have the right to beg for your forgiveness but I am begging you to hear me out, baby. Please.”

You take Carlito’s hand, squeezing it and nodding in understanding. “O-okay.”

“Come here, baby.” Carlito leads you to the seats in his office, gesturing for you to sit.

You take your seat on an armchair next to his, taking a shaky sip of your drink to ease your nerves.

Carlito gets comfortable in his seat, putting his drink down on the coffee table in front of the two of you.

You squeeze your eyes shut and give out a little sigh before you begin to speak. “You were gone.” You force yourself not to cry any further. “Just like that, you were gone and everything we had was gone too. Drugs, Carlito. Really?” You open your eyes again, staring at Carlito in disappointment. “The streets run red with blood because of these things and yet you lied to me about everything you did.”

“Not everything.” Carlito corrects you. “I told you everything I could but at the end of the day, I was living the fast life before we even met. You know more than Gail would ever know, even in the past. I wanted you to know more—trust me—but you know that kind of lifestyle—”

“The fast life.” You repeat.

“Not for me.” Carlito takes his drink off the coffee table, sipping it as he leans back into his seat.

Just the look in Carlito’s eyes to you now is filled with nothing but desire—yearning and dying to touch you but Carlito can still feel the cold distance between the two of you, upsetting Carlito more than you could know.

“I know.” You nod slowly. “Even though that asshole attorney of yours wouldn’t tell me anything, I figured enough for myself. That’s not you, Carlito.”

“I’m done,” Carlito tells you with more than enough belief in his own words. “I’m done and I don’t care whether the judge bought what I said or not because it’s the truth. I changed. I’m a changed man, I’m not getting caught up in this shit anymore. You can see it for yourself, baby. I’m retired. What I have now is what. This is enough for me.” Carlito swallows down another sip of his drink, looking at you with anticipation next. “And I want to start over again with you, however you want it.”

“You don’t have to start over.” You put your drink down, rising up from your seat and standing in front of Carlito.

For a moment there, Carlito believes you’re about to leave his office just like that, but you don’t.

You remain in front of him waiting, and you notice how Carlito begins to gaze up and down your sequin dress and body. “I missed you so much, Evelyn.” Carlito takes your hand in his, lacing his fingers in between yours. “Just understand this: I would do whatever to have you and me back the way we were before all of this. Anything. It’s all on me.”

“I don’t want to start over with you, Carlito.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling nothing but love, trust, lust, affection, and everything you ever felt for Carlito in these past five years rush back to you.

“You’re still my fiancée.” Carlito reminds you, running his finger over your engagement ring. “Come here, please. Let me touch you. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

Holding back more tears, you toss your purse off of your shoulder and back to the armchair before getting on Carlito’s lap—letting your thighs rest over the arms of the seat.

Carlito embraces you tightly as the two of you hug one another and you lose the battle between your tears, bursting out into sobs over Carlito’s shoulder instantly. “I missed you so fucking much, you have no idea.”

“Oh, baby…” Carlito murmurs, rubbing up and down your back tenderly. “Believe me, I know. Locked up for five damn years without you.” Carlito pulls you back gently, cupping your cheeks with both hands before planting gentle kisses on both cheeks and then kissing your lips.

Your eyes flutter shut in response as you kiss Carlito back deeply, both of you tasting whiskey off of each other’s lips.

“Will you come home with me?” You ask softly once you pull away from the kiss.

“Yes, of course, baby.” Carlito nods. “You know I’m not spending another moment here I don’t need to without you. I came here for you, you know.”

“Mmm…” You peek down to watch as Carlito rubs your palms up and down with his; your eyes admiring his gold link bracelet and the ring over his pinky finger. “Still can’t believe it.”

“I’m here for you baby, I’m here,” Carlito reassures you, keeping his voice low and soft. “And I’ll prove it to you as much as you want me to.”

“Just…” You hiccup, your bottom lip trembling. “Can you just hold me, please? I haven’t held you for so long that n-none of this feels real. I j-just—” You shake your head, clutching onto Carlito’s shoulders. “I just can’t believe so please just—just hold me.”

“Yeah baby, yeah.” Carlito pulls you tightly in his embrace as you rest your head over his shoulder, refusing to let go. “You know, I could hardly believe it myself when I got the hell out of there. You were all I thought about every single day.” Carlito rubs you back in lazy circles, kissing the side of your neck gently. “I dreamt and fantasized about this day for years.”

“God, Carlito…” You whimper, feeling the warmth and safety of your fiancée down to the heavenly scent of his cologne that all remind you you’re not dreaming but that Carlito is here with you.

“We have a lot to talk about, baby.” Carlito strokes your hair gently. “I wanna talk to you and nobody but you. I wanna hear more about you than me.”

“Come home with me.” You slowly pull back, pulling on Carlito’s hand.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore, just come home with me.”

“Alright, baby.” Carlito agrees. “Let’s go then.” He pushes a curtain of your hair behind your ear. “Come out the back exit with me, I don’t want anyone else bothering us for the rest of the evening. We’ll just go home—”

“And stay home.” You insist.

‘Not just for you to spend the night with me only to disappear in the morning.’

“I’m yours anyways, Evelyn,” Carlito tells you. “I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.”

~

Despite being able to leave from the back entrance of the club unseen and without any unwarranted attention, everything still feels dream-like and a blur to you.

Pachanga drives you and Carlito home and the car ride is filled with nothing but silence—Carlito holding your hand and you continuing to take in his presence next to you.

Your mind continues to buzz with questions and although you love Carlito without a doubt, there are still so many questions unanswered and unresolved that it makes you all the more anxious and uneasy not knowing what just happened to your fiancée.

Throughout the car ride, you know your mind isn’t going to figure out what it wants until you get back to your apartment at least.

When you step out of the car, your legs feel like concrete as you unlock the apartment lobby door and lead Carlito up to your suite.

Carlito can still tell you’re visibly upset just by watching your body language, but he neither stops you nor says anything.

Both of you know the two you need to be home with all the privacy you can have to be transparent and honest with each other further, but it’s different.

From the very moment you both get into your apartment, it’s not a matter of sighing and getting drinks to sit down and have a few hours long of serious conversation but as soon as you both step in, take off your shoes and you set your purse aside, you both turn around to face each other by the door.

“Carlito,” you let out a shaky breath, placing your hand over his chest.

Dying to touch you, talk to you, be with you again, and hating himself for everything else aside, Carlito’s drawn to you like a magnet.

You both find yourselves in each other’s embrace once again, kissing feverishly as if it’ll be the last time you do so.

Your lips ache and throb to feel Carlito’s over them again and again—desperate and still in love.

“Carlito,” you manage to whimper throughout the kiss as Carlito picks you up effortlessly, wrapping your thighs around his waist and giving your ass a squeeze before taking you to your bedroom.

Carlito doesn’t take his eyes, lips, or hands off of you as he does so and you’re just as insistent as him by the way you squeeze your thighs around Carlito’s waist.

Carlito lays you down on your bed without moving off of you, tugging off your sequin dress as you continue to lose yourself in the haze of the kiss you both share.

Before you know it, clothes are quickly being thrown off and there’s a sense of lustful aggressiveness in the bedroom until Carlito’s fully naked and throwing off your dress and panties to the side like nothing.

“Carlito…” You gasp, snapping back to reality as your breasts jiggle and spring free, leaving you and Carlito naked and completely vulnerable with each other.

You both look into each other’s eyes, breathing heavily as Carlito places both of his hands over your hips. “You don’t know anything…” Carlito begins to run his hands up and down the sides of your body. “How I feel for you, how everything I do has always been for you.”

You run your hands through Carlito’s dark, silky hair before cupping his cheeks. “You have a lot to make up to me, you know that…?” You breathe hotly over Carlito’s lips.

“Yeah?” Carlito whispers, growing further aroused by the passing second.

“You can start now.” You pull Carlito in closer to him, pressing your lips against his in a wet, full-mouthed kiss.

Your body yearns and begs for every bit of Carlito’s touch, obsessed with the way his hands work to arouse, tease and please you.

Through half-open, lazy eyes distracted by arousal and the scent of sex filling the room, you see Carlito pumping his cock to prepare himself to make up for missing your intimacy these past five years—only scratching the surface tonight.

Panting and quivering through arousal as both of your bodies collide with one another, you tug and pull on Carlito’s hair—letting your hands roam down his shoulders and muscular back.

“You’re mine…” Carlito smacks both of your thighs, firmly squeezing them before his hands find your ass.

“Mm! Yes!” You breathe out, feeling that spark of arousal and passionate fire light inside of you just at the sight of Carlito kissing up and down your body, adoring every inch of your skin.

“Fuck,” Carlito hisses out, the sexual tension only continues to rage between the two of you as his lips close in for another kiss over yours.

Your pussy throbs in response to the shaft of his cock slicking up against it and your arousal only doubles throughout the teasing foreplay.

Keeping eye contact, Carlito slowly slips to fingers inside your mouth and watches as you eagerly suck and wet them.

‘Oh my God, please.’ You watch as Carlito pops his fingers out of your mouth before moving his hand down and rubbing them gingerly over your clit before swirling them around your entrance.

You surprise yourself by moaning as loud as you have, gyrating your hips forward to Carlito as he applies just enough pressure to make you squirm.

Carlito licks off his fingers eagerly before beginning to press his thumbs down on the creases of your inner thigh, spreading your pussy open slowly before he presses his fingers against your entrance once more.

“More, m-more, more,” you moan breathily as you feel Carlito slowly snake a finger inside of you, curling it inward. “Oh God, yes…”

As Carlito begins to finger you, he hovers over your body and grazes his tongue against your bottom lip, feeling you writher in pleasure underneath him.

Carlito uses his thumb to lazily circle over your dewy clit while continuing to finger you, keeping his free hand tangled in your hair to exert dominance over you.

Whimpering back in Carlito’s mouth, you feel him gently bite at your bottom lip and slowly pull it towards him before he re-enters your mouth with his tongue, kissing you again.

But before you can even get enough of the heated kiss, Carlito’s quick to pull away and keep you waiting.

Stunned and confused, you watch as Carlito pulls his fingers out of you and cups your ass to raise your thighs up only to bury his face immediately onto your pussy, slobbering all over it.

“Ohhhh my God!” You shriek, clutching the bedsheets so tightly that your knuckles strain white.

You can feel all of Carlito’s tongue pressed up against the folds of your pussy, licking and slurping upwards to your clit.

“Carlito! YES, YES!” Moaning louder and louder, you feel an orgasm beginning to grow in your gut as your body aches and begs for more.

Shaky little moans come out of your mouth as your muscles tense up and relax again and again from the sensation of pleasure flowing through you.

Carlito’s spit easily mixes in and gets lost within your pussy’s wetness and he doesn’t relent as he slides his tongue all over your clit, focusing solely on it.

Carlito laps up your sweetness, causing you to curl your toes from how his beard brushes up against your clit and stimulates it further.

From the sloppy, messy way Carlito eats your pussy and from how dangerously aroused you’ve become, all of Carlito’s spit and your pussy juices begin to trickle down your ass and inner thighs.

Your pussy contracts from the pleasure and you almost hate yourself for how badly you crave Carlito now, feeling his lips suckling sweetly over your clit.

“Oh, baby.” Carlito pants as he raises his head up from between your legs, breathing heavily. “You’re ready for me.”

Carlito’s husky, sexy voice coupled with the way his hair has tousled already paints the perfect picture of erotica to you.

Keeping his eyes on yours, Carlito takes your right thigh and moves your body to the side as he curls up behind you—both of you laying on your sides.

“P-please, please, please, fuck me—” You clasp a hand over your mouth, rolling your eyes back in pleasure as Carlito continues to keep your thigh raised upward, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you to fuck you from the side.

“Oh baby, you feel so fucking good, you know that? Shit…” The curve of Carlito’s cock hits every weak spot inside of you from the first thrust alone and Carlito can already feel your pussy contracting against his cock, begging to be fucked.

Thrusting in an upwards angle, Carlito presses his naked body against yours and lets his hands wander over your breasts while he continuously presses wet kisses down your shoulders. “So fucking tight…”

From the way Carlito rocks your body back and forth, beginning to thrust deeply until you feel every inch of him entering you again and again to the way his thumbs toy with your hardened nipples, you almost feel intoxicated with arousal and pleasure.

You lazily glance over your shoulder at Carlito who returns the gaze, breathing against your skin and letting out a deep groan. “D-don’t you dare stop…” You squeeze your eyes shut, whimpering and letting yourself moan as loud as need be from the way Carlito fucks you.

“Not until you’re screaming my name, baby.” Carlito can practically feel his cock pulsating inside of you. Keeping his thrusts steady and deep, giving your breasts a smack before trailing his fingers back down to your clit.

Both sensations of pleasure draw the filthiest moans out of you yet and you can barely keep still on the bed from the way your thighs begin to shake from your orgasm dangerously approaching.

Carlito has complete control over your orgasm but is eager to have you cum before himself, watching the way your body reacts against his.

“Yeah, baby, just like that…” Carlito watches his cock easily sliding in and out of you at a quickened pace, causing your ass to redden from how fast and hard Carlito’s hips come into contact with yours.

“Yes, yes, yesssss!” You push your hips back against Carlito’s, only feeling his thrusts grow all the more forceful. “F-fuck me, Carlito! Fuck—fuck me! HARDER!”

Carlito’s kisses over your back harshen just as his thrusts do, filling the room with the sloppy sounds of your pussy sloshing against Carlito’s cock with every thrust.

“You gonna cum for me baby? Hmm?” Carlito squeezes your raised thigh, noticing how you can barely come out with a coherent sentence now from the way Carlito begins to approach thrusting to your G-spot, hitting it when you least expect it.

“Y-yes! I’m—ohhhh! Yes, I’m cumming! Cumming, I’m cumming!” You shriek out, unable to hold your orgasm back as it finally releases out of you.

Creaming over Carlito’s cock from orgasm, the euphoric sensation washes over you like waves in a current from head to toe while Carlito only continues to keep up his ruthless pace of thrusting as you cum.

Carlito slams his hips upward into yours once more, holding you tightly against his chest to see your eyes snap open in surprise from feeling spurts of hot, sticky cum shooting up inside of you.

“O-oh my God,” you pant, unable to stop your thighs from quivering. “Carlito…”

“God…” Carlito pants against your shoulder, holding your thighs steadily before slowly beginning to pull his cock out of you.

“Ooh!” You let out a soft gasp as the feeling of fullness leaves you and Carlito’s cum begins to slowly ooze out of your pussy.

Carlito circles his thumb against your pussy’s entrance, smearing and pushing his cum into you. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed fucking you like this…”

“Mmmmm, C-Carlito,” you barely have the energy to flip over and face him—nothing but a flustered and freshly fucked mess in Carlito’s grasp.

Slowly turning to face Carlito, you swallow hard—still recovering from the aftermath and hypersensitivity over your body.

Carlito chuckles, stealing a kiss from your lips and giving your cheek a gentle caress as both of you still feel the tingling sensation of your recent orgasms.

Still, after five years of sleeping alone to the thought of Carlito in tears, you don’t intend on letting your first night with him after all that time end so soon.

You match Carlito’s passion, taking him by pleasant surprise as you kiss around the outline of his jawline—simply unable to get enough of your fiancé.

“Baby…” Carlito nudges the blankets on your bed away from him to get closer to you before you move down his body, gripping his still erect cock in your hand. “Fuck,” Carlito grunts, bucking his hips up in response and leaning up on the bed upon his elbows.

You lay down on your stomach, popping Carlito’s cock in your mouth and licking upwards quickly before saying, “I missed you too, you know.”

“Not as much as I thought.” Carlito chuckles breathily, moving your hair out of your face as you begin to graze your tongue alongside the tip of his cock.

“Mm? What do you mean?” You wrap your tongue around Carlito’s tip.

“You asked me how I knew you’d be at the club tonight.” Carlito’s breath hitches.

“Mhmm…” Your mouth remains in perfect rhythm against his cock, drooling all over it as you let your tongue do the work. “Is there anything you can’t do? I know how you know…”

“Oh, yeah,” Carlito hisses, watching you suck him off. “I figured. You’re a smart woman.”

“So you know anything and everything, huh?” You smirk up at Carlito before swirling your tongue around his shaft and tasting yourself off of his cock. “I’m impressed… I didn’t figure out a thing until you told me you knew I’d be at the club tonight.”

“I didn’t want you to be bothered, baby.” Carlito groans quietly, “you know I didn’t pay someone to ‘stalk’ you—just wanted you to be safe and happy.”

“You have your reasons, huh?” Your lick Carlito’s precum off of your lips. “Tonight if anything, has always been about your reasons.”

“I want to know your reasons, baby.” Carlito watches you bob your head up and down on his cock. ”That guy, for one. Mm…”

“Mm?” You stare up at Carlito, continuing to suck him off.

“You know I don’t like sharing what’s mine, Evelyn.” Carlito grips your hair, guiding your mouth down on his cock further. “Never have, never will…but I know about that date.”

You roll your eyes, popping Carlito’s cock out of your mouth. “Oh please, you know it was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Carlito’s eyes dart over yours. “Date with a new guy doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

“And whose cock is in my mouth right now? Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” Turned on by his jealousy, you take Carlito’s cock back into your mouth like candy.

“And if I am?” Carlito groans softly.

“There’s only you for me.” You hum against Carlito’s cock. “I didn’t take my ring off at that date either but mmm… I bet your little spy didn’t tell you that much.”

“My spy,” Carlito repeats, chuckling quietly. “You know I believe you.”

You slurp up your spit off Carlito’s cock, swallowing before leaning back up to him. “I believe you too.”

“I still have much to make up to you, baby.” Carlito moves over, tilting your chin up to face him. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You do as he says eagerly, waiting.

Carlito spits in your mouth, taking you by surprise as you whimper—turned on and aroused instantly by his actions all over again as you swallow down his spit.

“’Atta girl,” Carlito smirks at you. “Say ‘thank you, sir’.”

“Thank you, sir.” You breathe back, seeing that the old Carlito you love, know, and fucked is most definitely back.

#melis-writes #carlito brigante #carlito's way #al pacino #al pacino x reader #carlito brigante x reader #carlito brigante x reader smut #carlito's way 1993 #carlito's way x reader smut #carlito brigante fanfic #carlito brigante smut #ensnared fic #carlito's way au

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 13 | Chapter 15

Chapter 14: Umami

An update!!! 🥳🥳🥳 Sorry for the long wait y'all. I am back! So hopefully the updates will get back to normal now. Thank you all for being patient 🥰 I hope you enjoy the chapter!

TW: More Jennifer horribleness, mentions of cancer and minor suicidal thoughts/implications, spicy dreams and very inappropriate thoughts, some wholesome Harrow fam content, Jake boxing 🥵, Lena being a bit of a tease, as always language, mentions of alcohol and drugs, the idiots are idioting, phone sex? Lena vs. Jennifer, Ozzy vs. Jennifer aka protective dad Oz, memories of blood and violence, Lena receives some unwanted attention, straight-up violence (mentions of knives & lots of punching) My editing site is on the fritz and I sped edited this so please take any mistakes with a grain of salt!

Moments of true freedom - from life and even from one's own thoughts - were rare, especially in this city. The noise and the strong smells and the bright lights all demanded immediate attention and, at times, made settling impossible. That was why walking through the old gym, surrounded by the steady sounds of fists striking the sandbags and Patrick's loud voice practically shouting encouragement at those he worked with, was peaceful. That, above all familial ties, was why The Ring was special.

Boxing had always been a passion for Peter. There was a time when he'd practically lived and breathed it. He'd been so strong then, so agile in and out of the ring. So how was it he now stood, panting in front of the lightest punching bag they had? Cancer. Right, he thought, forcing his thin, sore body to take a stance in front of the bag and punch. Just one more. He'd tell himself, though one often turned into ten which then turned into too many.

Patrick watched him; no matter what part of the gym he was in or what task he was doing, Peter could feel his brother's eyes. It both made him feel comfortable and irritated. He was the big brother. It was his job to be watching them, but he couldn't even do that. The image of Lena's worn down, fearful expression she'd shown him a few days ago after her encounter with Jennifer flashed in his mind. He ground his teeth together, punching as hard as he could. She didn't deserve to feel that way, not after what she lived through, and he'd sworn… He'd promised to protect her. Peter believed himself in many things, but now chief among those was one word. One damning title he knew he'd never be rid of. Liar.

Anger had never fueled him before, he'd never needed it to, but now that seemed to be the only thing he had left. The only thing the damn leukemia hadn't stripped him of. Peter missed his hair and his muscle and the way he could eat and drink whatever he wanted without worrying about throwing it all up immediately after. He missed the days when he'd dance with his father in the ring and get to listen to the older man's stories. He missed the peace that boxing had once brought him.

"The Harrow's got their demons, boy," his father always said. "Demons you ain't been touched by. It's bout the only thing I'll give the Glovers credit for."

Lena had always been haunted by Dad's fabled Harrow Demons. She'd been brash and angry and hurt for years after she'd come to live with them permanently. Peter remembered those days so clearly. Patrick and Lena fought until they were both bloody and bruised - Pat, the wary stray dog that saw Lena's trauma and anger as a threat to the life he'd somehow stumbled into, and Lena, the stray cat that saw Patrick's size and temper and was incapable of separating him from the others that had abused her - Ozzy and Dad arguing over what to do about the fighting and drugs and discontent. Boxing was the one thing that took all their noise and chaos and demons and turned it into something better.

Better was when his sister didn't flinch at his every move, and Patrick stopped sneaking food from the table to hoard in that hideous old backpack full of essentials he kept under his bed for years. Better was Dad and Ozzy sharing long looks as they all sat around the table at Nana's eating dinner together. It was watching his siblings playfully bicker as they turned on Ghostbusters - Dad's favorite movie - before they passed out on the floor of their tiny living room. He closed his eyes, clinging to the faint feeling of warmth the memories brought him as he imagined his Dad's warm embrace as he and Ozzy smashed him between them on the old couch.

Passion, love, warmth. That's what he should have felt as his fists hit their target, but it wasn't. The comforting warmth turned cold as a bitter, frustrated, and angry shout escaped his throat, and he nearly fell to the floor. Patrick was at his side in an instant, his brother's coarse hands settling onto his shoulder, discreetly holding him steady. "Easy there, hot shot. Don't wanna break the bag or any bones."

Peter knew his words were teasing, but the tight cold anger that squeezed his throat didn't seem to care. He shrugged off Patrick's hands and glared at him. "I'm fine."

"Pete," his brother started.

"Fuck off, Patrick." He didn't sound like himself but rather some hollow shell of what he used to be. 

Thank god Patrick knew when to leave well enough alone. "Holler if you need me, big brother," he patted his shoulder with no look of pity or anger at Peter's harshness but rather a soft smile. "I'll be here."

He'd never admit it to those closest to him, but Peter was afraid. Leukemia wasn't a simple thing. It was a death sentence for so many, and part of him couldn't help but scoff at the idea that he would be any different. Nestled comfortably beside that dark thought was another, equally ugly. Maybe death would be better. 

Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, he felt the disconnect cut through him like he was made of butter. The face staring back wasn't him. It was too old, too thin, and too… Dead to be him. He remembered what his face was supposed to look like - full cheeks and a wide smile, shaggy brown hair, and life inside his eyes. Peter didn't know the person that stared back at him. Had the cancer taken that too? Had it taken all he was as well as all he could have been?

Behind him, someone cleared their throat, and Peter bit the inside of his cheek. "I said I'm fine, Pat. Just leave it."

"That's hardly a tone a son should have with his mother." Everything inside him stilled. He didn't want to look, didn't want to face the woman that had hurt him more than the cancer ever could. After the initial shock, his father's stubbornness and Ozzy's pride filled his lungs, forcing him to turn and glare at the old wrinkled face of Jennifer Glover.

She looked different than he remembered, though his memory of her was limited to his early childhood, where her skin had been smooth, and her blonde hair hadn't been speckled with strands of gray. It was the smile that made him angry again. Soft and smug, condescending even when coming to grovel. "It's a good thing I'm not your son then, isn't it?"

"Come now, darling." She dared a step forward and extended her hand to his cheek. For a moment, it almost looked like she was hurt, seeing him so sickly. For a moment, Peter could have fooled himself into believing she cared. "You look so-"

He brushed her hand off him. "I don't need you to tell me how sick I look."

"Older. I was going to say you looked so much older than I imagined." Jennifer chuckled, shaking her head. "I was sorry to hear about your diagnosis."

"Sorry?" He spat. "Spare me the pity and just tell me what you want."

She recoiled slightly with a disappointed hum. "I want to spend time with my son."

Peter laughed then, bitter and cold. "Ahh, of course. I'm only worth your time when I'm dying, right?"

"There's no need to be cruel, Peter." Jennifer sighed. "I'm trying to show you I care."

"Too little too late." He sucked in a hot breath, putting a fire in his lungs. "You could have reached out years ago… You could have never left, but you did. What was it you said that day?" The look on her face told him she remembered, but the way she pulled her lips tightly together told him she wasn't going to admit it.

She knelt down and took his hands in hers, smiling at him while Dad held onto Lena as if his life depended on it. "Your sister and I are going away."

"Will you be back soon?" He asked the child-like innocence in his voice hopeful.

"No." His mother fixed his hair with a look of disinterest.

His brows knit together. "Can I come to visit you?"

She sighed. "Lena and I will be very busy, and we likely won't be in one place long enough for visits."

"I'm not going to see you again?" He asked. "But… You're my mom." His eyes drifted to Lena. "She's my sister. We're a family."

"You have too much of your father in you," was her bitter reply. "He is your family. Lena is mine."

Peter felt his heart shatter at her words. "I don't understand."

Jennifer squeezed his hands and stood. "Goodbye, Peter."

He could only stand in shock and watch her glare at Dad as he whispered to Lena. "I promise I'll see you again, slugger."

She practically ripped Lena away and shoved the small child into the back of the cab, turning over her shoulder. "Remember my promise, Jack."

Dad shook his head and spit on the sidewalk. "Remember mine too, Jen."

"I had too much of my father in me." Peter laughed. "That was your reasoning for leaving me behind and never even bothering to visit or call."

She pursed her lips to cover up her disdain. "I made mistakes-"

"Abusing my sister wasn't a mistake." He ground his teeth together. "And abandoning me sure as hell wasn't one either."

Jennifer opened her mouth to speak again but was overshadowed by the booming voice of his brother as he returned from the back room. "Oi! We don't have a sign or nothing but no neglectful wannabe mothers allowed in the gym!"

Disgust filled her features instantly as she looked at the copper head of hair that shoved beside her. "And here I thought Jack showed some sense and got rid of you before dying."

"The old man was sensible enough." Patrick grinned. "He died with everything you ever wanted."

"Leave me and my son to our conversation, you worthless stray."

"I'm not your son." Peter straightened his back and stepped between the two of them. "Get out, Jennifer. My brother and I have a gym to run."

To his surprise, she didn't argue as she turned and made her way to the door, pausing to look back at him. "I was wrong, you know. Lena turned out to be just like your father, but you…" She smiled. "You're mine, Peter."

Patrick was quick to scoff and flip her off as she left the building. "What a bitch." He looked at Peter with a sigh. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he replied, shaking off the question. "I'm fine."

"What's it we always tell Lena?" Patrick asked. "It's okay not to be okay."

"That's different."

"No, it isn't."

"Lena has lived through some of the worst things in this world-"

Pat nodded along for a moment before interrupting. "So have you. Leukemia isn't a walk in the park, Pete. It's taken a toll on ya and I… We all want you to know it's okay if you're not fine."

Peter could feel the sting of tears building in his eyes as Jennifer's words burrowed into his mind and Patrick's genuine heartfelt concern swirled around him. All of it was warring. Anger and peace. Jennifer's calculus manipulation and Patrick's warm support. He didn't know what to feel, so he settled, exhaling a long breath. "I know. I'm… Sorry, I've been so short with you lately."

"Don't apologize," Pat insisted. "God knows I've been a real dick to you sometimes."

Laughing at the truth of his words, Peter set a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Thanks for putting up with me."

Patrick smiled. "That's what family does. Now stop worrying, big brother, and give me ten more solid punches."

For the first time in weeks, he felt the anger shift, turning into the passion he once held in abundance. With each new punch, Peter slowly accepted the fact that things had changed, he had changed, and that was okay. Sure, he didn't look or feel like himself, but with time that wouldn't last forever. He was angry and bitter, but he'd earned that right, and emotions like that didn't last long when smothered by the love and support of a family. And Peter had one hell of a family.

*

Sweat glistened on her skin as the warm morning light poured in through his window. Her red hair clung to her as she moved on top of him, face soft and twisted in pleasure. Jake couldn’t stop touching her, his palms taking hold of her thighs, squeezing the soft flesh and helping her bounce on his dick. His scalp burned at the pressure of her long fingers digging into his hair, pulling at him until their lips touched.

Kissing her was like kissing an open flame. It consumed him entirely, making his face burn with heat and desire and everything in between. Lena made him feel alive, a thing he’d never really thought he lacked until her. The sensations of her hips rising and falling atop him were hazy and undefined, he didn’t really feel it if he focused on it, but he hardly needed to feel anything when he could hear the lewd noises she made.

“Jake,” she breathed his name, desperate and wanton, a sound that sent shivers down his spine and made his hands grab her harder.

“Don’t stop,” he urged her, forcing her back down onto his aching cock. Beneath his palms, he could feel her shaking, and it only made him want to ruin her more. 

A whine echoed from her throat as she threw her head back. “I can’t…”

“Come on, princess,” he replied, kissing her neck. “Just one more. Just give me one more.”

“Jake.”

His teeth wrapped around her throat, sucking an angry mark there as she dragged her nails down his back and arched into him. Lathering the red area with his tongue for a moment, he smiled against her. “Scream my name as loud as you need to. It’s just you and me.”

She laughed, a sound that, while not even remotely sexual, made his dick pulse and his control over his own orgasm waver. “God, your ego is unbelievable.”

“Stop acting like you don’t love it.” Jake moved a hand from her thigh to pull her chin down. “You like my ego.”

With a soft hum, she pulled her fingers up his neck, stroking his cheeks before she settled on cupping his jaw. Her hips slowed against his into long and languid strokes that made him shudder and her breath hitch. “I just like you.”

Flashes of that night walking to her apartment after the movie flooded his mind. Her eyes were darker as he looked into them, mirroring the night she’d spoken the words to him. “I don’t want to lose this.” The admission was one he wanted to say then… one he’d wanted to promise wasn’t even a possibility but just couldn’t bring himself to. Jake had a habit of fucking up every good thing he found, and this… Lena was something special. He couldn’t live with himself if he fucked this up.

Her soft, genuine smile made his heart stutter. “You won’t.” Goosebumps flared along his skin, and her smile turned smug. “Now, fuck me. If you think can handle it, pretty boy.”

With a smirk, his hand slid down her back, pushing her down even further on him, earning a sharp gasp and a shuddering breath. “I don’t think I’m the one that needs to worry about handling it.”

“I…” she gasped as he began to move his hips up into her. “I… Can… fuck-” Her eyes closed tightly, brows knitting together as he quickened the pace. “Do… this… all… day…”

His eyes glued to her chest as her breasts bounced with the quick movements. “That’s good 'cause I’ve got no intentions of stopping. Not when you look this good while I’m fucking you.”

Jake could feel her tighten around him. He could feel her body grow stiff as she reached her peak. “Jake!”

“JAKE!” Another voice practically shouted in his ear as pressure slammed atop his chest and shook him until his eyes shot open. Simone shook her head at him and sighed. “It’s a wonder you manage to show up to work at all.”

“Simone…” he shook his head, wiping the sleep from his eyes and quickly trying to rid himself of the disappointment of Lena’s absence. "What are you doing here?"

The blonde moved around his small apartment, picking clothes up off the ground and throwing away any stray garbage she found. "I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast, but your place is a disaster. Guess we'll have to just go out."

"What time is it?" He asked, vision still blurry.

"Eight-thirty." 

That made him jump out of bed. "Fuck!"

Simone gave him a curious look as he began throwing clothes on. With a laugh, she asked, "Are you late for something?"

"I'm about to be," Jake offered freely.

Her face fell into disbelief. "What would you have to do this early? You never get up before ten."

He froze, throat going dry as he weighed his options. Lying wasn't a habit Jake ever really had when it came to Simone, but telling her the truth would practically be inviting a fight. Was there a safe middle ground to telling her that he'd been spending every morning at The Ring, boxing with Lena's brothers? Both brothers often spoke about running the business; that could be enough. 

Moving once again, he shrugged. "I've been taking a few morning business classes."

"Business classes?" She questioned with narrow eyes. "When did this start?"

Practically two months ago. "Only a few weeks ago."

Simone didn't bother hiding her displeased look as she crossed her arms. "This isn't another of your hair-brained bar plans with Scott, is it?"

Jake knew what Simone thought about his desire to open his own place. She'd told him more times than he could count once she found out his plans with Scott. But, despite all the times he'd heard her call his dream stupid, it still stung. "No. That's…" He was going to tell her it was dead, done, over, but then he remembered the meeting he agreed to think about attending. Was it really over? "That's behind me."

"Good." She sighed. "Now, I suppose, what I don't understand is why you're wasting time with business classes."

"You're the one always telling me I need to apply myself more."

"I meant applying yourself at the job you already have, Jake. Not some… Random useless class."

With another nod, he shrugged on his jacket. "Yeah, well, I'll probably drop it. I'm not exactly good at all that business stuff."

If Simone had bothered to look at his bookshelf, she'd see through his lie. Multiple books on business sat on his shelves, another thing to remind him of his supposed forgotten venture with Scott. Instead, she just smiled. "So, breakfast?"

"Not today," he answered, heading toward the door. "I'm gonna give it one last shot. Maybe today I'll finally start getting it."

"Unlikely," she replied, following him out with a flat tone of mild annoyance and disappointment. "We both know you have a hard time paying attention while you're hung over."

Jake didn't bother telling her he wasn't hung over. Simone wouldn't have believed him anyway. On the sidewalk, she pulled him into a tight hug, an intimate gesture that once filled him with elation but now just felt… less. He smiled at her. “I won’t be late today, I promise.”

Simone pursed her lips. “We’ll see.”

He hurried to The Ring, where Dom stood outside smoking next to his bike. The drug dealer nodded to Jake, a simple gesture that was somehow filled with more respect than he’d expected. Patrick turned and sent him a glare the second he walked in the doors. “You’re late.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Pat,” Jake replied sarcastically, shrugging his jacket off and heading toward the locker room with Patrick following close behind. “I…” Had an intense sex dream about your little sister. “I slept through my alarm.”

The redhead scoffed, standing in the doorway of the locker room, reaching up to tap the set of old gloves, his father's gloves, that hung over the door. “Well, sleepy, meet me in the ring if you think you can handle it.” If you think can handle it, pretty boy. Jake swallowed hard. “If not, we can reschedule for tomorrow.”

“I'm wide awake,” he replied hoarsely, pulling the gym tank top over his head and shoving everything else into the locker he’d been frequenting for the past two months. Jake sat on a small bench, quietly greeting the other gym goers that frequented the morning hours. Usually, he'd spend his time clearing his mind as he wrapped his hands, but today that proved difficult. He just couldn't shake that dream. Couldn't shake how real it felt or how badly he wanted it.

Loud purring at his feet pulled him from those thoughts as the hairless cat from the alley, the one he'd been seeing almost every morning, pounced on the bench beside him. The thin slits of its rich brown eyes widened as it stared up at him, gently kneading the side of his leg as it purred. Jake smiled, lifting a hand to scratch behind its large ears just where the little thing seemed to enjoy it. "Hey there," he greeted, chuckling as the cat sprained across his lap. "Can't sit around today, little guy. I've got to get in some practice before work."

The cat looked displeased by his answer and let out an angry hiss when he stood up, placing the cat back on the ground. "Relax, Hemingway. I'll let you sit on the couch with me while I smoke later."

Hemingway, a name Jake gave to the fickle creature because of the proud way it stood, as well as its rich brown eyes that reminded him of the old book that sat on Lena's bookshelf by the well-known author, rubbed against his leg and walked out through the locker room door as another person entered. Jake followed him out, watching as the cat stalked the gym, head high and chest puffed out as if he towered over everything and everyone. The attitude was another contributor to his famous namesake.

Patrick was waiting for him in the larger ring while Peter appeared to be occupying the small one with a sandbag in one of the corners. With an impatient wave, the larger man ushered him into the ring with a smile as he looked over Jake’s wraps. “You’re getting better at that. Which is good, considering I’m gonna beat your ass today.”

“You know, I’m starting to question your teaching methods,” Jake replied with a smirk.

A bellowing laugh echoed through the whole gym as Patrick laughed, tossing him a pair of gloves. “Get your gloves on, Jerky Jake, and say it to me again.”

He groaned at how quickly the stupid name Lena had given him spread through the gym. Everyone was calling him Jerky Jake, even people he’d never sparred with before. It was like the restaurant. No, Jake thought admiring the close community of people helping one another out with wrappings or sharing their music and equipment. It’s better than the restaurant.

People actually gave a shit here. They put their all into the sport and they were damn nice when newcomers joined without any clue what they were doing. Jake couldn’t count the number of times Patrick had stepped away and some stranger had offered advice on his footing or position. The Ring was like a giant family one that wasn’t riddled with toxic gossip and pay gaps and a manager like Howard. The Ring was Lena, her stubborn determination and her strategic mind, and her powerful body. It was alive and, just like she did, it made him feel alive too. Getting to punch people helped too.

Jake danced around the ring with Patrick for a while before the back door swung open and Lena’s soft voice sent a chill up his spine. He turned to look, earning a swift punch to the gut as Patrick exploited the distraction. “Ow,” Jake complained, glaring at his instructor.

“Never take your eyes off your opponent,” Patrick chastised with a smile. “Even for pretty girls.”

Rolling his eyes he turned back to watch Lena bend over and adorn Hemingway with attention. She scratched beneath his chin and whispered to him with a wide smile. Fucking beautiful. Too beautiful. Everyone greeted her as she walked deeper into the space, but she didn’t notice him until Patrick yelled for her to grab him water. When she turned back, water bottle in hand, their eyes locked and his dream came rushing back like a dam bursting. Fuck.

Her head tilted to the side as she smirked at him, smug and sexy and distracting. She tossed Patrick his bottle and stepped up on the side of the ring, resting her arms along the ropes. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early let alone in a ring with my brother.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he countered. “What are you doin’ here so early?”

“I decided to get in a good workout before work.”

Patrick chuckled. “Lord knows you’ve got some anger to burn off.”

Lena flipped him off, never once taking her eyes off him. “Well, how’s Jerky Jake doing?”

“He’s got some power in him, a bit slow and clumsy with his footing still.”

She clicked her tongue. “Sounds like you’ve got some work to do.”

“Maybe you can help me later.”

“Oh you’re not ready to go toe to toe with Leanin’ Lena,” Patrick replied laughing harder. “She’d kill you.”

Her wink sent his heart into pathetic stutters and he watched her leave, eyes instantly focusing on her hips and her thighs, remembering how they’d felt to hold in his dream. Patrick’s fist collided with his shoulder. “OW!”

“Focus!” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You can stare at my sister later.”

For a few minutes, Jake was able to focus and land a few solid hits on the more experienced boxer, but then Lena emerged from the locker room in a skin-tight crop top and shorts that made her thighs look even more amazing than they already did. As she worked out at a personal punching bag he found his eyes wandering to her, taking hits every time they did because Patrick refused to allow him even one minute of distraction. Eventually, they switched to some workout machine to help him work on his stamina while Lena moved into the ring with one of the other regulars. 

It’d been a while since he saw her fight, and while this wasn’t nearly as brutal it was just as distracting. Her skin was glossed with sweat, her whole body was alive and flexed and her eyes were focused on her opponent. It was in moments like this that made Jake fully realize just how powerful and strong she physically was. A goddess of fire and passion encased in mortal flesh. Her emerald eyes flashed to his, those lips quirking up into a smile as she easily dodged a hit from her opponent. God fucking damn it. 

*

After my workout was over and Jake had been released from Patrick’s teachings we met up at the front counter, both grabbing a bottle of water before we opened our mouths to speak. Whisky jumped in between us, nearly spilling my water all over the counter to hop into Jake’s arms. “Chill out Hemingway.”

"Hemingway?" I asked with a laugh, reaching over to scratch beneath his chin. "This is Whisky."

"Whisky?" Jake chuckled, lifting the cat to examine it. "Nah, Hemingway fits better."

I tilted my head and arched my brow. "Since when did you become the authority on stray cat names?"

"Since you think this clearly distinguished cat's name should be Whisky."

Rolling my eyes, I asked, "Why Hemingway?"

Jake shrugged, readjusting the cat. "It's a classic."

I pulled one of the cat treats out from behind the counter and smirked when Whisky leaped out of Jake's arms to try and snatch it from me. "He's too feisty to be some old author. He's clearly a Whisky."

We both watched the cat devour the small treat, purring between us. “You wanna walk with me to work today?”

“No biker escort?” Jake asked, looking out the front windows.

“No,” I replied. “Things have calmed down since the whole rock incident so hopefully that will be over soon.”

He nodded. “I’ll make sure to keep the walk entertaining for you, princess.”

I rolled my eyes and headed toward the stairs to the apartment. “See you in a minute Jerky Jake.”

*

Work was oddly normal. Simone and Olive kept to themselves, keeping whatever hushed whispers about how amazing my mother was quiet as I worked beside them. Jake’s gaze, however, seemed more heated than usual. He watched me as I waited on the tables with this look of pure lust smoldering in his blue eyes. His watching me had become a normal thing, but this… this made me blush on the spot.

After the shift had ended and everyone was out of the locker room I tried to return Jake’s jacket by quickly shoving it in his locker while he was standing there. With a chuckle, he pulled it out. “Seriously?”

I shoved it back in, pressing my chest further into his back. “Oh come on just let this one be easy!”

“Fine,” he replied. “Just this once because you asked so nicely.”

“Thank you!” I replied pressing a kiss to his neck. “See you tomorrow?”

He turned, looking disappointed and surprised that I wasn’t planning on heading to the bar. “Not going out tonight?”

I shrugged. “I kind of promised Ryker and the bikers that have been standing outside my house dinner. Raincheck though?”

“Raincheck,” he said quietly with a shake of his head. “See you tomorrow.”

*

The city lights cast a thin ray, a halo of bright colors, through my new window. I kept my distance, opting to keep the darker curtains drawn as Dom had told me, but the little I could see of the city outside made me want to forego caution. Leaning against the counter, I watched the lights silently, trying to keep the feelings of being trapped at bay. I wasn't trapped here. Here was home, one of the places I specifically kept to keep from ever feeling that way again.

My phone buzzing against the counter made me jump with a far too startled sound. Jake's now familiar number flashed along my screen as I flipped it open with a smile. "It's a bit late for friendly conversation." I over-exaggerated a gasp. "Is this a booty call?"

I could practically feel him roll his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know, just sitting around in lingerie thinking about you," I teased.

He chuckled. "That's quite a pretty picture. But seriously, what are you doing?"

"I just finished cleaning up after my hungry biker guests." I glanced back at the now clean dishes stacked away on my shelves. "You just get home?"

"No," he replied with a deep sigh. "I've been home for a while."

Making my way to my bedroom, I tossed the unfolded laundry into an open chair and plopped down onto my clean poofy blanket. "You sound so thrilled about it."

He scoffed. "I'd much rather be anywhere else right now."

My brows furrowed. "Not a fan of your apartment?"

"Not a fan of an empty bed," he replied with that signature flirtatious tone.

"Mmm," I hummed with a grin. "Well, I'm sure you know plenty of women that'd be willing to come entertain you."

"Yet I called the singular one that won't." Jake scoffed. "Kind of pathetic, right?"

Warmth blazed in my chest at the admission I knew held more depth than Jake would ever admit. "I think it's sweet."

He made a gagging noise. "Sweet is a word people use to describe Will."

"And you can't share a description word with Will?"

"Fuck no."

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

"I'll hang up on you."

"You called me," I reminded.

With another sigh, I could make out vague sounds on his end as he seemingly tried to settle into one spot. "I did."

There was a quiet pause between us as I enthusiastically asked, "You okay, tough guy?"

The sound of his laugh was almost bitter as he replied, "It's nothing I can't handle."

"What's up?"

"Lena-”

"Oh, come on, don't make me get annoying."

Jake contemplated his response. "I'm just going through a bit of a… Sensitive phase."

"Did something happen?" I asked, suddenly worried he'd been going through some kind of emotional turmoil and I'd not noticed.

"No… It's… It's more of a physical problem." He sighed, deep and almost pained. "If you catch my meaning."

"Ahh," I bit back a chuckle. "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"

"You did," he admitted. "What are you wearing?"

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously?"

"Oh, come on. You're the one making things so hard for me with those fuckin eyes and that pretty smile and…" He groaned. "That body."

Heat rose to my cheeks, a chill rushing through my body at the sound of his voice cracking. "Should I give you some privacy?"

He laughed, a sound that shouldn't have made me want more but did. "I was thinking you could lend me a hand, actually. You know, help a friend out?"

"Most friends don't help each other get off."

"Come on," he whispered. "Please?"

My eyes fluttered shut, and I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. Fuck… "Fine, but only because you sound so sweet when you ask nicely."

Jake ignored my response almost completely. "What are you wearing?"

"How do you want to play this?" I pondered, toying with my simple T-shirt. "You want the truth, or should I just bullshit you til you come?"

"The truth," he replied.

"It's nothing as scandalous as you're hoping for," I warned him.

"Everything's scandalous when it comes to you." Jake let out a long breath before he added, “Come on, paint me a picture, princess.”

I laid back, head resting in a cradle of pillows. “I’m wearing a T-shirt probably a few sizes too big and the ugliest underwear I own.”

Jake chuckled. “How ugly?”

“Beige with a hole on the left asscheek.” When he didn’t answer, I kept talking. “The T-shirt isn’t anything special either, just black with some abstract orange logo for a sports team, I think.”

“How low does it hang on you?”

“Mid-thigh,” I answered with a smirk. “Quinn cut a pretty deep V into the neckline, though. So now my tits fall out every time I bend over or lay down.” There was that groan I wanted. His breath sounded like static over the phone as he practically panted. “You alright, Sweetie?” I teased.

Jake moaned and answered with a breathless, absolutely wrecked voice, “Just keep talking.”

This was too much fun. “And what would you like me to talk about, Jake?”

“Anything.”

“Taxes?” I asked, voice silky and sultry. “Or I could talk about how to make one of Scott's favorite dishes.”

He sighed. “Do you have to be so annoying about this?”

Giggling I nodded to myself. “Absolutely.”

“God,” he groaned again, the faint sound of him desperately working his, assumingly, aching cock echoed through the phone, sending a wave of heated pleasure down my spine.

“You sound pretty,” I whispered.

“Come over then,” he taunted, sounding far more wrecked than I think he thought he would.

With a hum, I actually considered it. I wanted nothing more than to grab my coat and take a cab to his apartment so he could rip my stupid shirt in half and fuck me. Eventually, I sighed. “Raincheck?”

Jake sounded far more frustrated than he should have as he replied, “You’re worse than Sasha.”

“Goodnight, Jake,” I said with a smirk. “Try not to dream of me too much.”

“Wait!” Click.

He was going to be pissed about that tomorrow.

*

As expected Jake was even more moody than usual when I arrived at work. It was a more lighthearted kind of moody, with little looks and discrete middle fingers throughout family meal, but it was worth it when I restocked the bar and asked, “So, how’d it feel jerking off to the thought of my voice?”

He stumbled over his words as he spoke to the guest in front of him, turned to grab a bottle of whatever they’d ordered, and whispered, “Why don’t you come over and watch? Find out for yourself just how it was.”

The night descended into Hell from there when my mother and Olive came into the restaurant and demanded a table. Howard, the loyal lapdog, bumped the guests at table ten and found them a seat. Lucky for me I was able to hide in the kitchen, but even then my mother found ways to let me know she wasn’t going anywhere. Like sending back food, five times.

Heather set the plate down with a sigh. "I've got a refire on ten."

"Again?" Scott tossed his utensils down and examined the dish with curious eyes. "What'd she say was wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Heather replied tentatively. "She just said she wanted it redone."

I threw down my own cooking tools and grabbed the plate. "Fuck this."

The kitchen door swung open as I charged through, holding the plate of food she'd sent back. My mother sat at table ten with a smile as she lazily swirled the wine in her glass, watching me approach. I didn’t care about the other guests or about anything but finally teaching her a lesson as I threw the plate onto the table. “Eat it or fucking starve.”

“That’s hardly the way an employee should talk to a customer.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not just a customer then, isn’t it?”

Mother smiled wider as Howard approached. “Oh, how far the quality of this establishment has fallen.”

His hands came to grasp my shoulders. “My apologies, Ms. Glover. Lena ple-”

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” I shook his hands off, turning to glare at him as I walked away.

Jake nodded to me from the bar, a smile on his face as he proudly regarded my actions. For a moment, the anger burned softer, more manageable as everyone else, Nicky, Sasha and Ari, and Heather, quietly cheered me on as I slipped back into the kitchen. Service went well after that. No more plates being sent back or requests for eight different wines to taste, just normal everyday service. While it felt nice being able to breathe again, I knew it wasn’t over.

The locker room was rowdy as everyone complained about my mother's behavior, each in their own way trying to show me it didn’t matter to them that they wouldn’t hold it against me. Jake was the only one that was quiet as he stood next to his locker and waited for me. Sasha eyed the two of us. “Do I need to stay as well? Or are you two going to keep your filthy hands to yourselves?”

He smirked at the Russian. “Hard to tell.”

“Go ahead, Sasha,” I replied with a laugh. “I’m not really in a handsy mood tonight.”

With narrow eyes, he pointed at both of us. “I’m watching you two.”

Once he was gone, Jake shook his head. “He’s more determined than I expected.”

“Oh?” I teased. “Was him literally butting into our little makeout session not enough proof for you?”

“He’s always like that.”

“Fair point.”

Once I was fully dressed to go, he nodded to the stairs. “You hanging out for a bit, or are we sneaking out the back?”

With a deep sigh, I started for the stairs. “Sadly, I think I’ll have to stay so my mother will actually leave everyone else alone.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I’ll make your drink extra strong.”

“My hero,” I replied with a smile.

As expected, my mother sat at the bar waiting for me with a blank expression. Once I took the seat next to her, it was quiet, horrifyingly so. Jake kept his promise and slid me my usual drink with an extra shot, and as I drank, my mother sighed. "This isn't you.”

"What would you know about me?" I asked coldly.

“I raised you to be better than some… drunk,” she replied. "And above that, I am your mother."

I chuckled. "That means less than you think it does, and it certainly doesn't mean you know me."

She sighed. "How many times do we have to do this, Lena?"

"What was the book I always read when we spent our summers in Cape Cod?" I asked. "What's my favorite book?"

Mother's face drained of the thin mask, shifting into annoyance at my question, and further beneath that, hidden so deep inside her that even she wouldn't see it was a hint of realization. The reality that she was wrong. "This is ridiculous."

"You think you know me? Then answer me," I demanded. "What book did I read over and over and over again until the pages started falling out?" My mother rolled her eyes. "Too hard? I'll ask something easier then. What's my favorite color?"

"This hardly proves any-"

"When's my birthday?" I continued. She didn't answer, couldn't answer. "You can't answer a single question about me, and yet you have the fucking audacity to stand here and pretend that you know me at all." I shook my head and scoffed. "You're not my mother."

Clapping echoed from the front door as Ozzy entered. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, darling.”

“Oswald,” Mother sneered, turning to look at him as he made his way to my side. “How lovely to see you.”

“Jen. It’s always so unfortunate when we cross paths.”

Her smile was tense. “I see you haven’t lost your juvenile sense of humor.”

"Never. Now, my daughter and I will be going," Ozzy replied, gently pulling me away from my mother.

"She is my daughter Oswald." Her hand snapped out and took hold of my wrist. "I am the one that birthed her and gave her every advantage!"

Ozzy placed himself between us, staring my mother down with rage swimming in his eyes. "You were the one that almost let that monster kill her. Hell, you almost killed her yourself a few times. You will never be anything more than an old, sad, washed-up ballerina Jen."

"How dare-"

"Jack might not be here to fulfill his promise, but I sure as hell am. Now, take your hands off my daughter and fuck off."

They stared each other down for a long moment before she finally loosened her grip on me. When my arm was free, her eyes met mine. "When you finally come to your senses, you know where to find me."

I shook my head, forcing the hurt down beneath my anger. "I don't think that's something I'm capable of. After all, I am my father's daughter."

Ozzy wrapped an arm around my shoulder, carefully leading me away toward the door. He raised his hand, waving back at the crowd of my coworkers. "Goodbye, Jen. We look forward to reading your name in the obituary!"

We walked in the cool city air, arm in arm, for a long time before I spoke. “Thanks for coming.”

“I would never leave you to suffer that woman alone,” Oz replied, bumping my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Surprisingly, yeah, I am.” I sighed. “It felt kind of good to confront her.”

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “Just like your father would be.”

The thought was one that brought me some comfort, that my dad would have stood over my shoulder and encouraged me to lay into her deeper. Maybe he was… “How did he ever deal with her?”

Ozzy’s wide smile changed then, suddenly sad and in pain. “She wasn’t always a shrew, you know. When your dad brought her into the bar for the first time, she was actually quite lovely.”

“She was?”

“Of course. How’d you think we ended up with you two?”

“What changed?”

He considered the question before he shook his head. “She got tired of keeping up the act. By that time, the damage had been done.”

I held onto him tighter. “It all worked out in the end. I mean, as well as it could have.”

“That it did, my girl,” Ozzy said softly. “That it did.”

*

Back at the bar and significantly more drunk the group unwound from the long night, and everyone slowly began to shed the weight of my mother’s visit. Everyone but Peter. He drank his water, staring off into empty space until Patrick or I would grab his attention again, but I knew the weight of whatever words she’d managed to have with him carried. He left early, heading upstairs with the simple excuse of being tired. I was worried about him, after everything he had going on my mother should have been the least of it.

Quinn and Prue were determined to help me unwind with drinks and an abundance of shitty jokes and games. It helped, in a way only they could pull off. The night was slowly turning around as I hopped in to help get drinks to the tables and my friends carried on having fun together. I leaned over a table, grabbing the now empty glasses, when an unfamiliar body slid behind me. “How’s it goin, baby girl?”

The nickname made my blood run cold. It wasn’t him. I told myself over and over again that it wasn’t Tony, but there was always that lingering doubt that plagued me until I turned around. The rich asshole that had dined at the restaurant and that had tried to force himself on me in Tony’s penthouse stood too close to me, smiling down at me with leering eyes. I shook my head and tried to shove past him. “Fuck off.”

His hand grabbed my arm. “Not this time. I want that kiss you robbed me of.”

“Let go.” My voice carried, and in my peripheral, I saw Dom rise to his feet.

With a frustrated sigh, the man pulled something from his pocket. A metallic sound echoed in my ears as I pulled on my arm, stilling only when the familiar chill of steel on my neck made me freeze. "I said, not this time bitch."

I had no idea what came over me as I tore my arm from his grasp and moved quickly, the blade just barely cutting the side of my neck as he reached trying to regain his hold on me. As I stumbled to the floor Dom's solid body moved, punching the man in the face once. Twice.

Everything around me slowed as I pressed my fingers to the blood that now trailed down my neck. The sting of the cut had faded, but memories of the all too familiar sensation replayed in my mind longer as I watched Dom’s fists beat down on the face of my attacker. The sound of bones breaking brought a wave of nausea to my gut, and for a moment, reality seemed to shift. For a moment, I wasn’t on the floor of Ozzy’s but back in the penthouse, watching Tony beat down anyone foolish enough to question him.

My ears started to ring, filling with static. I knew, realistically, that only a minute or two had passed, but it felt longer. My eyes focused on the blood that now flew off Dom’s fists as I brought my hands up to cover my ears, attempting to drown out the voice Dom never used anymore… The voice that reminded me too much of Tony. Jake pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered and dropped down to the ground beside me so quickly that I couldn’t control the way I flinched.

His mouth moved with words I couldn’t hear as his eyes fixed on my neck, on the blood that now soaked into my top. He quickly reached up and grabbed a rag from the table and pressed it to the cut, only then turning his eyes to the bloody sight in front of us. The static began to fade from my ears, slowly bringing the noise back. Ozzy’s voice bellowed from behind the bar. “Dominic! That’s enough!”

Patrick shoved through the crowd, followed by a few of the bikers. “Oi! Come on, Dom. Not here, man.”

Dom couldn’t hear them, or he simply chose not to, as his fists kept bearing down through multiple hands, trying to pull him back. With a shaking voice, I called out, weak and half-spoken, “Dom…” His movements stopped, and his head turned dark… violent consumed eyes met mine. The hardened mask he wore, the mask of some brutal drug dealer, fell as he saw how scared I was… how scared I was of him. “Please.”

He stood then, towering over me with shaking, bloody hands. Jake shifted, putting himself between me and the drug dealer, an action I didn't think even he realized he'd done. Dom regarded him with a far-off look before he turned, brushing past Patrick and Ozzy and heading toward the door. The bikes followed, two of them picking up the now unconscious asshole and carrying him out. Ozzy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry for the mess. The bars closing now."

"You heard the man!" Patrick reinforced. "Get the fuck out!"

Ozzy turned and carefully reached toward Jake and me. “Keep pressure on the cut, son. Pat and I will get her up.”

Patrick appeared on the opposite side of me, making himself look as small as he could as he reached toward me with a grin. “Just breathe. We’ve got ya, little sister.”

With the help of the two older men, Jake was able to keep a steady hold on the rag pressed to my neck as they helped me to my feet and led me to the back office in Ozzy’s comfortable chair. Jake knelt in front of me, eyes glued to the side of my neck where the blood had begun soaking through the rag. Ozzy’s large hand settled on his shoulder, and with the kind smile he was known for, he said, “Breathe, lad.”

“Ya did good,” Patrick complimented. “Any other idiot woulda freaked out.”

Ozzy placed a hand over Jake’s. “I’ve gotta see how deep the cut is.” Without a word, Jake slowly let go, but his eyes never left me as Ozzy pulled the rag back and breathed out a sigh of relief. “It’s just a little knick. Nothin' a bit of gauze and a bandage won’t fix.”

Patrick held his fingers to my pulse point and held my hand. “She seems to have calmed down a bit. Can ya hear me, sis?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I can hear you.”

“That’s good,” Ozzy replied, cupping my cheek. “How's the pain?”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Not compared to the other one.

Sensing the unspoken words, Patrick sighed. “I’ll go get Pete. He’ll wanna know what’s goin' on.”

“Keep him as calm as you can.”

After Patrick was gone, Jake settled into the spot he vacated, hands trembling at his sides as he scanned the new area, unsure of where to look or what to do. I carefully brushed my fingers against his and smiled up at him. “You don’t have to stay. Ozzy’s good at patching me up.”

He considered my words for a minute, finally focusing on my eyes before he shook his head. “I’ll stay. Somebody’s gotta hold your hand.”

As his fingers wrapped around mine, I laughed, soft and weak and entirely too vulnerable. “I appreciate it, tough guy.”

Ozzy quietly bandaged the cut on my neck, though I caught his smirking glances at Jake as he held my hand and made small talk. It was only once Peter came rushing into the bar that Jake said goodnight and excused himself to make way for my very worried older brother. It took some convincing, but eventually, my little family had calmed down. Ozzy closed the bar down while Prue and Quinn fussed over me for a while before they, too, filtered out. Patrick and Peter led me out of the alleyway, pausing tensely as they came face to face with Dom. 

They both waited for me to tell them how to react. “You two head upstairs.”

“You sure?” Peter asked, glancing back at me.

I nodded. “I’ll be right up.”

We both stood, waiting until my brothers were out of earshot before Dom cleared his throat and sighed. “I ain’t gonna apologize for beatin' the fucker. But I’m sorry about making you relive that shit. I… I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“It… It’s okay.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad this time.”

Dom knew what I was referring to, an old incident in a drug den I used to frequent. I could hardly look at him after that, and it took months to get back to where we were. “I don’t ever want you to be scared of me again.” I could see tears building in his eyes. “I would never hurt you, Lena.”

I stepped forward, carefully reaching out to grab his hands. “I know. Will you stay tonight? Just in case?”

“Of course,” he replied, slowly pulling me into a hug.

Upstairs my brothers had gotten everything ready for a sleepover in my room. Dom settled on the couch, insisting on being in the main area by the door while my brothers and I cuddled together in my bed. Any other instance of an attack like that would have shaken me to my core… would have made it impossible for me to even talk for days after. Tonight had been scary, too familiar, but ultimately different. I wasn’t afraid like I had been in the past. I wasn’t panicked and flighty. I knew I was safe. And with that knowledge nestled in my mind, I easily drifted off to sleep.

Maybe I was getting better. And maybe I liked the idea of no longer living my life in fear.

#fic: nightshade #sweetbitter jake x oc #sweetbitter jake #jake sweetbitter #jake smut #jake x oc #sweetbitter fanfiction #sweetbitter #jake and lena #jake x lena #lena harrow #sweetbitter lena #sweetbitter fandom #fan fiction #sweetbitter fic #sweet bitter #sweetbitter simone #sweetbitter ocs #sweetbitter howard #sweetbitter scott #sweetbitter heather #sweetbitter ari #sweetbitter tess #sweetbitter sasha #sweetbitter santos

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

A Promise of Gold

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x OFC

Rating: NSFW 18+

Warnings: this is an old western story so many of these come with the world. Mentions of prostitution, mentions of injury, normal saloon activities (gambling, alcohol consumption and handsy men) smutty times, fluff, oral (female receiving), p in v sex, fluff, angst, a shootout, a badass couple moment, very tiny mention of death, did I mention fluff?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Notes: I read a western series a few months back and this fic was born from it. I made an oc and left it with the possibility to return to it if the inspiration ever struck. I ADORE this fic so much. It’s probably in the top five things I have ever written and that's saying a lot. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I did writing it! Thanks to @clint-aww-no-barton​ as always!

ao3 link

  The dark of night had fallen like a slow sheet of snow on the small western town. The local saloon had already been at full swing for several hours, the noise growing as more patrons filled through the swinging doors. Henley had been making her rounds, finding laps to sit in and hair to lace her fingers through. Every suggestion of taking her upstairs had been shut down.

She was waiting on a particular someone to make his entrance. The blue dress she had worn tonight was a little more toned down than her usual and she had chosen it just for him. She stationed herself at the back, keeping away from the noise and grabbing hands, staring at her perfect view of the door.

  Then there he was, Jack Daniels. The definition of tall, dark and handsome, with a swagger that always seemed to draw attention. He was a true cowboy. Mostly kind in nature, but he protected what was his and those who couldn’t protect themselves. He would gun a man down in the street but he would rather not. He had become a special customer of Henley’s and she always looked forward to when he came around.

  He had traveled through one night, limping in after a ruthless battle to town. He had been injured and Henley had tended to him, which resulted in drunk mumbles of sweet flirting words until the man fell asleep. He charmed his way right into her bed the second he was able, and she let him. He wrote to her on the regular now, promising as soon as he got his hands on some gold, he would free her from this life and give her anything she wanted.

  Their eyes met from across the saloon, as the rest of the patrons turned to see who had entered. Eyes seemed to follow him as he skipped over the alcohol, the gambling and everything else, as he took quick strides to Henley. A smirk was planted on those lips and Henley felt that all too familiar heat. Butterflies fluttering around her stomach and heat pooling between her legs. His eyes looked her up and down and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, eyeing his next meal.

  “Howdy cowboy,” she smirked up at him as he closed the distance between them, and pulling her into him.

  “Howdy there darlin’. Now don’t tell me you picked out this little number for me?”

  “Of course I did. You like?”

  Henley smiled wide as he twirled her around and let out a whistle.

  “Well of course I do. But I know where I’m going to like it so much better,” he pulled her right into him and dipped his head letting his lips brush hers in a quick kiss.

  “Then let’s go get it there,” she pulled away, backing up as she held his hand, before pulling him along like he didn’t know the way.

  Henley had mostly stopped any other man from entering her room since she met Jack. He always left her with plenty of coin to get her by until his next visit. The saloon owner wasn’t entirely happy, so she would take a random customer here or there, but her eyes and her heart were set on Jack. They slipped inside and Henley shut and locked the door. By the time she turned around Jack was already getting rid of the top layer of his clothes.

  “Eager tonight are we?” She smirked but didn’t dare touch her clothes to remove them, he would take care of it.

  “I’m a little pint up darlin’ but I promise our usual talk and just lying together as soon as I release some of this energy.”

  Henley studied him for a moment realizing how true his words were. Something was bothering him, but she knew he would tell her after he took her. He stepped to her once he stood in nothing but a button up shirt and his trousers. He crashed his lips to hers without another word, backing her up till the back of her knees hit the bed. He spun her around leaving her dizzy and panting from the kiss, his skilled fingers desperately working her out of her dress. Layer after layer hit the floor until she was naked for him. She turned around, her hand coming to the back of his neck and pulling him back down for another, slightly softer kiss.

  “I’ve missed you darlin’,” Jack panted as he parted from her, resting his forehead against hers.

  His words made the butterflies in her stomach go wild and a smile to pull at her lips.

  “I’ve missed you too Jack.”

  Then he was back on her. His hands started to wander everywhere, touching in all the right spots that he knew oh so well. She worked at removing the last of his clothing, until he know stood naked before her. Then he was lying her back on the bed. His lips fell from hers, taking their journey downward. She laced her fingers in his brown locks letting her eyes flutter closed, as she let herself get lost in the way he made her feel. Jack was going so slow and she was started to lose her sanity.

  “I thought you were eager?”

  Henley whined, pulling a chuckle from Jack that she felt rumble on her stomach where he had stopped.

  “Now darlin’ that may be true but I’m a gentleman and I’ll always take my time to worship every inch of you.”

  She couldn’t stop the smile as she looked down at him, meeting his eyes.

  “Keep those pretty eyes on me darlin’.”

  He smirked and she did as she was told, watching as he kept going until he finally stationed himself where she had wanted him. He hooked her legs around his arms, keeping her spread for him. He flattened his tongue and took one single swipe from her, already dripping, entrance to her clit. He flicked his tongue over the bundle of nerves a few times causing her to let out a loud moan.

  “You still taste so delicious darlin’ and those noises that you make, like music to my ears.”

  Henley could only answer with a moan as she bucked her hips slightly. Jack let out a chuckle and then dug in. He took her clit between his lips and sucked, making her throw her head back, letting out a slight scream she knew anyone else up here could hear. She gripped at his hair.

  “Jack…” she panted trying to earn his attention all while he was continuing his assault on her with that damn mouth.

  He looked up at her with only his eyes, his eyebrows raising.

  “I…want you…inside me,” a loud moan as he made a certain movement with his tongue. “Now please.”

  She pleaded so pathetically and desperately but she didn’t care, she needed him buried inside and wanted to tumble over the edge with him.

  “Now who is the eager one,” he gave her a devilish smirk before starting his journey back up her body.

  His lips met hers and she let out a moan at the taste of herself there. He pulled away just slightly, their eyes locking as he lined himself up and pushed inside her. Henley let out a moan at the feeling. Jack set his usual quick, but gentle, pace. The bed under them squeaked and the headboard hit the wall. Henley knew the noises that were falling from her mouth could most likely be heard on the whole floor but she didn’t care. She wanted everyone to know that Jack was making her feel like no other man could.

  “Jack…I’m close,” she panted as she looked from between them to his eyes.

  “Let go for me darlin’, I’m right behind you,” he grunted and it was all Henley needed.

  She felt herself snap and she gripped at Jack causing him to let out a groan, letting go himself. She lost herself completely in him, the entire world fading away and leaving just them until she was floating back down. They both stilled, panting and spent. Jack moved carefully, both of them hissing at the loss of each other, before rolling over on the bed.

  “I think we getting better at that every time,” Jack looked at her and she turned her head to look at him.

  “I do have to agree,” she smirked, before she moved to lay on his chest, his arm snaking around her.

  “You know, you are always beautiful but this right here, is my favorite look. All flush and spent,” his thumb came up to brush over her cheek and then her nose which she scrunched in return.

  “You’re not so bad yourself cowboy.”

  Henley kissed his chest both of them laughing softly. His fingers started to idly rub at her back and shoulder as they sat in silence for a moment.

  “Have you gotten any closer?” Henley sat up slightly, watching Jack’s face, trying to memorize it as she always did.

  “I think so. I actually think I’m getting close. It’s why I wanted to come visit. I…may not be able to again for a bit until I find it.”

  Henley felt her stomach sink but she knew in the back of her mind this day was going to come, she just didn’t think so soon. Jack must have noticed the expression on her face.

  “But as soon as I get my hands on it I’m coming back for you. Then I’m taking you wherever you want to go. You can have a better life than this and I’ll take care of you. We can make love in our own house, have our own farm. I promise.”

  Jack fingers brushed under her chin softly, making her eyes meet his.

  “I just need you to be careful. You won’t do me no good if you get yourself killed,” she gave him a smirk, but they both knew she was trying to put on a brave face.

  Her words were a real fear. She always waited with her stomach in a twist, anxious that he wouldn’t walk back through the saloon doors. The fact now, that she would have to go longer without knowing he was okay, sent her to that place permanently.

  “I wish…I wish I could go with you.”

  “I know darlin’ but it’s dangerous and I would turn into a mad man if something ever happened to you. I promise I’m going to be as quick as possible and I’ll write as much as I can. Soon my darlin’ it will just be us and the wide open world.”

  Henley gave him a small smile as he kissed her brow before she curled into him. She slipped into sleep quicker than she wanted, even with her heart and mind wanting to spend more time with him.

    The sun danced behind Henley’s eyelids and she forced her eyes open, squinting in response. Jack was still here but he was dressing.

  “You weren’t going to leave without telling me goodbye were you?” She wanted it to come off jokingly, but it held a slight bit of pain.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it darlin’ you know that.”

  She sat up, covering herself with the sheet and Jack kissed her deeply before continuing to dress. She finally moved herself from the bed doing the same but keeping her eyes on him. When they both were finished and his eyes finally met hers, his lips twitched slightly.

  “What?”

  “Nothing I…I just,” her words faltered breaking tears springing in her eyes. “I’m just memorizing you. Making sure I never forget a thing.”

  The last few words came out a whisper and she mentally kicked herself for crying.

  “Hey shhh it’s alright my darlin’ I’m coming back for you, in one piece okay?” He grabbed her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears. “I promise I’m coming back.”

  Then he kissed her and it was different than any other time. It held a different kind of passion, fire, love. It hit Henley that it was love. It made her pull closer, kiss deeper. She loved him and he loved her and soon things would be better. When they pulled away they were panting, foreheads pressed together.

  “I…”

  “I know,” she whispered and her eyes met his.

  They stood there for a moment before he kissed her again.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  Henley gave him a nod and then he was gone. She watched the open doorway like it had swallowed him. She listened for his footsteps until they faded, and then she went to her window and watched him mount his horse. He turned it, looking up at her window and taking his hat off to her. She blew him a kiss in return and watched as the man she loved rode off into the open desert.

*3 months later*

  The music was so loud and, she wasn’t sure if it was just her, but the men were extra handsy. Henley found herself sneaking upstairs to her room closing the door and locking it. Maybe someone would think she had a guest. Her forehead rested against the wooden door and she closed her eyes, before letting out a sigh. She turned to her empty room. The unchanging scenery.

  It had been three months, if she had been counting the days correctly. Three months since she watched Jack leave. She was starting to fear the worst and it lead her mind down a path she had tumbled down several times. She was tired of being here, sitting still, waiting for word. But she also had no idea where he had even been heading. He had told her it was best that way, which he was right she supposed.

  She sat down on her bed and letting out another sigh, watching the candle light flicker across her walls. Then gunshots rang out and she jumped. She was up on her feet in seconds. Reaching under the bed and grabbing the shotgun she had stored there, she stood and raced to the window. She looked down to see most of the men in the saloon had stepped outside looking off out of town. Her eyebrows knitted together and she was up and racing down the stairs and outside in seconds. She pushed through the crowd until she came to the front of it and she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “Jack…” she smiled to herself.

  Jack was coming this way on horseback, but behind him were some angry looking men. Jack seemed to have several of his own posse riding next to him who would turn and shoot behind them every few moments. The crowd scattered as Jack got closer until he turned his horse and started to fire.

  She planted her feet right next to his horse, taking aim with her shotgun at any that got within range, and pulling the trigger. She moved through the moments of firing the gun over and over until she was out.

  “Darlin’!”

  Jack called from next to her and with a smirk and a wink he dropped a rifle in her hands. She gave him a smirk back and started to fire it. Most of the men from the saloon had chosen to take their side, shooting at the strangers who trespassed on their town. Finally they tucked tail and ran, those that were left and everyone scattered leaving Henley and Jack standing in the middle of the street. A few bodies of locals were scattered about, but they were lucky overall. Jack dismounted his horse.

  “I took it you found the gold?” Henley smirked.

  “Now what gave that away?” Jack looked down at her as he pulled her to him.

  “Oh I don’t know, the angry mob that was after you,” she let out a giggle.

  “Oh those guys? Old friends,” she laughed again before Jack’s lips connected to hers in a deep kiss that made her dizzy.

  “I can’t believe you found it. Where is it?” Henley looked around Jack and at his horse.

  “I have somewhere safe no need to worry. I do have a little bit on me but it’s for us to get passage out of town. We will need to make a few stops along the way.”

  “So one last night here?” Henley looked back at the saloon.

  “Just one more night darlin’.”

  It had been a night of love making and celebrating. Jack and Henley slipped out before the sun was even above the horizon.

  “You ready to see the rest of the world with me darlin’?”

  “Oh you bet Jack.”

  He smirked as he kicked and his horse took off, the wind flowing through Henley’s hair.

  “I love you cowboy.”

  “Oh I love you too darlin’.” Jack turned to kiss her softly and quickly.

  She had always heard the sappy saying about riding off into the sunset. Now here she was riding on the back of a horse, holding on tight to the man she loved and they rode into the sunrise instead. Right into their new future and what she hoped was several grand adventures.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl​ @arcadianempress​ @discogrrl​ @immundusspiritu​ @someplace-darker​ @thisis-theway​ @ohpedromypedro​ @scribbledghost​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @princess-and-pedro​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @littlevodka​ @all-hallows-evie​ @mack4676​ @perropascal​ @audreyshepbvrn​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @kaqua​ @novemberrain221​

#jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey #pedro pascal #jack whiskey daniels fic #agent whiskey fic #jack whiskey daniels smut #agent whiskey smut #jack whiskey daniels x ofc #agent whiskey x ofc

[blukrown]

A Night To Remember - Soap/Gaz

GAZ WEEK 2023 - PUBLIC SEX

Soap and Gaz decide to go out when they meet up during their leave. Intending to go out and support each other in finding someone to take home with them . . . but they decide there is another way to enjoy each other's company.

Or read on AO3

Contains: Use of alcohol (tipsy), public sex & voyeurism

Gaz and Soap had decided to meet up while they were both on leave.

Gaz had three more days on his, visiting his parents and dropping by Edinburgh to see an old friend. And Soap had just landed and was taking some personal time before heading up north to visit his family.

Soap, having escaped to the city often since his teens, said he had to take Gaz to his favorite gay bar downtown.

“Ye’re tellin’ me ye haven’t hooked up at all while ye’ve been away?” The Scot had asked, not hiding his genuine shock.

“Try not to rub it in, would you.” Gaz said with a sigh of disappointment. “I tried goin’ on apps but got nowhere. Figured I’d go dry.”

Soap had grinned then, promising they’d go out and he’d make sure they both got their dicks wet. Gaz was skeptical but could never deny an invite from his friend. 

So, the two had dressed in their best clubbing attire and met outside the venue. Gaz was in tight black pants with a handsome purple short-sleeve button-up, all his chest on display until the last button before it was tucked in under his belt and pants. And Soap wore ripped and torn jeans, tightened to his waist with a thick black belt. His chest pretty much bare except for the thin mesh black top. 

“Dressing to impress me, are you?” Gaz had smiled as they waited to get inside.

Soap had smirked then, “Yes. Is it working?”

Gaz let his eyes linger on his hairy chest and stomach, muscles defined and skin warm and tan. “Very.” He said simply with a sly smile.

Soap had looked chuffed, sticking close by Gaz’s side for the rest of the wait, shoulders often brushing.

The two sergeants had hooked up in the past, mostly because of lack of ass on base but also pure boredom. They were nothing serious and weren’t planning on being anything more than friends who sometimes slept together. They just got a kick out of it. Flirting, toying and playing with each other. Trust, arousal, and amusement make a very enjoyable combination. 

Gaz had a suspicion he was getting laid tonight, whether it was a random clubgoer or Soap remained to be seen. Either way, he was excited to get into the club.

The bar was loud and dark except for flashing disco lights. Already crowded with people either milling to talk or swaying away on the dance floor. Shots and drinks were quickly skulled until Gaz and Soap were both drunk with liquid courage and took to the dance floor.

The next few hours were a lot of fun, the music was good and the company wonderful. Even with the lack of interesting people surrounding them. That was not to say Gaz and Soap were not being hit on, but none of them were particularly attractive or charming enough to get more out of the sergeants than a quick dance or acceptance of a free drink.

Once there was a lull in the music, the two retreated to a quieter section of the bar. Sitting close on a worn, leather couch that was pushed to a far wall.

Soap had dropped down on the couch and sighed, “Ah’m starting to believe there isn’t any stunners in here except for us.”

Gaz nodded with sad agreement. “I know, ‘bit of a downer really.”

Soap snorted, nudging Gaz, “Don’t act too disappointed. Ye got me after all!”

Gaz looked Soap up and down for what was surely the tenth time tonight. Soaking in the view of Soap’s sweat-glistening body. His hair plastered to his head and the mesh of his top clinging to his chest. He was still out of breath from dancing but it looked effortless. And there was that glint of excitement in his eyes that always had Gaz on his toes.

Gaz grinned. “You’re right you know, I do have you.”

Sick of waiting for someone else to make a move on either himself or Soap, eyes having often stared at Soap as he danced, grinned and laughed. Gaz thought there was nothing wrong with going with the familiar option.

He leaned over and, with one hand holding Soap’s chin, kissed him. It was a simple, hungry press of lips. Offering but not demanding.

Soap gladly took the invite immediately, barely leaving Gaz to wait a single moment more before he pushed back in the kiss. Both of his warm, calloused hands reaching out and cupping Gaz’s face to keep him close.

They moved on the couch so that their faces and chests facing each other while their outer thighs touched. Both of their hands clutching to keep themselves close. Having a taste at just what they had missed for the past few months since their last encounter.

Gaz loved how Soap kissed. Eagerly and unashamed. Tongue pressing to join lips, unabashed to gasp when Gaz bit at his lip or pulled at the back of his mohawk to reposition. He was so reactive, so excepting. Gaz felt himself getting hard quickly as they sat, making out on the couch.

Soap seemed just as aroused. Moving from Gaz’s side to climb onto his lap. Uncaring when he pressed his own clothed erection flush against Gaz’s.

If anything, it encouraged the Scot. Letting out a heedy sigh through his nose, his arms draping over Gaz’s shoulders. His hips then ground down, rubbing the two of them together.

Gaz gasped, letting his lips abandon Soap’s even when he chased after them. “S-Seriously? Here?” Asking as he knew just what Soap was planning on doing if Gaz did not reel him in.

“Why not?” Soap said in a loudened whisper in his ear, smirk ever audible. “Even if someone sees, they should call ‘emselves lucky to see hotties like us havin’ at it.”

Gaz had the thought to object, concerned to be caught or worse asked to leave. But Soap was looking at him with that goading look in his eyes. Ever the Scot’s willing accomplice and fuck, was he so horny now. Just those few brushes of heat against heat getting him to full mast. It would be painful to evacuate, especially in the now achingly restricted pants he wore.

Gaz bit his bottom lip as he took his hands to either side of Soap’s hips. How could he ever even try to resist him? 

“Make it quick,” Gaz said in a low huff.

Soap’s grin was wide and bright, “Oh, don’t worry I won’t keep ye’ waitin’.”

He then rolled his hips, using his body weight to rub their erections together. His mouth smothering Gaz’s lips with open kisses even as they both groaned for the other with each thrust of Soap’s hips.

“F-Fuck,” Gaz grimaced, his hands squeezing at Soap’s waist. “Y-You’re insane.”

“And ye’ like me all the more for it.” Soap said gruffly back. 

Soap quickened his pace, now almost in tandem with the thudding of the club’s music. The base rhythm vibrated through Gaz’s bones whilst Soap ground down onto him with delicious eagerness.

It wasn’t enough. Gaz wanted more. Wanted to touch Soap all over with his fingers, tongue and whatever else. He could feel himself nearing his end but he did not want it to finish here. If he was going to have at it with John ‘Soap’ Mactavish, he didn’t want an appetizer, he wanted the whole damn meal.

“Not . . . Not yet, John. I- ngh, I want more,” Gaz whimpered, his eyes rolling in the back of his head at a particularly good grind.

“What?” John said, holding at Gaz’s chin to steady his face so he was forced to look at him. “Ye’ think this’ll be it? Oh, don’t worry Kyle , the night’s only just beginning.” Gaz audibly whimpered at that, grateful when Soap’s lips were on his, giving him something to focus on outside of the building pleasure with each of Soap’s thrusts.

Part of Gaz wished he could step outside of himself. Imagining how erotic they must look, both sweaty and hungry. Hands feverish as they clutched at the other, their lips a frenzy of kisses and soft bites. God, he knew they looked amazing and he felt himself inching ever closer to release thinking about the other occupants of the club watching them. Seeing Soap grind down into Gaz’s lap like an animal in heat, watching as all Gaz could do was melt from the pleasurable attention.

“Fuck - John, ah- Soap,I’m-” Gaz gasped out a warning, his hands traveling further behind Soap to grope and tug at Soap’s ass. Urging him to quicken, to hurry. 

He was so close he was sure Soap could taste it on his tongue, both not so much even kissing now but gasping into each other’s mouths. Sharing heated, muffled air.

“It’s ok, Kyle,” Soap soothed, his voice harsh from hurried breaths. His pretty blue eyes glittering as they watched Gaz in a crow-eyed smile. “I’m close too. Go on. Hah- wanna see. Wanna see ye’ cum in those cute pants of yours.”

Gaz whimpered and groaned, wriggling his hips. Each breathy word of Soap’s only pushing him closer to the edge.  Gaz could only repeat Soap’s name, growing more pleading with each utterance as he clawed at Soap’s hips for just that little more.

“Ye’ looked so gorgeous out there Gaz. Ah cannae keep mah’ eyes of ye’. Ah’ was half hopin’ no one would approach ye’ just so you’d be stuck with little ol’ me. Ah’m so glad I got my hands on ye’.” Gaz groaned loudly at all this, it all being so overwhelming as he let his head roll back on his shoulders.

“Go on,” Soap goaded, “Lemme see. Yer so gorgeous Gaz, lemme see ye cum. C’mon pretty boy, come for me. Please, Kyle.”

Gaz was already peaking over the edge before this, but his orgasm rocked him all the more. The compliments making the rivulets of pleasure spasm through him all the sweeter as he came hard. Cumming inside his pants and in his briefs, surely staining the front, and would soon be visible for all to see.

But Gaz could not give two shits about that. Even as his end was still wracking waves of ecstasy through him, his hands still tugged and pulled Soap to continue. His warm brown eyes half open, mouth gasping for air as he got to watch Soap finish a few seconds after.

The Scot’s eyebrows furrowing and his jaw clenching as his movements finally stuttered to a halt. A wriggle of pleasure in the back of his mind as he thought about how Soap’s mess would be far more difficult to hide in washed-out jeans.

#gazweek2023 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz call of duty #gaz #soap x gaz #gaz x soap #soap x ghost #soap cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #mlm #fanfiction #fanfic

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

to whatever teenager needs to hear this:

statistically your generation is having less underage sex & drinking less & doing fewer drugs & generally making better choices than your parents’ generation

the shit you see on tv is just a bunch of middle-aged tv producers (who should know better) sexualizing you & projecting onto your age group. 

do your best not to internalize it as normal (it’s not!), and absolutely call them on their bullshit. 

#not a shitpost #serious post #sex cw #drug mention #alcohol mention #if you are on the fence about experimenting with sex/drugs/alochol #i really really do recommend you consider waiting a few years #you can avoid so so much harm by just giving yourself a few years to develop and learn and grow before you start exploring that stuff #it will still be waiting for you when you're older #and i promise you will enjoy sex & alcohol a lot more if you wait until you are better prepared and know how to engage safely #(assuming you choose to engage with it at all. this shit is absolutely not mandatory and has nothing to do w/ being an 'adult') #but seriously. the adults in your life have NOT prepared you enough or provided you w/ a safe enough environment... #...for you to be able to try these things without there being serious risks to your wellbeing & health & future #you deserve better than that. please please please take care of yourself as best you can #i consider the main goal of adolescence to be surviving it with as little trauma and damage as possible #(easier said than done) because we absolutely end up spending our early adulthood recovering from that shit

[yuujispinkhair]

They kiss on the ring. I carry the crown (Chapter 5)

Chapter 1 ++ Chapter 2 ++ Chapter 3 ++ Chapter 4 ++ Masterpost After moving in with Sukuna, you see a more domestic side of the Yakuza King. But being the princess who lives in his palace also means that you can't evade the darker parts of his life. Because even though a big part of the city belongs to Sukuna, there are also other players in this game of thrones.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Mafia AU, smut, fluff, also some angst in this chapter Playlist: Mafia AU The songs for this chapter: Come through by H.E.R. ++ Millions by Always Never ++ Gimme love by Rosenfeld Word Count: 5.7k Warnings: 18+. This chapter mentions violence, blood on clothes and skin, scraped knuckles, implied murder (decapitation). Smut, some dark crime-related themes (Yakuza, implied violence, implied murder, gambling, alcohol, sex workers), use of the name Daddy, oral, fingering, creampie. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Moving into Sukuna's penthouse had turned out to be a brilliant idea. The added time you could spend with your lover was something the two of you treasured a lot.

And Sukuna let you know he liked it. He kept coming up to you with his typical sexy smirk, looking at you as if his eyes were undressing you.

"I like coming home to you. Or when you come home to me."

His words were accompanied by his strong arms wrapping around your waist and his body pressing against your back, letting you feel how much he appreciated your commitment to him.

Your meetings in Sukuna's home office were still a thing. You were sure you pretty much already knew all about his different business branches and how his bookkeeping worked. But you still joined him when you got home and saw that there was a light on in his home office.

You still slipped inside the door with a smile on your face and walked over to your man to sit on his lap and greet him with a long deep kiss. And he still looked so pleased to have his pet here on his lap and made sure to give you the attention you needed while he kept on working.

You spent many evenings on Sukuna's cock, keeping him company while he was still busy with work. Keeping him nestled in your creamy heat, your pussy throbbing around his hard length while you waited patiently until he was finished with work and would go over to the pleasurable part of the night.

But there were other things you shared with your lover now too.

If someone had told you a year ago you'd live with a Yakuza boss and experience downright domestic bliss with him, you'd have laughed heartily.

But that was exactly the case. The private version of the King of Tokyo's underworld was someone who enjoyed quiet evenings at home. He changed into sweatpants and a casual shirt and cuddled up with you under a warm cashmere blanket on the soft, oversized leather couch.

His touch was soothing when his fingers ran up and down your back lazily. And you sighed happily against his chest where your head was resting, listening to your lover's heartbeat.

And the two of you had acquired a new hobby: Watching crime shows together. Sukuna analyzed them for you, telling you what was realistic and what wasn't. He always made you laugh with his commentary.

"Maybe you should have changed sides and became a cop."

"Oh, I can be your detective tonight, baby. And you'll be my little criminal. Gonna fuck all the naughtiness out of you."

You laughed and kissed him, snuggling closer against his warm muscular body. And you knew that he would fulfill that sexy promise later on and really fuck your brains out, just like he did almost every night.

But dating a busy man like Sukuna meant that oftentimes you had to refrain from having him to yourself. Instead, he would have dinner with one of his business partners or visit one of his various establishments to see if everything was going according to his wishes.

But Sukuna always ensured that you were being taken care of on those evenings. You smiled when he had food delivered to you with little notes attached to it. "Sorry I don't have time for you, darling, but I'll make up for it later tonight. Enjoy your food!"

And once he got back home, he joined you on the couch or in bed and made sure to fuck you so thoroughly that you definitely didn't feel lonely anymore.

If Sukuna didn't have time for you several evenings in a row, he made sure to send his brother over to the penthouse so you wouldn't get too lonely. Yuuji was a sweetheart and good at keeping you company. And he always brought pizza from his delivery service.

Other times Sukuna called you at work, informing you that he was on his way back from a meeting and would love to take you out to dinner.

"My driver will pick you up in half an hour. Don't let me wait, princess."

You enjoyed those evenings in the city's fanciest restaurants but what you liked even more was when Sukuna came home to the penthouse and cooked dinner with you.

You were surprised to learn that he was actually good at that too. But he loved good food, which is why he took cooking courses at the best restaurants in the city. He knew what he was doing. It was sexy to watch him cook, seeing how confident he was in the kitchen too.

But most of all, it gave you butterflies to see how happy Sukuna was in those moments. The soft smile on his handsome face, the way he was so focused on preparing dinner but also took time to shower you with affection. It did something to your heart when he hoisted you up on the kitchen counter so he could stand between your legs and kiss you slowly.

The King of Tokyo's underworld was purring like a cat when you ran your fingers through the short hair of his undercut. He was so sweet when he kissed you here in his kitchen, in between feeding you some of the food that was simmering in one of the pots.

It was amusing to see The Tiger acting like a housecat, to see how gentle and caring a powerful and dangerous man like him could be.

You were invited to family time with Sukuna and Yuuji, getting to see a completely relaxed Sukuna. Your chest felt so warm when you watched Yuuji reaching out to ruffle his big brother's hair affectionately, and instead of an annoyed huff, Sukuna just grinned at him and pulled him against his side to ruffle his hair in return.

You couldn't stop smiling when you watched the two of them having a drink together after dinner, reminiscing about their departed grandfather and their childhood memories.

You knew that this was something very special. To be invited to those family moments. To be allowed to see the Itadori brothers as just that: two brothers who laughed together and teased each other and toasted to their grandfather.

You didn't have dinner with the Yakuza King and the Yakuza Prince. You had dinner with two regular guys.

And you realized one more thing. You weren't just in Sukuna's inner circle or part of his clan hierarchy. Instead, Sukuna had let you step into his most guarded sanctuary: Into his heart.

It was a few weeks after moving in with Sukuna when he dropped a bomb on you that you hadn't seen coming.

You were standing on the spacious balcony of the penthouse, letting the wind cool your heated face, when Sukuna joined you and, as so often, wrapped his strong arms around, resting his chin on your shoulder.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, just overlooking the nightly city. The glittering lights of the skyscrapers around you, the neon lights of the bars and arcades in the distance.

A big part of this city belonged to Sukuna. This was his Kingdom. But there were other players in this game of thrones too. The Zenins. The other big Yakuza clan in Tokyo. They were the reason why Sukuna wanted to talk to you that night.

"I promoted Nobara to become your personal bodyguard. She starts her new job tomorrow morning."

"What?"

You turned your head, looking up at him only to find him looking at you with a serious expression on his handsome face. His playfulness during dinner cooking earlier that evening was gone completely.

"I told you about the Zenins. Toji still has some connections, and he is sure they are planning something. So, I think it's time to take the necessary steps. Yuuji already has a bodyguard, but you need one too now that you are officially the woman by my side. You already know Nobara, so I think you'll get along fine."

Your first reaction was a blank stare. The notion of having a bodyguard seemed so crazy that it almost made you burst out laughing. But, on the other hand, you would be stupid to ignore Sukuna's warning. His world was a dangerous one after all. Before you could say anything, Sukuna added:

"The Zenins will know by now that you are associated with me, and I can't risk letting you run into one of them unprotected. I know your pretty little head is probably coming up with a thousand reasons why this is ridiculous, but trust me, it isn't. I pulled you into my world, so it's my responsibility to keep you safe. You get a bodyguard, and I'll instruct you on which parts of the city you should avoid."

Sukuna turned you around in his arms, so you were facing him. He reached out, and one of his hands cupped your cheek, caressing it lovingly with his thumb.

"If something happened to you... I wouldn't be able to live with myself. So do as I tell you, darling. Please."

He was looking at you with real worry etched in those beautiful maroon eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at the concern and the love written all over his face. You leaned into his touch, put a hand on top of his, and nuzzled your cheek into his large hand.

"Of course, I'll do as you say when it comes to something like this. I trust you. And when you say certain things or people are dangerous, I would be stupid to ignore it."

You felt the tight grip of his hands loosen a bit, only now realizing how tense he had been, how worried.

You smiled softly at him, overcome with affection,

"But Kuna? Please promise me that you will always take the same precautions for your own safety, too, ok?"

Sukuna's eyes narrowed. He looked confused, and suddenly you realized that this was probably the first time he heard someone express worry about him too. He was used to being the strong one. The King, the one who ruled and in return offered his protection.

You had to gulp against a lump that was forming in your throat. In moments like these, you got a little glimpse of what it took to be in Sukuna's position.

He leaned down, letting his soft lips brush over your cheek and then over your lips,

"Of course, I do that. I always think about you and Yuuji. It's ok, darling. I'm not that easy to kill."

You had learned a lot about Sukuna's world. About the legal and illegal side of his business. But mostly, you only saw those things on paper. They were numbers in files, on the computer screen, in drawers.

It was rare that you got a more direct glimpse of what it meant that your man was the Yakuza King.

From time to time, you watched him disappearing into one of the backrooms of the casino, several important-looking people in tow. Or you heard him talking on the phone, giving orders that made your skin crawl.

"It's the third month in a row. Send someone over there to teach them how to serve me properly."

He rolled his eyes in annoyance and then turned to you to see your scandalized look and a smirk appeared on his face.

"Don't give me that look, princess. I'm not sending a killer to them. Just someone to roughen them up a bit. They are behind with their payments. I can't allow people to disrespect me like that. They pay, and I protect them. They stop paying, and they get taught a little lesson."

Luckily most of the time, Sukuna didn't get his own hands dirty. He had Yuta, Maki and Toji for that.

But there were some matters which Sukuna had to take care of himself. There were one or two occasions where you were sure you spotted some dried blood droplets on his collar, or you got a whiff of iron when he hugged and kissed you for a greeting.

It had to be a special case if he came home with signs of bloodshed on him. Most likely a run-in with some high-ranking member of another family. It was a question of honor that Sukuna had to see after these kinds of things himself. You didn't know what exactly that entailed. And you didn't want to know any details.

That was the part of Sukuna's world that still freaked you out. You knew it was best not to ask about it. Because if you didn't address it, you could pretend it didn't happen.

But sometimes, you caught yourself staring at your lover's hands, wondering how many lives those beautiful, strong hands had taken.

But did it matter? Sukuna was a good man to you. He was someone who was able to love. And he cared deeply about the ones he loved.

The hands that killed were so gentle on you, caressing your skin so lovingly until you shuddered with pleasure and begged him to give you more.

The lips that sentenced a man to death whispered sweet nothings into your ear while his strong body was pressing you down into the bed, fucking you slow and sweet, making love to you until you cried his name.

You knew that Sukuna wasn't a ruthless killer who killed people for fun. He avoided those things as much as possible, believing that it was more beneficial to forge alliances. But this only worked when the other party was willing to abide by those rules too. If they didn't, then Sukuna was ready to do anything that needed to be done.

You knew that many people would say Sukuna was a heartless monster. And he liked to act that way. It was always good to be feared.

But he wasn't heartless with the people he cared about. He wasn't heartless with you.

He loved you. He protected you. He held you every night in his strong arms, kissed you tenderly, and made you feel safe.

To you, he wasn't a monster. And you knew what you had gotten yourself into. You knew Sukuna would always be like the tiger on his family crest: A wild and proud creature that was dangerous by nature. He would never be a tame housecat. But even tigers were sweet to the people they loved.

You should have known though, that you wouldn't be able to evade the darkest parts of Sukuna's underworld. No matter how much he tried to keep you out of this.

You were the woman by his side now. The princess who lived in his palace. So you were bound to witness your King getting involved in these things.

You were sitting at the elegant dining table in the penthouse, eating a delicious meal the two of you had cooked together. It was a quiet evening, and the two of you were just enjoying your time together. Talking about your day while eating and sipping some way too expensive red wine.

Your day had been busy, you had to show a customer around three different residences, and he had been the type of customer who complained about every little detail. So having a nice dinner at home with your lover and a lazy evening on the couch was the perfect way to end this day.

But then Sukuna's phone started to ring.

This wasn't an unusual thing. He often got calls at all hours of the night. So you didn't think much at first, just rolled your eyes in mock exasperation while grinning at your man cheekily.

The grin faded from your face when Sukuna got up and excused himself before leaving the room for his home office. You heard the faint click of the door closing behind him.

You set your wine glass down and played nervously with the stem. Why did Sukuna feel the need to leave the room? Usually, he didn't mind when you overheard his business calls. So what had the person on the other end of the line said to him?

When Sukuna came out of his office, he wore a carefully neutral expression on his handsome face. You felt cold fear grip your heart. Something was wrong.

"Kuna? What..."

He interrupted you before you could finish the sentence.

"There is an urgent matter I have to take care of. Don't worry, darling. Drink another glass of that superb wine and get comfortable and watch a movie. I'll be back in a few hours."

Sukuna walked over to you and leaned down to cup your chin with one of his large hands and tilt your face up so he could capture your lips in a deep kiss.

His lips remained on yours for a moment longer, whispering against them:

"I love you. Promise me you will stay here and wait for me."

"I love you too. Of course, I will wait for you. Please be careful."

You didn't know what made you say it that night, maybe the inexplainable uneasiness you felt, but you added softly, voice barely louder than a whisper:

"Come back to me, Kuna."

He let go of you and took a step back, mustering you with a smirk on his face, but it was a bitter one, and the expression in his eyes was not amused but burning with a strange emotion.

"I'll always come back to you."

Sukuna was trying so hard to keep up the facade. He was trying to act unbothered as not to scare you. But you could tell that something was very wrong.

He left with steps that were just a little bit too fast.

You sat there staring after him as your grip around the hem of your wine glass tightened.

The following hours seemed to stretch forever. You did as Sukuna had suggested and drank some more wine. But it just didn't taste right anymore, and you ended up pouring it down the drain before you got ready for bed and snuggled into the dark red silk sheets to watch a movie.

It was all in vain, though. You couldn't follow the plot and didn't hear a single word they said on the screen. Your mind was somewhere else.

It was on the nightly streets of Tokyo. You saw flashes of some dark alleys behind one of Sukuna's bars or nightclubs. You saw a dimly lit locked room underneath "The Shrine". Your mind came up with several scenarios. One more horrendous than the other.

You hugged yourself nervously as you kept checking your phone for messages or calls that didn't come. Those were the longest three hours of your life, waiting for your man to return home to you, knowing he was caught up in something dark. Something that had made even him uneasy.

The ding! sound of the elevator door opening made you jump and then sigh in relief. Sukuna was home!

"Kuna?"

You half expected him to just disappear into the bathroom, hiding every evidence of what he had done so he wouldn't worry you. But to your surprise, you heard his footsteps coming towards the bedroom. You sat up in bed, looking towards the door expectantly.

Sukuna stopped in the doorway,

"I'm home, sweetheart. Are you enjoying the movie?"

Your eyes widened as you took in his appearance. There were dark-red splatters on his pretty face. You felt slight nausea creep over you. Was that blood?

You gulped hard but forced yourself to keep looking at your man. After all, he had made the decision to let you see him this way. Something he usually hid from you as much as possible. But not tonight. You didn't understand why. What was different tonight?

But as freaked out as you were, you didn't look away. You had told Sukuna you were ok with his dark side too. So wouldn't you be a liar if you turned away from him now?

You loved Sukuna with everything that came with it. And so you let your gaze travel slowly over him.

Yes, that was definitely blood on his face. Not his own, though. His face looked as handsome as always, smooth tan skin, perfect sharp angles, almost looking like someone sculpted him.

Your eyes traveled further down. Sukuna was wearing all black, so you couldn't see any red on his clothes. But his black dress shirt and black pants seemed to glisten wetly in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled back. You drew in a breath. Sukuna's toned forearms with the tattoed black rings circling his wrists had red splatters on them too. It looked like blood rivulets had run down his arms, slowly drying on his skin.

You watched in morbid fascination as a drop of blood slowly ran down his thumb, gathered syrupy at his fingertip, and fell down. It landed on the white marble floor, vivid red on white.

You had sometimes spotted little blood splatters on his collar. Or smelled faint traces of iron when he hugged you. You knew, of course, what it meant, but it had been easy to ignore it and move on with life.

You couldn't ignore it tonight, though.

Sukuna was covered in blood. You struggled to understand why he let you see him like this. Did he want you to see the ugly truth? Was it some kind of test?

No, it was something different.

Because now you also became aware of the haunted look in his maroon eyes. You had never seen Sukuna like this. He looked shaken.

The King's mask had slipped.

Something had happened tonight. Something out of the ordinary. Sukuna was used to blood and violence. So what was it that was different tonight?

And another thing made you wonder. Your gaze was fixed to his hands. You had realized that not all of the blood was from someone else.

Some fresh blood was coming out of small wounds on Sukuna's fists. Why were his knuckles bleeding? You didn't get injuries like that from yielding a katana and delivering a swift, precise sword stroke to decapitate an enemy.

It had to mean that Sukuna hadn't just used his sword tonight. He had used his fists too.

You knew that was something that didn't abide by the code. The bloodshed had its rules, after all. There was a complex honor code underlying everything Sukuna did. So why had he gone astray tonight?

You didn't know how you managed to remain so calm. Your heart was fluttering in your chest, blood rushing in your ears, but your voice sounded steady when you said:

"Baby... you're hurt."

You had to be crazy. Sukuna had probably killed someone tonight, and you were worrying over his bloody knuckles.

But you loved him. He was your man. And if your man killed someone, there had to be a good reason for it.

There was a glint in his maroon eyes as he looked at you intently.

"I'm fine, my love. Let me clean up real quick."

You were on your feet before even realizing it.

"Let me help."

Sukuna cocked his head, looking at you curiously. But he waited there in the doorway, letting you come closer until you were standing right in front of him.

As appalled as you were by the blood on his clothes and skin, your need to touch him was stronger. The craving won, and you practically threw yourself at him and closed the remaining distance between you to cup his blood-stained face with both hands, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him with feverish urgency.

His hands landed on your waist, and he kissed you back hungrily. You smelled blood, and even the kiss tasted faintly metallic. Maybe there had been a tiny droplet of blood on Sukuna's lips.

The thought made you slightly dizzy, but the warmth of Sukuna's mouth and the sensual flick of his tongue distracted you enough to swallow down the nausea that had been threatening to take over.

You pressed your body against him, wanting to get even closer to him to chase away the nightmarish feelings that had been hovering in this room.

Sukuna moaned into your mouth, and his strong hands tightened on your waist to lift you up. You gasped into his mouth but wrapped your legs around him, not caring about the blood on his shirt.

This was the man you loved, and he needed you right now. So you would help him, would take care of him as best as you could. You pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips:

"Just use me anyway you need, Kuna. It's ok, take what you need. I'm yours."

His answering groan sounded desperate, hungry. And his hands gripped you almost painfully as he carried you to the bathroom. You were amazed that he managed to walk with such sure footing even while kissing you, but you were glad because you didn't want to stop and just licked eagerly into his mouth.

You only took a break from kissing when Sukuna set you down on the dark grey marble floor, his hands with the bloody knuckles tearing at your clothes almost savagely.

You did the same to him, unbuttoning his black dress shirt, feeling the slippery dampness on it, making it hard to open the buttons. But you refused to let this stop you or freak you out.

Just keep on kissing him.

And that's what you did. Your lips crashed against his again, moaning when his velvety tongue slipped into your mouth immediately, caressing and licking urgently.

He had yanked off your shirt and panties impatiently and was now helping you with his clothes, in between kissing you hungrily.

The moment he was undressed, Sukuna ushered you into the spacious shower. You felt warm water raining down on you while you were still busy getting drunk on Sukuna's lips.

His strong hands lifted you up again, and then you moaned loudly as he slammed you against the shower wall.

You wrapped your legs tightly around your lover's narrow hips, and your fingers raked through his hair, body arching against him needily.

"Just take me, Kuna. Fuck me as hard as you need."

His soft lips silenced you again with another heated kiss, swallowing the loud gasp that he elicited from you as he pushed his thick cock deep into your throbbing pussy with a brutal shove.

You both moaned into your sloppy, desperate kisses while Sukuna snapped his hips, fucking you hard against the shower wall.

The air got knocked out of you anytime his strong body shoved you against the marble tiles, thick cock splitting you open, hitting your sweet spot forcefully. The pleasure was intense, almost too much, but you didn't mind. This was what Sukuna needed, and you would give it to him.

You rested your forehead against his, watching the dark red bloodstains on his muscular body dissolve in the water that was pouring down on the two of you.

Loud, desperate sobs left your mouth as Sukuna's powerful thrusts became frenzied, torturing your sweet spot with such delicious force that you felt like you would shatter from the pleasure of it.

Sukuna came with a strangled cry, hips jerking as he filled you with his load. And you sobbed his name, pressing against him, showing him that you wanted to take every last drop of him.

Sukuna was breathing harshly as he buried his face in your neck and his soft lips kissed you more gently now.

He slipped out of you and set you down on the shower floor. But before you could do anything, he was already on his knees, soft lips trailing kisses over your inner thighs while his large hands caressed your legs.

Your eyes closed when his face found your core, and those soft lips sucked on your clit, making your head fall back against the shower wall with a needy moan.

Two of his elegant fingers pushed into your throbbing heat, fucking you gently while his lips and tongue kissed and licked at your sensitive, swollen clit.

You were cumming all over his pretty face only a short time later, shaking so much that you were glad about his strong hands holding you in place. You yanked on his wet hair, riding out your orgasm on his face until the last wave of it subsided, and you were able to open your eyes again.

The visual reminder of what had happened earlier that night had been washed away by the water. All the blood had disappeared down the drain, red color dissolving in water, just like the wine you had poured into the sink earlier that night.

There was no sign of bloodshed left on Sukuna's tan skin except some scraped knuckles. But the haunted look was still in his eyes.

You smiled at him, still a bit shakily, and petted his hair. Your heart ached for him, for whatever pain he had encountered tonight. The need to take care of him was so overwhelming.

You grabbed the bottle of luxurious shampoo that was standing on the rack fixed to the dark grey marble tiles.

Sukuna was still on his knees in front of you, his pretty eyes never leaving yours as you poured a generous amount of the shampoo that smelled like cherry blossom onto your palms and then proceeded to spread it over Sukuna's pink hair, massaging his scalp gently as you did so.

A faint smile was spreading over his face as the water rinsed the shampoo off his hair. One of his hands came up to grab yours and pull it to his lips so he could place a soft kiss on your palm.

"Thank you, my love."

Finally, Sukuna got up and reached behind you to get his shower gel, pressing his solid body against you. You couldn't help but moan softly at the feeling of his warm wet skin on yours.

You wanted more of him. It was an overwhelming urge. You needed to touch him again, feel him again, under your fingertips and on your lips and inside you. And he needed you too.

So the only thing that made sense right now was this: Your bodies pressing against each other, lips meeting in feverish kisses, hands tangling in hair, and running over wet skin.

The fresh scent of Sukuna's shower gel filled your senses, smelling just like him, so intoxicating and thrilling that it made your body yearn even more for your man.

Sukuna's large hands were massaging your back, spreading the shower gel over it, trailing down to your ass, and kneaded it firmly before his hands slipped between your bodies to cup your tits.

His lips were hovering over yours for a moment, driving you crazy. But tonight, he didn't have the patience to play games. Instead, his lips pressed against yours in another hungry kiss.

It was your turn to spread shower gel over Sukuna's body, caressing his tattoed skin gently. Your hands were running over defined muscles, tracing elegant black tattoos with your fingers, caressing and loving every inch of skin you touched.

You felt his taut abs flex under your touch, heard Sukuna's sharp intake of breath when your hand dipped lower and wrapped around his gorgeous cock, which was already half-erect again. You kissed his neck, sucking and licking at it as you stroked him, mouthing his adam's apple when you circled his thick tip with a finger.

His voice was a low growl,

"You're begging to get fucked again, huh, princess?"

"I can't help it. You're just so good at it, Daddy."

Your interaction was playful like always, but you could see that his smug smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. But you were intent on keeping him busy all night until he felt better.

You pumped his large hard cock a few times more before he groaned and turned the water off, urging you out of the shower and toweling both of you hastily dry with his fluffy dark red towels.

You got swept up into his strong arms once again, and this time Sukuna carried you to bed.

His muscular body was on you in a split second, pressing you down into the mattress as his lips found yours again. You welcomed him eagerly, wrapping your arms and legs around him, moaning when his swollen tip caught on your slick rim.

You were so wet for him, so ready for him to claim you one more time. And that's what he did. He fucked you again, insatiable and needy.

He rolled his hips in languid slow moves, fucking you slowly this time but with deep thrusts that made you cry out in pleasure. His lips silenced your noises, and his tongue licked into your mouth hungrily.

Sukuna's strong body was heavy on you, putting more weight on you than usual, but it felt so good, being claimed like this, trapped under him in a mating press, and all you could feel and see and hear was Sukuna.

You could tell how bad he needed you that night when his mouth opened against yours, and he moaned your name. Moaned it over and over again like a prayer.

He kept you on his cock afterwards, just rolled over, so you were both lying on your side, but he stayed deep inside you, strong arms wrapping around you tightly and holding you right there.

"Just stay here. Yeah, right there on my dick. Let me be inside you all night, darling."

You answered him by pushing back against him, nestling his thick cock even deeper into your tight heat. Sukuna was not the only one who needed the reassurance of being as close as possible to the person he loved. He was giving you as much safety as you were giving him.

After all, wasn't this what your role as the woman by the King's side was? Offering him comfort and emotional support in those dark hours? No matter how weak you might be, you were strong when it came to this. Only you could give him this.

Your hand landed on his toned forearm and caressed it tenderly, knowing that this arm had taken a life tonight, but it didn't scare you. Whatever the reason for Sukuna's action was, you trusted him. You knew he had to have a good reason. And that was enough for you.

Thank you so much for reading another chapter of my Yakuza AU! I hope you enjoyed shower sex with a bloody Daddy Kuna! I am so soft for him in this chapter aaaahhh!! You'll find out more about what happened that night in the next chapter. I had to split it because it got too long. Please let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs make me happy!

Do you like domestic Yakuza King Sukuna as much as I do? There's just something about a man like him being relaxed at home and only being soft for you! And I would love to hear his commentary on the crime shows lol. Sorry, I am in love!

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw blood

[goldenshoyo]

Taste like Strawberries - DILF Daichi

Warnings: Fem!Reader, age gap (Reader is 22 and Daichi is mid to late 30s), daddy kink (obv), brat taming, finger sucking, spit kink sorta, dumbification, degradation, thigh riding, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, a little praise, alcohol consumption. (as always, let me know if you want something else tagged)

Word Count: 4.9k (honestly idk how it got so long hahaha sorry)

Author’s note: This is my contribution to @kaijime's dilf collab! Make sure you go check out the masterlist and read all the wonderful works on there as well! Also, I edited this at 2am; so sorry if it is a mess.

--

Can you pick Mei up for me? I have to work late.

You sigh looking down at the text from your sister, this is the third time in the last few weeks she’s sprung this on you. Despite knowing there’s nothing she can do about it, it’s irritating with her husband traveling and needing to work. The one good thing is the quality time you get funny spoiling your niece after school, getting her whatever junk food she wants that your sister never lets her have.

Texting her back that you will, you go back to studying. Your final year of college has been more stressful than you expected, work always piling up with your motivation lacking. No wonder so many students take an extra year. However, you were determined to finish now and not extend your torment any longer.

Glancing at your phone you see it’s nearing pick-up time at Mei’s school. You clean up the library table, shoving your laptop and notes into your bag, and leave. The drive isn’t long, her school is close to your apartment and sister’s house so you would have needed to take this route anyways. Pulling into a free spot near the school, you leave your bags in the car going out to meet her by the school’s front gate.

“Big sis!” Your niece squeals and you look up from your phone. She’s dragging another little girl behind her, pulling her your way. “This is Kaiya! She’s my best friend. She said it's okay I use her first name, so don’t scold me like momma does! I let her call me Mei too!”

You laugh listening to her babble on about her new friend. She’s coming up on her 6th birthday, and every day she is growing more and more into her own personality. “I wouldn’t scold you like your mother. You know that,” you bend at the knees, getting at their height.

“Hi Kaiya, I’m ----. It’s nice to meet you.” You shake her little hand and she smiles.

“You’re very pretty, like Mei.” She pulls her hand away and then her lip pouts. “I wish I had a big sister.”

“I can be your big sister too if you want. Mei, you don’t mind sharing me do you?”

“Only if you promise to get me ice cream.” Her eyes and nose squint and she laughs, her mischievous face has stayed the same since she was a toddler. It’s impossible to resist.

You stand up, rubbing her head and laughing. “Fine, we can stop by a shop on the way home.”

“Sorry,” a deep male voice comes from a few feet behind you. “I had a work thing... I’m sorry I’m a little late baby.”

You watch as a tall, broad man picks up Kaiya while she giggles and wraps her arms around his neck while squealing ‘daddy’. You smile politely when he looks at you. His face is handsome, features not too sharp or round; everything about it warm and inviting. He’s still dressed in his uniform, well besides the jacket. You assume he’s a part of the police force from the pants and belt he wears matched with a dark blue shirt that clings to his form.

“I hope she wasn’t bothering you,” he says while setting her down.

“Oh of course not. She was very polite and well behaved. You’ve raised a great daughter.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. I’m Sawamura Daichi, and you are?” His smile is so cute, you think. It’s not forced or out of politeness, but instead genuine happiness.

“---- -----,” you tell him and shake his hand. He squeezes it once, and your stomach turns. What was that?

“Is Mei yours?” He tilts his head, eyes going between you and your niece. “I’ve never met her mother, only your husband. Kaiya talks non-stop about Mei when she’s home with me.”

“Oh, no-no. I’m her aunt. My sister works a lot, so I pick her up from time to time.” You laugh. “I go to the local college, so it’s close by. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sawamura.” Trying to keep yourself from becoming too flustered, you look away. Watching as your niece digs through her backpack for some reason.

“Please, call me Daichi. It’s nice to-”

“Daddy, big sis is taking Mei to get ice cream!” Kaiya cuts him off. “Can we go too? Pretty please!” She kisses her father’s cheek, smiling brightly as he sets her back down. She holds tight to his hand, begging some more.

“If it’s okay with your dad, we don’t mind. Do we, Mei?”

She nods with a big smile. “Kaiya they have the BEST strawberry flavor.”

“Do you mind? I don’t want to impose on your time with Mei.” Daichi asks while still keeping an eye on the girls, who have wandered a few feet away while blabbering about ice cream flavors.

“Of course not. It’s good for young girls to spend time together.” He nods and thanks you. “There’s a spot close by. We could walk if you don’t mind.”

“Better wrangle the girls then,” he laughs, walking towards them both and getting their attention.

Taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh, you try and relax. It’s just ice cream for the girls… even if Kaiya’s hot dad is coming along. You’re sure he’s just trying to be nice and let his daughter have a nice time. However, it’s hard not to feel something when a man this hot and good with children is around.

The ice cream shop has a pretty outdoor area off the back of the shop, fenced in with a swing set and other children’s toys and playsets. No one else is visiting currently, so the girls have the playground to themselves, running around with ice cream dripping all over the ground when they forget they should be holding the cones up. Sitting quietly, spooning ice cream into your mouth, you try not to stare at Daichi too often.

“What are you studying?” He asks, breaking the silence that was threatening to become awkward.

“Oh, uh,” you swallow the cold cream. “Literature and classics.”

“Interesting. I bet you enjoy reading to your niece then,” he smiles at you before taking another spoonful of ice cream. You can’t help but watch his tongue dart around the spoon.

“Yeah.” You say quickly looking away. “Mei enjoys it, well, when she pays attention. Does Kaiya like stories?”

“Her mother says she always listens to her when she reads, but for me, it’s hard enough to get her to go to bed. I don’t think she’d ever stay still to let me read her a book.” He continues to talk about the weekends he gets with her, and you listen closely.

It’s stupid, you think. You shouldn’t feel this excited that he’s either divorced or at least no longer together with Kaiya’s mom. It’s selfish, but lucky in some ways. You don’t have to worry about a jealous wife coming after you because her husband paid for your ice cream.

“I’m not around for bedtime, so I can’t really relate.” You say softly and stick your tongue out lick the spoon clean. Stopping yourself from licking the ice cream off, deciding to explain more, “Mei never really stays the night anyway. She gets too worked up without her-”

The spoon is plucked from your hands and you frown looking at Daichi, who has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “What do you like to do at bedtime?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you stutter out something incoherent. Daichi’s tongue swipes up your spoon, and you watch carefully, longing to be that spoon as his tongue drags across it.

“Well?” He continues, then hands you back the spoon.

“I, uh, I don’t know.” You manage to stutter some words, even if it's not a real answer. “I uh-”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t need to answer now. Let me see your phone,” he asks holding out his hand and you hurry to hand it to him. He puts in his number then hands it back to you. “I’m not free on weekends unless I get a sitter. But, I’ll see you around.”

You sit, stunned by how quickly that turned from a polite playdate for your niece to potentially a playdate with Daichi. You bring your hands to your face, trying to compose yourself before waving at both Daichi and Kaiya as they leave.

“Big sis,” your niece wines. “Wanna go home.” She pulls you from the park bench and through the shop while you continue trying to collect your thoughts.

Did you really just pull a dad? There’s no way he was serious, right?

--

You texted him the night after you got ice cream, but he hadn’t responded. It wasn’t until late Sunday evening he sent back a short ‘you’re welcome’ after you thanked him for the ice cream. Your face burned and your stomach twisted with every flashback to watching his tongue slide across your spoon.

It was so unnecessary.

It was so hot.

Gathering up the courage to ask when you could see him again took another day and liquid encouragement. Maybe texting him while you were drunk wasn’t the best idea, but it did make sending him photos of yourself a lot easier. The ones you got in return nearly made you drool. Joining the police force ensured he never lost his perfect physique. Every inch of him looked like it had been handcrafted by the gods themself.

Slipping your fingers into your panties and toying with your desperate clit was all too fun when he called you late that night, not caring about his early morning shift or the classes you may have. His voice breathy and deep, yours whiny and high pitched when you came around your fingers begging him to come over and fuck you.

He only laughed, telling you to wait until he had a day off.

--

Sitting across from him at dinner should be fun. He keeps the conversation going and you always paid attention and politely answered. However, it becomes increasingly obvious that the burning between your thighs is becoming unbearable.

“Check please,” he tells the waiter, and you nearly squeal with excitement.

“Mind if I go get some fresh air while you settle the bill?” You ask, placing your hand over his; thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you walk out of the door, ignoring the way his eyes make you feel as you walk out the door.

Cool evening air hits you hard. Letting out another sigh, you laugh at yourself for acting this desperate in public. He must know. It’s not like you’ve been good at hiding it. You’re worse than a cat in heat, mewling for attention and a quick fix.

“Ready?” His voice startles you and you turn to face him. You nod and he extends his hand out for you. The walk to his car is short, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting in the parking garage once you slide into the passenger seat.

Unable to can’t wait any longer, you straddle his lap in his seat and he tilts his head, looking up at you in amusement. Kissing his neck, you run your hands down his chest and slowly grind against him. His firm hands hold your hips and you whimper, trying to convince him to give your body more attention.

“Daichi,” you whine against his neck. “Please, I need-”

You’re stopped as his hand takes control of your jaw, cheeks squished in his hand while he admires you above him. His gaze is intense, not a hint of a smile or enjoyment on his face, but the bulge in his pants hints otherwise. You frown looking down on him, irritated this is the most he’s touched you all night.

“I don’t like brats.” He says simply. “Impatient ones are even more annoying. Tell me, are you going to be an annoying brat?”

You try and shake your head no, barely getting it to move from side to side in his grip.

“Good,” he releases your face and you sigh. Rubbing your cheeks with your fingers you relent from trying the aggressive approach with him; seeing now he’s much less patient than you had expected. “Now can you wait until Daddy takes you home?”

You nod, a smile brimming on your lips while your stomach turns.

“I want to hear you say it.” His eyes somehow focus on you more, making your stomach twist once more.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The rest of the drive is silent, his hand resting on your exposed thigh a little too close to the hem for comfort. It keeps your mind buzzing, every nerve lit aflame at the slightest bump in the road or motion of his fingers. His thumb occasionally draws circles on your sensitive skin, and the whimper that always leaves your lips feels embarrassing.

Are you really a whimpering mess already?

Everything about being with Daichi made you feel more intense like your body knew just how to react to everything he does and says. Was it the age difference and excitement? Or was it simply because he knew how to touch and speak to you?

“Sweetheart?” Daichi’s voice draws your attention and you look over to him. “We’re home now. Be a good girl for me, and go unlock the door.” He dangles the keys in front of you and you take them nodding.

“Yes sir,” you slip out of the car. Did you call him sir? At the moment it felt right, but now with your face burning and palms sweating you wonder if he thinks it’s ridiculous.

You unlock the door, pushing it open and standing awkwardly waiting for him to walk up the stairs to the front door. Why is he prolonging this? There was no reason for him to stay behind. Turning your head to look where he parked the car, you see he’s talking to a neighbor, laughing, and paying you no mind.

What’s his game here?

You huff, frustrated, and embarrassed with how desperate you’ve been acting and he seems to not have a care in the world. Stepping inside, you close the door and take your shoes off. He doesn’t mind you having access to his house with you unsupervised. After all, he did give you the keys to unlock the door.

His home looks comfortable and lived in, not overly clean but not messy per se. You sit on the couch, crossing your legs and laying your head back. While you know it’s rude to begin feeling this irritated, if something didn’t happen soon you were going to have to call for a ride and get home to a toy or even indulge in one of the sleazy dating apps you’re all too familiar with.

Pulling out your phone, you respond to a few notifications you garnered over dinner, nothing of real substance, but better than sitting in silence. A few friends have invited you to a bar not too far from your location, and you consider it, but the front door opening grabs your attention.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you lay your phone down on the cushion beside you, feeling like you’ve been caught texting in class. “I see you made yourself at home.”

“Oh, I-” you stand up, even more embarrassed.

Does he take pleasure in making you uncomfortable or are you just too on edge?

“Sit back down,” he laughs walking into the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you,” you answer quickly, sitting back down and laying your hands in your lap to fiddle with your fingers.

He comes back into the living room with his shirt unbuttoned a few, his chest peeking out, and a beer in his left hand. Sitting on the recliner adjacent to the couch, he motions for you with his pointer finger then pats his lap. Your body moves without thinking, straddling him with your knees sinking into the soft cushion of the recliner on either side of his hips. He grins watching your dress ride up your thighs before he takes a drink from his beer.

“Why are you acting so shy now? What happened to that confident little attitude?” He sets the beer down on the table between the couch and chair.

“Why are you toying with me?” You ask, furrowing your brow and tilting your head. “Just fuck me already.”

“There it is,” he chuckles. “You’re not as good of a girl as you think. You’re nothing more than a spoiled brat who needs put in her place. Lucky for you, I know just how to handle bratty girls like you.”

His thumb pulls on your bottom lip and you part them, letting his middle and index finger slip in and press against your tongue. You moan at first, grinding your cunt against his thigh before his fingers slip further in and make you gag. Closing your eyes you grind on him harder, the gagging only intensifying and your body lighting on fire.

“Pathetic,” he laughs while resting his cheek against his hand. Opening your eyes more you see he looks unamused, even as he shoves his fingers down your throat more. “Moaning like this over what? I’m barely touching you.”

You moan again, pressing your core harder on his thigh and whining. Your fingers dig into the arm of the recliner, steadying yourself while you ride his thigh. It feels too good to stop, the minute amount of pleasure intensified by Daichi’s fingers in your mouth.

“Maybe I was wrong,” his voice making you whine again. “Maybe you’re not a brat, just a dumb little slut desperate to cum.” Removing his fingers from your mouth, you take deep breaths, coughing and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“P-please,” you beg. “Please fuck me, daddy. Wanna feel you in me. I’ll be good, I swear.” You sound desperate, you know it and so does he.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He rubs the spit from his fingers onto your cheek while holding your jaw. He shakes your head back and forth slowly as a no for you. “That’s right. You don’t deserve daddy’s cock.”

“B-but-” you whine and grind against him. “Please!”

“Hmm,” he hums, releasing your jaw and licking his fingers clean before taking another sip from his beer. “Maybe if you earn it. I’m not in the mood to fuck an ungrateful whore.”

“Anything!” You nearly shout, eager to please him.

How you’re feeling is different than usual, the need to do whatever Daichi wants completely takes over your own desires. While the feeling is new, it’s something you want to continue to chase. Your head feeling lighter and body burning is all too good to give up now.

“Do I need to tell you what to do?” You nod. “Of course,” he chuckles, “silly of me to forget you’re nothing but a dumb brat. Get on your knees in front of me. Put that mouth to good use for once, won’t ya?”

“Yes daddy,” you say quietly, sliding onto the floor and tugging at his pants.

His belt is a struggle, and he makes no attempt to help you until you’re sliding his pants and boxers off and he lifts his body up just enough to get them down his thighs. Gripping his cock, your mind races wondering if you’ll even be able to fit his girth in your mouth as your fingers barely manage to wrap around him.

“If I finish this beer before you make me cum, I might not fuck you at all.” He says tapping your forehead with the cold glass bottle. “Do you understand?”

You nod again and he leans back into the recliner. Precum leaks from the tip and you wipe it up with your tongue, enjoying the taste as it floods your senses. As your tongue swirls around the head and your warm mouth takes him in, he moans.

It’s quiet and short-lived, but enough to encourage you to take more of him. He fills your mouth so quickly, but you’re determined to make him cum; unsure if it's because you’re desperate to be fucked or if you just really want to please him. Either way, you’re going to have him cumming in your mouth in minutes, you know you can.

You gag loudly when you force him into your throat, nearly taking him to the hilt. This time his moan is louder and longer, making you buzz with pride. Managing to keep him deep in your mouth you rub his balls with your shaky fingers while setting a steady pace bobbing your head up and down.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I guess that mouth is useful for something…” another moan breaks his last word but you don’t care.

The condescending praise just enough to make you hum against him with glee. He bucks his hips when you do, his fingers tangling in your hair and forcing you to choke on him again. You claw at his thighs, desperate to come up for air while you fight against him. He releases the tight hold and you take him out coughing as you stroke him with your hand.

You watch with a frown while he drinks on his beer again, watching carefully as the faint line of liquid lowers nearing the bottom of the bottle. You can do this, you tell yourself before taking a deep breath and taking him back in your mouth. Humming against him lightly while massaging his balls in your palm earns the same reaction, except you’re better at keeping a steady pace now.

“Shit,” he groans.

His cock twitches against your tongue and warm spurts of cum coat your mouth before you can swallow fast enough. He pulls you off his cock by your hair.

“Tongue,” he says and you stick it out timidly.

He spits on your tongue before pulling you to his face and kissing you, his tongue invading your mouth and making you gag at the taste of his beer. His kiss takes your breath away, literally struggling for air as he continues. You’re coughing and pulling away from him while a mix of spit and cum runs down your chin.

“I didn’t think you could do it,” he admits. “I’m surprised someone as desperate and stupid as you could make me cum that fast. I suppose I should reward you then, hmm?”

“Please daddy, please,” you beg. “Want your cock in me so bad.”

His hand slips under your dress and rubs against your soaking panties. “You really do want me, don't you baby?”

You nod.

His free hand gropes your breast, pinching your nipple through the thin material of your dress. You close your eyes biting your lip as you enjoy the not so soft touches he gives you. You moan when his fingers slip into your panties, sliding against your puffy clit.

“Daddy!” You squeal when his middle finger slides inside of you and curls. “Fuck, more please.”

He laughs, pulling his finger out and standing up. He sheds his clothes while you remain on your knees in front of him. You can’t help but admire how good he looks above you like this. Honestly, you think you’d do anything to remain in this moment even if the anticipation of him splitting you open is forcing you to clench around nothing.

Daichi offers you his hand and he assists you in standing to your feet, but it doesn’t last long. He bends you over the arm of his recliner in seconds, pulling your dress down and allowing your bare breasts to fall from it.

“Tell daddy what you want,” he teases while rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Want your cock!” You turn your head back to look at him. “Please, I need it.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans while sliding inside of you.

Even with your intense arousal and the spit on his cock, it stings. Your body goes limp against the arm of the recliner as you try and relax your body to let him in. Crying into the cushion, you try to not be too loud while getting used to his size.

“If I’d known you’d be this tight, I would have fucked you sooner,” he says after fully sheathing himself inside of you.

He isn’t nice enough to give you more time, too overwhelmed with the way you squeeze him so nicely to not start thrusting immediately. You cry out when his cockhead hits deep inside of you, pulling against your walls as he pulls back out only to do it all over again.

It hurts. It feels ethereal.

“Daddy!” You whine as his fingers twirl your nipple between them and he holds you back against him while relentlessly pounding into you. “Too much!”

“Be a good girl,” he hisses. “I know you can take it.”

You whimper in response, his thrusts forcing your breasts into his hands while he continues to assault them. Your thighs begin to shake and your core feels like it’s a tightwire about to break.

“Wanna cum!” You tell him, some part of you knows it's better to warn him or ask instead of letting yourself go. “Please, daddy! Let me cum.”

“Aw, my little slut is learning,” he chuckles, thrusting deep into you and letting you fall back onto the recliner. “Go ahead, cum for daddy. Cream all over my cock sweetheart.”

He hits the sweet spot inside of you once more and you come undone, cumming around his cock and crying out a mixture of daddy and curses. He grunts as you clench around him, body pliable for him to hold you closer while rapidly fucking you.

He cums, and you feel it drip out of you around his cock before you comprehend what’s happened. You’re too fucked out to even care if you’re honest. He pulls your panties back to the side as he pulls out of you.

“You’re going to keep it all in, aren’t you?” He pulls his pants back on, leaving his shirt on the floor and sitting on the couch.

You nod, pulling your dress back over your breasts and adjusting the thin straps back to a comfortable position on your shoulders. He pats his lap again, and you sit across him, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your cheek against his shoulder.

A knock at the door startles you and you look at Daichi with a concerned face.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I lost track of time. Can you get that?”

You sheepishly nod. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I need to go grab something from my room. I’m sure you can handle it.” He disappears down the hall.

Running your hands through your hair to make sure you don’t look crazy, you open the door.

“Oh,” a sharp tone greets you.

“Big sis!!” Kaiya screams, jumping up and down and running inside.

Shit.

“Uh,” who you assume to be her mother says shaking her head. “Is Daichi here?” She’s irritated, and reasonably so. “I need to speak with him immediately.”

“Yeah, he’s right-”

“What do you want?” He appears back into the living room, pulling a loose shirt over his head as he comes in.

He easily could have done that before. Is he doing this on purpose?

Oh god, he is.

You look quickly between the two of them as he steps in the doorway with you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“I think we need to speak in private.” His ex tells him, eyeing you up and down.

“Sweetheart, do you care to take Kaiya to her room to play for a few minutes?” He kisses your forehead and you look away from the intense glare you receive from Kaiya’s mother.

“Daichi! Why are you-”

“Stop,” he says loudly. “---- can watch her for a moment.” He lets go of you.

“Can you show me your room Kaiya?” You ask sweetly and she takes your hand and guides you down the hall.

You’re not sure if you’re grateful Daichi got you away from his ex or if you’re happy Kaiya won’t have to see her parents bicker. Either way, it’s a win for you. Your heart is beating against your chest, making you nauseous. There’s no way he just forgot he was getting his daughter tonight.

You’re flattered that he used you to make her angry, but the more spiteful part of you wishes he had let you in on it a little more. Having you answer the door was good, but you could have left your hair a mess or something more…

“Big sis, why are you here? Did you and daddy have a playdate?” She asks, handing you a stuffed rabbit while you sit on the floor of her room with her.

“Uh,” you giggle. “Yeah, we had a playdate.”

#dilf collab!! #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi smut #daichi smut #dilf daichi #daddy daichi #hq smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu smut

[gukyi]

love me or we both go down | kth

summary: after going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.

{enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, rich kids!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, smut (i know, crazy right?) word count: 32k warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, multiple unprotected sex scenes (they’re married y’all), fat cock tae, tae has a wife kink, lots of praise, alcohol consumption (but they’re safe), minor character death (not explicit), mentions of heart attack, slow burn like there is no tomorrow a/n: hello and welcome to the fic everyone, literally everyone, has been waiting for! i am so, so, so excited to share this with you all, especially because none other than rose @kinktae​ helped me write the smut, and i am literally forever indebted to her. you all better go spam rose with all the love and support you can because this fic would not be here without her and i love her so much. 

also, to all my readers who aren’t comfortable reading smut, please know that the smut in this fic is not imperative to the storyline, and you skipping past it will not affect your reading experience., enjoy!

Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.

The sound of them is akin to the sound of strings, of a single piano note in a horror movie, right when the film opens and someone random is about to die on screen for the sake of proving to the audience that this is, in fact, a horror movie. Make no mistake about it; these wedding bells spell doom for you, too. And the most horrific part about them is that just like that poor, helpless soul in the movie, there is no way for you to escape your fate either. 

With only seconds left to go before you have no choice but to promise yourself to the man waiting at the other end of the aisle, you desperately try to think of any last-ditch efforts to get out of this. Many, if not all of them, are utterly useless. 

Feigning sudden illness won’t work, because then your parents will just reschedule the wedding to a later date. Running away is fruitless. Where will you go? The parking lot?

If only you had a lover out there in the audience somewhere that could object to the marriage when the officiant says, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” A knight in shining armor that could whisk you out of the venue and off to a new life, far away from here. Too bad all of the people you’ve dated before hate you now. 

Maybe getting married isn’t such a bad thing after all. Instead of having relationships with multiple people who will eventually despise your existence, you only have to have a relationship with one. And the feeling, as has always been, is mutual. 

You bristle as your assistants do some last-minute prepping, fixing your sleeve and adjusting your necklace and making sure you don’t trip on your enormous train. They flutter around you like a swarm of well-meaning but ignorant butterflies complicit in the agenda of your family. None of them have said a word to you about the wedding ever since you arrived at the venue, choosing to talk more about things like the weather. Not that you were ever under the impression they had been hired to entertain you. Maybe they were told to not engage you, just in case you try to conspire with them.

As if they could be of any use in your wildly unrealistic escape plans. 

The truth is that, unless you were to drop dead on this marble flooring right now, you’re getting married. Whether you like it or not.

The doors open. 

You’ve attended red carpets, galas, award shows, and balls. You’ve had hundreds of cameras flashing in your face, the bright light capturing each and every centimeter of you. You’ve had paparazzi waiting outside the restaurants you eat at, the stores you shop at, desperate to catch a picture of you in sweatpants without a drop of makeup on. You’ve been on dates with ex-lovers that looked at you like you were a piece of meat with a credit card. And yet, for some goddamn reason, walking down the aisle in a white dress the size of Pluto, with the rest of your life waiting for you at the other end, makes you feel fucking transparent. 

Face resolute, you clutch onto your bouquet so tightly the flowers feel like they’re about to pop right out of your grasp. Determined not to look at anybody in the audience, you stare straight ahead, right into the eyes of your future husband.

Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen multiple times drunk off his ass with hickies dotting his neck and jawline, cleans up pretty well. For someone getting married, at least. He dons a simple black tuxedo that still probably costs more than the average car, his caramel brown hair is pushed back off his forehead, and his expression is firm and still. He most certainly has had an equally expensive team prepping him, but they haven’t done too bad a job. The silver lining is that he doesn’t look any more thrilled than you are to be doing this, right here, right now. But to his credit, this is definitely the best he’s ever looked, as far as you’re concerned. 

When you reach him, he offers his hand out to you, a hand that you only accept for the sake of professionalism. The bouquet in your hands is handed off to one of your bridesmaids, and the two of you take your position at the front. Your train drags along the aisle, draping over the few stairs you had to climb to reach the altar, this satin trail behind you that cements you to the floor. It may as well be a ball-and-chain. It’s about as heavy as one, anyway. 

This is the longest you and Taehyung have ever held eye contact. Not that you’re really keeping track of how long the two of you have met each other’s gazes, but if you had to make an educated guess, this would definitely be the victor. Most of the time you end up sneering at each other ten seconds in, but to be fair, those other times you were also not getting married. To one another. In a ceremony attended by hundreds of people. And cameras.

There can be no sneering here. 

“Don’t you look nice?” Taehyung whispers, loud enough so only the two of you can hear. He has that drawling, sickly sweet tone to his voice, the one that you hate because it makes him sound like he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. “Surprised they were able to makeup that scowl off your face.”

This, of course, brings on a hearty scowl only he can see, your backs both facing the rows of attendees. “How much concealer are you wearing to cover up all of the hickies on your neck?” You quip back easily. It’s not like the two of you are going to pretend he doesn’t waltz around at every club or bar or private venue he can find, looking for his next treat. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Taehyung grins, and if you weren’t standing in front of hundreds of people about to get married, there’s no telling what next you would do.

The two of you would probably go on like that for another ten minutes if it’s not for the officiant, who coughs once he’s ready and opens the book in his hands. Next to you, Taehyung straightens, hands clasped together at his front, and lips pressed into a neat line. You do the same. There will be no giggles, no laughter nor smiles, nor any genuine emotion at this wedding. This is a wedding for the sake of politics, for economics, for security, and anyone in attendance would be a fool to think otherwise. Especially you. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, loved ones, and esteemed guests,” the officiant bellows, listing off as many groups of people as he possibly can in an effort to both include and compliment every person in the audience, “We are gathered here to celebrate the wedding, and future life, of Taehyung and Y/N…”

Taehyung turns to you, grinning in that god-awful way, the way he does when he feels like he’s got something over you. And sure, you can’t think of any punishment quite as bad as this, but what’s Taehyung got to smile about? He’s marrying himself off to a woman he hates, kissing goodbye his days as a free-spirited, heartbreaking bachelor, and promising what may very well be the rest of his life to loving you. That is not cause for celebration. 

But perhaps, to him, your suffering is enough to bring a smile to his face. 

Your vows are, to put it simply, total bullshit. Your family hired someone to write yours and there’s not a doubt in your mind that his family did the same thing. This nonsense talk, this complete and utter garbage that spews from your perfectly-glossed lips, shit about how you promise to love each other until the end of your days, how you promise to take care of each other when you’re sick and accompany each other at every event, every gala, every ball. Shit about how you promise to look only at each other, promise to uphold your family traditions and become a dependable spouse. 

The words don’t belong to you. But the thing is that this marriage was never yours anyway. 

When the kiss comes, there’s a part of you that thinks maybe you should have psyched yourself up a little more for this. When Taehyung pulls you in, placing a stiff hand on your lower back as he brings you towards his chest, your stomach turns and shivers run down your spine. The feeling of his hand on your body, the breath from his lips brushing against your own, are enough to keep you frozen in place. 

He smiles at you, almost as if to ask, “Are you ready?”

And you squeeze your eyes shut, almost as if to respond, “Let’s do this.”

When his lips meet yours, there is almost nothing. Nothing runs through you, nothing explodes, nothing strikes. But when he pulls away and cheers and applause rings out throughout the room, there is something. A little heat, a remnant of a flame, left on your lips. A little sting, just to remind you it happened. 

The entire hall is cheering but nothing about this is worth celebrating. The fact of the matter is that you and Taehyung will never love each other the way that you are supposed to. 

“Ugh, finally.”

The elevator doors haven’t even properly opened by the time Taehyung is loosening his tie, tugging it off over his head as he stretches his head back and runs a hand through his perfectly-styled hair. As he rakes his fingers through his caramel locks, the hairspray and gel loosens, strands falling down by the side of his face, framing his temple.

“Don’t sound so relieved,” you huff out, deciding now is as good a time as any to start getting undressed yourself. Reaching down to lift up the hem of your reception dress, you tug off your heels, already feeling lighter on your feet. Who cares if Taehyung is watching you pull off your stilettos like a defeated movie heroine? You don’t think you can walk another step in those shoes. “We still have to live together, you know.”

“Don’t remind me,” Taehyung says gruffly, brushing by you roughly as he stomps out of the elevator. “I’m just glad the fucking night is over. I swear, seeing that fake-ass smile on your face made me want to gouge my eyes out.”

You storm after him, refusing to be the helpless damsel in this situation. “Oh, like you didn’t also have that exact same fake-ass smile on your face. It almost made me think you were actually enjoying yourself tonight.”

“I was only enjoying the fact that I know you hate this just as much as I do.” It’s perhaps the only thing you will ever be able to empathize with him on. Mutually relishing in the other’s destruction. Taehyung fumbles with the keypad to the door to the penthouse for a moment before you hear the lock click, the door sliding open as the entrance lights flicker on. 

The reason Taehyung’s penthouse is so clean is because he’s never lived here before. Neither of you have—Taehyung’s parents bought it just for the two of you. And as much as you absolutely despise the idea of having to live with him, at least it was not you who paid for your place of residence. 

You can tell Taehyung’s never lived here before because it’s actually quite nicely decorated inside. The ceilings are high and the sleek velvet curtains are pulled open, revealing a shimmering skyline. The furniture is modern and functional, and the whole damn place smells brand new. You’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of entering the place Taehyung lived in before now, and it looked nothing like this. The furniture was worn and stained despite the live-in maid, the house reeked of five hundred different spices that wafted from the kitchen to the living room, and the bookshelves were covered with comics, graphic novels, and old textbooks. 

If it weren’t for the fact that you and Taehyung are rich kids in their twenties that hate each other, you might have actually thought the place looked… homey. 

You don’t have time to be impressed by the interior design and architecture skills of whoever designed this place. Right now, all you can think about is tugging yourself out of your airtight reception dress and passing out on the nearest bed. Which, hopefully, will be as far away as possible from Taehyung’s bed of choice. 

“How many bedrooms does this place have?” You ask, shimmying along the floor so you don’t trip over the hem of your dress. From the looks of it, you can see one giant hallway to your right and a massive, double-sided staircase leading up. 

“Enough,” Taehyung grumbles in response. The hazy stupor from all of the fancy champagne is starting to wear off for the both of you, leaving behind two grouchy, begrudgingly-married individuals who want absolutely nothing to do with each other and have no problems making that known. Whatever golden light of the evening that was making Taehyung at least a little bit more attractive than usual has faded, and now you see him for what he really is: an unceremoniously tired man in a suit. “You want upstairs or down?”

You gaze up at the marble staircase in front of you, then back down at your too-long dress. “Down.” The last thing you want is to trip in front of the man you have to see, every day, for the rest of your life. 

“Fine by me.” Taehyung’s halfway up the stairs by the time he turns back around to say something else. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”

“Yeah.” There’s no point in being hostile now. The both of you are too exhausted to mean anything by it. Besides, what else can you say? Everything to complain about has already been complained about. At least the two of you managed to wrestle out from your parents the stipulation that you would not be going on a honeymoon together. Now that would have been your worst nightmare. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It’s as good of a goodnight either of you are going to get. Taehyung heads up the stairs and disappears around a corner, and you start wandering down the hallway. All the bedrooms look the exact same other than different colors on the walls and bedsheets, but they all look serviceable to you. Clean. Empty. Far away from wherever Taehyung is. 

You pick the one at the very end of the hall just to be as much of a diva as possible, and don’t even bother drawing the curtains before tugging off your dress. It’s past one in the morning, and you’re so high up you don’t think anyone will be able to see you anyway. By the time you’ve stripped naked and are tugging up the too-tight sheets tucked into the mattress, your legs are about to give out beneath you. The bed could be made of rocks for all you care. Anything to lie down on is fine by you. 

Sleep comes fairly easily to you tonight. Once your head hits the pillow you can already feel yourself drifting off, eyelids fluttering shut, but you don’t sleep quite yet. Not before you can think about how this is your life now, sleeping in a foreign bed in a foreign place with a foreign husband upstairs. This is what you will be living in now. Now and forever. 

Living with Taehyung is, in both the best and worst ways possible, like living with a roommate that doesn’t give a shit about the fact that they live with another person. It’s good, because you and Taehyung hardly see each other and speak even less, which was pretty much the only thing you were asking for when it came to living with him. But it also sucks, because whenever you do happen to cross paths, Taehyung acts like you don’t exist, barely sparing you a hello or even that tight-lipped smile you send to drivers on the road when they let you cross the street. 

Not that the two of you ever engaged in energetic conversation before you got married. But at least the two of you would acknowledge each other, even if only to shoot a glare and a scowl the other’s way from opposite sides of a hotel ballroom. Maybe it’s just because it’s him, but you did always find yourself actually relishing in those little interactions with Taehyung. In this strange, twisted way, it seemed to provide some sort of continuity to your ever-changing life. Like no matter what happened, at least you would know that the two of you would always despise each other. 

To be frank, right now you’re not sure if Taehyung even remembers he got married at all.

Nights have been a lot more sleepless since your wedding day. After two weeks, the reality of it has finally started to settle in. This is your life now. And ever since you realized that, your bed has felt much less comfortable. 

“But the place is nice, right?”

You look around the living room from where you’re sat on the sleek, white suede leather couch, eyes glossing over the bookshelves, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the draping velvet curtains. From here, you can see the entire city skyline, flecks of gold from the windows of skyscrapers against a navy blue background. Slowly, as the moon creeps over the sky and the clock gets later and later, those lights will soon begin to flicker off, one by one. 

“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Nothing to write home about. That is, if home were a place other than here. 

“That’s good. At least you don’t live in, like, a total dump or anything,” Victoria says on the other end of the line. “How’s Taehyung?”

His name alone elicits this deeply-exhausted sigh from your lips, like it’s been ten years since you married and every day has felt worse than the last. “Fine.” You can’t really complain about anything yet, considering that you hardly ever see the man. 

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 

“Yeah,” you draw out the word, as if trying to convince yourself of its truth. “I mean, it’s like he doesn’t even live here. I barely see him. And when I do, we don’t even speak to each other.”

“That’s good though, isn’t it? You hate him.” Victoria says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And in a sense, it kind of is. 

“I mean…”

“I know that your life hasn’t exactly… gone the way you had planned, but isn’t this your best case scenario when considering everything?” She asks. “If Taehyung is as distant as you say he is, isn’t it almost like you never married him in the first place?”

As if on cue, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, heels clicking on the marble as they make their way to the entrance. You whip your head around to find Taehyung, all dressed up in loose, flowy slacks and a flowery silk button-down, strolling down the staircase as he scrolls through his phone, paying you zero attention whatsoever. 

He notices you briefly when he reaches the bottom, meeting your eyes with his own. He offers this measly, unenthused half-smile your way before he grabs his wallet and some house keys from the table by the entrance, opens the door, and vanishes off into the night. 

If you hadn’t been in the living room, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he left. Not that you being present as he’s planning on leaving would have stopped him anyway. This is the sixth night he’s done this in the past two weeks. You could stand by the door and stare him down as he emerges from his bedroom, all dressed up for something you’re definitely not invited to, and he would offer you that same goddamn smile and walk out the door without even blinking. Who he was before you got married and who he is now are no different. Not even a ring could change that. 

“I guess,” you tell Victoria. At least Taehyung hasn’t turned into a helicopter husband. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wish that I didn’t have to deal with him at all.”

Wish you could turn back time. Wish you could worm your way out of an arranged marriage before it was too late. Wish you could go back to the way things used to be. 

You and Victoria talk for another couple of minutes before she regretfully has to end the call, citing both her beauty sleep and an 8AM meeting tomorrow morning as her reasons for hanging up. The moment you put the phone down, you sink back into the couch cushions, staring out the windows at the world below you.

Here’s the deal. What Taehyung does in his free time is none of your business. But also, it’s totally your business, because you are his spouse. A spouse who is an equal amount in the public eye as he is. What he does and does not do has a direct impact on what you do and do not do. 

It’s no secret that when you catch Taehyung sauntering down the stairs looking like a Gucci runway model, it’s not because he’s planning on catching a movie with a college friend and then playing video games for four hours on a couch in a basement. He is going out. To clubs, to parties, to exclusive events that he’s been invited to by his equally-rich friends, all of whom are acting like he’s the same bachelor he’s always been. 

And maybe that’s the real problem with your whole marriage—other than the glaringly obvious issue that it’s a marriage wholly unwanted by the two parties involved in it. Despite the ring on his finger, Taehyung is going out and pretending that nothing in his life has changed while you’re trapped at home, desperate to save you and your family’s reputation by keeping as low a profile as possible. You would give anything to march around the city all day, flashing middle fingers at paparazzi as you shop at your favorite high-end stores and frequent your favorite clubs. But you can’t, because your family’s fortune and influence is on the line. 

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 

It sort of makes you wonder why it was even Taehyung you ended up marrying anyway. His family isn’t any richer or more powerful than yours. Your spheres have always been sufficiently separate. What was it about him, and perhaps more importantly, his family that drew your parent’s eye? And what was it about marrying you that prevented him from saying no? Money? Prestige? Influence?

You suppose you’ll never know. But whatever mystical force that convinced Taehyung to agree to this must not be as important to him as your reasoning is to you, because it’s become exceedingly apparent that Taehyung does not care that he’s married. He doesn’t care about the ring on his finger, he doesn’t care about his public image, and he most certainly doesn’t care about you.

Perhaps you were naive for thinking this, but you actually believed marriage might tone him down a little. Might age him into a real adult with real world obligations. Instead, it’s only given you a firsthand look into who Kim Taehyung has been and always will be: a selfish rich kid.

You don’t bother waiting around in the living room until he gets back, but you are still awake by the time you hear the door creak open. Taehyung makes no efforts to hide his return. You can hear him chattering loudly on the phone as he stumbles up the stairs, can tell from his gait alone that he is most certainly wasted. You don’t want to know what he did tonight. You’ll probably be able to figure it out anyway when you wake up tomorrow morning and check your social media. 

What were you thinking, marrying him? That he would change? That he would suddenly become someone that you could rely on? You had no choice when you said, “I do,” but you were at least hoping that maybe one day, one day in a long, long time, the two of you would finally see eye to eye. Maybe there would even come a time when you would genuinely love him. How foolish. 

You close your eyes and try to imagine a world where you have married someone you love, someone who loves you back.

Not unlike the many nights preceding it, tonight is sleepless. 

Unlike your marital status and general disposition, one thing that hasn’t changed about you is your love for extravagant events. Call you conceited, but there is something so much fun about putting on a fancy, expensive dress that you love and getting your hair and makeup done before going to an exclusive gala and posing in front of five hundred cameras. 

Actually, now that you think about it, maybe your wedding could have actually been pretty good, considering it let you do all those things. It’s a real shame there happened to be a storm cloud in the form of Kim Taehyung there to ruin it. Otherwise, you think you would have rather enjoyed that day. 

Tonight is the first event since your marriage where you and Taehyung are both required to show up and act like a happy married couple. Which would probably be a lot easier if you and Taehyung had exchanged more than ten words over the past two weeks. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but there was a part of you that thought you could use your arranged marriage to actually cultivate some sort of meaningful relationship between the two of you. So events like these wouldn’t be such a drain on both of you. 

When Kim Taehyung comes down the stairs, he actually doesn’t look too bad. You don’t know why this sort of thing keeps catching you off guard—like you don’t expect him to look that good whenever you see him. The problem is that you can’t even chalk up the surprise to him wearing tailored clothes or having his hair done. He just looks… good. 

Well, you suppose you do have to look at him every day for the rest of your life. It’s a good thing he’s attractive. At least he’s not sore on the eyes. 

Taehyung and his unfortunate attractiveness aside, the two of you don’t say a word to each other as you join up at the entrance, grabbing any last-minute items like house keys, chapstick, and whatever dignity you have left to spare. You send forced smiles and tight nods each other’s way in the elevator, staring straight ahead in the lobby of your building as the car pulls up to the front door.

By the time the two of you sit down in the back of the limousine, the built-up tension between the two of you is so thick you’re almost positive that even the chauffeur can feel it through the closed partition. 

If you were any more idyllic, you’d probably spend the drive over to the gala staring out the window and imagining yourself in a different life, on a train to nowhere, flowers in your hair and a journal in your hands. Or perhaps you’d be the CEO of your family’s company instead of having that responsibility passed down to a husband you don’t even want, sitting in an office at the top of a skyscraper overlooking the city. Anything. Anything but this.

But the idyllic part of you died when you realized that fantasies like that are nothing but distractions and that daydreams are for romantics and optimists and losers. 

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

Taehyung scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘what’s our plan’?”

You frown. “Well, we’re married, so we at least have to act like it, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t standing there and smiling enough?” Taehyung asks, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. 

You bristle. Maybe that sufficed for your wedding, but there was so much going on it was easy to distract yourself from the gravity of it all. But this event is not about you. It’s not even about either of your families. It’s about someone the two of you are, at best, distantly connected to, through work, through fame, through power. Which means that though the focus will not be on you, there will still be eyes looking your way. Eyes watching your every move. 

“Do you think it will be?” You challenge. Doesn’t Taehyung realize that things are different now?

Taehyung’s lips curl downwards. “What do you expect us to do, shower each other in kisses? We don’t even sleep on the same fucking floor.”

“Maybe I just expected you to act less like a stranger and more like a husband!”

Taehyung sighs. “Don’t.” The word is clipped, short. “Don’t tell me you actually want to be married.”

“I don’t.” It’s a response that you hardly have to think twice about. “But we are, and nothing can change that.” Unfortunately. But it’s a fact that you and Taehyung have both had to grapple with over the past few weeks, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you are more aware of it than he is. If Taehyung could have his way, he would ignore you for the rest of his life and keep partying with the rest of his bachelor friends until he keeled over and died. 

He huffs next to you, eyes staring straight ahead. You don’t think the two of you have met each other’s eyes in a week. Maybe more. They’re starting to feel as soulless as your marriage itself. “Whatever. What do you want me to do?”

“What do you think?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Just act like you don’t hate me. Can you do that?” The way Taehyung’s behaving right now, you expect that will be a challenge for the both of you.

“Only if you can. I’ll even hold your hand to prove that we love each other.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The idea of holding Taehyung’s hand makes you want to implode. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. But it’s better than nothing, and that’s good enough for you. At least you won’t have to kiss. 

The rest of the ride there is silent. You drive to this gorgeous mansion just outside the city, bathed in lights hidden amongst the bushes, illuminating both the architecture and the enormous fountain that sits in front of it. In a house this size, you imagine you could probably go your whole life without ever having to come across Taehyung. It actually makes you consider investing in a home that big. 

Taehyung helps you out of the back of the limousine, a cold hand clasping your own as you rest your palm against his. You can feel the way his fingers hesitate as yours make to intertwine with his as you walk towards the entrance, smiling at whatever camera flashes you encounter on your way. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were holding hands with a ghost. 

The moment you step inside and are ushered out of the door’s view, Taehyung’s grip relaxes on yours. For a moment, you think he’ll actually spend the rest of the night like this, a gentle hand wrapped around yours, but then he pulls it away entirely and shoves it back into his pocket. Oh. You frown quietly to yourself. So that’s how tonight’s going to go. 

You don’t make an effort to reach out towards him again. 

For an event concerning people you don’t know a damn thing about, everyone sure seems to know things about you. Other than greetings, you don’t think anyone’s said anything to you about anything other than your recent marriage to Taehyung. Every conversation is punctuated by a Congratulations! you do not feel that you have at all earned, considering you and Taehyung could barely look at each other on the way here.

Maybe Taehyung was right. All you really can do is stand there and smile.

“Oh, don’t tell me… Y/N, is that you?”

The champagne swirls around in the flute between your fingers as you turn towards the sound of your name, looking up to see a familiar face headed your way. 

Kim Seokjin is nice enough. He’s terribly handsome and got a flawless smile, but you know better than to trust those pearly whites of his. The sight of him alone is enough to make your body tense up. There was a reason you had explicitly told your parents not to invite him to your wedding. 

“Seokjin, what a surprise to see you here,” you say, forcing a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be in Switzerland right now.”

“Change of plans,” Seokjin grins back in that awful, awful way, the kind of grin that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you. “I came back early. It’s a shame, though, I missed your wedding.”

You shrug. “It was a humble affair.” It wasn’t. And you’re positive that Seokjin knows it wasn’t an accident that you didn’t extend an invitation to him or his family. 

“Ah, I see,” Seokjin says, nodding his head. He turns to Taehyung next to you, who is making no effort to hide how wholly uninterested in this conversation he is, and holds out a hand. “You must be Kim Taehyung, then. I’m Kim Seokjin. Congratulations on your wedding.”

Taehyung shakes his hand firmly, the air between the three of you growing unbearably palpable. 

“Seokjin’s father is the VP of News Daily,” You explain, eyebrows raised as you try to signal to Taehyung what exactly it means when Seokjin is speaking to the two of you. “And his mother is a popular journalist for the city’s post.”

Seokjin grew up in the world of media, and it seems he’s picked up his parent’s affinity for sticking their noses in places they don’t belong. You know he’s not talking to the both of you out of the goodness of his heart. 

Seokjin laughs, his hand waving away the mention of his parents. “Oh, please. That’s them. I’m just a bored socialite like the rest of you.”

You resist the urge to scoff. 

“Marriage treating the two of you well?” He changes the subject to what he really wants to talk about: you. 

“Of course,” you say quickly, preventing any hesitation on your end. Your empty hand reaches towards Taehyung’s, fingers searching for his between the two of you. But his refusal to join hands does not go unnoticed by you nor Seokjin, who is eyeing the space between your bodies with an eyebrow raised. “It’s just been—well, it’s just been difficult to adjust to a new life. That’s all.”

If you were to describe the face of a non-believer, it would be the exact expression on Seokjin’s face. “Perfectly understandable,” he says, that same toothy smile lacing his features. “But it must be nice, you know, to marry someone you love.”

“I couldn’t be happier,” you say, almost challenging Seokjin to say something even more inflammatory. He must know that all you’re trying to do at this point is save face. Love? Ha! As if. 

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 

You can feel the way Taehyung is stiffening beside you. “I suppose we are both lucky and unlucky in many ways when it comes to who we love.”

It’s enough of an answer to get Seokjin off your tail. For now. He bids the two of you a tense goodbye before sauntering off to go poke his nose in someone else’s business, fish for drama, a thread of a rumor he can pick apart with nimble fingers. You wonder if anybody actually likes him. 

The moment he disappears from earshot, you grab Taehyung’s wrist tightly and pull him close to you. “What the hell was that?” You hiss into his ear. 

“What?” You can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he really is that dense. 

“You!” You exclaim. “Kim Seokjin is the one person who could easily expose how fake this marriage is and you pull away from me? Right in front of him? You can’t even hold my hand for two seconds, that’s how much you hate me?”

“Who cares what he thinks?” Taehyung says. “He’s just another media rat. No one will even remember we were here tomorrow.”

“But if you keep acting like this, people will start to notice! Why can’t you just act like you don’t hate me, for one night? Is that so bad? Is it that torturous, to spend one night with me?”

“Do not turn this on me,” Taehyung orders harshly. “You’re making a scene. Come on.”

You don’t have time to shout at him for bossing you around like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum before he drags you out of the venue, the two of you finding a back door to the building that leads outside. The cold air blows against your body, goosebumps popping up against your skin, but you find that the chilly night provides quite the respite after practically overheating indoors. Taehyung makes fire rush through your veins but at least the air can cool you back down. 

Nevertheless, your conversation is not over. It’s just been moved to a more private location.

“You do realize that our marriage isn’t going to suddenly go away, right? That we’re going to have to keep doing this for the rest of our lives?” You remind him, eyebrows raised. There’s a part of you that genuinely thinks he’s completely forgotten that your marriage is permanent.

“Oh, and not holding hands for five minutes for this one event is totally going to change the course of our lives, isn’t it?” Taehyung fights back.

“Don’t act like you did the right thing,” you spit out. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me. I know you don’t give a shit about our marriage.”

“What marriage is there to even give a shit about? Just because we had a wedding and signed some documents does not mean there is a real marriage between us. Look at us,” he motions between the two of you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We hate each other. Is this what you would call marriage?”

“But at least I’m trying to get past that!” You exclaim. “You make it seem like being as miserable as possible is some sort of badge of honor. Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life hating the person you married? Or do you want to grow up and try and move on?”

Taehyung frowns. “What I want is for the person I married to stop acting like they’re doing me such a huge favor by pretending to care about us. Especially when all they really care about is their family’s goddamn reputation.”

“No,” you tell him sternly. You are doing him a favor. He just can’t admit that he actually needs help from you. “You are putting zero effort into this. What am I supposed to do?”

“Let it go!” Taehyung shouts. “Maybe one day we’ll actually start getting along, but right now it’s obvious that neither one of us can stand the other. I don’t need you to do favors for me. I can handle it myself.”

You look away, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” you mutter to yourself. 

Taehyung cracks. “Fine. You want me to pretend that I actually care about us? I will.” Thank God. Maybe now the two of you will finally start seeing eye-to-eye. “But make no mistake about how I feel about you,” he spits. “Getting married to you ruined my life.”

You stare straight at him and his eyes are swirling, so obscured in the darkness of the night that you might even think he doesn’t have a soul at all. His pupils bore into yours and for once, for once in your goddamn life, after so many years of staring each other down at debutante balls, so many years of witty refrains and snarky insults hurled each other’s way, it feels like the two of you might actually snap. 

Then, a camera flashes.

Trouble in Paradise! would be a suitable title for the front page of the city’s biggest tabloid… if anything about your life with Taehyung could be considered paradise. Unfortunately for the both of you, that is not the case. 

You don’t need to keep reading the rest of the trashy article on the front page of the daily tabloid to know how much trouble you’re in, nor do you even have time to scroll beneath the terrible photo of you and Taehyung literally shouting at each other before you hear your phone ring. 

You don’t even bother saying hello to whoever’s on the other end. You know it’ll go in one ear and out the other. 

“I assume you know why I’m calling,” your mother’s harsh tone spits from the other end of the phone. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s standing in the middle of her office, snapping her fingers at her fifteen secretaries as they partake in the worst damage control your family’s had to deal with since your cousin two years ago was caught with a mistress outside a high-profile restaurant. 

“Can I take a wild guess?” You’re about to be scolded into the next century, so you might as well enjoy your last few moments. 

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” your mother warns. “Care to explain why you and your beloved husband made the front page of the Daily Post today?”

“I know,” you sigh, a hand coming up to rub at your temples. It’s eight in the morning, you’ve barely looked at your phone, and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. It feels like you’re still asleep, and most certainly lack the energy to deal with this right now. 

Your mother, on the other hand, thinks otherwise. “You know? You know, and you still go out and do this? For everyone to see?”

“We tried to take our argument outside,” you begin to explain, but your mother isn’t having a single word of it. 

“The fact that you thought it was even appropriate to have an argument in a public setting at all astounds me, Y/N. We raised you better than that.” There’s no need for you to even see her face. You’ve grown so used to that disappointed frown over the years that it’s burned into your brain. 

“Maybe you should have thought about that before marrying me off to a man I barely know so I could be someone else’s problem instead of yours,” you bite. 

“We did this for your own good,” she hisses back. “You are married because we love you, and we want you to succeed outside of this family.”

“Then why do you care what the tabloids print about me?”

“Because being married does not mean you are no longer a part of this family,” your mother informs you sternly, lips smacking together. “Your marriage reflects on all of us, and you know that. What will people think of us when they see how terribly behaved you are?”

“Everyone acts like that, and you know it.” How could your mother preach good behavior when everyone, everyone you know, is just as spoiled and entitled as you? There’s no such thing as being altruistic when it comes to people like you. Being genuine, and good, and pure—that will get you ruined. 

You can hear her breathing into the phone when your mother responds, “But not in public, and that is the point. We expect better from you.”

“If you were so worried about me behaving so badly, then why did you even marry me off anyway? You knew that I didn’t want to. What did you think would happen?” It’s a question you wouldn’t have dared ask three months ago. Hell, even a year ago, when it was first revealed you were to be engaged, you wouldn’t have dared open your lips. But things are different now. You’re married to a man that hates you just as much as you hate him. He is making no effort to improve your relationship and seems hellbent on despising you forever. There is no way to get out of it. And if your parents really foresaw all of that, then what was the point in the first place?

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts. 

“You know she wanted to see you married before she passed,” your mother says, words clipped and biting and harsh. “She cares about you. She wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you mutter to yourself like a petulant child. In a way, you sort of are.

“If you want to stay in her will, I suggest you change that mindset.”

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

“Is that a threat?” You ask, positively dumbfounded. Are you being coerced into staying in this marriage because of your grandmother’s will?

You can hear your mother laugh, that muted, knowing chuckle of hers. “It was the deal all along, remember?”

Vaguely, you do. You remember fighting your parents tooth and nail over getting married until your grandmother revealed it was her dream to see you wed. You remember the look on her old, wrinkled face, that soft, sad smile that said she knew she didn’t have much time left. You remember agreeing, because how could you deny her? You remember her promising to remember what you’re doing for her. 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

“That’s the end of this conversation, Y/N. You fix things with your husband or you’re out of her will. She’s made that clear. I expect you’ll make the right choice.”

She hangs up. 

Well. 

There are a lot of ways to describe how you’re currently feeling, and you most certainly had an expensive education that would provide you with plenty of the vocabulary, but you think the most appropriate words for the current situation would be: you’re fucked. 

At least the feeling is mutual. 

Hardly two minutes after your mother’s brutal phone call, Taehyung comes storming down the stairs, hair still mussed from the night prior, his own phone clenched tightly between is fingers. Even from where you stand in the middle of the living room, you can see the way his eyes are glinting with anger, the veins popping out from his skin. 

“I just got off the phone with my parents,” Taehyung begins, not even bothering to spare a ‘good morning’ your way, “and they are fucking furious about last night.”

You shrug. “Join the club,” you mutter, arms crossed in front of you. What, does Taehyung really think you got off scot-free?

“Don’t act like this means nothing to you,” Taehyung says as he approaches you, footsteps calm despite his demeanor being anything but. “You’re the one who’s so obsessed with keeping up their family’s perfect reputation. You’re the reason we’re even in this mess in the first place.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m the reason’?” You ask, astounded. Like he’s totally absolved of all blame and just an innocent third party. “You are the reason we went outside. You are the reason we had that argument, because you refuse to accept the fact that we’re actually married and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Right, because holding hands is really gonna show all those people how in love we are. I bet your parents are so thrilled right now.” Taehyung drawls. 

“It’s a start!” You shriek. “God, you’re just so—so infuriating! You can’t accept that this was your fault, too. You just have to turn everything against me and you always, always have to get the last word. It’s like you think you’ll die if you don’t.”

“Like you’re any better,” Taehyung huffs back. “You think I’m the villain because I don’t want to pretend to be in love with someone I’m not in love with. You act like us not holding hands is going to ruin our lives. It was one event! One! It’s obvious we hate each other, so why even try?”

“What, do you expect me to just sit around and do nothing? To act like everything’s fine? Like I’m happy?” As if. This marriage is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. “While you prance around the city with your rich boy friends, going out to clubs and parties and pretending that I don’t exist? Is that what you expect from me?”

Taehyung laughs, this loud, disbelieving sort of noise, like he’s never heard such nonsense before. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean the rest of my life has to change. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself with my friends? Or are you determined to keep me chained to your side for the rest of our lives?”

“What I want,” you punctuate every word, “is for you to stop acting like you haven’t got stakes in this, too. You think I don’t know how your family works? What being married to me means for you? Because I do. And I know that if we were to divorce, it would be you who would get the short end of the stick. Make no mistake.”

That’s enough to shut Taehyung up for a good few seconds. And it shuts him up, because he knows it’s true. Taehyung’s family may have a little more money, a little more power than yours, but you’ve got a family intimately more connected with the media. One phone call and Taehyung may have a rather messy, rather public breakup to deal with. 

“You wouldn’t,” he says, calling your bluff. 

“Are you sure about that?” You say, sticking your ground. You would never really divorce him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I am,” Taehyung says firmly. “Don’t think I don’t know what being married to me is in it for you. What is it? Money? Power? Your father’s CEO position?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap quickly. Maybe you’re more transparent than you thought. Bristling, you straighten your shoulders and turn back to meet his eyes. “Regardless, it seems we both have a reason to stay in this marriage.”

“It seems we do,” Taehyung agrees with a thin, contained smile. “Then I suppose we can reach some sort of agreement.”

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 

“I’ll stop going out with my friends if you stop picking fights with me all the time,” he says economically, like he’s killing two birds with one stone. 

“Only if you agree to also act more like my husband when we’re in public,” you tack on, because you just can’t settle for anything less. 

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 

You scoff. “Like I’d even want to pretend to be your wife when we’re in private.”

“Good. It seems we’ve come to a deal.”

“What’s in this for you, huh?” You prod, just to be annoying. Taehyung’s right. There’s a reason you’re not divorcing him the second you get the chance. But there must be a reason why he’s not doing the same thing. 

“Does it matter?” He challenges, a single eyebrow raised. “My life is just as awful as yours.”

Fair enough. 

“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung asks, holding out his hand, that sneaky, devilish grin lacing his features. 

Taking his hand in yours and grasping it firmly is the easiest decision in the world. His palm presses against your own, hot hand meeting your cold skin, and it feels like the two of you are finally finding some sort of balance. You look up into his eyes, burn your gaze into his pupils, watch them glint in the white ceiling light of the living room. 

“Deal.”

For two people raised on the values of reading the fine print and making educated choices when it comes to business deals, you and Taehyung sure haven’t worked out any of the intricacies of the deal the two of you agreed to. Unlike those business deals your parents constantly agreed to, however, knowing all of the stipulations and provisions of your strange, strange agreement with Taehyung may prove more harmful than helpful. 

Like right now. 

“Wait, we don’t have to be by each other’s side the whole night, do we?” Taehyung asks you, eyebrows furrowed in a knot, as you sit in the back of a big, black van on your way to a mutual friend’s twenty-first birthday bash. 

“There are going to be a lot of cameras there,” you respond. 

“Yeah, outside the entrance to the damn club. You know they won’t be allowed in, so who cares?” Taehyung rebukes. 

You huff out a little sigh, not wanting to get into an argument when you’re literally minutes away from your first public appearance since the whole tabloid debacle from three weeks ago. You and Taehyung could both do with being a bit more relaxed than you normally are when you’re around each other. 

“Hasn’t Clarissa invited hundreds of people? They’ll all notice if we aren’t together,” you remind pointedly. The girl whose birthday party you are attending is an heiress who grew up on the money of two people with a monopoly over the current artificial intelligence market and has millions of followers on social media. There will be notable people there. And people will know the two of you, as well. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “That’s the point, Y/N. There’ll be so many people, no one will even care. It’s her twenty-first birthday. Do you think people are going to be sober?”

You purse your lips together. He’s got a point. “How about when we are together, we hold hands. But if you see a friend or something then feel free to say hi.” Taehyung can be afforded that luxury. Especially because the chances of him not bumping into someone he knows is exceedingly low anyway. 

Taehyung nods in agreement. “You too. But I won’t leave you unless I know you’re with someone you’re close with.”

“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” you say with a small chuckle. What, is Taehyung suddenly worried, or something?

“Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I left you with someone you didn’t know well. Or alone. Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” He shrugs nonchalantly, turning back to look out of the window on his side of the car. 

“Okay.” 

You don’t really have anything else to say to that. You’re sure you can handle yourself if you’re left alone for a few minutes while Taehyung says hi, but you actually find yourself rather appreciative of his resolve to look after you. Or, at least, make sure someone else is looking after you. It’s quite… chivalrous. Strikingly out of character for the Taehyung you’ve become well-acquainted with over the past couple of months. 

By the time you arrive, it’s obvious that Taehyung was right about there being so many people you two practically don’t even exist. Other than the herds of camera crews waiting outside the joint, photographing everyone that steps out of a black car to see what they’re wearing and who they’ve come with, no one seems to be paying you any attention. And in a way, that sort of nonexistence, that anonymity, it’s refreshing. Your entire life you’ve felt like all eyes were on you, like there was constantly a spotlight above your head, but here, the party centers around someone else. 

Despite that fact, Taehyung keeps his promise. He keeps himself pressed closely against you when there’s not enough space for you two to stand side by side, and he makes sure to have a hand gently intertwined with your own as you weave your way through the dozens of bodies in the room. He doesn’t say anything, of course, always looking up and forward instead of beside him, where you stand, but you find that you’re actually quite relaxed with his presence. He spots a bit of a clearing near the back of the first floor of the club, where a whole bunch of leather couches are pressed up against the brick walls, where the two of you can take a breather. 

“Damn, Clarissa knows a lot of people,” you say when you finally settle down, happily plucking a martini from a tray held by one of the many caterers wandering through the venue. 

“I doubt she’s even spoken to half of them,” Taehyung comments. “She and I have maybe spoken once… three years ago.”

“It was enough to get you invited, wasn’t it?” You point out with an eyebrow raised. 

Taehyung nods, chuckling a little. “Touché,” he says, clinking his own cocktail glass against yours. 

You take a swig of the drink, letting it wash down your throat. You’re not exactly sure how else you’re supposed to survive the night. “You must enjoy this, huh?” You muse, looking up at Taehyung from where you’re seated on the couch. He’s standing next to you, looking around the room with a distant gaze in his eye. 

“Enjoy what? The drink? It’s nice,” Taehyung says, having another sip. 

“No, I mean this,” you say, motioning toward the crowd. “The clubbing, the dancing, the drinking. I’ll bet that if you could do this every day for the rest of your life, you would.”

“I’m honored that you think so highly of me,” he deadpans. 

“Just making an observation,” you say, holding your hand up in surrender. “I mean, isn’t this what you used to do every weekend before we got married? Get wasted and party? Wake up in someone else’s bed the next morning? Muscle your way through the week just so you could do it all over again?”

Taehyung shakes his head, a knowing grin on his face. “Looks like someone keeps up with her tabloids. Let me guess, you would scroll through all of those trashy articles on your phone whenever you woke up so you could see what your future husband was doing?”

“I could have never even met you and I would know that that’s exactly what you do,” you say, even though you definitely did do those things before your engagement was announced to the public. “You’re a heartbreaker, Kim Taehyung. I don’t need to read a tabloid to know that.”

“Well, you must be quite the lucky girl, then,” Taehyung comments. “You seem to be taking up so much of my energy that I don’t have the time for that anymore.”

You place a sarcastic hand on your heart. “I didn’t know you were always thinking about me. I’m touched.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Taehyung huffs out, making the two of you both shake your heads as you chuckle to yourselves. First civil conversation you’ve had with each other in a long while, even if there may have been a few blows exchanged. 

The privacy doesn’t last long. Soon after, a huge crowd of people that could honestly still pass for teenagers herds towards the back of the club, all of them wanting to take pictures with each other. You and Taehyung do your best to stay out of the way, but one of the girls recognizes him from the Elle photoshoot he did about a year ago and begins to strike up a conversation with the both of you about your recent marriage. If she was paying attention to anything the tabloids leaked three weeks ago, she doesn’t mention it. Taehyung smiles and happily answers all of her questions, and even offers to take a picture of the group for them. The conversation ends before the two of you even catch her name. 

You’re standing by the line of buffet tables laid out against the staircase leading up to the second floor, no doubt as crowded as this one, when the opportunity for you to speak to someone other than Taehyung finally presents itself. 

“Y/N!”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around to see Victoria barreling towards the both of you, not even caring when she accidentally spills a bit of her piña colada on the floor as she does. 

“Hey!” You exclaim excitedly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure Clarissa invited everyone on her, her best friend’s, her best friend’s cousin, and her best friend’s cousin’s dog’s contact list,” Victoria says with a laugh. “It’s nice to see you. I feel like you’ve been holed up in that big ol’ penthouse for weeks.”

“Damage control,” you remind her succinctly. Victoria knows enough that that’s all the explanation she really needs. 

“I don’t know if the two of you have ever met formally,” you say, thinking back to your wedding, where Victoria spent most of her time schmoozing with your parents (who love her) and didn’t even engage with any of the people who Taehyung’s family had invited. “Taehyung, this is Victoria. Victoria, Taehyung.”

“Pleasure,” Victoria says in that loud, unabashedly forward way of hers, holding out a friendly hand. Taehyung smiles back curtly, taking her hand and shaking it gently, so as not to spill any more of her drink. 

“Mine as well. I remember you were at our wedding.” Oh? So he does know her?

“That I was. Oh, I miss that day. The food was excellent. Tonight’s isn’t too bad either. Hope you’re doing well, the two of you. It’s nice to see you getting along,” she says, always the observer. 

Taehyung’s eyes widen a little when he picks up what Victoria is not-so-subtly putting down, but you place a hand on his upper arm to calm him. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “She won’t say anything.”

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 

“If you wanna go spend time with some of your friends, you can,” you say, giving Taehyung a nudge. He looks positively helpless standing in between the two of you as Victoria out-extroverts him. 

“Alright,” he says hesitantly, even though you know he’s already spotted at least ten people you’re sure he’d want to spend time with over you. “I’ll come find you soon, okay? Don’t go too far.”

You nod, and Taehyung disappears off into the crowd. Not two seconds later, you hear someone else call his name in a familiar tone. 

“I thought you said you hated him,” Victoria points out as the two of you watch his caramel brown hair makes its way throughout the crowd. 

You take another sip of your drink. “I do,” you say. 

Victoria looks at you like you’ve just told her you’ve sworn off custard-filled doughnuts. 

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 

“Nothing,” Victoria singsongs. “It just doesn’t look like that to me.”

“We just need to keep up a good appearance in public, that’s all. You know how mad my parents got when the tabloids leaked all that shit a few weeks ago,” you explain. You’re not sure what all the fuss is about. Taehyung said he would do these things. And he did. That was him upholding his end of the deal. This is you upholding yours. 

“If you say so…” Victoria says, not looking at all convinced. “I guess I’m just surprised that—that you two seem to be getting along so well. Maybe you being married isn’t going to be the worst thing after all.”

You stare back out into the crowd, scanning the top of people’s heads for Taehyung’s familiar locks. In the dim light of the club, you have a difficult time finding his, squinting your eyes slightly as you look around, but eventually you spot him, dancing happily with some old friends of his you recognize. He looks like he’s having a good time. And that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might end up alright. 

“Yeah,” you say, though with the pounding of the bass and the alcohol already rushing through your veins, it doesn’t really feel like your voice belongs to you. You look back at Taehyung, knowing exactly where he is now, and you smile. Just a little. “I guess he’s not so bad.”

You never do get a chance to meet Taehyung’s friends that night. By the time he joins back up with you and Victoria he’s by himself, a little more drunk than when he left, and ready to go home. And for once, instead of fighting him, instead of insisting you stay an hour more just to make sure you’ve done all of your rounds, you let him take you home. 

Taehyung has been spending a lot more time at the penthouse lately. Perhaps his family’s business happenings are slow, or perhaps he’s actually starting to get more comfortable with inhabiting the same space as you, but he has definitely found himself quite the rhythm in that house of yours. He even comes down to the first floor rather regularly. 

When he’s home, Taehyung is a lot quieter than you thought he would be. Granted, you don’t exactly know what you were expecting in the first place, but it certainly wasn’t him ruminating in one of the home offices while the Beatles play softly on the stereo, nor was it him reading a book in French in one of those big old grandfather chairs in the living room. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably think he was still absent in that old way of his, ghostlike and silent, like he was occupying the space instead of truly living in it. 

But you do know better, and even though Taehyung is just as noiseless as he used to be, the house already feels a little bit fuller. 

Perhaps the reason you’ve become so keenly aware of his presence over the past few days is because of the notable fact that Taehyung has indeed held up his end of the deal, and no longer goes out with his friends in the evening. Or at all, for that matter. Which strikes you as rather odd, because he’s the epitome of a social butterfly, a thousand contacts in his phone and a whole group of friends he regularly spends time with. Maybe his parents told him to tone down the public appearances, too. And that’s understandable, but don’t they know Taehyung? Can’t they see how much he thrives on social interaction? It almost makes you feel… bad for him. 

To remedy this, you suggest he invite over his friends. Just for a few hours, you swear you won’t mind. 

“Seriously?” Taehyung looks positively shocked when you tell him he can, standing in the doorway of the office he seems to have designated as his own. 

“Yeah, why not?” You say with a carefree shrug. Besides, you’ve never met his friends anyway, and now seems as good a chance as any to introduce yourself. You are his wife, after all. “Unless your parents say you can’t. But it’s not a problem for me.”

“You… don’t mind if I have my friends over for a bit? Honest to God, we’re probably just going to play FIFA for three hours straight,” Taehyung says like it’s some sort of warning. Like the idea of him and his buddies from college are going to sit in the living room screaming at the television, leaving you alone to do literally anything else, is somehow bad. 

You laugh. “It’s fine, really. Call them. I’d actually quite like to meet them.”

Taehyung picks up his phone almost instantly, as if you’ll change your mind in the next five minutes so he better get them over soon, and already you can see the way his face is lighting up, the way his eyes crinkle as he chats to his friends and the way his lips curl upwards when they crack a joke back. Isn’t it obvious? He feeds off of the energy of others. Who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

As it turns out, Taehyung’s friends actually end up being quite nice anyway. 

He invites over three, because four people is apparently the perfect number for a hardcore game of FIFA on his Playstation, and they are all very handsome men you have never met before. You suppose like attracts like, after all. 

“You must be Y/N,” says the first one you see when you open the door to let them in. He doesn’t look a day over twenty-one—in fact, he could probably still pass as a college student—and has rather long dark hair that drapes over the sides of his face, covering the edges of his big doe eyes. “I’m Jungkook. This is Jimin and Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you all,” you say, stepping aside so they can enter.

The shortest one, Jimin, grins in response, and Hoseok, behind him, gives you a wave. It’s refreshing enough as is, not having to exchange formal greetings and shake each other’s hands like you do with everyone else. Hoseok even gives you a bit of a nod, too.“You, too,” he says. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 

“All good things, I hope,” you say awkwardly, forcing a small smile as Taehyung comes bounding into the room, ears perked up at the sound of his friends’ voices. 

“Definitely. Thanks for having us over. We didn’t wanna intrude on the sanctity of your new place,” Jungkook says, gesturing vaguely to the house as a whole. He’s got this excellent, genuine grin on his face, the kind that people who are just happy to be alive always wear. 

Already he’s said enough to charm the shit out of you. Who knew Taehyung’s friends could be so… friendly? “Please, you’re welcome any time. I was just thinking Taehyung was getting a little lonely.”

“There he is!” Jimin shouts excitedly when he spots Taehyung behind the two of you, looking a lot more casual than he normally does when he’s alone with you, having abandoned his usual silky button-down and wide-leg slacks for a loose shirt and some sweatpants. You didn’t even know he had those things in his closet. 

“Hey, everyone’s here!” Taehyung exclaims, just as happy. He squeezes past you to give the three of them a big hug, and it almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in. Even though this is literally your house. 

“Nice place you got here,” Hoseok comments, eyes drifting around the living room. “Very minimalist, I like it.”

“Sure hope you don’t spill anything on those nice leather couches of yours,” Jungkook says. 

“Yeah, unlike Kook, who has spilled tomato soup on every shirt he’s ever owned,” Jimin jokes, earning laughs from Taehyung and Hoseok and a punch from Jungkook. 

“Moved after we married,” Taehyung says simply, shrugging his shoulders. It’s an easy enough explanation for why it doesn’t look at all lived in. Here’s hoping none of them realize you sleep in different bedrooms. 

“Yeah, congratulations on that, man,” Hoseok says, giving Taehyung a celebratory nudge in the shoulder. “Who’d have thought, out of the four of us, Kim Taehyung would be the first one to settle down.”

The way Taehyung’s body tenses up at that comment does not go unnoticed by you. 

“Seriously, I would have never guessed,” Jimin adds on. “You’re showing us a new side of yourself, Tae. But I’m happy for you.”

Normally, you’d probably take offense at such blatant insinuations that your husband was a former playboy, especially from his equally noncommittal friends. But truthfully, it’s not like you were blind to Taehyung’s transgressions either. And what matters most is the fact that since it was announced publicly, you are the only woman he’s been seen with since your engagement. 

“Me too. You seem to really like her. I’m glad,” Jungkook pipes up, sending a smile your way. You definitely feel like you don’t belong in this conversation. “I think the two of you will be good for each other.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Taehyung says with a nervous chuckle. His eyes quickly shoot your way, the two of you meeting gazes, your hesitant expressions matching. At least the two of you are on the same page. “Alright, alright, enough,” Jungkook says. “Who’s ready to get their ass kicked in FIFA?”

“You’re on, Jeon. But when I win, you owe me a five-star dinner,” Hoseok challenges. 

“Deal.”

Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately crowd towards the couch, and you take that as your cue to leave. But before you can disappear down the hallway, you and Taehyung look awkwardly at each other, hands tied. It’s not like you can say anything to them. 

The truth is that, sometimes, it’s easy to forget that not everyone else knows that your marriage is just for business. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are still people out there that believe you marry for love. 

Isn’t it crazy to think that you used to be one of those people, too?

“Hey,” Taehyung says when you meet up at the bottom of the stairs again. 

“Hey,” you respond. 

“You look nice.”

You scoff a little to yourself. What, are you exchanging compliments now? “Thanks,” you say, looking him up and down. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Like he ever is. 

“I knew you had taste,” Taehyung teases, and it’s the sort of comment that would have earned him a melon ball to the face back when the two of you were teenagers at a debutante ball, but today only earns him a roll of your eyes as you join hands. You don’t have anything big tonight—just a small dinner to celebrate some sort of business accomplishment for your family, which means that all you have to manage is not ending up in some sort of food fight by the end of the night. 

“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” You retort easily as you get into the car. 

You don’t normally speak a lot on the way to events. Not that you ever did, but even as your relationship has slowly faded from pure hatred to attempts at compromise, you both seem to relish in being able to stare out of your respective backseat windows and into the city that surrounds you. Just out of curiosity, about halfway through the ride you look towards Taehyung to see what he’s up to, and find yourself genuinely surprised to see him leaning against the window with his eyes closed. Is he sleeping? A couple more minutes of gazing at him tells you he is, because his body has gone lax and his breathing has evened out, soft snores leaving his mouth. This ride can’t be longer than twenty minutes. Has he not been sleeping well? Up in that enormous second-floor bedroom of his?

He’s awake by the time the car parks outside the restaurant, this fancy name brand steak place that was chosen solely because the biggest beneficiaries of your family’s new business deal are two sixty-year-old men whose entire diet consists of beef and beer. No cameras tonight, just a small family affair. You and Taehyung hold hands as you enter the restaurant and are led to the private room in the back anyway. 

You and him are seated on the far end of the long, rectangular table, alongside all of the other adult children dragged along to celebrate something that has no effect on their lives. But it’s nice, because the space alone prevents your parents from actively speaking with you, and you and Taehyung can stay in your own little bubble, only chiming in for a toast when necessary. 

“What are you going to get?” He asks you, the two of you gazing at the menu. No matter how fancy this place is, all the options seem to boil down to steak, steak, steak, steak, and caesar salad. Classic. 

“Oh, so you actually care now?” You counter, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

Taehyung laughs. “Aren’t I supposed to?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, wise to his usual shenanigans. It’s hard to tell if Taehyung really means what he says, or if it’s all for show. But perhaps he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious, since no one else seems to be paying you any attention. 

“The choices on this menu are simply overwhelming,” you say, motioning to the six options in front of you. 

“I know, I’m so torn,” Taehyung jokes, making you huff out a little giggle. At least he’s still got that same sense of humor. 

You both end up going for a pretty classic steak dinner, which neither of the two of you finish because the damn portions are the size of your head. Dinner is, in and of itself, absolutely mindless, all of your parents talking about things that don’t concern you whatsoever, leaving you and Taehyung to your own devices as you desperately try to make the night go by faster. 

At one point, you notice Taehyung’s foot brushing up against yours, the leather of his loafers brushing against the toe of your patent heel. Thinking someone of it, you push back, foot nudging his back to his own chair. It’s not a second later that Taehyung retaliates, the two of you dancing around each other underneath the table. 

If the two of you were any younger, or perhaps any less resigned to your fate, there’s no doubt in your mind you would be attempting to get Taehyung to fall off his chair in an effort to do the same to you. Footsie means war. But when the both of you know that, at the end of the day, you’ll still be going home to the same place, and waking up the next morning in the same house, it doesn’t feel like this is a battle.

It’s just life. 

Eventually, you meet Taehyung’s eyes with a hesitant smile, shoe pressed against his, stuck in ceasefire. And for once, he doesn’t have that devilish look in his eye, that smug little grin on his face that tells you that he’s going to make you regret whatever it is you just did. He’s just smiling back at you, all pink lips, having found real fun in the little things. 

And that makes you happy. 

The rest of the dinner is uneventful, which, in your book, is about as good as a dinner can go. You cheers to the future of your parents’ relationship with their newfound partners and say a quick goodbye to them both, hurrying out of there before they can ask you any questions on your relationship with your husband. But you don’t spend the car ride in silence on the way back. 

Instead, you say, “Have you been sleeping well?”

The question seems to catch Taehyung off guard. He was already getting in position to take a power nap on the ride home, head pressed up against the window of the car. 

“What?”

“Have you been sleeping well?” You repeat. “I noticed you fell asleep on the way here.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” he says, a hand scratching the nape of his neck. “I mean, it’s been hard adjusting, I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”

Hard adjusting? You’ve been together for nearly three months now. Three months worth of sleeping in the same penthouse bedroom, on the same soft-as-a-cloud mattress, underneath the same weighted blanket. And he’s still having trouble? 

“Oh. I mean, I just wanted to ask because you seem really tired lately.”

“I got a lot on my plate, what can I say,” Taehyung says with an empty smile, forcing a chuckle. “I’ll be fine, seriously. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Isn’t that my job?” You remind him. “I am your wife.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything to that. He just lets out an audible breath, the kind you let out when you’re amused and have something snarky to say, but don’t have the energy to get the words off your tongue. 

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 

When you get home, you place your house keys in the bowl by the entrance and take off your shoes, just about ready to take a hot shower and collapse in bed, when Taehyung’s voice stops you. 

“Hey,” he begins, almost hesitantly. You look back at him inquisitively. “I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could start sleeping in the same bed?”

You scrunch your nose up. Not in disgust, but in surprise. In bewilderment. What brought this on, all of a sudden?

“Really?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. “I thought we liked the separate bed thing. Gives us privacy.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “but—I don’t know, it’s stupid. I just thought, you know, since we’re married and all. And it’s been three months.” He looks about two seconds away from backtracking, from shaking his head and going upstairs before you can say anything else. 

“Alright,” you say quickly, nodding your assent. Taehyung’s eyes widen when he hears the word, like he had completely expected you to shut him down the moment he made the suggestion. “If that’s what you want. We can try it.”

“You sure?” He asks, that same hesitant smile from earlier lacing his features. It’s strange. He almost looks… sweet. Nervous. 

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

Taehyung lets you grab some of your toiletries and your pajamas from your designated bedroom before you head up the stairs together, towards the bedroom he’s claimed for himself. Funnily enough, this is the first time you’ve been in his room. Three months of living together and you haven’t dared step foot on the second floor. 

You don’t know what you were expecting when he opens the door to let you inside. Maybe a room that screamed ‘Taehyung’ a little more than this one does. One that looks like an actual human has been living here. But other than one of his classic silk button-downs draped over a chair, there’s not a shred of evidence someone has actually been sleeping here. You could honestly be fooled rather easily that the shirt, too, is just decoration. 

“You can pick a side,” Taehyung says casually. He grabs his own sleepwear—an old t-shirt and some sweats—and heads into the bathroom to change. 

You wonder why Taehyung has had such a difficult time adjusting. This room is about as lavish as a bedroom can get. And yet. 

Sitting down on the left side of the bed, you begin to remove your own clothes, unzipping tonight’s dress and stepping quickly into your pajamas, hurrying to make sure Taehyung doesn’t catch you half-naked. How funny is that, you think to yourself. You’ve been married for three months and you still can’t bear the thought of Taehyung seeing you without a shirt on. 

When Taehyung comes out of the bathroom, hair all messy and clothes all casual, he grins lazily to himself. “I sleep on the right anyway,” he comments mindlessly. 

Within twenty minutes the both of you are about as ready to pass out as you have ever been, the only lights still on the ones on your respective nightstands. 

“Goodnight,” Taehyung says, reaching an arm over to switch his off. 

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning off yours as well. And all of a sudden, the room is shrouded in darkness. 

You fall asleep instantly. 

When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, the first thing he says to you is that he hasn’t slept that well in ages. 

“You slept together?” Victoria shrieks, so loud you actually have to move your phone away from your ear as you punch in the code inside the elevator for access to your floor. 

“We did not sleep together,” you emphasize. “Okay, well, we sleep together, as in, in the same bed. But we are fully clothed. And not the slightest bit interested in doing anything other than sleeping.”

“I thought you said you liked having your own space,” Victoria points out. “When was the first time you—uh…” she pauses to find the right words, “shared a bed?”

“A couple weeks ago. It’s really not so bad, I don’t know why you’re so hung up over it,” you say, lips pursed. You squeeze the phone between the side of your head and your shoulder, hands full of shopping bags, the string of the handles burning your skin. Maybe you should look into getting a personal shopper. 

“I’m hung up over it because, for the longest time, you have sworn off Kim Taehyung. Called him dead to you. Insulted him every chance you get.” 

You scoff. You don’t need reminding of how much you hated him, how much you can’t believe you have to spend the rest of your life with him. “It’s different now. We’re married. And he said he wasn’t sleeping well. I felt bad.”

“He wasn’t?”

“Enough about him,” you say, shutting her up. You don’t feel like talking about him with Victoria anymore. “Word through the grapevine says that your parents are actually thinking of letting you start your own company?”

It’s enough to distract Victoria. For the rest of the ride in the elevator, she talks animatedly about a new streaming service her parents are considering letting her launch, under their parent business, of course, but it’s her own company nonetheless. And you’re proud of her. Proud she could do something your parents would never dream of letting you do. Proud she could make that happen. 

You push open the front door with the side of your hip after entering in the security code, phone still snug between your ear and your shoulder, when you hear Taehyung call out your name. 

He comes into view from the kitchen, which surprises you because you have, on multiple occasions, made fun of how much of a disaster chef he is, especially because he’s admitted to you he’s not a very good cook. 

“I made brownies,” he says, holding out a plate of the chocolate treats in front of you. Instinct has you dropping your bags on the floor by your feet and reaching out, but you eye him first, suspicious. 

“I have to go,” you tell Victoria, hanging up before she even gets a chance to object to your sudden departure. “You made these?”

“Yes, I did,” Taehyung says, rather proud. 

“And the kitchen is… still standing?” You ask, skeptical. 

Taehyung frowns at you, clearly unimpressed. “How bad of a chef do you think I am?”

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 

Taehyung pouts sadly to himself for a moment. “These are good, I swear. Nothing weird in them like vegetables or anything either. I used a box mix.”

“No wonder they look so nice,” you comment snidely, hesitant hand reaching out to grab one. They feel like brownies. So that’s good. 

“Hey, I was the one who had to crack the eggs and shit. Three eggs! And not one eggshell in the bowl!” Taehyung says, clearly very pleased with himself. 

You laugh at his enthusiasm, taking a bite. It’s good. And exactly what you needed after a long day of shopping. “I’m proud of you. They taste good.”

“I knew you wouldn’t doubt me.” Taehyung grins.

“They’re really good, actually,” You amend, genuinely surprised. And the best part is that you can count at least ten brownies left on that plate, which means that you get at least five more. Which, if you had any less self-restraint, you would probably eat all at once within the day. 

“I’m glad you like them. They’re all for us, you know. No one else to share them with,” he says.

“Honestly, I’m probably going to finish them by tonight. You’ll have to make more tomorrow,” you say sheepishly. 

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you respond. The words come off your mouth easily, tumbling from your lips without you having to think about it. You aren’t saying them because you have to. You’re saying them because you want to. Because baking with Taehyung doesn’t actually sound too bad. Especially if it means more brownies. 

“You’ve, uh, you’ve got something,” Taehyung says, gesturing vaguely to the side of his lip. 

“Oh, I do? Yikes,” you say, a little embarrassed. Your hand comes up to wipe at the left side of your mouth. “Is it gone?”

“Wait, here, let me do it,” Taehyung says, reaching out towards you. He presses his palm against the side of your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his enormous hands, and all at once it feels like your skin is on fire. 

Your body freezes up at the touch, at the way his thumb swipes at the corner of your mouth, right against your lips, wiping away nothing but a goddamn brownie crumb. You look at him, look right at him, how can you look anywhere else when he’s right in front of you like this, and it feels like you are caught in his gaze, a rain droplet trapped on a web, a bee stuck in its own honey. His big, brown eyes sparkle from the ceiling lights, a chocolate sky that mirrors the food he just made for you. He looks at you and his eyes are so soft, so open, so happy to be looking right back at you. God. 

“There,” he says, a moment too late. 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 

You both stand there, looking at each other, wordless expressions drawn all over your faces, no idea what to do next. 

After a while, Taehyung breaks the silence. “Do you wanna order takeout tonight?”

“Okay,” you nod, still a little breathless. Taehyung smiles before retreating back to the kitchen, leaving you standing in the entranceway, shopping bags abandoned by your side. 

You look over to where he’s vanished. There’s a part of you that wishes he hadn’t left. A part of you that makes you want to see him again. 

Phone calls from your mother are never good. The last time she called… well, you know how that went. So when you see her contact information light up your home screen, it’s only instinct that you feel your heart rate spike. 

“Hello?” The voice that comes out doesn’t even sound like yours. 

There’s no good way to put what comes next. Your grandmother has died. Heart attack. The paramedics got there too late. It was over before it even started. 

For a moment, for a split second, it feels like everything is frozen. Like the world has come to standstill. Your mother’s voice echoes in your ears, suspended in time, the words turning into stone as they crash onto the floor. And when they do, it is as if everything comes back to life. 

Truth be told, you don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, your phone resting lifelessly in the palm of your hand. It feels at once like an eternity and only a second in time. You spoke to your grandmother two days ago. You had promised that you and Taehyung would visit her soon. How can this be happening?

Your phone buzzes relentlessly in your hands, condolences pouring in from every person in your contacts, sorry’s and heart emoticons and If you need anything, I’m always here’s filling up your screen. There’s a part of you that vaguely registers your mother, alongside some of the other members of your family, trying to call you. But nothing can seem to shake you. 

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

You hear Taehyung before you see him. Hear his voice, hear his footsteps, hear the door creak open as he enters your bedroom. Slowly, almost sluggishly, you twist around to look at him, the mere act knocking the wind out of you. Or maybe you were already breathless. 

“Hey, you alright?” Taehyung knows instantly that something is wrong. 

“My grandmother died.” The words sit heavy on your tongue. There’s no point in not telling him. He’ll find out soon enough. He’s… he’s family, isn’t he?

“What?” Taehyung freezes in place. “I—I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, voice weak but steady. You blink up at him, once, twice, three times, and then suddenly you feel tears running down your cheeks. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else. He rushes to your side and sits himself down on the bed next to you, arms wrapping around your body. And you don’t think about the fact that it’s him, about the fact that this is the closest the two of you have ever been. You just let yourself be engulfed in his frame, let yourself be enveloped in his hold as the tears stream down your skin, little hiccups jolting your throat. You close your eyes and press yourself into his arms, head resting against his chest, and wish so desperately that so many things about your life were just a little bit different. 

It must be at least five minutes before either one of you dares to move. Your phone begins to rattle incessantly, that familiar and insistent buzz that the both of you are hard-pressed to ignore. 

“I think you should answer that,” Taehyung whispers into your skin, lips right by your forehead. 

“Yeah,” you sniffle, sitting up next to him and wiping the remnants of wetness by your eyes. Well, Taehyung’s seen you cry. There’s no going back now. “You’re probably right.” You look down at the phone. It’s your father. 

“I’ll be downstairs, okay? Unless you want me to stay,” he offers, looking hesitant. 

You shake your head. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Call me if you need me,” he makes you give him a nod of understanding before he finally gets up, hands slowly removing themselves from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. Remnants of warmth. Suddenly, you feel much colder. Hardly a minute later he’s out of the room, and you can hear his distant footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. 

Sighing, blinking, and swallowing all at once, you pick up. 

The call passes by in a blur. Your father says the will will take at least half a year to be executed, but that the funeral is already being planned. Your grandmother had hoped you would eulogize her. You agree, but you have no idea what you will say. He says Taehyung is invited but does not need to come if he cannot make it. He says a lot of other things too, about your mother, about your cousins, about your aunts and uncles and your poor grandfather, who passed five years ago, but you can’t even remember them moments after he’s said them. 

When he hangs up, the tears on your cheeks have dried, patches of them left along your skin. You head to the bathroom, getting off your bed for the first time that day, and try to wash away everything that has stained the morning. A part of you doesn’t even want to bother, just wants to slug downstairs and eat as much sugary cereal as you can get your hands on, but you can’t go down there looking like this. Looking so helpless. 

By the time you reach the kitchen, Taehyung is already standing there, on the opposite side of the counter island, a big stack of pancakes in front of him. They look mouth-watering. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Thought you might want something to cheer you up.”

“Did you make these?” You ask, a little endeared. That was thoughtful of him. 

“Yeah. They’re still warm,” Taehyung says. He holds out a fork. 

You grin. 

The funeral is a week later. It sucks in every way that something can suck. But not in the same way your wedding sucked, or even the announcement of your engagement. It sucks because it’s a funeral, because you have to stare down your grandmother’s casket when a part of you still doesn’t even believe that she’s gone. Because everyone there is so sad, so melancholy, dressed in all black and looking down at their feet. Because everyone is so sorry for you, so sorry for your loss, everyone has nothing but condolences to offer you. What will those do? They won’t bring her back. They won’t change things. They won’t make you feel even the slightest bit better. 

Taehyung comes. He comes because he offers, and because you want him to. You want someone whose hand to hold. Want someone to smile at you when you’re speaking in front of your entire extended family and trying not to cry. You want someone who is familiar, and warm, and there for you. 

And most of all, you want someone who won’t keep the conversation going when you get home. 

“Do you wanna order Chinese?” He asks, coming into the living room, where you have been sulking on the couch ever since you stepped foot inside the door. 

“That sounds nice,” you force out. 

“Okay. Your usual?”

“Yes, please.” You don’t bother asking how Taehyung already remembers what you like to order when you’ve only gotten Chinese twice in the last three months. 

“I’ll call them.” He disappears off into the kitchen. 

What you do appreciate about Taehyung is how he has defaulted to food as a comfort measure, and how the thought alone genuinely brightens you up a little bit. You don’t know each other very well—still, after three months, you couldn’t even say his favorite color—but he is doing his best, and he is trying his hardest. In some ways, you were unlucky to marry him. To marry someone you didn’t love. To be forced into a union you had no say in, with someone you had so much antagonistic history with. 

But in some ways, your luck has changed. In some ways, marrying him was perhaps the best thing that could happen to you. Taehyung is snarky, a little devilish, and absolutely full of himself, but he is not thoughtless. He is not heartless. He has proven that he is willing to put in the work. That he can grow to care. To change. To compromise. And isn’t that the luckiest thing you could have gotten?

“I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing people tell you they’re sorry for your loss.”

His voice breaks your reverie, carrying throughout the wide open space of your living room. He’s grinning honestly where he stands, slowly making his way over to you. 

“Kind of, yeah,” you admit. “It’s not going to bring her back. Most of those people probably don’t even mean it.”

“Don’t say that,” Taehyung says, sitting down next to you. “I’m sure they do.”

You look at him skeptically. 

“I mean, they’re sorry for your loss because that loss is causing you pain. And that sucks,” Taehyung explains, albeit a little less eloquently than you thought he would. “I know it sucks for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like seeing you sad,” Taehyung says honestly, shrugging to himself. 

You scoff a little to yourself. “I would have thought my downfall would be the exact thing the great Kim Taehyung would wish for himself.”

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Okay, maybe even a few months ago,” Taehyung admits with a laugh, making you smile, ever so slightly. “But it’s different now. I like it when you’re happy. When you’re snarky and funny and a little evil. Seeing you like this… I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

“That’s called empathy,” you point out. 

“I’m trying to tell you that seeing you sad makes me sad, stop being a smartass,” Taehyung chides, and that really makes you grin. “There. There’s that smile I was looking for.”

“You’re so annoying,” you say, even though there’s no malice behind it. You give him a little push, palms of your hand pressing lightly against his shoulder as you roll your eyes. 

“Only for you,” he promises. He manages to grab a hold of your wrist as your hand meets his torso, pulling you into him as he wraps an arm around your torso. You gasp a little at the sensation, head falling against his body, fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. He gives your side a comforting rub. “I’m sorry today was so shitty.”

“It was,” you agree. “But Chinese food will make it a little bit better.”

Taehyung looks positively scandalized. “What? ‘Chinese food will make it better’? But not your loving, doting husband?” 

You pretend to think for a little bit, tilting your head up to the sky as you tap your chin with your finger. “Okay. Maybe that, too,” you cave after a bit of waiting, just to be extra bothersome. 

“That’s what I thought,” Taehyung says proudly, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. You can feel his grip tighten as he presses you against his body, letting you rest your head on his side. It feels like the longest hug ever, like you’re wrapped up in a weighted blanket. Only it’s not a blanket. It’s Taehyung. It’s your husband. 

He’s your husband.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 

You nod against him, letting your eyes drift shut. Things are pretty awful right now. Your grandmother’s dead. The funeral was the saddest family event you have ever attended. You have no idea what’s supposed to happen next. 

But he’s right. He seems to be right a lot these days, actually. 

Tomorrow will be better.

Taehyung lets you sleep in for the next few days. Next several days, actually. Every time you wake up it’s close to noon and your husband is nowhere to be seen, the right side of the bed cold to the touch. It’s nothing to be worried about, though, because you can still see the noticeable dip in the bed from where he lies upon it, sinking his weight into the mattress. Taehyung’s an early bird and you’ve been having fitful nights ever since your grandmother passed. 

Today, you pull yourself out from underneath the covers around noon, sluggish and still tired, squinting as the near-afternoon light streams through the enormous windows of the bedroom. Taehyung must have thought to keep the curtains open today. 

You pull on the first casual clothes you see in your shared closet, some wide-leg sweatpants and a drapey t-shirt, and trudge downstairs like a raccoon to a trash can, hoping to fish through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat. 

Taehyung is, as far as you can tell, nowhere to be seen. You can’t seem to hear him anywhere, and a part of you wonders where he’s at when you stumble upon the note left on the granite counter. 

Had a meeting downtown, be back around 1! There should be smoked salmon and some cream cheese and bagels in the fridge. 

Taehyung.

You chuckle to yourself as you read his flowy handwriting, amused that he thought to let you know of, of all things, the available breakfast foods in the kitchen. You check the clock. It’s nearly noon. Which means you have just over an hour of the house all to yourself. 

Having the house to yourself for five minutes is infrequent enough as it is, let alone for a whole hour. So often is Taehyung around, somewhere, holing himself up in one of the dozens of rooms or mindlessly wandering down the hallways. And for how much Taehyung is present, the funny part is that you still have no idea what he gets up to most of the time. Despite your voluntary abandoning of the separate bedroom rule, the two of you are still firm proponents of the sanctity of your personal spaces. There are rooms in the penthouse Taehyung has never been in, rooms filled with your clothes and makeup and accessories for when stylists come over before an event. A sewing room that you had specifically asked your parents for, because a part of you never let go of that childhood dream of being a fashion designer. 

And there are rooms in the penthouse that you have never been in. Rooms with dark wooden doors that have always been kept closed, that you have never stepped foot in. It’s not that you aren’t curious as to what Taehyung gets up to. He could have a goddamn evil lair in one of those rooms and you would be none the wiser. But you don’t go, because he doesn’t go into your rooms. Because you two, despite all the vows you have broken, promised each other you wouldn’t.

An hour to yourself is almost a good enough excuse for you to head back up to the bedroom and take a nap. Not that you don’t get enough sleep on a regular basis, or that you even had a fitful night last night—hell, you woke up near noon today and already you want to go back to sleep—but what else is there to do when he’s not around? What new freedoms have suddenly been given to you?

You head back upstairs, much less groggy after that delicious bagel of yours, when you catch a whiff of what smells like wet paint coming from down the hallway. It’s potent and immediately invades your senses, prompting you to wonder if that has always been there, or just magically appeared. Maybe you were so sleepy earlier, you didn’t notice it. 

Well, you notice it now. Unable to help yourself, you start to wander down the hallway, towards the source of the smell. God, it stinks. It takes you back to those days in middle school, when you would spray paint projects inside a tiny little classroom, have to step outside for fifteen minutes while you cracked the windows and aired it out. It gets stronger the further down the corridor you go, like a thick, smelly cloud stationed firmly within the walls of the penthouse. And then you realize where it’s coming from. 

It’s an art studio. 

A very messy art studio, you amend to yourself, as you peek inside. The door is wide open, and all of the windows are popped too, but the extra air circulation doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the scent. And all over the floor, the walls, and the tables are canvases covered in paint, denim jackets and pants and shirts with these wide, unafraid brushstrokes. Open cans of spray paint lie discarded on the hardwood floor stained with splotches of red, yellow, and green. 

Is this what Taehyung does in his free time? Is this where he goes, this bright, sunny room at the end of the second floor hallway? Is this what he is making?

You look down in awe at the clothes resting on the floor, splayed out to maximize dry time. Abstract faces, landscapes, and words are painted onto the backs of jackets, the fronts of old white t-shirts. What hasn’t made it onto the clothes has been put on canvases instead, blurs of color mixed together in this purposeful pattern, confidence emanating from every stroke, every dot. It’s not art in the way that the gorgeous landscapes of Monet, the picture-perfect portraits of Kahlo, the messy, unplanned splatters of Pollock are. It’s art in a different way. In a Taehyung way. 

Who knew he loved it so much? 

You almost feel like an invader encroaching on his territory when you lean down to start cleaning up some of the mess, throwing out empty spray-paint cans and tossing out grey paint water. You don’t dare touch any of the work, don’t dare try to move it. You do what you can, washing out the brushes resting in the water and cleaning up the wet splotches of paint on the hardwood. Over time, the thick scent of still-wet paint slowly fades, disappearing out the window as the fresh afternoon air seeps in. And you stand there, in a room full of art, in a room full of pieces that Taehyung has undoubtedly poured his heart into creating, and you smile to yourself. 

That’s how Taehyung finds you ten minutes later, peering into the room after declaring that his meeting had ended early. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” Taehyung says with a grin as you jump at the sound of his voice, eyes widen when you turn around to see him standing by the door. 

“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”

“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit. 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.

“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 

“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”

“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised. 

“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out. 

You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do. 

But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 

And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least. 

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”

Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions. 

“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make. 

His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal. 

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?

For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline. 

To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night. 

“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks. 

The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”

“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other. 

“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement. 

“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up. 

“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure. 

One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another. 

Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do. 

“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here. 

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely. 

“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”

“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”

“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you. 

“You are?”

Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”

You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”

“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”

“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”

Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued. 

You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”

“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”

“Bingo.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart. 

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 

“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive. 

“A museum curator.”

It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all. 

“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”

“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you. 

“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.

“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.

Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with. 

In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 

“Bathroom.”

“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”

“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation. 

“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”

“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother. 

“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”

“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother. 

“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”

Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own. 

Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room. 

“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. 

“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all. 

But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned. 

You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you. 

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 

Taehyung grins. 

Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background. 

You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him. 

“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling. 

“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles. 

“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”

“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”

You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”

“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily. 

“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort. 

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch. 

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know. 

“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”

“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started. 

“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff. 

“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking. 

Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him. 

“And what did I say?” You demand more. 

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”

“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too. 

Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?” 

Of him saying—

“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”

Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”

“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”

“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not. 

You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background. 

“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”

Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer. 

And closer. 

And a little closer. 

Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television. 

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 

Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be. 

You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack. 

“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out. 

Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”

“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”

“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”

“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.

“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”

“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.

“What?”

“Us.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other. 

And he understands that now, things are different. 

“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder. 

You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.

There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable. 

This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to. 

The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat. 

“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table. 

You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”

“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd. 

“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace. 

“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 

“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised. 

That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly. 

Something that makes you want more. 

You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins. 

Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you. 

There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips. 

“Tell me something,” he demands. 

“What?” 

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”

It’s enough for him. 

This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting. 

Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new. 

Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all. 

When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.

"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.

It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.

You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.

"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.

Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.

You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.

Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.

Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly. 

You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.

 You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.

You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.

"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.

"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."

He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...

"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.

You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.

You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.

The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.

Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.

He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.

There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.

You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.

"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.

You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.

You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.

"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."

Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking. 

He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.

Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.

Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.

Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.

He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Open up for me," he orders.

And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?

Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.

It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.

A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.

You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.

Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.

"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.

You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.

Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.

"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief. 

He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?

"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."

"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly. 

"Fuck's sake."

You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.

Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness? 

Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless. 

You both are. 

Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable. 

"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?" 

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 

"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking. 

He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.

"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.

To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.

You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation. 

You want him.

You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.

"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.

"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.

You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.

You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."

Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."

You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.

"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.

You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.

You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.

He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.

God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.

"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.

You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.

You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.

You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.

"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.

If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.

Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.

You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.

Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.

Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.  

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly. 

You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”

Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call. 

You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock. 

A late morning call, then. 

Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine. 

After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday. 

You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself. 

You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—

“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”

And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise. 

You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound. 

He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock. 

“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already. 

“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”

“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father’s business when he died?”

Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”

Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”

“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”

“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”

“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 

You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?

The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away. 

“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him. 

Well, that makes two of you. 

“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”

They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light. 

Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could. 

When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”

“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”

“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?

“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him. 

A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care. 

“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?

“I know,” you whisper back.

You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight. 

Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it. 

“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks. 

“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.

Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it. 

Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts. 

You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life. 

It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer. 

But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life. 

All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do. 

“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes. 

You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”

“Have you even called your parents?” 

“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least. 

“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole. 

There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late. 

Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love. 

And then there is nothing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did. 

“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight. 

You peer over. 

It’s Taehyung. 

Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?

He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean. 

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”

Oh, God.

Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”

“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 

“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention. 

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 

Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.

So why not lie?

You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.

“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors. 

Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything. 

You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?

Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him. 

The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want. 

Why would he lie? 

Why would he do that?

You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank. 

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries. 

Does he really love you back?

Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant. 

When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him. 

Almost. 

Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.

 Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least. 

You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay. 

Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you. 

Or so he thinks. 

You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.

My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.

And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way. 

Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there. 

And there he is. 

“Wait! Taehyung!”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk. 

And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then. 

You know that everything will be okay. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up. 

Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you. 

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 

It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home. 

You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile. 

“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. 

“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back. 

You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow. 

The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again. 

One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 

But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 

The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 

“I missed this,” you say softly. 

“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”

“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 

“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”

“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 

“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”

“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”

You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 

“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”

“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”

“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 

You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 

Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 

It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 

There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.

The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.

Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.

Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?

It makes it all worth it.

"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.

You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 

Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.

"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 

"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 

"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.

"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.

"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."

"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.

You giggle.

It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 

"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."

“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 

"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."

God, you love this man.

You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 

"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.

Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.

"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.

Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.

Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?

Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.

"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.

"Yes, please."

The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.

Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.

You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.

"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.

You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.

Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.

He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.

"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.

His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.

His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.

“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.

Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.

“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman

Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.

“Taehyung?”

You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.

Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.

“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.

You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 

“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.

He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.

Faintly, you realize. 

That was the first time you had ever told him that.

You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was. 

don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!

#taehyung smut #v smut #bts smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #v fluff #v angst #v scenario #taehyung scenario #bts imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts au #taehyung au #w: love me or we both go down #ITS FINALLY DONE YOU GUYS HOLY SHIT #this fic honestly has plagued my thoughts and my dreams #since AUGUST

[tobi-momo]

A Misunderstanding

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

GENRE: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Reverse Comfort

WARNINGS: a lot of crying from both you and kuroo | cursing | mentions of sex | cheating (kind of? youll know when reading) | angst | mentions of drinking/being drunk | nothing is suggestive!! oh ya yall are married btw

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: ok ik this is long but this idea came from literally nowhere but i decided to write it thank you @combat-wombatus for helping me you helped put ideas in my brain<333 now i wasnt originally going for a happy ending but im really bad at angst so enjoy the shitty ending :)

“Please, Y/n, you know I didn't mean it,” he pleaded, his large hands desperately grabbing at your form while you push him away, your breaking sobs making his heart shatter. “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he begs, falling on his knees in front of your trembling body, not being able to tear his eyes off of your heartbroken ones. He needed you to stay. He needed to show you that he isn’t that guy and that he would do anything for you. It was a one time thing. He wasn’t even sober. It wasn’t him. It was the alcohol. He wasn’t thinking straight. Please forgive him, please, please, please.

But you couldn’t. No matter how hard or how much you loved him and wanted to, the pain that ripped at your heart every time you looked at him was too much to bear. So you didn’t. You turn your blurry, glassy eyes away from him as he grabs your hand and forces it into his; your lips quivering and knees shaking. You couldn’t keep the betrayal and agony inside, whining and weeping at him, your knees giving out before your legs slam against the floor, your head near the carpet as you try and keep your affliction at bay.

“Y/n, please,” he whines, tears streaming down his pale cheeks; his admission of his unfaithfulness drained the color from his face. “Please forgive me, I need you, I love you so much.”

“W-” you sniffle, not knowing what to say. You knew you didn’t have to say anything at all, that you didn’t owe him any words, but you just...you just needed to know. “Why,” your voice quivered and cracked, your throat sore, “why did you,” you take a long breath, grabbing your chest to try and stop the heartache, the sudden cramp that formed where it used to be filled with warmth and love, “do this to me? With her?” You look up at him once with wide, searchful eyes as you ponder the reasons and look for the answers in his empty pupils.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, baby, I didn’t know what I was doing, please,” his voice stammers, trying to get you to understand that he really didn’t know what he was doing. “I would never do this to you, I-” “But you did.” Your tone is no longer sad and confused, but angry and fed up. His head backing up quickly, not expecting the response. “You made a promise, Tetsurou, remember?” You glare at him with menacing eyes as you hold up the very finger he kissed and placed the ring on on your wedding day. The beautiful diamond ring that had his initials carved in the interior and little gorgeous jewels that made the walls sparkle once hit with the hot sun was no more; the dark, gloomy piece of rock and metal meaning nothing but lies and mistrust.

“No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this to me,” he adjures guiltily.

“Don’t do this to you?” Your voice laced with deadly venom, standing and backing up, wiping your mouth with your hand in annoyance, placing it on your hip. “You did this to me! You did this to us! You went out! You got drunk! You fucked someone else! And not even a random girl! No! You just had to fuck your ex!” Your voice cracked again before you inhaled sharply and covered up your struggle.

“Y/n, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And that’s an excuse?? What, so now you can go fuck whoever you want and say ‘I didn’t know what I was doing!’” you mimic, “so you can get away with it every time?”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the ground, understanding exactly where you came from.

“Hm? Are you gonna answer me, or sit there like a coward?”

He could tell fully well you were just saying this because you were hurt. You didn’t mean any of it. You loved him. No matter what, you will always love him. Trusting him was out of the box for a while, maybe forever. But he can’t lose you. He knew you were soulmates- he knew you were made for each other. There was a reason you guys made it this far and only had big problems now. He needed to find that reason and use it for himself to win you back. He needed you back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, your dramatic hand gestures coming to a halt at his words, your figure coming to a stand still as you wait for him to finish. “You don't deserve this. You don’t deserve me. Please know that it was a mistake and that I’ll never do it again ever, ever, ever,” he repeats, wanting it to sound as sincere as he means. “Just please give me a chance to make this up to you, please don’t leave me by myself without you,” he sobs out, putting his head in his hands.

You knew you shouldn’t feel bad for him. But god-fucking-dammit are you feeling bad for him. You knew you still loved him, you knew he still loved you- that much was obvious. You couldn’t see him for a while, no. Could you guys work it out? Maybe stitch the wound? Wait until the scar is barely visible anymore? Would that even work?

“Tetsurou,” a single, hot tear dripping down your face as you point to the ground. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

“I know, I know, just please give me a chance to help fix this!” He cries at your feet, his body bundled in a ball of self hatred and guilt. “I can do it, baby. I can help things go back to normal.”

“I don’t think they ever will be normal again.”

He whines, trying to negotiate with you as much as he can. “Let me fix us. Let me give you my everything again, let me show you that I’m all yours and no one else's, please,” he moans in anticipation for rejection, knowing the chances of you agreeing were next to zero.

The next few hours are silent. Him alone in the bedroom. Crouching on the floor as he ponders your possible answer. You work in the kitchen, making food to satisfy your appetite. He could hear your sniffles from the bedroom and picture you wiping your tears as you carry the pots on the stove. God, he was the biggest piece of shit ever known. What the fuck went through his mind when he was fucking his ex? He only remembers some of it, them waking up in bed together after, only wearing undergarments underneath the sheets and him holding her waist as if she were you. He thought they had ended on good terms, knowing that they were better as friends. He rushed out the door, not being able to stay in the same room without getting sick. He knew what he had to do.

He opens the door to the living room, a slight creak gaining your attention as you stir the sauce in the pan. Your eyes are puffy, your lip still trembling as you try to turn away from him. He only takes about two steps forward before he stops, trying to find the words he wants to say.

“Listen, I know you said you needed time, and I’m not rushing you at all whatsoever. I want to give you all the time in the world to think this over. If you need, I can go to Kou’s house and stay there for a while. He won’t mind. I just want to give you the space you deserve.”

You nod in response, your head still facing away before he whispers an “I love you” before he slips out of the apartment.

~.~.~.~

The next few days were tortue. Not being able to sleep in the same bed he would sleep in with you, not being able to watch the same tv shows, not being able to even be in his presence at least once a day like you used to melted a hole of despair inside you: eating away at your emptiness, taking away the numbness that you so desperately needed right now. The feeling came back- the one that you tried shutting out three hours ago. It crept up at you, flipping your stomach and weighing your lungs down to the floor, your throat sore and dry. Your eyes wet with a blurry wall as your tears build up once again, missing your cheeks as you crouch down looking at the floor, falling on the tile. The droplets containing your anguish splatter on the ground, your raggedy whimpers echoing throughout the vacant apartment, making it all the more obvious he wasn’t there.

Knock knock knock

Was that the door?

Your wide, unbelieving eyes turned to the wooden door frame; the knocks getting louder and faster. You quickly stand up and try to collect yourself, preparing to have a long talk with Tetsurou. You grab the handle, turning it- the door opening with a tiny creak.

Oh.

“Hi! Kuroo left his jacket at the party the other day, is he here?”

Oh, that bitch.

“No. He’s not.” You deadpan, not finding her cheery, happy expression amusing.

“Oh no! Uh, well, here, can you give this back to him for me?”

“Stop smiling at me like you aren’t part of the reason he’s gone.” You snark, glaring at her with sharp eyes as she backs up, confused.

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Don’t act fucking clueless.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to talk to m-”

“Oh, cut the shit,” you roll your eyes, “I know you slept with Tetsurou, you don’t need put on whatever the fuck this is,” you gesture at her.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you, fucking crazy?” Your eyes narrow in confusion, your disgusted scowl lessening at her words.

“Right. You probably don’t remember because you were blacked out,” you add sarcastically. “He told me what you guys did. Now you know. So, I would love it if you would just leave.”

“What are you- Me and Kuroo didn’t do shit last night. I drank like two beers and was hanging out with another girl the entire time,” she explains, looking offended. Your face loosens into an expression she couldn’t read. “He blacked out early and passed out on the couch while I was busy talking with the other girl.”

“Huh?” You whisper, your disoriented thoughts not aligning to a proper conclusion.

“I didn’t go to bed until like,” she thought back, “I don’t know, three in the morning? There were people passed out on the floor so I decided to take the guest bedroom with her. I was still awake when Kuroo came into the room, I’m guessing because he thought it was yours, based off of how he kept mumbling your name and shit,” she exhales, “he grabbed onto me once he got in and just clung.” You glower at her, huffing. She sees this, sighing before continuing, “Calm down, remember nothing happened. Remember that girl? She ended falling off the bed because I was scooting away from his clingy ass.” You look at her blankly, trying to fit the pieces together. “She ended up leaving the party completely,” she mumbled in embarrassment before you speak up.

“Then why did he tell me you guys had sex?” You mutter quietly, although assuming she heard since her head backed up while she quickly scoffs.

“I swear to God, that man. Listen.” You look up into her eyes- her genuine eyes. “Me and Kuroo didn’t do a single thing. I didn’t do anything to him and he didn’t do anything to me. I’ll have a conversation with him later because he is an absolute dumbass,” she breathed.

What the fuck?? You were just supposed to believe her?

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Me and him ended a long time ago. I don’t like him like that and I haven’t for a while. And seeing he was bragging about you the entire time at the party, he’s over me, too. Besides, I’m not even into guys that much anymore anyways,” she grinned and winked at you. The shock and realization hit you like a truck. She wasn’t even- oh my God. She chuckled at your expression; you ran away from her to the counter to get your phone, quickly unlocking it and tapping on Tetsurou’s contact.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble over and over. To tap the call button, listening to it ring as you bring your phone up to your ear, hearing him pick up the phone almost immediately after.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He sounded worried. It’s only been about a week, he had hoped that you weren’t going to leave him.

“Get over here, right now, Tetsurou.” Your voice made it seem like it was urgent, so he quickly picked up his jacket from the couch, and you could hear the jingling of his keys as he grabbed them and opened the door, almost slamming it shut once he left.

~.~.~.~

“Y/n?” He asked at the open front door, wondering why it wasn’t closed. “Y/n, you have to be careful and close the door, we have them for a reason, you know,” he said as he walked in. Even after being at the line of a break-up, he still cares for your well-being. He didn’t even do anything wrong and he was still caring for you as a loved one should. He always did everything to make you feel comfortable and safe, so once he knew that he had slept with his ex he was completely devastated to his core. He didn’t want to do this to you, but you had the right to know.

“Tetsu.” You called. Already back to nicknames? This is good, right?

“Yes? Y/n?” He was scared, to say the least, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do. He walked scarcely towards your figure sitting on the couch, not caring to drop his keys and jacket on the counter. He had a feeling this might go wrong.

“We need to talk.” Shit. This is exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Hearing those words he couldn’t help but think that you were going to make him pack his stuff and go. “So, I talked with your ex.” You speak slowly, not wanting your words to come out wrong. You don’t want him to take any of this in a bad way at all. Yet his eyes widen drastically, his heartbeat racing and his nerves pricking him. “You are just one big dummy, aren’t you?”

What? What are you talking about?

“What?”

“You didn’t sleep with her. She told me everything that happened that night. She’s not even into guys anymore. Tetsu-”

This couldn’t be happening. Not only did he accuse himself of cheating, he accused himself of cheating with his ex, and that he cheated with his ex at a party, while you two are married. And then it turns out it wasn’t true? What the hell was wrong with him? He jeopardized your entire relationship because he was too drunk to know what was going on.

“Wait, what?” He yells, angrily sitting down on the couch, “so you’re telling me-” you nodded and hummed an ‘mhm’ in response. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling at the roots and scratching his scalp, his low grunts of pain and fury seeping out of his throat as he frustratingly comprehends what he just did.

You rush over to him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down to his lap as fast as you can, making his eyes find their way to your blown out pupils. You can see the hot tears prickle down his cheek as he frowns at you, completely and utterly defeated.

“Tetsu, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, it’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a happy smile. He wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t control the broken sob that escaped him. “Hey, hey,” you try to grab his attention as he pulls his head down, crying. “It’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay.” You wrap your arms around his head, protecting him as you softly coo and ‘shh’ him quietly in his ear. ‘I’m sorry’ kept coming out of his mouth as he clinged to you, not being able to help his want to be closer to you. The realization that he just almost broke your heart completely and he had worried about divorce for this shit made him want to just rip his scalp out. He was so stupid. So, so so, stupid. “Tetsu, look at me, please. Look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hand to his chin, dragging it up so you could catch sight of his hazel irises. His eyes red and puffy, his cheeks wet and his eyes droopy, you couldn’t do anything but frown at the sight. He hated himself right now, not wanting to face the embarrassment and the humiliation of the situation.

“You don’t deserve me, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered in your arms, gripping them tighter and tighter for comfort- you knowing that he needed it right now. You had already pulled him into your chest, feeling his wet tears soak your shirt, your hands rubbing his back and your fingers gently grazing his throbbing scalp.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, Tetsu, you did the right thing by telling me you did it instead of hiding it from me, and then it turns out you didn’t do it at all.” Your cheeks start to feel hot, and you don’t even realize your sniffles until you could feel a dam break at your water line. You couldn’t stop them, the tears of relief. You didn’t want to stop them. You were glad that they were her, glad that they were for him, glad they were because you knew the truth, glad because you knew you two would be okay.

You looked back at your ring, watching it bloom like a flower in the spring, the meaning coming back to your marriage. It wasn’t just metal and rock anymore, it was a gorgeous promise.

“I love you, Tetsurou. Don’t forget that. You’re staying with me, alright?” you whisper into his hairline.

“Thank you,” he cries.

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[fictionalmenmakemecry]

Hot Public Shit

SPOILERS ALERT: If you haven't finishing watching TVD, there might be some spoilers for you. I don't tell any of the story but it might spoil some of the character relationships that later develop in the show. (I personally hate spoilers so I'm making this as clear as possible)

Character: Damon x reader, Enzo, Stefan, Caroline and Bonnie

Summary: During a celebration dinner you try your best to push Damon to brink of losing control. He doesn't let you get away with it. He doesn't even wait til you get home.

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT (+18) , Spoilers, Cursing

(HEAVY SMUT includes unprotected sex, daddy kink, public sex, choking, heavy sexual terminology and masturbation)

"How long is this going to be?" Damon whined getting out of his Camaro and slamming the door shut.

"Damon, you promised that you would behave tonight. It's Stefan and Caroline's night." I looped around the car placing my hands on his chest looking him in the eyes.

"They've been married for like what? A year? That's nothing when your nearly 180 years old" Damon rolled his eyes

"They've been through a lot this year" I brushed his shirt down bringing my eyes to his chest

"So have we." Damon brought my face back up to his gently holding my chin.

"We can have our own celebration" I whispered giving a flirty smile.

"Mmm, I like that sound of that" Damon hummed bringing his head down to my neck and kissing it.

A soft moan escaped my lips feeling his warm breath hit my skin.

"How about we celebrate tonight, with me eating your perfect pussy out until you make a mess on my face" Damon whispered bringing his face up giving a lascivious smile.

I could feel my face turning red and my core starting to wake up from memories of familiar nights.

I snapped myself out from zoning out and pulled away from Damon kissing my neck.

"I would love that, but right now we should go in and be good guests. I know Caroline has been slaving over the oven all day making sure we were still going to come." I took Damon's hand and dragged him up the drive way.

We knocked on the door and in a instance Caroline was opening it.

"Welcome guys!" She cheered raising her arms to gesture us in.

I could just feel Damon's eyes roll into the back of his head hearing her high pitched voice.

"Thanks for having us Caroline" I grinned bringing her into a hug.

"I'm just happy that you're hear" She said chipperly

I walked further into the house to see Stefan, Bonnie and Enzo all chilling near the fire, enjoying their drinks.

"Hey!" I greeted walking towards Stefan.

We hugged and Damon and I plopped ourselves down on the couch on the other side of the fireplace.

We chatted and enjoyed our drinks soaking up the heat of the fire as Caroline and Stefan finished cooking the dinner. I look over to see how happy Bonnie was as Enzo showered her in kisses and wrapped his arm around her waist keeping her close to him. Bonnie deserved happiness and Enzo was that person that could give her that. I glanced over to Damon who leaned back onto the couch enjoying his bourbon. I rested back into his chest wanting to appreciate the rare and happy memories we were making.

"You okay?" He looked down, bring his arm around me caressing my lower back.

"Yeah, I'm just happy I'm here with you" I raised my head, meeting his cold blue eyes.

As the night went on, dinner was served which seemed to be a never ending trail of food. It felt like we were having a 12 course dinner. By the end we were all stuffed and continuing to slowly get through our drinks. We were starting to get more relaxed and happy as the liquor made its way around, leading to interesting conversations between us all.

I looked over to see Damon finishing off the bottle by pouring the rest of it into his glass. Seeing his hand grip around the glass and bringing the liquor up to his pink lips, sparked a little flame deep inside of me. I squirmed in my chair, feeling the affect of all the alcohol playing a part in my random horniness. I brought my hand down under the table and rest it on his thigh, leaning closer to him. He looked over to me with his eyes slightly gazed over. I know he was also feeling the same buzz I was feeling. I ran my fingers lightly further up his thigh and rest it on his stiffening package. I glanced up at him while palming him gently. He shifted in his seat and took a deep breath. He looked at me with narrowed eyes telling me not to test him. I bit my lip knowing what that did to him. He came close to my ear and I could feel the heat radiate off his body.

"You want to play this game?" He whispered softly in my ear.

I turned my head giving him a quick smirk and brought my drink up to my mouth knowing I was going to have a fun night ahead.

"So guys, I think we need to bring out the real guns" Caroline said walking up to the table slightly hyper from all the activities.

We all turned our attention to her and saw her with two massive bottles of tequila.

"I'm ready" Enzo shifting in his sit giving a quick look to Damon.

I knew both of them were going to want to test each other which would mostly result in both of them passed out on the floor from neither of them wanting to tap out.

"Let's make this more interesting... How about truth or... drink?" Caroline arched her eyebrow cracking the fresh seal on the caps of the bottles.

"I like the sound of that" Damon smirked bringing his hand under the table resting it on my thigh and giving it a light squeeze.

When Damon drank, he would heat up like a furnace. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with his body keeping up with burning off the alcohol. The heat from his hand spread across my delicate skin on my leg. It made me shift uncontrollably.

The questions were getting pretty detailed early in, bringing people to drink more tequila than they liked. In turn making people more loose with their thoughts and secrets.

"Okay, I got one" Enzo leaned over, his eyes getting more gazed and speech slowed down.

"If you could only have sex in public or sex once a month?" He looked around watching people think about it.

"Um.. H-how public?" Caroline hiccupped.

"The chance of a stranger catching you any minute" He explained

Stefan took a swig of a shot of tequila.

"Really Stefan? You're no fun" I complained

"What do you expect? Stefan doesn't like to have interesting conversations" Damon looked away in annoyance.

"Sorry, I just think that's kinda private" Stefan put his hands up laying back in his chair.

"Come on Stefan!" Caroline exclaimed with a frown on her face.

"Well, public shit is pretty hot. So I wouldn't have a problem with it" Damon winked at me bringing his hand an inch higher.

I took a deep breath to stop myself from moving against his hand as it was dangerously close to my covered pussy.

"I think so too. Some of the best sex I've had has been in public" I smirked seeing Damon's mouth open slightly from the corner of my eye.

"I think you're right, there's something about it" Bonnie added leaning into Enzo grinning.

"Let's get to the nit and gritty" Damon wiped his bottom lip with two fingers and continued.

"Choking. Yay or nay?" He looked around the table.

"Okay, I call quits. I'm out." Stefan got up from the table

"Stefan?! it's just a game." Caroline protested bringing her hands onto the table.

"I'm not talking about this with my brother across from the table" Stefan walked away from the table and made his way to the kitchen.

"Vanilla like always" I heard Damon say under his breath.

Caroline's face was covered in disappointment. She gathered some empty plates and glasses and followed Stefan.

Damon cleared his throat bringing our attention back to him.

"I never had it done to me" Bonnie replied looking at Enzo.

"No?" Enzo smirked rubbing her hand gently on the table.

"What about you... baby girl?" Damon whispered the latter part not wanting to draw attention

"I haven't tried it..." I hesitated ".. but I want to" I looked down at his lips feeling my pussy pulse with his hand graze against my underwear.

"We are gonna have to fix that, aren't we?" Damon leaned closer licking his lips.

We heard someone lightly cough bringing our minds back to where we were. We broke our trance and pulled away. I could feel blood to rush my face in embarrassment.

"I think it's time we should head out" Damon trying to act casual and cover up his eagerness to get out.

I looked over to Bonnie who was moving her eyebrows up and down smirking. I glared at her, knowing it was obvious why we were in a sudden rush to leaving.

Damon gave one last tight squeeze to my thigh, feeling his strength in his hand, did not help my self control of keeping everything PG. He brushed his hand lightly against my underwear before lifting it away. I whimpered uncontrollably but no one heard.

We all got up from the table and said our goodbyes, put on our coats and made our way out of the house. I could feel Damon's eyes never leaving me as we walked out onto the driveway. We got into the dark Camaro, feeling the cold leather on my bare legs that brought shivers up my spine.

"You're in trouble now" Damon said taking a deep breath in and revving the Camaro to life.

He swung the car out of the driveway and sped up the road. I looked over to see that there was definitely something else on his mind and I had an idea of what it was. I trailed my eyes down to his now, tight black jeans.

"Those jeans look awfully tight and uncomfortable" I teased keeping my eyes on him.

"Don't. I can barely think straight as it is" Damon kept his eyes on the road.

"What you waiting for then?" I bit my lip, wanting him to lose control.

He looked over at me with the same lust I had in my eyes.

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week." Damon clenched his jaw

"That's fine by me..... Daddy" I added feeling myself soak through my underwear.

Damon suddenly swerved the car into a empty parking lot and drove to the end, shaded with trees. He put the car into park and turned off the engine. The only sounds were us breathing and the distance sounds of the city in the distance.

He pulled his seat the whole way back. and leaned over grabbing my waist bringing me onto his lap. I let out a moan, finally feeling some fiction against my pussy.

"Try to stay quiet, understand?" Damon grabbed my jaw looking into my eyes.

I nodded willingly, wanting any relief possible. He moved his hand to my cheek and we brought our mouths together, feeling his tongue dip in and out. I grinded up against him to bring us any kind of pleasure. I could hear his groan in the back of his throat.

"I can't take this anymore" I pulled away panting.

I lifted up reaching down to unbuckle his belt and he helped pulling down his jeans, making his cock spring up enthusiastically. I brought my hand down, pumping him gently and seeing his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure. His head leaning back to the head rest.

"You like that Daddy?" I whispered

"Fuck, I want to ruin you completely" He opened his eyes pushing my hair out of face.

"What's stopping you?" I said softly.

In that instant, he couldn't control himself, he raised my dress and ripped my underwear with ease.

"These will just be in the way" He smirked tossing them to the passenger seat.

I could feel his finger ease into my folds and feel myself falling apart. I rested my arms on his shoulders leaning my head back and savoring the pleasure spreading across my body.

"You like when I rub your clit like this?" He kissed my neck while his finger lightly circled my clit, my juices covering his hand.

"So wet for me, baby girl" He hummed bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking on them.

"Fuck me" I moaned bringing my hand down and easing his cock inside me.

We both sink into it, taking each other in for a couple of seconds. I could feel myself sucking him in deeper.

"I don't think I can be gentle with you tonight baby" He looked into my eyes

"I don't want you to be" I leaned in kissing him. "Fuck me hard" .

I kneeled up, giving him room to thrust, wanting to feel the power of him. We moaned in ecstasy. Feeling him completely raw in me made us feel close wanting each other even more.

The sounds of our skin slapping and our heavy breathing and moaning. I never felt so wet in my life.

"I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you" He breathed out.

I gathered up my dress in one hand and brought the other down massaging my swollen clit.

"Damon, fuck" I moaned feeling my orgasm starting to built.

"That's it baby girl, keep touching yourself" He said breathing heavily staring at me pleasuring myself.

We fucked and I could feel the car heating up and fogging up the windows. He pulled down the shoulders of my dress exposing my breasts. He slowed down his thrusts, leaned down to suck on my nipples. His warm breath was enough to get them hard.

"..daddy" I whimpered feeling the edge getting closer.

"Close?" He whispered bringing his hand to the back of my head and grabbing my hair.

I nodded eagerly moving my hips. He start fucking me harder, not faster but harder which meant he was close. I wanted him to completely control me. I wanted him to overpower me.

"Choke me" I moaned looking into his eyes.

Something switched in his eyes. He looked into my eyes a second longer, making sure I wanted it.

I could feel his hand grasp my bare neck. I could feel his fingers tightening on the side. My pulse in my ears. My blood constricted. It was the very thing to push my over the edge.

Feeling his cock pound into me while choking me made me fall apart with a burst of pleasure

"I'm-I'm cummin" I moaned loudly, meeting my eyes with his as I shake uncontrollably.

"Fuck, baby.. I-i can't hold on" Damon groaned feeling his pumps getting messy and feeling his cum erupt inside me, pleasure covered our bodies bringing them close together and falling into each other. Damon's hand dropped from my throat and bringing it around my waist holding me against him as we recovered.

"I never have had..." I breathed out not having the energy to think of the words.

"Me neither" Damon sighed stroking my hair

All I could hear were both of our racing heart beats. Our sweaty skin pressed together feeling the heat in the car and completely forgetting we were in a parking lot.

Masterlist for other fics

#damon #Damonsalvatore #damon salvatore #damon x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries #bonnie #enzo #caroline #stefan salvatore #vampires #smut #imagines #fluff #fanfic #fan fiction

[cafedanslanuit]

chapter guide | prev. chapter | next chapter

♣   —   summary: when you told armin to pick up eren’s call while he was fucking you, you weren’t expecting things to escalate this quickly. not that you were complaining.

♣   —   pairings: armin x reader, eren x reader, armin x reader x eren

♣   —   chapter tags/warnings: oral sex (receiving), spanking, humiliation, degradation, semi-public, degradation kink, rough sex, mirror sex, alcohol and drugs.

♣   —   a/n: thank you so much for all the love you’ve been giving this story so far! it makes me so happy you are all enjoying it so far. when i finished this chapter i realized the influence of halsey’s ‘strange love’ had lmao so if you have a chance, check it out. also this is a eren centric chapter while the next one will be centered around armin c: 

chapter four: the bathroom sink

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? Last chance.”

Armin nodded, a soft smile on his lips. You were sitting on his bed, wearing a tiny black dress and high heels. You crossed your arms and legs, a small frown on your face.

“I’m sure. You’ve been wanting to go to Pieck’s party for a long time so you should go,” he said. “I just have too much work. I- my planning skills failed me,” Armin laughed softly.

“Can’t you do them when we get back? It’s the first party we’re attending with Eren. You know since…” you made a funny face, making you both laugh. “It was supposed to be fun for the three of us.”

Your boyfriend walked from his desk to his bed and cupped your face tenderly, thumb brushing against your pouting lip.

“Have fun for me,” he said, your frown deepening. “You look really, really beautiful, though.”

“How beautiful?” you teased him, leaning your head against his palm.

“Enough that I’m having a hard time telling you to go instead of staying here with me,” Armin replied, leaning in and pressing a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Fine,” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“C’mon. Tomorrow morning I submit my last paper and we can have lunch and then watch some movies together,” he offered.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he smiled. You grinned and grabbed his face, placing a lot of small, chaste kisses on his lips, loving the way he giggled at your action. “Go have fun, I promise I’ll come with you to the next one.”

“Not the same without you though,” you reminded him, pulling away and lacing your pinky fingers together.

“Yeah, but Eren’s going, right? You can have fun with him.”

Your eyes immediately shot up at him. “Fun?”

“You know, uh- fun ,” he shrugged, a light blush covering his cheeks as he put his hands inside his pockets. It took you a couple of seconds to understand what he was implying.

“ Oh , okay,” you said, nodding your head softly. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s him, so,” Armin shrugged. You nodded and took his hand to your mouth, placing a kiss on his knuckles. “Still gonna miss you, though.”

Armin smiled, pulling you closer for one last kiss before you left his dorm.

• • •

Pieck’s parties were always a huge success. She only used to throw them twice a year and maybe that’s why they were so special. Everyone sent some money to her and she would make sure to buy enough alcohol and weed to keep everyone satisfied the rest of the night. A part of you thought it was almost impossible everyone’s donations could cover everything but Pieck always seemed more than pleased to put some of her own money for the party.

You had been friends with Pieck for quite some time now, hence why she let you bring some of your friends to the party. Last year you had brought Jean and Armin with you, which led to Jean and Pieck to start dating. You liked how good they looked with each other and that Jean had finally closed the Mikasa chapter and was trying something new. Pieck always seemed calm and collected, loving to nuzzle on Jean’s chest whenever they sat together. Nevertheless, you had also seen her break up a fight with her bare hands between two guys bigger than her. Since then you had a newfound respect and admiration for the brunette.

“Hey, where’s Armin?” Jean asked as he opened the door to let you and Eren inside.

“Got caught up with some projects,” you answered and Jean clicked his tongue. Eren and you took off your jackets and gave it to Jean for him to leave them in Pieck’s room.

“Sucks to be him. Porco and Reiner brought really good weed tonight,” he said as he made his way to the corridor.

Eren and you went to the living room, finding Pieck and her friends already starting with the bong. She complimented your dress and you grinned at her, spinning so she could see the back of it as well. After earning a couple of whistles from Pieck’s friends, you sat beside Eren.

“New dress?” he asked.

“Mmhm, bought it when Pieck said she was throwing another party,” you said. Eren laughed.

“I don’t know how you do this. I put on the first thing I saw in my closet,” he confessed and took the bong from Pieck. You took a moment to eye his black shirt and dark jeans.

“You don’t look so bad,” you commented, shrugging as Eren took a hit. “Is it really good?” you asked.

He hummed. “Want some?”

“I’d rather drink tonight. And last time I mixed weed and rum-”

“Yeah, I remember you sitting by the window with lost eyes like you were in another dimension” Eren chuckled, taking another hit. You hit him with one of the pillows to which he laughed harder.

Ever since the first time you had kissed him, Eren had made sure you didn’t feel uncomfortable around him. He behaved the same way he always did whenever he wasn’t thrusting inside of you as Armin stroked himself.  Somehow it was really comfortable to know your friendship wasn’t in danger, that even if it had shifted to something entirely different he still found it in him to playfully nudge you during class or let you copy his notes if you shared a class.

One hour later, Pieck’s place was packed with people. The music was loud, big speakers filling the apartment as people danced around. Pieck had set a table only for booze and you couldn’t count all the bottles even if you tried. Whiskey, vodka, rum and cans of beer were on display for anyone to take and even if everyone already looked more than a bit tipsy, there was still alcohol to spare.

You watched amused as Eren played beer pong with Reiner, the cups filled with one shot of vodka instead of beer. Reiner won by a very short difference, which made Eren call a rematch, which he finally won. You played your own match with Porco but with beer, winning the match on your first try and making sure to remind him every chance you got the rest of the night, laughing at his pouty face. After dancing with some of your friends, you spotted Eren sitting on one of the sofas and went to sit next to him, asking how he was doing. Even if he swore he was okay, you noticed his head slightly swaying. You suggested dancing it off.

Next thing you knew, one of Eren’s hands was set on your hip as the other was placed on the small of your back, while you had your arms around his neck. The way his hips moving filling your mind with ideas of you riding him, his cock deep inside you as he grabbed your hair in his fist. Your eyes locked on his green ones for one moment before quickly shifting your gaze anywhere else but him. Even if you knew that if you were to make an advance he would be more than willing, you kept repeating to yourself that you weren’t alone. Pieck’s entire apartment was filled with people that knew you were Armin’s girlfriend. Honestly, most of them would take a second look if they saw how close Eren and you were dancing

Eren’s thigh moved forward until they were between your legs, your hips moving on their own against him. You cursed under your breath and then let out a small chuckle, looking back at your friend.

“You’re such an asshole,” you said. Eren raised his eyebrows, amused.

“Am I?”

Before you could reply, Eren had taken both of your hands and in a swift movement, made you spin until your back was against his chest. Not letting go of your hands, he placed them on top of your hips, pulling your ass against his crotch as he kept moving his hips to the beat of the song.

You felt as if every vodka shot you had taken with Pieck had gone straight to your head at once.

“Keep dancing,” Eren whispered against your ear, his voice sending bolts of pleasure directly between your legs.

Moving your hips to the music, you tried to focus on anything other than Eren’s semi-hard cock grinding against your ass. You looked around, afraid someone was going to notice but everyone seemed to be occupied on their own. You noticed Pieck straddling Jean on the couch as she danced on top of him, some other couples making out against the walls or dancing even more lavishly than you and Eren were. Still, you felt your knees getting weaker as you kept feeling his breath against your neck.

You arched your back and started throwing your hips back, your ass bouncing against Eren’s crotch along with the beat of the music. You felt his hands tensing over yours, grabbing your hips much harder as you danced.

Maybe nothing else would have happened if you hadn’t looked over your shoulder. Maybe someone would have whistled and you would have been brought to reality, remembering what everyone thought your status was and how inappropriate they were acting. But you did look over your shoulder, eyes locking for a couple of seconds with Eren, which was more than enough for him to drag you to one of the bathrooms and locking the door behind you.

Eren kissed you roughly as your back hit the bathroom sink, his hands roaming around your body.

“Wait, fuck- can we- is it okay if he?” he tried to ask in between the kiss, his body and mind colliding against each other.

“Yeah,” you said breathless, running up your hands across his back. “He said it was fine.”

That was all Eren needed for his hands to travel up your legs and underneath your small dress. He tugged on your panties and lowered them to the ground and you stepped away, letting him pick them up and storing them in his back pocket. He stood up again, his lips colliding with yours as he grabbed the back of your thighs, helping you get on the counter. His mouth travelled down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses until they reached the mount of your breasts, pressing his face against them and nipping on the skin gently, making sure not to leave marks.

He started lowering, kissing your stomach over your dress with his green eyes on yours as he sunk to his knees. His fingers trailed your skin from your ankles up to your thighs, spreading your legs apart gently until your pussy was in front of him. You looked at him, chest rising up and down from your ragged breathing as you watched him leave small kisses on the inside of your thighs.

“Only fair you get to come on my face this time,” he said. Not even the music outside the bathroom was loud enough for you not to hear him clearly, your legs twitching at his words. He smirked and pulled your legs apart wider as he trailed up a slow path of small kisses to your pussy.

As soon as he pressed his lips against your folds, both you and him noticed how wet you were. He hummed, the vibration of his voice making you breathe heavily, biting back a moan. Eren licked across your slit, collecting all your wetness with his tongue. It was the first time he was going down on you and damn if you weren’t already lightheaded. Plus, the fact you were doing it in your friend’s bathroom with everyone outside added a sultry element you seemed to enjoy.

Eren placed his mouth on you again, his tongue drawing teasing circles around your clit. You whimpered, your hand going to tangle on his hair, messy bun a bit dishevelled. He groaned against you, loving every time you pulled his locks and used the flat part of his tongue on your clit, earning new moans from you. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder as he pushed the other one a little further apart, his mouth still moving on you.

He sucked gently on your clit and you threw your head back, hitting yourself with the mirror.

“Fuck-- Eren, please ,” you panted, your hips bucking against his face. Eren dug his fingers on the plush of your thighs as he kept moving his tongue, getting you closer and closer to your limit.

Eren began lapping exactly where you needed him, a hand shooting to your mouth to muffle your sounds as you whined. Your other hand tightened its hold on Eren’s hair. He let you keep his head in place as you rolled your hips against his face, setting your own rhythm as he saw you search for your high. As soon as he noticed your hips stuttering, its movements desperate, he grabbed your legs still again, his tongue directly playing with your clit.

You came on his mouth, a hand over your own as you tried your best not to make too much noise. Eren stayed a couple of moments after your orgasm, giving your pussy slow, delicate licks to help you ride your orgasm off.

“Told ya’ I owed you,” he huffed playfully, making you remember what he had told you after the first time you had given him head. You chuckled as he stood up, kissing you languidly. You could taste yourself in his mouth, your body reacting to him as if you couldn’t do anything else but press yourself against him.

Your hands started unbuttoning his shirt as he kissed your neck. Long ago you had come up with the rule of not leaving any marks on your skin. As much as you loved finding bruises and love bites whenever you were showering, you preferred that to be a thing just between Armin and you. Since you had made that request, Eren had been extremely gentle whenever he kissed your skin, letting his lips drag across your skin teasingly before placing a soft kiss.

“How do you like it?” he asked.

“Huh?” you asked, letting his shirt fall to the floor, your hands caressing his toned chest.

“Well, this is a fantasy,” he said, pulling away so he could look at your face, his lips brushing against yours. “So I want to make you feel good.”

Eren didn’t miss the way your legs clenched on either side of his waist. He went back to kissing the other side of your neck as you made up your mind, hands roaming around his back and hair as he did so.

He didn’t have to wait long for your answer.

“I want you to be rough with me,” you sighed. Eren pulled away once more and looked at you, one of his hands palming your breast.

“How rough?”

“Until I tell you to stop,” you breathed out, your back arching at his ministrations. Eren nodded and kissed you again, his tongue entering your mouth as you once again started losing focus of everyone that was happening.

In that moment, your mind was filled with his hand playing with your tits while the other one went back to your folds, his index and middle finger rubbing soft circles, making you moan against your mouth. Eren pulled away from you and you watched him take out his wallet and then a condom from it. He put it between his teeth and then undid his jeans, letting them fall to his ankles along with his underwear.

You could never get used to seeing Eren’s cock. A part of your brain still was shocked as you tried to remember this was your new normal, getting railed by your friend with your boyfriend’s permission. Your hand closed around his length and you started pumping him, his tip already leaking precum. Eren ripped the condom package and rolled it over himself all the way to the base.

You leaned over to kiss him again, this time his lips moving rougher on you. You tried locking your legs around his waist, wanting to feel his cock against you. Instead, Eren grabbed both your legs and yanked you down the counter and onto the floor. You stumbled a bit on your high heels but he quickly turned you around and bent you over the bathroom sink.

Eren lifted your dress until it was resting on your waist, your ass exposed to him. He parted your legs with his foot and then lined up his cock with your entrance. Only a couple of inches inside you was enough for you to let out a high-pitched moan, your hands grabbing on the faucet desperately, the stretch making your head spin.

A hard slap fell against your ass.

“Keep it the fuck down. Do you want everyone to know your boyfriend’s friend has his cock inside you?” he hissed. The determination of his voice made you clench around him. Eren grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your hair up, forcing you to look at your own reflection in the mirror.

You watched your eyes and parted lips as Eren kept pushing inside of you, a whimper escaping your lips once he bottomed out. He took your hands and put them against the mirror. His own hands slid down your back until they settled on your hips. He started thrusting against you, your breath creating a fog on the mirror in front of you. You let your head fall, biting your lip as he kept moving his hips.

One of Eren’s hands went to your jaw, making you look at yourself in the mirror once more. You could not only see your face flushed with desire but also how his hair was almost completely loose and falling over his forehead as he kept thrusting against you.

“Look at yourself. You love being fucked as a slut, don’t you?”

Once again his words stirred something deep inside you. You desperately tried to hold on to something, your hands sliding down against the mirror until you positioned them correctly again. Eren smacked your ass hard again.

“I asked a fucking question,” he grunted, giving a particularly harsh thrust.

“Yes- fuck, yes, I do,” you panted. Eren picked up his face and you felt your legs falter. “Keep going, please.”

His hand went back to holding your head up by your hair, the other one gripping your ass firmly. Eren’s grunts were barely audible due to the music outside but made you melt every time you heard them. You started moving your hips back, meeting his thrusts as you did your best not to make too much noise.

Eren slapped your ass again, making you clench against him. He threw his head back, cursing under his breath and let his hand fall on your ass once more. Only a couple more thrusts were needed for you to come around him as well, one of your hands flying to your mouth to try and muffle your loud moans.

You heard Eren curse again and fasten his pace, letting go of your hair and settling both his hands on your hips. His orgasm followed a few moments later and you heard him groan, his cock twitching inside of you. You squeezed him as he came down from his high, earning a soft chuckle from the man behind you.

“Stop, I literally have nothing left,” he joked, removing himself from you and discarding the condom in the bathroom bin.

You laughed along as he helped you stand up again, lowering your dress in the process. Thanking him, you looked at your reflection again, cleaning the eyeliner smudge on the outside corner of your eyes and fixing your hair. Eren pulled up his underwear and pants and once his clothes were back in place, he handed you your panties that he had put inside his pockets.

“I can’t come out of this bathroom holding my panties,” you reminded him with a soft laugh. “Can you like- keep them for a moment? Once we leave this place you can hand them back.”

“Sure, sure,” Eren said, putting your panties back in his pocket. You looked at each other in the eyes and couldn’t help but burst into laughter once more.

“I’ll leave first, wait a bit before going outside,” you instructed him and Eren nodded, leaning against the counter and taking out his phone to keep himself distracted as he waited.

Nobody noticed you leaving the bathroom, nor the funny way you were walking. You grabbed one of the beers from the table and plopped on one of the sofas. You observed your surroundings and wondered if time had really passed as everything seemed to be the same. Jean and Pieck were now making out in the same sofa she had been dancing on and nobody spared a second glance at you.

You felt someone sitting down next to you, opening a can of beer as well. You turned to the side and saw Eren, his hair tied on a half-bun again and looking visibly refreshed. His eyes locked with yours and he smirked.

You clinked your beer cans. You sure knew how to keep a secret.

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