#i had to view those terrible terrible words with my eyes and i will NEVER stop complaining | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

borathae · 8 months

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“You place your hand on the back of his head and push him down. Yoongi bends over, falling head first into the sheets. Like this, he is resting on the side of his head, breathing so heavily that he is almost wheezing. “I’m so gonna treat you right”, you say and lower yourself to press kisses to his lower back and tailbone. Alternatively: Yoongi long stopped pretending as if being tied up and pegged doesn’t completely ruin him. He loves it and you should fucking know.”

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, soft Dom!Reader, masochist!Yoongi, body worship, Shibari with magical ropes, sex in front of a mirror, handjob, praise, she makes him praise himself :(, shy!Yoongs, loving dirty talk, he has a sensitive tummy & nipples, pegging in doggy & pronebone position, rimjob (m.receiving), anal fingering, use of a buttplug, use of lube, edging (m. receiving), multiple orgasms (m.receiving), male squirting, she has her fingers around his throat but doesn’t choke him, soft hair pulling, cock slapping, spanking, he is in a lovey dovey brat headspace, she wants him to feel pretty & loved!, he does!!!, cuddly aftercare, their bickering is toptier, this is kinky love making, they are so in love!!

Wordcount: 8.1k

a/n: I love them so much! I love them, I love them, I love them! 🥺

His head hits the pillow, his back arches as a soft moan slips past his pouty lips.

Said lips get claimed by you in a needy kiss seconds later. Your weight places itself on his lap, your fingers take his wrists and pin them above his head.

Yoongi feels how this turns off every single thought he ever had. He is obsessed with this state, basking in it with a fluttering tummy.

“Mine”, you rasp and tug on his lower lip.

Yoongi chases you with a soft sigh, lifting his head when you break contact. He wants your kiss again. Those past twenty minutes of excessive making out weren’t enough.

“Mhm? Are you mine?” you ask him, looking down at him with heavy, yet playful eyes.

“Yeah, yours”, Yoongi says, nodding his head.

“Then say it.”

“I’m yours”, the words come easy to him. He is yours. All yours. Which is why he is nothing but excited for tonight. With any other person he’d already be gone, never to return. But with you, he can’t wait for the next step.

It was his idea. Like always when he wants to bottom, it has to be his idea so he can be really into it. He feels comfortable that way. You love it when he is that way.

Your eyes light up, a smile curls your lips.

“Mine”, you giggle, scrunching your nose up, “you’re so cute.”

“I’m cute”, he whispers and wiggles.

“Yeah you are. Oh Yoongs, can I look at you?”

He nods his head and sits up to pull the shirt over his head. He throws it the side and falls back into the pillows, placing his arms back above his head. Then he tilts his head, giving you a playful and terribly pretty look.

You feel your heart flutter at the view. His long, black hair is spread on the pastel pink coloured pillow casing, his features are truly the prettiest, most delicate artworks and his bared torso takes your breath away. His arms are relaxed, resting in the submissive position gladly. His perky nipples are hard in the cold air and his fair skin glimmers in the shine of the candles.

“Look at you”, you whisper, placing your hands on his wrists and dancing them down his body. His arms, shoulders, sides and pecs until you linger on his upper tummy, “my beautiful love.”

Yoongi feels goosebumps litter his skin. Your touch is heaven. Your gaze feels reassuring to him. He wasn’t always like this, but you have been loving him so honestly and dearly that he feels good about being naked in front of you these days. Good and maybe even beautiful.

“I can’t ever get enough of you”, you say and as you lower your lips to taste his skin, you swirl your fingers over his tummy.

Yoongi sighs your name, squirming unbearably. His eyes fall closed, his lips part. Your lips and tongue are on his nipples while your fingers touch his tummy. The combination makes him feel ecstatic and so lightheaded. Oh so terribly lightheaded.

A string of saliva breaks between his left nipple and your lips. The cold air of the room hits his wet skin and sends electricity through his veins. Yoongi mewls softly, intertwining his own fingers. He misses your warmth, but can’t complain because you are currently sucking on his right nipple instead.

You run your hand to his lower tummy, allowing your fingers to linger on the part most tender. Just one simple touch makes Yoongi flinch.

You lift your head.

“Too much?” you ask him, “I’ll slow down, yeah?”

“Don’t”, he sounds out of breath, “more.”

“Yeah? More?” you ask and squeeze the tender area.

Yoongi squirms and giggles deeply. So you do it again. You squeeze him, forcing him to giggle and squirm.

“Cute. So cute.”

“I don’t like that”, he complains between giggles.

“Yeah? Because you’re ticklish?” you tease, squeezing him.

Yoongi laughs and reaches for your wrists.

“Uh-uh”, you say, taking his wrists to pin them back above his head, “your arms stay up.”

Yoongi gazes at you, squeezing his thighs together.

“No”, he whispers.

“No?” you repeat with a cocked up brow.

“No. You said you’ll do it."

“I did. Do you wanna start?”

He nods his head.

“Yeah? Then I’ll get the rope.”

“Okay.”

You get off his lap and snatch the rope you prepared. It is rosé in colour and made out of soft natural fibres. He tied you up with it in the past and you loved the feeling. You are excited at the aspect of Yoongi being able to feel it soon.

“Okay, sit u-”, he interrupts you by already sitting up on his own.

He flutters his lashes at you. You send him a smile.

“Okay, put your ar-”, he once again interrupts you by putting his arms behind his back all on his own.

He gives you a pouty face, tilting his head to the side. You giggle.

“You’re so cute. Can I finish my orders at least once?”

He shakes his head, “no.”

“No?”

“You’re too slow.”

“Wow”, you laugh, “it’s good to know that you didn’t completely lose your brattiness, I was already worried for you.”

“Hurry up. Please.”

“I am, I am”, you say as you crawl behind his back, “good god, you’re so impatient.”

“I’m excited.”

“I know. I’m excited too, love”, you say, “now where did you say I should start?”

“Put it from the front to the back over my shoulders.”

“Ah yeah, I remember”, you say and begin tying, “sorry, I still get a little confused sometimes.”

“It’s okay. You can ask me”, he assures you.

“Yeah, gosh so embarrassing”, you mumble.

“It’s just me, love. Don’t feel that way, it’s okay.”

“Okay okay, that makes me feel better”, you say and give his shoulder a little peck, “thank you for the reassurance.”

“Mhm ‘course”, he whispers, melting under your fingertips. He has his eyes closed, tingling like crazy at the sensations of the rope gliding over his skin. It feels so good. It really fucking does. His skin so sensitive when you touch him and the ropes are incredibly soft. Yoongi doesn’t want this to end, shivering like crazy whenever you guide the ropes across his bared torso.

You are silent for the next few moments as you concentrate on getting the knots right and Yoongi is lost in the sensations. It’s a very relaxing time, intimate and safe. And so incredibly nice. Yoongi’s body is made for Shibari. The rosé rope looks beautiful against his fair skin.

“Oh no”, you gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi’s voice is hoarse from disuse. He clears his throat.

“I messed up. Is it over and then under?”

“Yeah.”

“Shoot, I went under and then over”, you mumble and loosen the knot, “I have to redo it.”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

“It’s still a little confusing for me from time to time.”

“Don’t worry, you’re doing really well for a beginner. You learned a lot already.”

“It’s only because I had such a good teacher.”

Yoongi feels his cheeks heat up.

“Shut up”, he murmurs, listening to the fond giggle you let out.

You lose yourself in the tying again while Yoongi falls back into the tranquillity only you can bring. He feels so safe in your presence. So unashamedly himself. So vulnerable and small, but so safe that he goddamn loves that feeling.

“Almost done. How is that feeling?” you ask him as you begin tying his wrists.

“Like paradise”, he sighs without thinking.

“Yeah? Paradise?” you ask and giggle, leaning in to kiss his shoulder, “that sounds amazing.”

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, “more.”

You guide your kisses up to his neck, basking in the ecstatic sighs he releases in reaction.

One kiss. Two kisses. Three.

You lift your lips.

“More.”

“I’m almost done, soon”, you whisper against his neck and Yoongi shivers.

“More", he whispers and pouts.

“Soon. Only two more knots. Promise.”

He whines, but you ignore it for the sake of finishing the tie. You make sure that it sits right and that there is enough distance between the pressure points and the rope and then you are already finished.

“Done.”

Yoongi visibly leans closer to you in hopes of getting neck kisses. Cute.

You run your fingertips along the ropes, tracing his skin gently. His chest heaves up and down quickly, indicating just how excited he was about the current position.

“So pretty”, you whisper, leaning down to kiss along his shoulder.

Yoongi shivers and exhales shakily, tilting his head to the side. Finally.

“Are you comfy?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, tell me if it gets too much.”

“Yeah.”

You guide your touch to the front, running your fingertips up and down his tummy. The shiver this forces to run through Yoongi is intense. Goosebumps cover his skin instantly. His tummy is sensitive. Always has been.

“My handsome prince”, you whisper, “you’ve got the prettiest tummy.”

Yoongi lowers his eyes, but you make him tilt his head up again with a soft grip around his throat.

“Look at yourself, my prince”, you whisper.

There is a mirror on the other side of your room. Golden frame and reaching from the floor way above your head. You can see yourselves on bed this way. Yoongi is kneeling in front of you with his arms tied behind his back and ropes accentuating the paths of his torso. So fucking beautiful.

Yoongi shies away at the view, but you fix his gaze for him.

“Don’t look away”, you whisper.

Yoongi can barely hold eye contact, feeling breathless. He never looked at himself for such a long time. It’s scary, but doesn’t make him uncomfortable because it’s you he experiences it with.

“You are so beautiful, my love. I don’t want you to shy away”, you whisper, caressing his tummy.

“It’s hard”, he confesses.

“I know, but I’m here”, you assure him, “yeah?”

He nods his head, letting out a small “mh-hm.”

“Yeah I am. Right here”, you say, pulling him closer, “now look. Watch me touch the parts I love.”

Yoongi looks at your hands. You start at his hips and guide your touches up his torso, leaving out nothing as you feel him up. By the time you have reached his neck and explored every inch of him, Yoongi is so desperate that his hard cock is leaking through his briefs. And he feels handsome. Really goddamn handsome. The feeling is unfamiliar but really, really nice.

“Did you see what I love?” you whisper, hugging his waist with one arm. You guide your unoccupied hand to his hip, massaging it gently.

“Yeah”, Yoongi chokes out, pressing himself into you.

“Mhm, you did”, you say, “do you agree?”

“I think”, he whispers, basking in the warm smile you send him.

“I won’t ever grow tired of you, my love. You are the most handsome.”

He blushes, squirming slightly.

You leave one single kiss on his neck and then you whisper right against it.

“Can I start with the spell now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Here it comes. Relax, my love.”

His skin tingles on the spots where your magic soaks the ropes. It is a warm sensation and prickles. Almost as if actual electricity was coursing through him.

“There we go. Done.”

The tingling stops. The ropes sit around his wrists and arms and feel the same they did before.

“How’s that?”

Yoongi fights the ropes. He knows that just a little show of his true strength could rip them. He tenses his muscles and tugs. Nothing budges. He tries with more strength, but nothing changes. “Huh?” He tries. He really, really tries but the ropes don’t even move an inch. His stomach churns in utter excitement.

You giggle and hug him against you tightly. Your chin rests on his shoulder, your voice tickles his back.

“Oh Yoongi, look at that. My magic worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah”, Yoongi whispers, gawking at the floor with widened eyes. He can’t believe that this is happening.

You snicker, closing in to him to kiss his cheek.

“You’re my prisoner now. You can’t escape me”, you rasp and giggle, shaking him from side to side as you hug him tighter, “oh Yoongs, my love, you look so handsome like this.”

“Holy fuck”, he presses out under his breath.

You study his shocked expression.

“What’s wrong? Oh my love, don’t be nervous. I won’t hurt you”, you say, cupping his cheek to turn his head to you, “should I undo it?”

He shakes his head.

“But?”

“I want to worship you”, he presses out, “I want to fucking kiss the ground you walk on. You are the most perfect human being that ever existed, exists and will exist. Holy fuck, you’re a fucking goddess.”

You snicker, “sweet talker”, you tease and kiss his cheek, “I’m obsessed with you too, Yoongi Boongie.”

“Please”, he says, resting against you, “please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, my love”, you promise him, guiding your touch to his clothed cock.

He inhales sharply, looking into the mirror. You are rubbing him over his briefs, paying special attention to his tip.

“So wet”, you taunt, flashing him a smirk, “you’re so wet for me.”

Yoongi chases you with a tilt of his hips, sending you a pleading look. You understand and you want the same.

“Can I take off your briefs?”

He nods his head.

You tug them down carefully, but stop once you reach his knees. You let them sit around his thighs, running your hand up to his cock. Yoongi spills three pretty droplets of excitement on the sheets. It feels so good to be freed of his restraints and to know that you will touch him soon.

“I want to do something with you”, you say.

“What?” he sighs.

“I want you to look at yourself and tell me three things you love about yourself”, you say and wrap your fingers around his cock. You keep your movements slow to make it easier for him.

Yoongi chases you with a buck of his hips, pressing out a soft moan. The first touch will always scramble his brain. Your palm is so warm and soft. It feels incredible on his sensitive cock. Oh, if only you weren’t going so slow.

“Faster”, he sighs, chasing your hand.

“I’ll speed up if you tell me something you love about yourself.”

Yoongi mewls and writhes.

“Go on, be my good boy.”

“My eyes”, he gets out, chasing you.

“I agree. I love your eyes so, so much. You’ve got the prettiest eyes”, you say and concentrate your touches on his pink tip.

Yoongi mewls, scrunching his nose up.

"Two more, go on.”

“My, my ah”, he moans and throbs in your fingers, “holy shit, that feels so good there.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you love about yourself and I’ll keep touching you there.”

“I love my…my, ah my hands.”

“Yes, oh Boongie, you’ve got the sexiest hands ever. Of course you love them”, you reward him with touches on the spot which felt so very good. He moans and tenses up, feeling charged in pleasure.

“Oh god yeah, right there”, he says under his breath, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Right there, I know”, you whisper sweetly, “only one more. Tell me, love.”

Yoongi glances at his body. His cock is flushed, his body glows from pleasure. Your touch feels so much better when he sees it.

“I love my dick.”

You squeeze around him, moaning softly.

“You do?”

“Yeah, is sensitive. That’s good.”

“Oh Yoongs, I love your dick too. You’ve got the prettiest dick. I love playing with it and tasting it and havin’ it inside”, you rasp, using the new droplets of slick he spills to massage his favourite spot.

“Don’t…stop…plea-ah”, Yoongi moans, closing his eyes.

You speed up your movements, but stay on his favourite spot. Yoongi lets out a loud mewl, tilting his head back.

“Pretty, so pretty”, you praise, looking at him with a racing heart. His throat is exposed in this position, his chest is heaving up and down and his tummy keeps tensing each time you run your thumb over his sensitive spot.

“Don’t…stop”, he gets out, tensing his thighs to stop them from trembling.

“I won’t, love. I won’t."

Yoongi squirms and tries to twist the ropes. He fails, which results in him squirming even harder and throbbing in your hand.

“You’re so cute when you squirm”, you rasp, walking your fingers up to his chest just to flick his nipple.

It pebbles instantly. Yoongi moans.

“Doesn’t that feel so good?” you rasp, flicking his other nipple as well and using your wrist to jerk him off. You are paying attention to his whole length, squeezing down on him each time you glide over his favourite spot.

“You’re making me cum”, he croaks, “it’s so nice, please let me cum.”

“Mhm, I don’t know”, you say, slowing down just enough to drag out the inevitable, “where would be the fun in that?”

“Please”, he sighs, chasing your hand, “I can go again. Just…I wanna cum.”

You slip your fingers from his nipples, strengthening his suffering. He whines, arching his back.

“Remember all the times you edged me?” you taunt.

“___ please”, he begs, wiggling his arms without getting them free.

You chuckle, guiding your touch to his base. You squeeze hard, forcing the warmth to die down slowly.

“I’m begging you, please”, he pleads, peeling his eyes open just so he can look at you through the mirror. He is panting like crazy, barely holding his eyes open as they glisten at you through his messy bangs.

“But Yoongi…edging you is so much fun”, you say, closing your hand around his throat. You roll your hips into his butt, holding his cock by its base, “how else should I peg you if you aren’t edged and needy for me, mhm?”

“Then hurry up, fuck”, he presses out and groans when you press down on his veins, “I wanna have dick, don’t act like that.”

“You are seriously such a brat, fuck”, you say, chuckling, “you’re gonna get hurt if you keep talking like this.”

“I can take it.”

“Yeah?”

You slap his cock so hard that it bounces up and down. Yoongi flinches, squeezing his thighs together and pressing out a loud grunt. He leaks onto the sheets, throbbing without being touched.

Your eyes meet in the mirror. He is wheezing, looking at you through his messed up bangs. He smirks.

“Fucking do that again, I liked it”, he rasps.

“Yeah I know you did, which is why I won’t do it again”, you say, slipping your hand from his cock completely.

“Please”, he looks desperate instantly.

“Cute”, you say, “take off your pants.”

“How?” he throws back, wiggling his tied up arms.

“Ah yeah”, you laugh, “get off bed, I’ll do it for you.”

“Fine”, he says and scrambles off bed. He stumbles and almost falls now that his briefs are minimising his movements and his arms are tied to the back.

“Careful. Oh dear, please don’t hurt yourself”, you say in a chuckle, holding him by his waist.

With your support, Yoongi manages to crawl off the bed. You follow him, placing yourself in front of him to beam up at him.

“We didn’t think that through, did we?”

“No, almost face planted the floor”, Yoongi says and laughs.

You join him, caressing his waist.

“Oh Yoongs, we’re idiots”, you cackle.

“Yeah we are”, he says, leaning closer so he can kiss your lips.

Your giggles stop, a soft sigh replaces them as he kisses you deeply. He breaks the kiss, but stays close to nudge your cheek with his nose.

“I like this”, he says.

“Like what?” you gaze into his pretty eyes.

“Laughing with you, it’s nice.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheeks, “it’s the best.”

You and he sway from side to side, gazing deep into each other’s eyes.

“Hey, love?”

“Yes, love?”

“My dick’s still out.”

“Yeah I know”, you say and giggle, “wait, I’ll take them off.”

“Yeah okay”, Yoongi says and gasps when you fall to your knees. You tug his briefs down. Yoongi steps out of them and gasps again when you lower yourself to his feet to kiss each instep of them.

You straighten up and smile.

“My beloved”, you say, caressing his thighs.

Yoongi lowers his head and blushes.

“Did you like that?” you ask him, standing back up.

“You shouldn’t do that for me”, he whispers.

“Yoongi, don’t say that”, you warn him, caressing his waist, “I don’t want you to talk like this.”

“Sorry”, he whispers, glancing at you, “it was…not bad.”

You smile, “see? That was better, wasn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“Now hop, hop get back on bed. I’ll help you”, you say, holding his waist safely.

With your help, Yoongi manages to climb back on bed without any accidents. He gets back into the previous position, leaning into you when you claim the space behind him.

“Now we’re here again”, you say, smiling at him through the mirror.

“Yeah…”

You place your hand on the back of his head and push him down. Yoongi bends over, falling head first into the sheets. Like this, he is resting on the side of his head, breathing so heavily that he is almost wheezing.

You give him one tug on his hair, then run your fingertips down his back. You linger on his palms when you meet them, tracing his skin. He has clammy hands, grabbing for you in a desperate attempt to hold hands.

You allow him, caressing his skin.

“Relax for me, my love. You’re in safe hands.”

“I know”, Yoongi whispers, returning to his task of wheezing for air.

“Good, that’s good. I’m so gonna treat you right”, you say and lower yourself to press kisses to his lower back and tailbone.

Yoongi closes his eyes, feeling charged in pleasure. Your kisses are his fucking weakness. Feeling them dance down to his spot most sensitive feels especially ecstatic to him. He is so excited.

You bite his buttock.

“Ah”, he gasps, moving away, “hey. Don’t do that.”

You giggle, caressing the spot you bit, “but you’re yummy”, you say and bite his other side.

“___”, Yoongi laughs and whines at the same time, “that hurts, don’t do that.”

You kiss the tender spot, “says the sluttiest masochist ever. You’re just shy ‘cause I’m biting your butt.”

“And you wouldn’t be? Don’t bite my ass”, he whines.

“Mhm true, I gotta eat it instead.”

Yoongi huffs out air, mumbling something you don’t understand. You know that it probably was a shy complaint. You chuckle and grab his bouncy flesh to part it for you.

A soft pink buttplug reveals itself to your eyes. Yoongi has been wearing it ever since you started this sexy evening. It sits between his round buttocks and looks so good in him. It has also been driving him nuts. Not only because of the constant stretch, but because it kept rubbing against his prostate when he moved. It was never enough to satisfy, always keeping him on edge.

“Don’t stare, just take it out and get your tongue on there”, he orders in a bratty voice.

“You know what? I should take a video right now just so I can always stare at it, you are so fucking bratty, like damn.”

“You’re too slow, it’s not my fault.”

“Manners”, you warn and press against the plug. It shifts deep inside him, forcing him to curl his fingers and press out a curse, “I never fucking stress you when you’re slow, do I?”

“Yeah, you do”, he rasps, pushing into you.

“Lies. You’re a liar and we both know that”, you say, wrapping your fingers around the base of it to pull it out. You go just fast enough that he has no time to prepare which results in his hole to leak lube all over his balls. They glisten prettily because of it.

“Fuck”, he says, clenching around nothing.

“It’s what you get for being a brat”, you say and hold him apart so you can stare, “okay, but fuck. Look at you, you are so pretty.”

Yoongi shies away, “don’t stare, it’s weird”, he mumbles.

“Mhm no, you’re just shy”, you dismiss him, “you’ve got the prettiest hole. I’m so hungry for you”, you rasp and finally connect the flat of your tongue with his hole.

“Ah”, Yoongi gasps, tensing up and tugging at the ropes, “holy fuck, you’re so warm.”

“Mmhh”, you purr, using the opportunity of his relaxed muscles to push your tongue inside. The position, the excessive stretching and Yoongi’s secret obsession with getting his ass ate allows your tongue to slip in easily. You wiggle inside until your nose is squished against him and he’s hugging your wet tongue. Then you begin to move your head, fucking your tongue in and out his pretty hole.

“Fuck, you’re so…” he doesn’t say anything after that, pushing back into you. He can feel every single cell in his brain turn off. Your tongue will always overwhelm him. It’s so warm and so wet and Yoongi swears there is magic at the tip of it, because whenever you use it to explore his body, he sacrifices a part of his soul to you. Willingly of course. Over and over again until one day you will own his soul entirely. Maybe you already do. Yoongi doesn’t quite know how to form proper thoughts anymore. All he knows is that you are making his thighs shake against his will and his cock leak without control.

“Fuck”, you break away with him in a growl and wheeze for air, “you’re addicting. Holy fuck, your ass’s so tight”, you rasp, licking his rim with the flat of your tongue, “you’re so sweet, fuck Yoongi. I’m going crazy.”

Yoongi mumbles something unintelligible and pushes back into you.

“Use your big boy words, I can’t understand you when you mumble like this”, you say, flicking your tongue over his rim. It flutters and clenches in reaction, begging to be stuffed again.

“Is nothing”, he says loudly and clearly, “was dumb.”

“Yeah? Because for a second I thought that you wanted me to get the strap and fuck your ass, but I guess not.”

Yoongi stays silent. Huffs out air and wiggles his butt.

“Yeah, you’re right. I said that.”

You laugh, patting his butt, “I’m already getting it.”

“Hurry up”, he says.

“Shut up”, you say and push the plug back inside.

“What the fuck, urgh”, he groans, arching his back, “warn me.”

“You can take it”, you dismiss him as you get off bed and begin putting on the strap. You decided to go without panties today and a colour which matches with his ropes. You strap in the dildo he picked out and snatch the lube bottle.

“Are you done?” he asks when he feels the bed dent beside him.

“Mhm, yeah”, you say, placing yourself behind him, touching him slowly, “I love that view, sugarbutt.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“No? But you’re cute.”

He huffs out air, eliciting a chuckle from you.

“Relax my prince, I’m taking the plug out and then I’ll start. Yeah?”

“Yeah, okay”, Yoongi says and arches his back.

The plug slips out easily and gets discarded on the towel you laid out. You open the lube bottle and squeeze a healthy amount of it on two of your fingers. You connect them with his hole and push inside to spread it evenly.

He chases you instantly, wiggling his toes. It’s so adorable to watch.

“That’s so good”, he sighs under his breath.

“I know, but it’s already done. You’re all wet for me”, you say, slipping your fingers out to lube up your strap instead.

Yoongi is quiet in front of you, which is mostly to be blamed on the fact that he is fighting for his air right now. He doesn’t want to be pegged often, so he gets insanely excited whenever it is time again. He even forgets all about being bratty, because, quite frankly, all he is able to do is breathe goddamn it.

You shimmy closer and touch his hip. You guide him back onto your strap, grinding it against his hole with a smooth roll of your hips.

“Ready?”

“Yeah”, he croaks, sticking his butt out just for you.

“Take a deep breath for me, love.”

Yoongi inhales deeply, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation.

“There we go and out”, you say.

Yoongi exhales, stumbling over his own breath as you use the moment of his relaxation to enter him. He messes up his breathing and tenses up, pressing out a little squeak instead.

You pick up on it instantly, soothing him by rubbing circles into the pretty dimples on his lower back.

“Keep breathing, my love.”

Yoongi pants and squeaks, writhing desperately.

“Are you hurting? I’m pulling out if you are.”

“Don’t”, Yoongi gets out, “it’s good, but a lot. Always feels new, give me time.”

“Yeah? That’s why I need you to keep breathing for me, my love.”

“I’m trying, it’s really hard god damn it”, Yoongi throws back, making you laugh.

“You’re cute”, you say, giving his butt a soft spank.

“Oh?” Yoongi shudders, “do that again.”

You land another spank, massaging the burning flesh afterwards. He visibly relaxes on your strap, chasing you with a tilt of his hips.

“Does that help? Is that nice?” you ask him, giving him another spank.

“Yeah”, Yoongi moans, nodding his head vigorously.

“That’s good to hear, you’re doing so well”, you coo and spank him. A little harsher than before and Yoongi loves it. He moans for you, tugging on the ropes which makes him moan again because of how utterly helpless they render him.

You bottom out, giving him a second to conceptualise what is happening. His butt feels so nice against you. All plump and soft and warm. You rub your palms over it, drinking in the view of your bodies so close together.

He huffs out air, wiggling into a position that allows him to peek at you. His hair is messy, hanging into his eyes.

“What?” you ask him.

“Why did you stop?” he asks, huffing out air in a pout.

“I just wanted to give you a chance to get used to me”, you say.

“Yeah, then don’t stop”, he throws back.

“Brat”, you say with a fond smile on your lips and spank him, grabbing his soft flesh afterwards to pull him back onto your strap.

His eyes fall closed instantly, his lips part.

“Here I was trying to be gentle with you and you go and give me heat for it”, you tease, rolling your hips into him.

“Don’t…I…want it faster…fuck, keep going”, he gets out and opens his mouth widely so he can moan freely.

“Mhhm, so good. You’re taking me so well”, you lull, leaning over until you can hook your fingers in his ropes. You tug on them, forcing his bubble butt to connect with your hips this way.

With the new found leverage, you can go especially deep. Yoongi’s thighs tremble each time you do, his pretty cock leaks all over the sheets as well. It is a constant slow drip, which gets more each time you fill him out and gets a little less when you retreat.

“___”, Yoongi lets out and says nothing more after that. Just sweet little moans and gasps for air. He sounds so perfect like this.

So perfect in fact, that you are overtaken by your feelings for him. You lean down as best as you can, placing your lips on his back to kiss his heated skin. Your left arm wraps around his waist, your right hand dances to his cock. You press yourself closer until your breasts are squeezed against his back and tied up arms. Then you finally touch his cock, rubbing his nipple at the same time.

“I can’t do that for long”, he chokes out, spilling tears on the sheets.

“Does it hurt?” you ask to which he shakes his head vigorously, “so it’s nice?”

“Too nice��, he breathes out, “it’s so nice, I’ll c-cum.”

“You need that, don’t you?” you whisper sweetly, peppering kisses on his upper right arm.

“So bad”, he sighs, pressing back into you, “please.”

“Okay then”, you say, gliding your fingers to his favourite spot, “I’ll allow you.”

“Thank you”, he croaks, shuddering like crazy, “holy shit, thank you. That’s so…” he stops talking to moan instead. He feels in paradise. This is the kind of built up which is slow and gentle and the result of someone paying attention to his body. Every single second with you ever since you started this evening has lead up to this moment. And Yoongi can’t take any more.

“So pretty”, you whisper and twist your hand, hitting his prostate at the same time.

“___”, Yoongi sobs your name and lets the pressure in his tummy burst. He cums all over the sheets and your hand, convulsing like crazy because of how good it feels.

“That’s it, cum for me. You’re fucking incredible”, you encourage him, touching his cock as softly as possible. You keep rocking into him, but keep the movements to a minimum. Just slow circles back and forth to make sure his prostate gets stimulated.

And Yoongi whimpers. His thighs tremble. He hasn’t felt so much warmth in his lower body in ages. It’s so strong at first, but dies down slowly. Oh so slowly, because you make sure that he can live in this fucking perfect moment for as long as possible.

His cock stops leaking, growing softer in your fingers.

“There we go”, you rasp, “that was fucking perfect”, you praise and straighten up, sliding your hands to his hips. You don’t mind that you soil his skin with his cum and neither does Yoongi. You broaden your stance and tug him onto your strap.

“___”, Yoongi gasps, balling his hands to fists.

“Too much? I want one more from you. Can you take it?” you speak sweetly.

He nods his head vigorously, “just…deeper please.”

“Anything for you, my prince”, you say and press yourself closer. You angle your hips differently, making sure that as much of your strap as possible disappears inside his pretty hole, “like this, love?”

“Yes”, he croaks and drops into the sheets as his weakened muscles give up on him.

“Oh?” you gasp. Your cock slips out of him, leaving behind a sticky mess of lube, “careful baby.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hold it anymore”, he says, arching his butt into the air, “back, please.”

“Mhhm, gladly,” you say and after using the opportunity to spread more lube on your strap, slip back into him. He is tighter in the position, pressing out a loud sound of surprise. He drops his butt, now lying on the sheets with his cheek squished against the mattress and his cock squeezed between his body and sheets.

“Holy fuck”, he presses out, scrunching his face up. Then he groans. It borders a very raspy and deep purr and vibrates in his back. He can’t help it. He feels every inch entering and stretching him and that shit feels so good that he has to make sounds.

“Good?” you ask him with your hungry eyes glued to where you disappear. His hole looks so delicate and as if you could break it easily and yet it is taking you with such little struggle.

“Good”, he purrs and groans again, parting his lips for it.

“You’re the best”, you praise and bottom out. You place your hands on his lower back for leverage and begin moving your hips instantly.

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out, wiggling his arms and failing, “fuck, ___ fucking- ah.”

“Do you like that?” you ask breathlessly.

“Yeah, I do. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t. You have no fucking idea how good that feels for me”, you say and moan, putting your all into giving him the best fuck of his life. You deepen your thrusts, speeding them up just enough that the gentle sound of skin meeting skin fills the air and Yoongi retorts to moaning deeply as he drools all over the sheets like a mindless, sex-dumb idiot.

He feels like one. There is not a single thought in this man’s brain right now. Except for your name, how good this feels and more renditions of your name. He is done for. Ruined. Gone. The ropes keep preventing him from wiggling away, from reaching behind himself and griping you and from twisting the sheets. The constricted movements just make the fuck all the more incredible.

“I love this”, he moans proudly, “please ___ don’t slow down, please fuck me.”

“Fuck Yoongi”, you press out, furrowing your brows in pleasure, “keep talking like this and I will.”

“Fuck me”, he begs. His muscles are melting away. He can’t move an inch. He is so weak and helpless right now. Yoongi soaks up that feeling like an addict.

“So perfect. Holy fucking shit you’re the most perfect man”, you praise and tense up as pleasure courses through you. You deepen your thrusts because of it, letting out a deep growl as your fingers squeeze his waist.

“Fuck me”, he groans, “fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me”, he repeats the words like it’s a mantra. And to him it is. Fuck me. Please goddamn fuck me and let me feel this longer. He hopes you understand.

“Yoongi”, you press out and pant for air. You have to give it to him. You got to fuck him. This is all you want to do. To give him pleasure, “fuck, I’m so done for. You’re ruining me, my prince.”

“Oh god”, Yoongi groans and trembles, “there!”

“There?”

You fuck your cock into him like you did before, forcing a loud moan out of him. It sounds unlike him and leaves your body feeling weak. Yoongi nods his head vigorously and moans again. There was one other occasion where he was as loud as he is right now. When he was drunk and bounced on your strap.

To think that you got him so good that he let go of his restraints to such extent, forces unbearable warmth through your body. Your hips stutter and mess up.

“Fuck, sorry”, you croak and collapse into him. You hug him against your chest, using the intimate position to moan into the sheets beside him.

“Are you-”

“Yes”, you croak, “sorry, fuck you were so…Yoongi….” you can’t help it. Being with Yoongi and giving him pleasure will always make you orgasm. Especially when he is so unapologetically himself. He makes you crazy. He really fucking does.

“Princess”, he chokes out, staring at you even if you are blurry from closeness, “so fucking hot. Fuck.”

“Yoongi”, you feel emotionally ruined after your high, pulling him snug against your chest and littering his face with kisses. You have to. You love him so much that it’s hard to breathe. Yoongi accepts the kisses with shy whimpers, spilling tears on the sheets because of how happy he feels.

“I love you”, you choke out, chasing him with deep rolls of your hips, “I love you so fucking much, holy fuck Yoongi I wanna give you the fucking world.”

“___ it feels so good”, Yoongi whimpers, melting under you. Your weight feels so good on top of him, your hug is heaven and your cock is hitting his prostate over and over again. It also stretches his hole in a position it wasn’t used to yet, which adds another layer of breathtaking intensity to the fuck. Yoongi feels so full, so stuffed, so filled with you.

“It feels like fucking heaven”, you moan and grab a bundle of his hair just to tilt his head and kiss him. His lips are wet, trembling in a grateful whimper as they try to find your rhythm. The kiss is messy and sloppy, but honest. So goddamn honest that you feel the effect in the deepest parts of your souls.

You are so close. Nothing could separate you and him. Your skins are melted together and your bodies are one. Yoongi peels his eyes open and breaks the kiss. He has to look at you. Your eyes meet his’ instantly. The love in them makes him dizzy.

“I love you”, you whisper, playing with his hair.

“I love you”, he chokes out, rolling his eyes back and closing them, “oh god.”

“Beautiful”, you whisper, cradling his cheek, “holy fuck, you’re beautiful. I fucking love you.”

“Keep talking”, he moans, meeting your movements with uncoordinated, desperate wiggles of his hips.

“That’s it love, keep fucking back onto me. You’re such a pretty, beautiful good boy. You have no idea how obsessed I am with you. I’m fucking crazy for you”, you pant, drinking in his features with tears in your eyes. He looks so peaceful and at the same time ecstatic with pleasure.

“More please”, he begs, moving his fingers just to feel something from you. It feels so good to touch you, even if it is barely a touch. Your skin is so soft. Your weight is so nice on him. Oh, how warm you are.

“My beautiful prince”, you caress his cheek, “my beautiful, beautiful love. You are so special and wonderful and fucking lovely.”

“Oh god”, he groans and convulses, “oh god, you’re making me- I’m gonna cum”, he croaks and moans with trembling thighs.

“Don’t hold back, I’m right here”, you assure him and close in to kiss his face, “I love you, Min Yoongi.”

“___”, he whimpers and breaks, falling into his high with such intensity he finds it hard to function. You do that to him. Always and every time, you get him to feel so good that his orgasm takes his fucking breath away. Today is no different. To be so weak and helpless and to have you hit his prostate over and over again while you say such wonderful things to him feels like heaven. A heaven which finds its crescendo with fiery pleasure deep inside him and his cock leaking cum all over the sheets.

Yoongi moans and he has no control over it. He shakes and he can’t stop it. He tries to kiss you only to moan against your lips and he isn’t embarrassed by it. By nothing. He isn’t embarrassed at all, because you told him such wonderful things that he feels invincible.

“That’s it my love, there we go. Cum for me, that’s it”, you talk him through it, moving your hips slowly to help him ride it out. You love making him feel that good. It’s so goddamn rewarding to you.

“There, there, there”, he squeaks, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as possible.

“There we go, that’s it. My beautiful prince, oh my beautiful love. Look at you, I love you”, you encourage him, fucking him how he needs it. He is rutting into the sheets, meeting your movements. Oh how he wheezes and pants, it’s so adorable.

“Oh go-”, he gets out and then reaches the highest form of pleasure as he squirts all over the sheets.

“Perfect, you’re fucking perfect”, you moan, kissing his face throughout the ecstasy, “my Yoongi. Oh, my love.”

Yoongi comes down after seven harsh thrusts. He grows limp on the sheets with a whimper, his thighs still shake and he feels pulsating in his groin. It’s such a nice sensation because it reminds him of a heartbeat. He feels so alive because of you.

“Good job”, you praise him, kissing his forehead over and over again, “I’m so proud of you, that was amazing.”

“No more”, he murmurs, “too tight.”

“Of course”, you stop your hips instantly, “I’ll just quickly pull out, is that okay?”

“Yeah, is okay.”

You straighten up and slip out of him. Lube spills out of him, mixing with the mess of pleasure he released all over the sheets.

“So messy”, you tease, caressing his butt. His skin is still a little red from the impact you had when you fucked your hips into him, “I’ll get you a towel, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You undo the spell on his ropes once you retrieved the towel, helping him slip out of the ropes by undoing them. He wiggles his wrists first then uses his elbow to flip over.

“Urgh god”, he groans.

“What’s wrong now?”

“My ass landed in my cum. It’s fucking rancid”, he whines.

“You are so dumb”, you say and laugh loudly, “here, wait let me clean you.”

“No”, he says, “no, just hug me”, he whines and falls around your neck.

“Uh?” you get out, falling to your butt. He pushes you down into the sheets, claiming his rightful place atop of you, “careful”, you giggle, hugging him back.

“Don’t clean me, hug me.”

“Of course, my love. You are so cute”, you say, holding him tightly as he rests atop your body with his head resting in the sheets next to yours.

“I’m happy”, he says and giggles, swaying your bodies from side to side.

“I’m happy too, my love”, you say, caressing his back. He is so adorable when he gets clingy. Good sex always does that to him, “you are so fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you”, he says and it makes you smile because he finally doesn’t deflect the compliment, instead he accepts it.

“And you took me so well. It literally makes me so wet when you act so into it.”

“I don’t act, I am”, he says and rubs himself against you like a cuddly cat, ending it with a nudge of his nose against your cheek and a soft giggle.

“You’re so cute.”

“Today was good. Yeah. I liked it.”

“I liked it too. Was I too rough?”

“No, you were good”, he assures you, giving you an adoring gaze. You crane your neck just so you can meet it.

“I was?”

“Yeah. It didn’t hurt at all and felt good. Yeah. I loved it a lot.”

“That’s so good to hear. You were the best, my love”, you say, cupping his cheek.

Yoongi leans into the touch and closes his eyes halfway. He smiles without showing his teeth, placing his hand over yours.

“You’re hot”, he whispers.

“I am?”

He nods his head, “the magic was so sexy.”

You snicker, “right? You were adorable when you tried to fight the ropes.”

“I couldn’t move”, he smiles boyishly “yeah. That was good. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Yeah. Loved it”, he looks at your lips dreamily, “wanna do it again.”

“Me too. We’ll include it more often then, yeah?”

“Mh-hm yeah”, he closes his eyes, “thank you.”

You kiss his forehead, “you’re cute.”

Yoongi purrs happily and gives your body a soft squeeze.

“Wanna cook together?” he asks.

“What about cleaning up?”

“Yeah, after that.”

“Yes, that sounds nice. Do you feel ready for it?”

“Mhm yeah, I heal too fast”, he pouts, “I’m too energised.”

You laugh, “that’s good though. The sleepiness is gone.”

Yoongi complained about being too sleepy this morning.

“Yeah, true. Wanna have salmon today?”

“Sure, let’s have salmon”, you say with a smile, rolling him to his back and sitting down on his lap. You pin his hands above his head, “you’re eating my pussy as dessert. That’s an order.”

“Don’t say that. Why would I wanna fucking cook now? Fuck, just give me your pussy now”, he whines.

“Mhm, no”, you say, pecking his lips, “I’m not gonna put on panties, make with this information what you want”, you whisper and climb off of him to take off your strap. You slip on a silken rope. It stops a little under your butt.

You turn when it is already hugging your waist. Yoongi is sitting on bed, staring at you with dark eyes.

“What’s the matter?” you ask him, swaying your shoulders playfully.

“One day you’re gonna play too fucking much and you’re gonna see me snap”, he murmurs, getting off bed. He slips on his rope, staring you down darkly.

You snicker, “mhm, that’s what I’m hoping for”, you say, turning to finally leave.

“Princess com’ere”, Yoongi whines and follows you in a cute waddle, “don’t abandon me, I want you.”

He manages to catch up with you a mere ten steps away from bed, lifting you off the ground with his arms around your waist. You squeak, accepting your fate of being carried back to bed happily.

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flynnriderishot · 3 months

Note

I might die if we don't get scandals part 3

scandals pt.3 - c.s

a/n: chill bae 😭😔

it’s been two days since chris has sent you those flowers and he felt absolutely terrible at your lack of response. of course, nick told him if your thankfulness but he wanted you to tell him. he wanted some sort of indication that you forgave him for his mistake.

then again, he knew he wasn’t dating an easily forgiving woman.

you’ve only ever opened his messages he’s sent you since then, constant apologies filling your messages and ‘read at 1:35 pm’ being at the bottom of his screen every time.

today, he and his brothers were filming a video and you had promised matt and nick weeks ago that you would participate. he knew you were a woman of your word and never backed down so he was fully expecting to see you today. which is why he went out of his way to drag force matt to the store to stock up on your favorite snacks.

while this was a normal occurrence anytime you showed up at their house, he knew you appreciated the gesture.

so he sat on the couch with his leg bouncing up and down whilst he waited for your arrival.

nick was setting up the camera while matt changed his outfit for the third time that night. chris looked down at his own attire and wondered if maybe he should make himself a bit more presentable for you.

the thought immediately flew from his mind when he heard the doorbell ring.

“I got it!” he shouted, startling nick, who stared in disbelief at his sudden energy.

“you were gonna get it anyway.”

he hesitated in opening the door, clearing his throat before finally doing so.

“hi.” he breathed out, staring down at you with a small smile.

“hi, christopher.” you greeted, “can i come in?”

he stepped aside, “of course. i got you your favorite—what the fuck, matt!?”

the middle triplet stopped mid chew, “what?”

“that’s not yours asshole.” chris snatched the candy out of his hand, earning a shove from his older brother.

“i drove you there so i’ll eat what i want.” matt rolled his eyes, “hi, yn.”

“hey, matt.” you chuckled, knowing he was purposely trying to irritate chris to ‘avenge’ you as he stated in your texts.

“can we start filming now, or what?” matt interrupted, pulling you into a quick side hug while simultaneously walking you around the counter, “it’s blind, deaf, and mute by the way.”

•••

sturnioloupdate made a post !

comments

lovelysturn matt knows something

>>> ynsbabe the smile says all 😌

mattsgirl ‘hey guys, today we’re doing a blind, deaf and mute challenge again!’ *22 minutes of chris watching yn and no baking getting done*

>>> ynxchris you’ll see no complaints from me 😌

nicksmelanie THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE BAKING 😭 WHY WERE MATT AND NICK HARDLY PARTICIPATING?!

>>> ynsbaby $17 says that chris is trying to make it up to yn and nick and matt only let him help her because they’re good brothers

>>> vinniesbabygirl 17 is so specific 😭💀

>>> chrissssturn make what up to her?! i’m confused

>>> reallysturn chris apparently accused yn of cheating and it was proven that she didn’t so now people chris is in the doghouse

tap to view more comments

•••

after filming, matt and nick ventured off to their bedrooms, leaving you alone with chris.

you weren’t too upset that they did this, feeling that now is a better time than ever to finally speak to him.

“baby—yn.” he corrected himself, not wanting to upset you anymore than he already has.

“thank you for the flowers, and the note, it was sweet.” you stood up from your spot on the couch, “i’m going to go home.”

he jumped up, “already?”

“filming is done, no?”

“yn, we need to talk.” his voice cracked at the last word, showing you just how much he needed to speak to you, “i’m tired of not being able to see you.”

“chris—“

“and i know it’s my fault, okay? i shouldn’t have accused you of something so big but you have to understand where i’m coming from.” he practically begged you to listen.

“you hurt my feelings, christopher.” you crossed your arms over your chest, “you proved to me that you have so little trust in me and our relationship over one simple photo. i have the right to be upset.”

he nodded, knowing full well that this was true.

chris’ shoulders sagged as you opened the door, his voice coming out desperate as he watched you leave, “i love you.”

you looked back, speaking up before shutting the door behind you, “i love you too, chris.”

chris.

he let of a short sigh, nodding slightly to himself.

you’re getting somewhere.

taglist: @kiera324 @strnlsblog @blahbel668 @noirpxrker @strniololoverr @sleepysturnss @leah-loves-lilies @sturniolopepsi @gigisworldsstuff @1201pm @breeloveschris @ksskianshd @shenya-chan @p1xieswrld @dancemomsfanee @whicked-hazlatwhore @stinkytinkywinky

LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH 😭💋⁉️

yall were on my ass about pt 3 so here you go 😔💋

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo

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blessedwithabadomen · 3 months

Text

The Hands of Temptation

Oli Sykes x Reader x Noah Sebastian • smut 🔥 • 3.7k words

Hi!! This is my first time writing both Oli and Noah because I've been bloody obsessed with them since they started this tour together and I'm already working on a longer story with several chapters because I'm nowhere near done with these two!! I hope you enjoy this, comments and reblogs and asks would be lovely and soooo appreciated 💗

•••

Taking time off from work to follow a tour wasn’t exactly anything new to you. Live music had been your saving grace for years and you’d basically started travelling to see shows as soon as you’d turned old enough to rent hotel rooms. It was a lifestyle you were well adjusted to. This tour, however, still held a sense of excitement and novelty that wasn’t even remotely comparable to those you’d done in the past - mainly because this time, you were following your boyfriend’s tour.

Your train had gotten into Cardiff terribly late, leaving you to hop into a cab immediately and all but dump your suitcase in Oli’s dressing room before roaming the venue to find him. You waved to several people you’d gotten to know over the past months you’d been dating Oli until someone pointed you into a direction that seemed promising and then finally, finally the arms you’d been missing so much were wrapped around your body.

In fact, you had barely registered that you had found the right place when you were pressed agains a solid chest, strong hands keeping you in his embrace, a familiar scent infiltrating your nose. You relaxed into him immediately, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you let all tension go, holding onto the man you loved.

“Missed you so much,” he mumbled into you hair, pressing a soft short kiss to it before letting you go. You finally took all of him in.

He was prepared for the show already, dressed in his stage outfit, in all red, a cropped jacket and nothing underneath. You let your hands run over the skin on his belly, moving upwards to rest them on his chest. He smirked down at you, only reluctantly taking hold of your wrists and removing himself from your touch.

“Love, if you don’t keep your hands off me, I’ll never get on stage.”

You made a second attempt, allowing him to let go of you just for you to immediately reach for him again, but he was quicker. With a surprisingly smooth move, he had you pinned against the wall behind you, hands over your head, lingering close but not touching in any other way than to keep you still.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not enjoying this,” you teased back.

“That’s why I need to keep you at arm’s length. Because in a minute, I’ll be enjoying this too much.”

Oli pressed his lips to yours, soft and strong at the same time, and you wanted nothing more than to deepen the kiss, but as quickly as he was on you, he was gone again.

“Now be a good girl and behave. Until after the show.”

The door flying open was as unexpected as it was shocking, making you jump slightly under Oli’s grip. Both of you turned your heads toward the intruder, which turned out to be none other than Noah Sebastian, looking like a deer in the headlights. Oli didn’t even pretend to let go of you a little.

“Wrong fucking room, Noah,” Oli shouted, but not without a grin on his face. It seemed to pull Noah out of his stupor. He shook his head, clearly amused at the situation, giving you one more look before shutting the door again.

But oh, you’d seen something in his eyes.

•••

It was over halfway through Bring Me The Horizon’s set, which you were watching with awe and love from the side of the stage, hidden away from the view of everyone apart from the band itself, when Noah made his next appearance. You knew from Oli that he was going to go on stage with him for Antivist, but he was a little early and you couldn’t help but wonder if you played a part in that.

“Noah, but I think you already know that,” he said as he offered you his hand. Your eyes travelled over the tattoo there, how it made his large hand look almost delicately beautiful, before taking it. You almost jerked away when his skin touched yours, an electric current making its way through your body and ending right between your legs.

When you looked up at his face again, you knew you weren’t the only one who felt it. He quickly pulled back, as if your touch was fire to his skin. For a moment, you genuinely questioned why. Then you remembered he had seen you with Oli. He had no reason to know it was fair game still.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you were staring at each other when a stage hand appeared out of nowhere to let him know he was going to be on in a minute. All you could do was quickly tell him your name in return before he took his place, put on his mask, and seconds later, walked out onto the stage to roaring applause.

The two of them were a force to behold together. You couldn’t take your eyes off them. Their voices, their performance, their energy. You wondered how all of it would translate to an entirely different domain.

•••

For some reason, you were still backstage. The show had ended a little while ago and usually, Oli would be impatient to leave, get you to a hotel room and do everything he’d been promising to do for you for weeks, but instead, you both lingered. You were in his lap, leaning against his chest, his hands possessively tracing over your legs, and when you saw Noah take a seat opposite you, you wondered if this had been Oli’s plan all along.

Noah had buried his head in his phone, but you could easily see him glancing over the edge of the screen again and again. You noticed a movement from your boyfriend, a cough, and suddenly the backstage room was empty bar the three of you. Oli pulled you a little closer. You could feel his heartbeat against your back and you wondered if it was the same for him.

“Trust me?” he asked, as if it was any question at all. If there was one thing our whole relationship centered around it was the idea of full, unquestionable, all-enveloping trust. It had always been detrimental for you, but being in an open realtionship now, there was simply no way for it to work without it. So yes, you trusted him, fully, with your whole being. Whatever he was planning, whatever he wanted to do to you, with you, for you, he knew your limits as well as your kinks and fantasies. So you melted into his arms, ready and willing for him to take the reigns.

“Good show, Noah,” Oli turned to him. Any secret spying over the edge of his phone screen was immediately abandoned to openly stare back at your boyfriend… and you. It removed all other thoughts from your brain, your ears suddenly unable to take in the small talk they were pretending to have, as you felt yourself coming alive under Noah’s eyes.

Under Noah’s eyes and Oli’s hands. His fingers were toying with your fishnet tights, pulling at the strings and letting it snap back against your skin, the warmth of his hands seeping through, becoming bolder, moving all over. There was no break in the conversation, no sign that he was affected at all, as he put his hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading them apart, but you could feel him against you, growing harder already. Noah gulped audibly which would have gotten a chuckle out of you if Oli hadn’t chosen that moment to toy with the soft fabric of your hotpants.

Noah was apparently losing the gift of speech quickly, as his sentences made less and less sense, ridden with fillers and pauses, eyes flicking up and down your body. You were happy to indulge him. Spreading your legs a little further still, Oli chuckled into your ear, obviously amused at you being so eager, and let his fingers slip under the crotch of your shorts. It was a tight squeeze that had you gasping at the sudden intensity of his touch, even through your panties, but it had the desired effect on Noah, who stood up rather abruptly, then sat back down as the realisation dawned that his pants left nothing to the imagination anymore, a pillow thrown into his lap. You couldn’t help but sigh at the idea of getting a little closer to the very thing tenting his fabric now.

“You wanna fuck her, don’t you?” Oli said, voice still fully under control as his fingers moved slightly against your heat. “Seen the way you look at my girlfriend. Were you gonna do anything about that or just go back to your room and jack off?”

Noah was back on his feet now, wincing slightly as he held the pillow closer, as if it made any difference at all, a defensive stance as he took a step back. “Listen, Oli, I’m sorry, I know she’s your girl, I wasn’t-”

Oli’s laugh stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Sit the fuck down, Noah.” In his apparent confusion, he did as told. “I love this one more than anything,” Oli said, pressing a quick kiss to your hair that added a flutter to your stomach that, for once, had nothing to do with his hand between your legs. “But you know how it is. We don’t always see each other a lot. Tour, recording, her work. So we’ve got an agreement. When we’re apart, we’re free to fuck other people. Well… we’re not apart right now, but we might try something new. Isn’t that right, love?” You could only nod, more than ready to go with whatever he was planning. “Don’t you wanna take Noah here back to our room? While I watch? Bet he can fuck you real good.”

Noah’s pillow was all but forgotten. You didn’t know him very well, but he didn’t seem like the type to be lost for words very often, but now, not a single sound managed to leave his mouth as he stared at you, Oli’s hand between your thighs, Oli’s face, back to yours, as if waiting for someone to jump up and call it all a prank.

When it didn’t come, his reaction was clear.

“I’ll call a taxi.”

•••

Hooking up with a stranger wasn’t new. Hooking up with Noah Sebastian while your boyfriend was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the hotel room watching your every move proved to be very different. His eyes seemed to be burning holes into you and if you had been any less sure that he was more than into this, it would have made you self-conscious.

But Noah was looking down at you with hunger and desire and it made your skin prickle in a way that had you anticipating his every move.

“No kissing on the mouth,” you explained. It was the one rule that you and Oli had given each other and you’d never disregarded it. As far as you knew, neither had he. “Apart from that…” You slung your arms around his neck, pulling him slightly down to you, letting your breath hit his ear as you spoke. “...do with me whatever you like.”

He didn’t wait for any further invitation. His lips were on your neck, a soft kiss turning into a bite within seconds, his arms wrapping around you, hands coming to rest on your ass. You sighed into him as your fingers tangled into his hair, but he didn’t indulge you for long. Walking you backwards, step by step, you felt him lift his head away from you, only for him to push you onto the bed with such force that the mattress bounced under your body once, twice, before settling down.

Without letting you out of his sight, Noah started undressing. Your eyes were trained on him as he took off his shirt, revealing a body that had you even more impatient for what was to come, followed by his trousers, revealing a growing hard-on. You instinctively sat up, reaching out for him, but he gave you a simple look that had you listen to every word he didn’t even need to say.

When it came to undressing you, he abandoned all thoughts of being gentle. Your shirt was all but ripped from your body before he went to work on your shorts, pulling them down along with your fishnets. A gasp left your mouth as his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, right where Oli’s had been just a little while ago.

Oli.

Your eyes wavered away from Noah as you turned your head toward your boyfriend. Oli had slid down the seat a little, eyes considerably darker than the last time you’d looked at them, mouth slightly open, palming himself over his trousers. He was a fucking vision.

“Eyes on me,” Noah barked, immediately making you turn back as he roughly pushed the cups of your bra down, not even bothering to remove the piece of clothing completely as his mouth descended on your breasts. You arched against him enthusiastically, hands back in his hair, as he flicked his tongue against your nipple, fingers massaging the other, then bit down on it with such sudden ferocity that you gasped and moaned all at once. Switching to your other tit, his movements remained unpredictable, keeping you on the edge as he varied between soft touches and harsh treatments.

“You love it, don’t you,” he mumbled against your neck as he peppered it with love bites that would surely bruise by tomorrow. “Having him watch us. Knowing I’m gonna fuck you until you scream. Knowing I get to touch all of you. That I’m gonna be the one to make you come undone. And all he can do it watch and wish it was him.”

All you could do was babble in nonsensical agreement, grasping at whatever flesh you could find, unable to focus on anything in particular, with his mouth on your neck, one of his hands still on your breast as the other started tugging at the waistband of your soaked panties, his dick hard against your leg. Your thighs wrapped around him on their own accord, you were barely aware of it, until he chuckled in your ear, calling you desperate. You knew you were. You didn’t mind. You knew Oli loved you like this, too.

“Can I eat you out?” The change in tone from Noah almost gave you whiplash. It amazed you how quickly he could switch from dominant, almost mean, to careful, attentive to you comfort. You nodded enthusiastically. Your panties were being dragged down your legs. “Spread those thighs for me, show us how wet you are.”

It was only when Noah slid down your body that you realised that Oli had not only gotten up from his seat, but had gotten rid of a majority of his clothes too, only his boxershorts remaining, one hand vanished underneath the fabric as he stroked himself, positioning his body closer to the bed to get a front-view seat of what was happening. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but having another man go down on you, touch you, kiss and bite the insides of your thighs as your boyfriend watched, so obviously turned on by the sight of it all, had you feeling close to climax long before Noah actually slipped his tongue into you.

It was unexpected. You had anticipated it on your clit, perhaps sloppily licking against you, but instead it was inside of you and fuck, he knew what he was doing.

You could have spent eternity with his head between your legs, but as good as his tongue and his fingers were against and inside and all over you, you desperately needed more. Clawing at the back of his head, you pulled him up, groaning at the sight of his chin, his mouth covered in your wetness. It almost made you want him to continue.

“Please, Noah,” you whined instead, “more, I need you.”

You didn’t know where Oli had kept the condom, but it was being handed to Noah the second he moved, as your boyfriend climbed onto the bed next to you. Leaning down to you, he put a hand on your throat, lightly enough not to choke, but with enough pressure to let you know he was there. It distracted you enough that it came as a surprise when you felt Noah’s dick push against you. Your legs fell apart once more and as soon as he started entering you, you were reduced to nothing more but a moaning mess.

“Fuck her hard.”

Noah didn’t hesitate. As soon as he filled you up, he set up a hard, punishing rhythm that had you moving up and down the bed with every thrust. He was so big inside of you that you were sure he would be able to split you in two if he tried and you loved it. His groans were spurring you on further, lost in the way he was trying to hold on as he fucked you, your boyfriend’s hand still on you, then another hand on your clit, you weren’t sure whose, it didn’t matter. You felt yourself getting closer, closer, but it wasn’t quite getting you there, so close to the edge but something was missing, your nails clawing at whatever you could find.

“Kiss her,” Oli decided.

Noah almost faltered in his rhythm, almost.

You looked up at Oli, questions filling your brain as your brows furrowed, wanting to ask if he was sure about this, if he really wanted to cross that line, making sure that he wasn’t just saying it in the heat of the moment, but he nodded and you believed what you saw in his eyes. It was all you needed to grab onto the back of Noah’s neck and pull him to you, his lips meeting yours in frenzied movements as he never ceased fucking you roughly.

It worked immediately. With his mouth on yours and his tongue still carrying your taste, he gave you a searing kiss that had you falling apart. Just like he had told you earlier, you almost screamed as you came onto his dick and he relentlessly fucked you through it until you were whimpering, begging for a break, your whole body shaking.

“Fuck, love, I’m gonna need to shag you,” Oli groaned. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Noah pulled out of you, almost leaving you crying at the sudden emptiness, and your mind was still a whirlwind as two sets of hands started manipulating your body, pushing and pulling at you, with care but firmly, until you were in the desired position.

“Gonna suck me off while he fucks you?” Noah asked. He was sitting in front of you now, stroking his large dick, begging you to do for him what he had just done for you, as Oli pushed you on all fours, ass up toward him. You couldn’t even answer Noah before your boyfriend entered you. There was no time for you to come down or for your body to recover as Oli started fucking you, aided by the wetness Noah had caused between your thighs. You quickly nodded at the younger man, moving his hands away to envelop his dick with your mouth.

He shouldn’t have tasted that good, he really shouldn’t have, but as he started rutting up against you, all you could do was relax your throat as much as possible and take him deep, swallowing it all, enjoying the heaviness of it on your tongue. Noah’s hand in your hair pushed you down further. Oli had no qualms about taking what he needed either. His fingers were digging into your hips, holding you just the way he wanted you, thrusting into you again and again to the point where you knew you’d have trouble walking tomorrow. It immediately made the fire in your belly start up again, rising to a crescendo in record time.

“You gonna come again?” Oli grunted from behind you. “You gonna suck him off and come on my dick?”

You wanted to nod, you wanted to answer him, but all you could do was hum in agreement. The vibration was enough to set Noah off as he came, low groans accompanying him coming down your throat in spurts, and you did your best to swallow it all, licking him clean when he finally let go of your head. Oli immediately doubled his efforts, fucking you faster and harder and you didn’t think it was going to get any better until he told you to touch yourself. You obeyed.

Squeezing around him was all it took for Oli to shoot his load. Holding you tightly in place, he chanted you name as he filled you up. You came again, sobbing, your arms failing to hold you up anymore, fully collapsing on the bed. He carefully pulled out, making sure you landed safely on the mattress, harsh fingertips now soft.

You knew you needed to get cleaned up, get settled properly, but exhaustion and pure satisfaction came over you in equal waves, so you stayed, lying on your front, a serene smile on your face. Oli was next to you, on his back, turning his head just enough to grin widely at you. Taking your hand, he left a sweet kiss on your palm.

There was some shuffling behind you and when you lifted your head just enough to see, you realised that Noah was halfway out the bed already. Quickly reaching out for him, you stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey, don’t go.”

He looked back at you and Oli. He was entirely fucked out but now that the passion was fading, he seemed almost insecure at intruding.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna-”

“Whatever my girl says goes,” Oli commented.

Noah only took one more second before dropping back into bed with the two of you, slinging an arm around your middle and hugging close to you.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a cuddler,” you grinned as Oli mirrored his movements from the other side, effectively caging you into the safest embrace you’d ever known.

“I’m sure there’s a lot left to find out,” he chuckled.

Oli laughed from behind you. “Good thing we got the rest of tour to have fun with that.”

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #oli sykes #oli sykes fic #noah sebastian smut #oli sykes smut #noah sebastian x reader #oli sykes x reader #noah sebastian imagine #oli sykes imagine

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lebrookestore · 4 months

Text

sixteen | l.dh [part ii]

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x reader

Themes: strangers to lovers, highschool! au, coming of age, lovers to exes, exes to lovers to ??, producer! donghyuck (very lightly explored), roommates! au but with a twist, second chance romance, slowburn, angst, fluff, romance, PG 15. (moodboards: i | ii)

Warnings: profanity, heavy ANGST, kissing, food, underage alcohol consumption and alcohol consumption in general, drug use, smoking (vaping, cigarettes and weed consumptions), crude humour, teenagers doing dumb shit as teenagers do, cheating, betrayal.

Word count: 21.6k

Summary: Youth is always accompanied with a fragile glimmer of hope, with you and Donghyuck viewing the world through the rosiest of glasses. But as the ephemeral days of teenage foolishness bleed into the harshness of adulthood, the rosy hue begins to diminish, and you learn that for some people, it just isn’t meant to be.

Playlist: here

Notes from brooke: here it is!! the second and final part of this fic that has taken me a whole year to write and i'm as proud of it as I am nervous to put out the rest of it here for all of you. as always, feedback would be much appreciated<3

➳ read part i here!!

vii] now.

The aroma of coffee beans being ground wafted through the air, somehow managing to brighten your foul mood. You had never been much of a morning person and could barely start your day without some form of caffeine in your system. On most days, you made your coffee at home before setting out to work, but today you wanted to treat yourself a little bit, and what better way than to put your money towards something practical?

(This was a hundred percent your attempt at trying to convince yourself the overpriced eight dollar coffee you had just ordered was worth it.)

“Iced Latte for Y/n?”

You got up from the stool you had occupied, making your way over to the counter and barista who had called for you. In another life, you would be one of those cool working ladies who managed to down americanos without flinching, but in this one you were quite content with the milky sweet goodness of a latte. You handed over the money you owed and lifted the straw to your lips, sighing in happiness as soon as the drink hit your tastebuds.

“Hey, I had placed my order…” A man's voice startled you, but it wasn’t the abruptness that caught you off guard- that was pretty typical for a busy Tuesday morning in New York- but rather the familiarity of it as it trailed off. You spun on your heel quickly, coming face to face with a rather dumbfounded looking Donghyuck.

You stared at him, lips parting in surprise at his presence there. The barista behind cleared her throat expectantly, waiting for Donghyuck to reiterate his drink order.

He snapped out of the initial shock of seeing you at that. “Right, sorry. I had asked for a caramel frappe about ten minutes ago?” Of course he still had the same order from when you were teenagers, one that was much sweeter than yours.

“Oh yes, it's ready. Sorry for the delay sir!” Her cheery voice rang out as she held out the drink.

You were still rooted to the spot in front of him.

He pressed his lips together, cocking his head to the side to silently motion towards the counter, signalling that you were currently in his way. “Uh.”

“Oh.” You stepped out of the line, feeling embarrassment quickly creep up upon you for your slowness right then. He grabbed his drink, and moved out of the way for the next person as well, stopping before you for a second, eyes lingering on your face as if trying to read your expression, gauging whether he should say something or not.

Terribly self conscious, you took another sip of the latte you held, though it did nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. He sighed softly, seemingly deciding that doing nothing was for the best, and walked away.

What were the odds of you running into him like this? You had banked on only having to see him when Yeonmi had him over, but now you realised that was incredibly naive of you, since run ins were bound to happen from time to time. It seemed that your naivety from your youth hadn’t quite run out yet.

Often, you thought about how you had been so quick to shut down his pleas to talk about things with you that one movie night, how defensive you had been from the get go. He had done his best to be cautious while approaching the topic, as if he had seen the mental caution tape you had wrapped around your heart when it came to him, but you had been so afraid.

Afraid that whatever explanation he provided you with wouldn’t be sufficient to heal the would he had inflicted. Afraid that if you even began to let him in, you’d forgive him immediately and feel pathetic about dismissing the part of you that was so angry at being left behind without so much as a goodbye.

But as you watched him walk away and to the door of the cafe, you couldn’t help but wonder why you didn’t let him speak.

Wasn’t closure something everyone wanted and deserved? You more than anyone knew this and maybe that's what you would have gotten if you hadn’t been so stubborn that night.

Your legs moved on their own, carrying you towards his departing figure. “Wait!”

He stilled, turning around slowly to make sure it was him you were talking to, which was a surprise in itself to him. You bit down on your lower lip, scrambling to find the words you needed to communicate with him.

“Do you have a few minutes?”

His gaze softened the way it used to when it came to you and he nodded. “I can make time.”

You glanced down at your watch, grateful for actually having one sitting on your wrist. In truth, you had only bought it after noting how almost everyone in your workplace wore one. It didn’t seem professional to constantly be checking your phone for the time, but you did it anyway, leaving the watch to be just another accessory you donned.

Right now, its utility made itself known. 8:00 am. “I have to be in office in an hour,” you informed him. “So I can’t stay long but….we can talk?” You mentally winced at how you ended what you had hoped to be a confident statement as a question.

“I’d like that.”

The two of you made your way to a small table in the back, sitting opposite each other. You were grateful for the window on your left, which served as a good distraction from the man in front of you. Cars whizzed by on the busy NYC streets, painting the scene in a blur of reds and yellows against the grey concrete background.

He tapped his fingers against the table periodically, the rhythm finally giving you the courage you needed to begin.

“You were right,” you said finally, desperately searching for the words to appropriately approach the topic at hand. “We do need to talk. I should have listened.”

“It’s okay, I should have approached it differently considering,” he paused, mulling over what he was about to say, not wanting to be insensitive but also not wanting to underplay the severity of what you felt. “Well, everything.”

“It’s fine.”

Clearly, this was going nowhere and was getting increasingly more uncomfortable with every passing minute. You should have just let him leave instead of heeding to your intrusive thoughts and going after him, you should have watched him walk away and bit down your tongue in regret later on in the privacy of your room.

It was as if he had sensed your trepidation and decided to put you out of your misery. “How are you?”

Small talk. Right. You could do that.

“Good, good,” you had no idea why you said it twice. “Mostly just busy with work and you know, adulting. You?”

“Pretty much the same, work.” He smiled softly at you, and you wondered how he somehow still made that feel like a reward for you, how something as simple as that could have a deceitful warmth bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “I have to get to the studio in a bit.”

“Studio?”

“I’m a music producer,” he clarified, and the conversation was almost too reminiscent of his date with Yeonmi, except a little more meaningful this time. A certain sense of shyness washed over him at telling you what he did for work, because although he was extremely proud of his job, your opinion of it mattered to him more than anyone else's ever could.

“That's amazing! Do you like, get to meet famous people?” Your reaction was genuine, just as you had always been with him. You had once been the only person he thought believed in him. He could see the fraction of joy that sparked in your expression, truly happy on hearing this news.

He chuckled and nodded, “Yeah, I do. There are a couple of them I regularly work with.” It wasn’t in his nature to brag, but the starstruck look that appeared in your eyes made it worth it for once.

“Wow,” you mumbled, fiddling with the straw in your drink. “I just work in HR.” Your life felt awfully boring in comparison to him, but then again, that was a feeling you had made your peace with a long time ago. He had always been the more interesting, more magnetic person from the two of you- or perhaps from everyone in general. A stranger could take a look at him and know that he was made to walk a path different and more vibrant than most.

An awkward silence settled after that, only succeeding in increasing your anxiety levels. Pleasantries were over, so where the hell were you supposed to go from there?

“I didn’t know Yeonmi was your roommate,” he said quietly, not looking at you. “I’m sorry for the position I’ve put you in, I promise you it wasn’t intentional.”

“I never thought it was,” you assured him. “I didn’t think it was you she was talking about either. This is just some sort of freak coincidence, I guess.” You hesitated for a moment, before deciding to not overthink anything having to do with the situation. There were so many questions left unanswered that you had no qualms with getting right to the point now that you could. “I don’t even care actually, I just want to know one thing.”

The flippancy in your voice almost made him wince. “Anything.”

“Why did you do it?”

And suddenly, Donghyuck felt as if he was back as his teenage self, staring at you through his younger self's perspective. He had been so unforgivingly impulsive at that age, and selfishly so, unable to put himself in anyone else's shoes. Of course, he had felt guilty for what he had done, to the point where he felt sick in the days that followed, but he had done it to protect himself from having to deal with your reaction to the news. News that had, back then, ruptured the little world of bliss he had cultivated with you by his side.

How could he have explained anything back then anyway? He had always hidden that part of his life from you, the constant instability and fleeting nature that it possessed. Putting it together made it sound like a bad excuse, and you definitely did not deserve that.

But he wasn’t an avoidant teenager anymore, and neither were you. What you deserved was the whole truth and nothing but that, and so he steeled himself, glancing at the clock on the wall behind you. 8:15 am. He didn’t really have much time, but he was going to do his best.

“I spent most of my childhood moving around from place to place. I think the longest I stayed in a town was two years at most, and for the longest time, I resented my mother for that.”

This was something you had waited for all your life, or at least, that was how you felt, and now you were finally going to get the explanation you had spent years trying to put together for a fickle sense of closure. Here you were, finally getting what you had spent birthday wishes and pennies down fountains for since you were sixteen, hoping and praying that it would happen for your sake. Here you were, getting it from your first love.

It was three in the morning and though the caffeine from your coffee had long since worn off, you found yourself lying in your bed wide awake. It had been a few hours of tossing and turning underneath your sheets, trying to find a position comfortable enough to succumb to sleep but evidently, seeing that you were now staring at your ceiling in frustration, had been wholly unsuccessful.

You were going to need an extra large cup of coffee to curb your inevitable grumpiness the next morning. A sigh left your lips as you threw your covers off, sitting up in your bed and taking in your room in the darkness, hoping you would feel the heaviness set in on your eyelids. When that didn’t happen, you swung your legs over the side and landed on the wooden floors, slipping your feet into your house slippers and opening your door as quietly as possible.

A glass of water should put everything right and curb your restlessness. Your optimism was admirable, if not downright stupid. The cause of your current state was fairly obvious.

So there you were, now holding an empty glass. You had finished your water, and didn’t feel any better, not wanting to go back to bed in the slightest.

Donghyuck rippled through your mind, and you shut your eyes, trying to block him out. The sight of those sad eyes of his as he explained what really happened all those years ago had been imprinted in your mind, and it had left you with nothing but contempt.

You despised the childish reasoning that consumed the entire explanation, the way it felt like everything that had happened and what you felt had been so trivial and completely avoidable if he had just spoken to you. Eight years, that was how long you had waited just for it to feel as if he had just rubbed salt in your wounds, and you hated every second of it.

What you hated most though, was the way you completely understood why he did it.

The more you thought about what he told you, you couldn’t help but empathise with him. Sure, you wouldn’t have done what he did if you were in his position, but that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had never been in his position, and it was clear that his younger years had been scattered all over the place.

How could he have known any better when he too was learning how to navigate his emotions at that age? He was a child and you couldn’t hold anything against a child now that you were an adult.

I’m sorry.

Suddenly, why those had been the last thing he ever said to you made sense. He knew what he was doing and did it anyway. The burn that you felt every time you thought about it hadn’t subsided.

Your younger self was angry at how things had turned out, pissed at being left in the dark even if you understood why. You wanted so badly to hate him for what he had done to you, but no matter how hard you tried to push yourself to do so, you just couldn’t. Instead, another emotion lied in the place you tried so hard to fill with hate, and it scared you even more.

He had hurt you to such a colossal extent, and yet that little flame inside of you refused to be put out, or even have the mercy to dim itself for your sake. It flickered back to life the moment you set eyes on him again and you knew this to be true by the effect he still had on you.

You never stopped loving Donghyuck. You only started hurting, and let the pessimistic degree of that feeling drown out everything else.

“I should have handled it better,” his frustration with himself was clear by the way he exhaled agitatedly. “I know I was a dick to you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. If I could go back and do it all again, I’d do it very differently, but I can’t.” He sounded pained, his sorrow cutting deep into your freshly reopened wounds and making you realise that he had hurt himself in the process of doing what he did.

While you had been painstakingly stitching yourself back together after him, he had been doing the same, reaping what he had sown in your garden. He was as old as you had been, and emotions are often magnified in the melodrama of youth.

It didn’t feel like that magnification had dulled out though, the regret potent in his voice, matching your emotional state.

“But if there's anything I can do now….I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

You were drowning, sinking rapidly below the surface as the waves thrashed around you, unrelenting and ruthless. You gripped the cup in your hands, a warm pressure building behind your eyes, making you feel even more miserable than you already were. The realisation of your present feelings overwhelmed you, and you crumbled against the counter, letting yourself lean against the cupboards as you settled on the floor.

He’d do anything for you. He said it himself.

So then…would he…?

A choked sound escaped your throat- something that sounded like a cross between a bitter laugh and a sob. You were deplorable, truly, for even letting the thought cross your mind, but god.

Would he end things with Yeonmi for your sake?

The topic of your roommate hadn’t been brought up during your chat, the two of you skirting around the topic for all you were worth. It felt like taboo, and although it was probably something worth mentioning, you were glad you hadn’t needed to deal with it just yet. You held so much love for Yeonmi, but right then she seemed like more of an obstacle than anything else.

But if she knew the truth and Donghyuck and you, wouldn’t she think the same? She had done nothing wrong, so you were the problem here. You were the obstacle you had never signed up to be.

The question sat heavy upon your tongue, and you so desperately wanted to ask it.

You couldn’t do that to your friend, you would never. She hadn’t been this happy with someone since her sorry excuse of an ex broke her spirit, and you couldn’t bear to be the one to take that away from her. You couldn’t, even if it meant that it broke you, because goddamnit you were still irrevocably in love with Lee Donghyuck.

And all you wanted to do was hate him.

viii] then.

Donghyuck’s room was much planer than yours, with just a clock hanging on one of its walls. A keyboard in one corner of the room and a guitar leaning against the side of his closet, you supposed that he hadn’t had much time to put too much thought into decorating just yet.

“You can put up posters of all those bands you keep talking about,” you suggested, running your fingers through his hair. You were sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard with him lying in between your legs, looking up at you fondly

Your boyfriend frowned lightly, “Too much effort.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re just lazy. I can help you, you know. We could go print the posters after school.” Your enthusiasm was endearing, but he didn’t really see a point. Nevertheless, he didn’t have the heart to shoot your ideas down and nodded noncommittally, enjoying the feeling of you absent-mindedly massaging his scalp.

“Whatever you say, pretty girl,” he said lazily. A silence settled, and although it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, he began humming a melody.

You had heard him sing several times now, usually while he accompanied himself on guitar and his voice was just like the rest of him- captivating. It was gentle but still strong, his tone conveying the message and feel of any song he picked perfectly. He had once confessed that he would love to work in the music industry one day, no matter what the role was, but then brushed off the wish, saying that it was a shot in the dark.

To counter this, you told him that if anyone could make it, it would be him. By no means did your words shake off his doubts or uncertainty, but you could tell that the faith you had in him helped him feel better.

“What song is that?” You tilted your head, looking down at him. He shrugged.

“It isn’t one, just a tune that came to me,” it was such a simple thing, and it still somehow earned him an impressed look from you, making him laugh. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re the coolest person I know.”

“You’re the dorkiest.”

“Hey! Dork-? Is this the shit I get for being nice to you?” You pouted, the offence heavily lacing your voice making him laugh, and to soothe your ruffled feathers, he dropped a chaste kiss to your lips.

“A cute dork.”

His mother was out, leaving the house empty save for the two of you. The privacy was nice, much better than your house for sure, where your mother was always hovering for some reason, even though you hadn’t told your parents about your new relationship just yet. She was overprotective, and while you were definitely going to tell them, you didn’t particularly want to deal with any outbursts just yet, wanting to savour the beginning of it all and keep that joy just for yourself.

As far as you knew, Donghyuck didn’t have a father, but he had never gotten into the details. He made sure to tell you that it wasn’t because it was hard to talk about, but because there wasn’t much to say about the man anyway, since he had never known him or even met him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to fake annoyance to the best of your abilities, but you weren’t and never had been immune to the butterflies he managed to set free in your stomach with that kiss, a smile slowly forming on your face. Your hands moved to his face, cupping it gently as you leaned closer.

“Sweet talk won’t get you anywhere.”

“Yeah?” His eyes sparkled with mischief, “What will then?”

“A proper kiss maybe,” you mused, matching his playfulness. He immediately took you up on your proposal, smiling into the kiss.

You were glad his mom wasn’t around.

Neither of you had ever kissed anyone before, but somehow he was still very good at it, a single touch of his igniting a pleasant buzz on the surface of your skin. Everything you knew about kissing came from books and movies, but you could only hope you had the same effect he had on you.

If you only knew. It had been a few weeks since the two of you had started dating, and he had memorised everything he could about you he possibly could- the shape of your mouth and the slope of your nose, the crinkles around your eyes when you laughed and the sound of it, he knew it all like the back of his hand. It wasn’t hard to be with you, it came to him like second nature, and part of him was convinced that everytime his mother had moved them from place to place, it was to bring him here to this moment.

To be lying in your embrace, tangled in your arms and the gentle, loving kisses you pressed to his mouth and forehead- this was the definition of bliss, and everything about it was so utterly ignorant.

“You taste like sour patch candies,” you muttered softly, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. You had quickly grown addicted to Donghyuck, deciding right then and there that you wouldn’t trade this for anything in the entire world.

“Mhm, I was eating them before you came over.”

You chuckled. “You, sir, have a problem.”

“Drama queen, you’re exaggerating a little too much. I only had a few.”

“You had an entire packet, didn’t you? No wonder it's so noticeable.” The light wash of crimson that appeared on his cheeks at being caught gave him away.

“It can’t possibly be that noticeable.”

“It wouldn’t be if you didn’t consume copious amounts of that candy.”

He simply kissed you again in retaliation, a consequence you could definitely live with and had no complaints about whatsoever. “Shut up, you know you secretly like it.”

You never had the chance to argue with that one, once again silenced by his lips against yours. He was undoubtedly right about that accusation, for you liked it almost too much. You liked everything about him too much, and for the first time you understood the typical giddiness that was portrayed in every teen movie you watched growing up.

Every school day was something to look forward to now, making it possible to spend almost every day with him. You sat on desks next to each other, sometimes listening to music together and trying not to get caught talking to each other. The teachers had definitely picked up on the fact that there was something between the two of you, considering the amount of disproving looks you had gotten sent your way for laughing a little too loud at the jokes he would crack under his breath.

Holidays were spent with you trying to finish all your homework as quickly as possible so you could hang out with him or Sakura and Chenle, making it so that every single day was bright and exciting from the moment you awoke.

“You have no proof of that,” you pointed out, sitting up straighter to be able to kiss him better, savouring the way his arm immediately slid around your waistline. He smirked, his hand slipped just under your t-shirt but staying at your waist, fingers tracing abstract shapes upon the expanse of your skin.

“You’re still kissing me, aren’t you?”

The local playground was pretty deserted after eight on Sunday evenings, mothers having taken all their babies and toddlers back home for their nightly routine. Other highschool juniors or seniors didn’t really hang out there, opting to spend their time at the small skate park on the other end of town, which made it a perfect hangout spot for you and your friends.

Chenle slipped a cigarette pack out of the pocket of his designer hoodie, along with a bright red lighter. “Does anyone want one?”

Your reaction mirrored Sakura’s, who currently wore a frown. “Since when are you a smoker?”

“Johnny hyung taught me yesterday when he invited me to hang out with the seniors,” he filled you in, and you groaned, leaning into Donghyuck’s touch. He had an arm around your shoulders as the two of you occupied the bench swing, while Chenle and Sakura were sitting on the ends of the metal slides.

“Please don’t follow in his footsteps.”

He lit one of the cigarettes, rolling his eyes. “Can you chill?”

“You do not have to smoke Chenle, you’re sixteen, not a wildly miserable forty year old divorcee. You’re doing it just because you think it's cool and because Johnny does it.” Sakura shared your view of the senior, and as hospitable and lovely as he was, you didn’t particularly support his life choices.

“That is not true,” Chenle contested, and your other friend huffed. “Johnny is a great friend.”

You shook your head in disapproval. “He’s a bad influence.”

“He’s not! He’s really cool Y/n, I swear,” He waved his cigarette around, gesturing towards your boyfriend. “Right, Donghyuck?”

His admiration for the senior boy had only grown since the day of the party. To put it plainly, he thought the absolute world of the older boy, making an effort to spark a friendship. To say that he was overjoyed when Johnny started inviting him places was an understatement, if the excited call you got from him said anything.

Donghyuck looked all too amused and nodded. “He is pretty cool.”

He got two scathing looks as a result, one from Sakura and an unimpressed stare from you, causing him to clear his throat, quickly following up. “But! That doesn’t mean you should follow his every move. You definitely shouldn’t smoke, smoking is bad.”

Now that he was back in your good graces, you kissed his cheek and looked at Chenle pointedly. “Please don’t end up like him.”

“I would love to end up like him.”

Jesus Christ. There was no saving him.

“With all the shit he pulls, he’s going to end up dead by twenty-five. Do you want to die?” He put the pack and lighter back in his pockets, brushing off Sakura’s grim statement.

“One cigarette won’t kill me.”

“Yes, but if you make smoking a habit and get addicted, it will eventually. Lung cancer is a thing, you know.” Your reminder was not taken kindly, and he groaned, taking a puff before dropping it to the ground and crushing it with his heel, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to smoke it in peace with you guys around anyway.

“You are all so boring.” He whined, glaring at Donghyuck. “And you’re a hypocrite. Didn’t Johnny teach you how to smoke too?”

Having stayed a silent observer for most of this conversation, Donghyuck seemed to momentarily scramble for his words. “Only at the party, I haven’t smoked anything since then and I don’t intend to do it casually. It was a one time thing, and it was almost two months ago.”

“Remind me to only ever smoke at Yuta hyung’s place, because you guys are too annoying.”

Sakura perked up where she was sitting, blinking rapidly. “Nakamoto Yuta?”

He nodded, smiling almost evilly at her. “Yeah, I hang out with your crush more than you do. Maybe if you didn’t have such a stick up your ass, he’d invite you too.”

“Ugh, I hope you do die.”

She had gained quite the infatuation with Yuta, having flirted with him at the party and hung out with him for quite a bit of the night. All her confidence to do so had come from the alcohol though, because she ran in the opposite direction of him at school, too nervous to go up to him and strike conversation so casually.

You snuggled closer to Donghyuck, the evening air taking a turn for chilly. You loved having him around and was overjoyed at how well he fit into your little group, getting along with them as if they were his best friends as well. Being with him was effortless, just how it should be.

“You should at least try talking to him,” you suggested, “If you don’t try, how do you know he’s just going to reject you? Didn’t he spend almost the entire party with you?”

“Easy for you to say,” she scowled, but you knew she meant no ill will and was simply joking. “You got the guy from like, the moment you met him.” Her words had you bite back a bashful smile.

“That's true,” Donghyuck quipped almost proudly, rubbing your shoulder and dropping a kiss to your temple. He noticed the way you had tucked your hands under your legs. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

“Don’t you need it?”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured you, taking it off and draping it over your shoulders, and resuming his previous position of having his arm around them. Sakura and Chenle simultaneously pretended to gag.

“The two of you are disgustingly adorable.” She complained, and Chenle agreed.

“Yeah, you make me feel so single I want to smoke.”

The sound of Sakura hitting his arm at that comment resounded through the empty park, making you laugh. You hadn’t realised how bland your life had been before this year because now it was like the colours were brighter and much more vibrant than before, so much more interesting. This was how highschool was supposed to be, you thought to yourself as you slid your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, simple and rosy tinted, without a single worry in the world.

ix] now.

This was the tenth time Donghyuck was listening to the track.

He paused it and dragged it back to the start, playing the song once again. Something about it was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it just yet, subjecting himself to analyse it over and over as a result.

He shut his eyes, trying to absorb the song and search for what was not clicking for him, letting himself be consumed by the music. The melody washed over him, the powerful vocals and enticing beat soaking into his system. In his expert opinion, it was one step away from being a hit on the charts. He just had to figure out what step he had to take in order to achieve that.

Usually, he would stay and work on it until he managed to come to a solution, but for some reason all he wanted to do was go home today. He wasn’t focused on his work, as much as he loved music and what he did, for some reason today he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Maybe the thing that was off with the song was his demeanour at that moment. For all he knew, when he felt better and more motivated to work on it, it might sound ready to put out into the world without him having to change a single thing.

Donghyuck needed to clear his head. He pushed himself away from his desk and stretched his legs, walking to one of the windows of the studio and peering outside.

He loved the studio, he practically lived there half of the time, sleeping on the sofa when he stayed too late or was too tired to drive home amidst a project. Every instrument inside was precious to him, every piece of equipment important. It was filled with happy memories for him, with artists waltzing in and out of his space and entrusting him with their life’s work. Their vision collided with his artistic view, and even though his name wasn’t bedazzled in the lights and he wasn’t directly in the limelight, he had somewhat managed to make a name for himself in the industry he had always loved.

The studio was more his home than his apartment, so then why did he so want to go back to the latter at the moment?

Looking out into the streets of New York, it hit him.

It wasn’t his apartment he was yearning for, per se, but more so the idea of home. It was something he had struggled with coming to terms with for the longest time, having never stayed anywhere long enough to consider home throughout his formative years. As a default, home had never taken the form of a place or a house on a particularly named street, but instead had always been a person.

During his childhood, it had been his mother, for she was the only truly constant thing in his life back then. As his teenage years rolled around, even she started to feel alien to him. He began perceiving her as less of a home and more of the reason he didn’t have one.

And then there was another person who became his home, and she came in the form of you. You were his age and much more relatable, it was much easier to place all his hope and trust in you, especially when just being around you made him forget about all his problems. When he was with you, his life seemed to lose that intense sense of instability that always kept him on edge.

You somehow stabilised him, but he lost that stability in less than a year. In an attempt to reconcile with his guilt, he began punishing himself by changing his number and cutting you off completely, telling himself that it would help you as well. Once again, he was without a home, and his relationship with his mother was further strained.

At eighteen, he moved out to New York.

New York was his home now, the place he had stayed for the longest time. It was a place finally, somewhere he could point out with his finger and proudly say he lived in. He finished up his education, going to college and teaching himself music production on the side. He worked two part time jobs and enrolled himself in production classes.

It was hard being all alone in a city as big as New York, in an unfamiliar and cold place. The loneliness hit him hard, and that led him to calling his mother. After a year in the city, working and studying hard, he finally understood why she had done what she did while he was growing up and appreciated her for it.

He had his big break at twenty-two while working under a small record label. The song he had worked on as a producer went number one on the billboard charts, rocketing the singer from an unknown person to a household name and right under theirs, was his.

He was being praised by critics for his experimental style and the little things in the production that made the song what it was. Suddenly, he was in demand and made real, good money- amounts that he had never seen in his life. He sent half of it to his mother and could now visit her as many times in the year as he so pleased.

Every sacrifice was worth it. It had gotten to where he was standing and made him who he was.

But you being in his home now?

That made him question it. You displaced him.

New York had only started to properly feel like home when he had made it big, the big scary city not seeming so scary anymore. He finally felt like he belonged somewhere after years of lacking that.

The only time he had ever belonged to someone was when he had been with you.

When he left your town, he had left a piece of his heart behind with you, just as he had taken a piece of yours with him. He had never gotten it back, searching for it- something, someone perhaps- in the faces of strangers.

He had put all his faith in finding that in Yeonmi, a woman who reminded him of you, only to find out that she was simply influenced. He was stuck, frozen in place by a choice that seemed impossible to make. Whatever course of action he took, any option he picked, it always seemed to make him the bad guy. He couldn’t just drop her for you because things were too complicated for that, and it would in turn make you the bad guy as well, but he couldn’t keep on feeling this way while being with someone else.

Home. Donghyuck knew right then that he wasn’t yearning for his apartment, or the city itself. He was yearning for you.

Donghyuck wanted you there in his studio, in his apartment- just with him maybe would be enough. Not just wandering and brushing shoulders in the vast city that you called home as well, but by his side constantly, to once again be the home that grounded him.

The realisation washed over him, but it didn’t come as a total surprise. Part of him had always known that you were it for him, especially when he saw you for the first time again that night he dropped a drunk Yeonmi home to you. The reason he couldn’t focus was you, how badly he wanted to run back to you and ignore all the complications that came with it, right back into the arms that were his true home.

Occasionally, you would think about Sakura and Chenle.

You had long since lost contact with your highschool best friends, inevitably drifting apart from them with the course of time. Once university began, even managing to text each other turned into a chore, and the only times you saw each other or hung out was during the summer when you went back home. Once you moved to New York and started going home less, those few moments turned into nothing at all.

Nevertheless, you hadn’t forgotten about them. They had been your constants for so long, people you trusted with all your heart and soul, always running out of your house to meet them. You fondly recalled all the late night calls and sneaking out and sleepovers, complaining about examinations and school together, and spending your summers with iced teas and hanging out at the local diner. From drinking sprite to sneaking alcohol, a lot of your firsts have happened with them.

They held you together when Donghyuck left. They picked up the shattered pieces, sticking them back together the best they could with the resources they had. They were the ones that got you to smile again and eventually forget about him long enough to forget that you were trying to.

Even though you haven’t spoken to them in years, you still thought about them. You would never stop being grateful.

You also wondered how they would react if they knew what your life had come to.

The coffee you had ordered this time was hot, and you cupped the mug, letting the warmth of the drink seep through the ceramic and to your fingers. You were in what had become your regular booth in the cafe, and across from you sat none other than Donghyuck himself.

Ever since that day, an unspoken sort of agreement to at least be friends had passed between the two of you- a truce of sorts. It was only logical, considering he was technically with Yeonmi, and it meant that you would have to learn how to put everything aside for that. Oddly enough though, you never talked about your roommate, and he didn’t make an effort to bring her up either.

Sakura would have glared at you in disbelief. Chenle would be laughing his ass off in some corner.

Meeting at the cafe had turned into a ritual of sorts. You would meet him there every Tuesday before work and both of you would chat and have your drinks before parting ways. Admittedly, you had started looking forward to these little rendezvous with him, they somehow managed to make your entire week.

Really, you shouldn’t have been surprised at this. Donghyuck had always had that effect on you and clearly nothing had changed. He still made you laugh more than anyone else and left you with that warm, fuzzy feeling that made you think that anything was possible.

Yeonmi did not know about these meetings.

You had never mentioned them to her even once, and you were willing to bet that Donghyuck hadn’t either. He seemed to avoid talking about her entirely, and it seemed that he hadn’t been talking to her very much either, since your roommate had worriedly mentioned his lack of communication this past few weeks.

“He still talks to me,” she explained, eyes knit together in worry. “But not as much, you know? I can’t help but wonder if something is wrong.”

“I’m sure everything is fine.” You assured her when you were not, in fact, sure. You didn’t have the courage to ask about it anyway, and selfishly enough you didn’t particularly want to spend any of the little time you got with him talking about her.

You abhorred the way you had subconsciously turned against your friend, but it was fine because you had it under control. You could never do anything to hurt her, this was completely innocent. The two of you were just talking.

“You’ve met Lee Jieun?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide in awe. He held back a laugh at the starstruck look on your face, nodding as he stirred the sugar into his coffee.

“Yeah, she’s very sweet and extremely talented. Worked on a few tracks on her last album.”

“I bought that album,” you said, putting your mug down and clasping your hands together. “I’ve been saving up for tickets to her concert.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “I can get you some if you’d like.”

Mouth falling open, you stared at him in shock, no words leaving your lips for ten seconds straight. “If I’d like?? I would love that, my god. I’ve been a fan for four years now and she’s always my top artist on spotify every year during spotify wrapped. My most listened to song is also always hers and she’s just so-”

You faltered when you glanced at him and noticed the doting expression he wore while looking at you- the sides of his lips were just slightly upturned, eyes following your movements keenly and hanging onto every word. It had heat rise up to your face and made you self-conscious because goddamnit, that was the exact way he would look at you when you were together.

Fuck.

Your throat felt dry, and you swallowed hard, averting your eyes as you felt your cheeks burn. “I’m rambling,” you mumbled, fiddling with the teaspoon on the little place your cup sat in. “Sorry, I talk too much. I’ll shut up.”

“Don’t,” he immediately said, “I like hearing you talk.”

You blinked.

God. He really hadn’t changed at all, had he?

“R-right, uh, I just really, really love her music.” Everything about the moment threw you off. The way he was able to so skillfully grab you and plunge you back into the past you had tried so hard to run away from was jarring. It wasn’t even something that slowly crept up on you, instead clutching you by the collar and throwing you straight into it, right back into your sixteen-year-old self’s shoes.

“I can tell. I’ll do my best with those tickets.” His promise almost flew over your head entirely and you forced a smile, staring down at your coffee awkwardly. He still liked hearing you talk and your loquacious nature. Some things stayed the same no matter the course of time.

You let yourself wonder if he felt the same way about you as well, but just for a second.

There was no way you could let yourself get away with thinking about it anymore because it would strip you of any dignity you had left. Your feelings for him had only grown dormant over the years and were now being awoken from their hibernation with every minute more you spent in his invigorating presence. It was unrealistic and childish to think that he felt the same way anymore.

The lack of any mention of Yeonmi, the way he seemed to be talking to you more lately and going so far as to meet with you on a weekly basis, well, the signs were definitely there, weren’t they? You were well aware of how much of an asshole move this was from both your ends towards your oblivious roommate, but as much as you tried to, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It was terrible, but there was nothing happening. You were allowed to enjoy these fleeting moments that when boiled down to it, meant nothing at all.

But as he smiled at your excited demeanour, looking at you like you were everything he could ever want, you couldn’t help but wish that it did.

Yeonmi stood in front of the ice cream display, scanning all the different flavours at her disposal. You stood by her side, already digging into your own ice cream and waiting patiently for her to be done.

“You’ve already chosen what you want,” you pointed out. “Do you want a second cup or something?”

She shook her head. “Not for me, for Donghyuck. I’m going to meet him later on and since he likes sweet stuff I thought I’d get him a tub.”

You paused your movements. Their meetings had grown sparse from what you had heard from her, with her having to plan most of them and him simply agreeing. It killed you a little on the inside, filling you with guilt at the suspicion that you had something to do with it.

The earnest lilt in her voice, her eagerness to please him- it reminded you so much of yourself. You disliked the way he was treating her, but you also found a sense of relief in it, and when you acknowledged that, you officially accepted that you were probably the worst friend in the universe.

“Have you chosen what you would like yet?” The teenager behind the counter asked impatiently. She looked like she would have rather been anywhere else in the world, but she was probably a highschooler who wanted some extra cash and this was the best she had gotten.

“No, sorry,” your roommate said dejectedly. “I’m not sure what he’d like.”

Deciding to put her out of her misery, you spoke up. “Can we get a tub of cookies and cream?” The girl nodded, boredly taking one of the tubs out of the freezer and sliding it across the counter, calling out its price. Yeonmi flashed you a confused look and fumbled with her purse for a few seconds, taking out a few dollar bills and handing it over.

The two of you walked out of the ice cream store, and she doubtfully looked at the tub. “What if he doesn’t like this?”

“He likes cookies and cream ice cream.”

“How would you know?”

You stopped walking and glanced at her, quickly realising you had slipped up. You tried not to take offence at the defensive nature of her tone, knowing that she had every right to be that way. She was technically his girlfriend, she should have been the one to know what flavour he would want.

So you bit down hard on your tongue when the urge to tell her that you knew him better than she ever could sprung to its tip. You were bitter at having to let that go, your ego bruising from the fact that you weren’t entitled to the position of being the one who knew him so well, even though you had everything for it.

“He told me.” You said weakly, dropping your now empty cup into one of the bins on the sidewalk.

“When?”

Eight years ago. That was the truth, but you knew very well that you couldn’t possibly tell her that after pretending you had never met him before. The edge that her voice possessed right then put you off, but you brushed it to the side, knowing deep down that she had the right. “That one movie night we had.”

She frowned. “I don’t remember talking about ice cream at all.”

“You fell asleep, remember? We spoke about it after that, just before he left.” The lie tasted sour, but not the pleasant kind of sour that is followed by a sweetness like a sour patch candy. This type of sour was persisting, the type that tainted your mouth from just its feel, spreading to your lips and the back of your neck.

“Oh.” She sounded hollow, letting the arm that held the bag containing the tub of ice cream fall limply to her side. “Okay.”

“You can tell him you picked it out.”

You knew he wouldn't believe it anyway. “Okay,” She repeated, but you could tell how miserably she truly was. Resentment filled you, but just as quickly so did pity, replacing the former in the blink of an eye.

She had finally moved on from her sorry excuse of an ex and found happiness in another man, only for him to suddenly pull away right when she was ready to give it her all. You understood that more than anyone ever could, but in a completely different sense. To her, Donghyuck was emotionally absent now. For you, he had been wholly absent, snatched away and out of your reach for so long.

Yeonmi still had the chance to hold him, if he let her. You never had that.

And then your pity for her was replaced by anger.

Donghyuck had no right to run her around in circles like he was doing. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to make a decision on whether he wanted her or not.

You didn’t want to know the answer though, because the chances of it breaking your heart were high, and you didn’t think you’d be able to handle another heartbreak at his hands. It could also remove him from your life once again, and you’d continue to be haunted, just by new memories this time around.

And just like that, you understood why he couldn’t make a decision so easily, because you couldn’t either. You wanted nothing more than for him to choose you, but it was the very last thing you would ask for, reluctant and afraid to hurt someone else in the process of healing your very own innate brokennes.

So you walked with Yeonmi back to your shared apartment and talked about insignificant things to take her mind off it all, trying to do the same for yourself.

x] then.

When a storm is coming, you can almost always tell.

It may not look like it, but intuition works in mysterious ways. That sinking feeling that stirs deep within your gut, discomfort flooding your system slowly and warning you of something bad to come. You try your best to ignore it, to pretend as if you’re overthinking and going crazy and that everything is fine. You revel in ignorant bliss and sunny days, growing all too comfortable with the stability of the everyday life you have grown accustomed to. You let yourself believe that the calm before a storm is permanent.

Donghyuck knew something was wrong the moment he walked into his house that fateful November evening, four whole months since he had first stepped foot inside it when they first moved in. He had learned the pattern of the switches, he knew the layout of the house by heart.

His mother sat on the dining table, her face buried in her hands. Usually, he would walk upstairs to his room and not bother, but this time something made him stop.

“Mom?”

She looked up at him, and he noticed just how exhausted she looked. His mother was a beautiful woman, but time had worn her down just like it did to everyone, and all the stress she was under had caused some of her black hair to turn grey. Wrinkles showed on her palms, her laugh lines had grown deeper.

“Donghyuck,” she said his name with a heavy sigh. “Come. Sit.”

On most days he had an excuse to avoid this, saying that he had homework or a project to work on, but today he complied, taking a seat next to his mother.

“How was school today?”

“Good,” he answered. She gave him an encouraging smile that was clearly forced for his sake, and clasped her hands together.

“Good, good.”

“Is….is that it?” He asked gently, suddenly not wanting to be there. It was like his body was trying to get him out of the situation, knowing something was off before his brain did. Unfortunately, some things were unavoidable and inevitable, and just like that the clouds began to darken.

She shook her head, “No, there’s something I need to talk to you about” She reached out and grabbed his hand that was on the table, squeezing it hard. “It’s important, okay?”

He nodded slowly, now trapped within the conversation with no escape. His mother exhaled and shut her eyes, dropping her head in what seemed like defeat. “I’ve been offered a job.”

“A job?”

“Yes- with a much better salary. Of course, I’m beyond blessed with the amount I get now but we’d be more comfortable, it’s a better opportunity.” She rubbed the hand of his that she held soothingly, as if trying to soften the blow she was about to give.

The waves gradually grew more turbulent, slow but definite. It was clear that she was trying to approach whatever she was trying to say with as much tact as possible, but was only succeeding in frustrating the boy with her vagueness.

“Just spit it out, Mom. What's happening?”

“We’re moving, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck sat there, stunned into a silence at what his mother had just said. Finally, she was done beating around the bushes like he had wanted, but now he wished he had let her take her time. It almost didn’t even feel real to hear, the true weightage of her words not quite registering just yet.

“What?”

His voice was devoid of any emotion, falling flat and harshly against the gentle, apologetic facade that his mother upheld. “In a few months, I know that it’s hard to hear and I’m sorry I have to uproot your life once again but I promise it’ll all be worth it I just-” She shakily exhaled, as if trying to expel all the fatigue she had accumulated over the years of switching out jobs and moving around in an attempt to create a better life for her only son. “I promise I’ll try and make this bearable and it’ll be the last time.”

If she had the choice, she would never have chosen such a turbulent lifestyle. After all, who would ever want to thrust their child into such an unstable environment- it being unstable due to its ever changing nature? But being a single mother was difficult and she had to do whatever she had to in order to survive.

The ship that Donghyuck stood upon began to rock as the storm intensified.

“It’s been less than a year,” He said icily. “Five months.”

“We’re not moving immediately. I have to finish up some work here and get everything together before we leave. Three months.” She rushed to assure him of this as if it fixed anything.

“So eight months. That’s still less than a year, Mom.”

“I know sweetheart, I’m so sorry.

Sympathy filled her expression and she squeezed his hand, trying to convey that she understood his frustration. That notion was perfectly ridiculous sounding to Donghyuck, how could she even begin to think that she understood how he would be feeling? If she did, then why was she once again ruining his life?

If she was really so sorry, she wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. He clenched his jaw, looking away from his mother and around the living room he had finally grown familiar with. Every other time this had happened he had always grinned and bore with it because there never seemed like a reason to fight back. He had grown complacent and used to the cycle, expecting it almost.

But this time he had prayed it wouldn’t be the same. This time, he had grown attached to the dusty streets of the town and the long school days. He had a favourite store, more friends than he had ever had in his life and more importantly, a favourite person. This time, it wouldn’t just be him leaving behind a bunch of acquaintances, it would mean him having to leave you behind as well.

He couldn’t bear the thought of that, his fury welling up and coming to the surface. For once in his life he had someone he wanted to stay for.

“If you’re so sorry,” he said, voice low and enraged all the same, “You won’t do this again.”

Her eyes softened, “I have to. I won’t ask you to understand, but-”

“I hate you.”

The moment he said it, he could see his mothers countenance crumble, but the sympathy in it only increased. No parent ever wanted to hear their child say those words to them and he knew that in his heart, he didn’t truly mean them, but he was just so indescribably angry with her and the world for constantly doing this to him.

It was cruel for him to say it without any hesitation, that much was certain the moment he saw tears well up in her eyes. She was a strong woman, refusing to let them escape and fall down her weary face for his sake, and he couldn’t take the sight of it any longer. Aggressively, he pushed his chair back and stormed off, bounding up the stairs of the house that would no longer be his with his heart hammering in his chest.

It was only in the comfort of his room that he let himself let out the sob that had been choking him up as he crumpled near the foot of his bed, a heavy sense of loss already passing through him. His eyes drifted to one of the walls of his room.

He had never put much thought into decorating, but there on it were three posters you had managed to convince him to put up with you, insisting that they livened the place up a little. He would have to tear them down now, just like everything else in his erratic, volatile life. Every other time was easier because there had been no bonds to sever in the process. He had let himself foolishly trust that his continued resilience was all for the happiness he had ultimately found now.

Perhaps this was why he had been so reluctant to let you help him decorate his room. Subconsciously, he had known that it would all be for naught when the nature of his life caught back up to him. Somehow he had already known that this was never meant to be anything more than temporary.

The waves capsized his ship and down Donghyuck went, sinking beneath the surface of the storm and below the storming sea, drowning in his sorrow.

You sat in the driver's seat of your father’s car, legs propped up on the seat with your cardboard container of fries balancing on your knees. Donghyuck occupied the passenger's seat, biting into his burger.

The both of you were parked in the local diners parking lot in the late evening after school. Donghyuck had said something about not feeling like going straight home, and since you had driven to school that day, you suggested taking a detour and hanging out for a little.

“I was thinking,” you started, picking out a fry and biting into it, glancing sideways at the boy who owned all of your teenage affections.

“Hmm?”

“I wanna tell my parents,” you declared finally, finishing the fry. He blinked, lowering his burger and looking at you pointedly. “About us.”

“All of a sudden? Why?” His mystification was justified since ever since the two of you had begun dating, you had been adamant on trying to hide it from them. It hadn’t been the intent initially, you simply were procrastinating their reaction- not that it would be a bad one- and as time went on, it got easier to put off. That being said, it also got harder to hide.

You shrugged, shifting in the car seat and reaching out to adjust the volume of the radio. “I just think it’s time, you know? I’ve been putting it off long enough and I want them to know about you. The smile that crept up on your face when you said that was enough to have a pit form at the bottom of his stomach.

Guilt is an ugly emotion. It manifests slowly, digging into your insides as it grows in its magnitude until it's up to your throat, depriving you of air and choking you.

Needless to say, you weren’t the only one putting off telling someone the truth.

Avoidance wasn’t something that was inherently built into his nature, but it came into play almost naturally now. He had managed to evade being around his mother as much as possible over the past week or so, ever since she had dropped the news that completely displaced his entire world. Similarly, he had been avoiding bringing up what was happening to you, telling himself that he still had some time

But the truth was, saying out loud and admitting it all to you was just too much for him. It made it feel real and not like some terrible nightmare he had been living for the past few days. He didn’t want the reality of it all to hit him just yet.

“Do you have to?”

“Kind of?” You raised an eyebrow at him in question. “We’ve been dating for almost three months now Hyuck, do you expect me to just keep it from them forever?”

He winced internally, beating himself up about how you were talking about your relationship with him. It felt wrong to let you naively talk about a supposed forever when he knew that simply wasn’t going to be the case.

Your forever was going to be quickly cut short.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, sighing softly. “I don’t know. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

You frowned slightly, turning the volume down and putting your fries on the dashboard, giving him all your attention. “Hey, is something wrong?”

Everything was wrong. He wanted to laugh, mostly because the only other option he had was to cry and he couldn’t do that without having to expose it all. Instead though, he shook his head as nonchalantly as he possibly could, refusing to meet your eyes and instead staring at his burger. “Nope.”

You scoffed. “Oh yeah, that was definitely believable. Come on, tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You said you didn’t feel like going home today. Is it something to do with that?”

You were too smart for your own good. He rolled his eyes, attempting to remain lighthearted, “What if that just meant I wanted to spend more time with you?”

“Weird fucking way of putting it, then. You could have just said you wanted to hang out.”

He put his burger on the dashboard as well and turned to you, holding your gaze firmly in the hopes that it would thwart your suspicions by appearing to be sincere. “Y/n,” he said your name steadily, a slight smile playing upon his lips that from the outside looked effortless, when in reality it was the most forced he had ever been. “Nothing is wrong. Drop it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realising that whatever it was, he clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. You could respect that. “Alright, I’ll back off.” You raised your hands to the sides of your face to mimic surrendering and earning an amused look from his end in the process.

It scared him a little bit, how you seemed to be able to look right through him without even knowing the full extent of what he was going through. He had known you for so little time- too little almost- and yet you knew him better than anyone else.

Leaving you behind was going to be the thing that hurt the most.

He leaned over and kissed you gently. “Thank you. And you’re right, you should tell your parents.” Your trusting countenance clawed at him, only worsening the sickening feeling of culpability that swirled in his gut. Maybe he’d tell you tomorrow, or the week after. Maybe he’d wait for another month so that he could gather his wits first.

If you doubted his confident facade, you didn’t let it show.

“Hey Donghyuck?”

“Hm?”

“I think I love you.”

Five little words should be entirely inconsequential, but even as young as he was, Donghyuck knew their true weightage. He knew you meant it by the credulousness in your gaze and the gentle squeeze of your hand on his.

The two of you were sitting on the roof outside your room's window, you clad in sweats and his jacket- the very same one he had given you weeks ago at the playground. You had never given it back to him. He was in casual clothing as well, having sneaked onto your room during the early hours of the morning to hang out with you.

Time with you seemed to be fleeting now, and so he clung onto every minute he got. You had your head resting on his shoulder as the sun began peeking over the town and spilling its golden rays all over the little houses and buildings, lighting them up and bringing vibrancy to the town.

Love was a complex emotion, a haphazard mishmash of several others in proportions that were unique to every occurrence it manifested itself in. Trust, admiration, infatuation and many more- they made up the feeling that everyone on the planet supposedly sought after so desperately. If it was truly so unpredictable, how did anyone know what it felt to be in love?

He sucked in a breath as seconds passed. Then, he squeezed your hand back.

“I love you too.”

xi] now.

Yeonmi was a great friend, ever ready to show her endless support for you in all your endeavours.

“Smile! And for god's sake, get a drink and lighten up. It’s all your friends here.” She slid her index finger under the strap of your dress, lifting up to its correct position on your shoulder.

You sighed and complied, flashing a smile for her sake, promising to make your way to the kitchen and do as she asked. She inspected your eye makeup one last time, pleased with how her handiwork had turned out and left your room, reminding you to hurry up and get out there.

You had gotten a promotion at work a week ago, and when you had revealed the news to her she insisted that you celebrate properly for the occasion, taking it upon herself to organise a small party at your apartment. She invited some of your friends from work and a few mutual friends of yours- not too many people in all, but since your apartment wasn’t the biggest, it was already starting to feel a little cramped.

Pulling yourself together, you left the confines of your room, finding yourself humming along to the music that she was playing. The dress you had donned was definitely not as short as the ones you had insisted on wearing during your highschool years, having opted to go for a more respectful length now that you were older, but it made you feel pretty and put-together.

Among the familiar smiles and toned down congratulations that you received, you found your eyes wandering until they met another pair that was already trained on you.

Donghyuck was there, of course he was. Yeonmi had already told you that she had asked him to attend and you had been expecting his presence.

So why then did you feel your heartbeat pick up a little, as if it had come as a surprise?

You looked away

A slow hour passed.

In your teenage years, parties had been something you had always enjoyed partaking in, but right then you felt a tad uncomfortable. You quickly deduced that this was because all those times, you had just been another partygoer, lost among the rest of the drunken crowd. Here, you were the subject of the party, the centre of attention.

People came up to congratulate you and make small talk. It struck you then, just how different your life was now from what it was back then. You were older in a different city, surrounded by people who had nothing to do with what felt like your previous life. Your old best friends, people you had thought would stick by you to the very end were not there, you were far away from your parents and were no longer a child that depended on them for everything. You had an apartment you called your own that you shared with your roommate.

The only thing- person- that had somehow belonged to both your youth and adulthood was Donghyuck.

Flushed with the alcohol that you had consumed, you excused yourself from the umpteenth conversation you'd been dragged into with some of your colleagues and made your way to the kitchen, wine glass in hand. Shutting the doors behind you, you revelled in the momentary silence.

You noticed the bottle of wine sitting on the counter and looked at your empty glass. Being the focal point of everyone's attention had never been something you particularly enjoyed and so to ease the bubbling anxiety inside of you, you walked over and poured yourself another, swirling it around and taking a good, long sip.

The sweet wine trickled down your throat, kissing it soothingly with its tart berry flavours. You were no doubt tipsy at this point, having subconsciously fallen back upon the alcohol to support you through all the socialising. You truly wished Yeonmi hadn’t been so insistent on this stupid thing, you would have been more than happy to celebrate by going out to dinner, just the two of you.

“Oh! You’re here too.”

You spun around, clutching the stem of your wine glass a little tighter and automatically leaning your back against the counter when you felt your balance slip away from you a little. Donghyuck shut the door, hesitating.

“Am…Am I intruding?”

He totally was intruding on your solitude, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when it came to him, thus shaking your head ‘no’. “Not at all, I just needed a moment.”

“I can leave if you’d like.”

“Don’t.” And you meant it. You didn’t want him to leave and he was the only one you would willingly tolerate at that moment. He flicked the lock of the door, sealing it shut to the rest of your guests and walked over to you with his own glass. You handed him the bottle of wine.

He nodded in silent thanks. “Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you took a small sip of your wine, looking at him and allowing yourself to study his matured features. There was not a thing about him that didn’t explicitly shine, a being so enigmatic and beautiful that it had you in awe of him even eight years later. “Not that it’s anything exciting like your job. I just sit in a nicer office now.”

He chuckled softly. “It’s still pretty cool, you’re still pretty young for your own office, aren’t you?”

You nodded bashfully. Even though you tried to remain as modest as possible when it came to the good news, you were quite proud of yourself. “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d get so far so quickly out of college.”

Donghyuck shuffled a little closer until he was right next to you. The urge to lean into him sprung up out of nowhere, the little voice in your head telling you to do so abruptly growing stronger. You drank the rest of your wine in an attempt to drown it out, only succeeding in doing the complete opposite.

God, he smelled amazing. You could get hints of the cologne he had on, a musky scent that had hints of something citrusy in the mix- thoroughly dizzying to you. You despised how much control he had over you without even knowing it.

“I had to repeat my senior year of highschool.”

His words snapped you out of your self-induced reverie, and you cocked your head to the side in question, prompting him to continue. As of late, your little coffee dates (your mind had defaulted to calling them that, even though you knew you shouldn’t), he had begun sharing bits and pieces of his life, and you had started doing the same. However, this was quite out of the blue, piquing your curiosity.

“After we moved,” he clarified, uncertainty creeping into his voice as if he was afraid of how you would react. “I almost flunked the eleventh grade finals in my new school and barely made it to the twelfth, and then that began, I barely attended, bunking almost all my classes to hang out with this group I had somehow managed to fall into.”

He sounded regretful as he spoke and you didn’t dare interrupt. You had often speculated what he was doing after he left, while you mourned the loss of your love, you had spent countless sleepless nights tossing and turning, wondering if he was thinking about you as well.

“They were terrible influences, but at the time I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was never in class, always at one of their garages with some sort of alcohol. A lot of that year was a blur, with me being drunk almost every day. I’d leave the house in the morning and say I was going to school and take a detour. My grades fell but I never paid attention to it because of how unhappy I was.”

Your eyes stung with emotion for him, because although you had resented him so much, he was still only a kid back then. Pairing this new information with what he had told you about his flighty childhood, you couldn’t even imagine the sheer level of frustration he must have experienced with having to adapt to yet another place.

“By the end of the year, my attendance was so terrible that they couldn’t let me write the finals, nor could they let me graduate, leaving me with the option to drop out. My mother was in tears and we fought a lot when I told her about it. At first I was fine with just dropping out and giving up, but she said something that made me rethink that.”

“What did she say?” You whispered, your heart feeling as if it was in your throat. You hadn’t even realised you had moved in position, now even closer and directly in front of him.

He sighed heavily. “She told me she didn’t want me to end up like her. She wanted me to live without having to uproot every year or so, and the only way I could do that is if I didn’t give up. And that got me thinking about everything.”

His glass was empty now. “I realised I didn’t like my so-called friends, I hated what I had become and I didn’t want to continue living the way I had for so long. I thought long and hard about what my mother said and then…then I thought about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you held his gaze, searching his face for answers before he presented them to you.

“Me?”

He reached out, his fingers oh-so-carefully brushing against the skin of your cheek, dragging back slowly and tucking a strand of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear, lingering there.

“Yes, you.” A wistful smile made a show on his face. “I thought about how my mother said she wanted me to graduate and push forward so I wouldn’t live the same life she created for us, and how if she had done the same thing she was begging of me, maybe-” His voice cracked, causing a jolt down your spine and your sight to blur slightly with the emergence of tears, but they didn’t fall just yet.

“-Maybe I wouldn’t have had to leave you.”

Fuck.

A single tear trickled down the apples of your cheeks, and the moment it did, his thumb wiped it away gently.

“So I agreed to the second option, which was having to repeat my senior year. I attended every class that I could, I studied and worked hard for every test. I graduated late, but I managed to do it, and then I moved to New York just before I turned nineteen.”

“Donghyuck…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. It was clear to you now that he had to grow up a lot earlier than you had, even if it hadn’t seemed that way at first. You had a good family life and a stable, comfortable childhood. You were allowed to figure it out slowly, never being exposed to any sort of extreme turbulence that shook your world so deeply other than his leaving- and you had support through that as well in the form of your friends. Donghyuck had none of that, left all alone.

“All I wanted to say was that without you, I wouldn’t be where I am.”

“Don’t do that,” you said almost sorrowfully, “You did it yourself. I just happened to be a part of it for a little while.”

“You should have been a part of it for longer.”

He wiped the stray tears that escaped your eyes at that, knowing how much weight that statement alone held. You shut your eyes, sucking in a deep breath to try and pull yourself together, but to no avail. Quietly, you responded. “I know.”

“Don’t cry,” He whispered, tilting your face up by your chin, a fond expression gracing those gorgeous features of his, and your eyelids fluttering open to look at him, committing every single detail about them to your memory. “You look beautiful tonight, Y/n.”

The compliment stung, like needles digging into the surface of your skin roughly. You knew you were completely undeserving of it, that it should have been directed to your friend who was somewhere outside the privacy of the kitchen and yet there you were, basking in his attention like you always did in the few stolen moments you got with him.

You were quite aware that you weren’t sober and you were willing to bet that he wasn’t either. Here the two of you were once again, eight long years later at a party, alone yet together. The irony of it all was not lost on you, and you somehow knew exactly what was going to happen in the next few seconds and still you made no motion to stop it.

His lips found yours instinctively, kissing you hard. You let him, the familiarity of it all rushing back to you so quickly that it nearly knocked you off your feet. Your hands rested upon his arms as his mouth moved against yours, rendering you breathless and at his disposal. You were his, you had always been his just as he had always been yours, no matter how much time had passed or how much the two of you had changed.

If the wine had gotten you tipsy, his kiss had you downright intoxicated. You were drunk on the sensation, leaning into him to get as close as possible to take it all in. You memorised the way his thumb traced your jaw so tenderly as if you were made of glass and he was afraid to break you.

Life had somehow brought you right back to him full-circle, ending right when it had started the two of you off. Perhaps it was a cruel joke, to give you everything you had ever wanted in such a limited capacity and to simultaneously make it completely off-limits.

Eight years you had waited for this, and nothing had ever felt as liberating as it was wrong.

“We need to talk.”

It was the second time you were hearing these very words from Donghyuck’s mouth, and you were just as reluctant to comply as the first.

“No.”

He looked at you, frustration decorating the expression he had directed towards you. “We can’t keep avoiding it.”

Yeonmi had invited him over again for a movie night, but realised you had run out of coke and had volunteered to run down the store and get some more, blithely unaware of the clear tension between him and you. Then again, she had never noticed anything when it came to that, but it made your life much harder.

“I think you’re just fine at that.” God, you couldn’t even begin to explain the magnitude of your anger. He was sitting there on the other end of your couch after a week of saying nothing to you- which was mostly your fault, considering you hadn’t shown up for your little coffee date that week and had stoutly ignored any calls or texts he sent your way- but that wasn’t the point.

The point in question? The fact that despite having kissed you, he evidently hadn’t broken things off with Yeonmi.

He frowned, “What do you mean?”

Now, it wasn’t as if you wanted him to break up with her for you or anything, but rather because it was the right thing to do. Of course, this wasn’t to say that you didn’t secretly hope the former would be the reason for it, but deep down, you knew that you couldn't even indulge in that. The incident had been eating away at you ever since it happened–

– Well, what exactly had happened?

You recalled the way you broke out of his touch the moment he whispered your name against your lips and brought you back to reality. You remembered how the crash felt, the way you had been on top of the world for a few seconds before it all crumbled right at your feet, the long-growing anticipation dying out into unadulterated guilt.

You remembered thinking of Yeonmi, your sweet, supportive friend who hadn’t done a single thing to deserve what you had just done to her.

When that happened, you wordlessly left the confines of the kitchen, avoiding him for the rest of the evening. Your cheeks felt hot and you felt light headed, but you had to keep up your image until everyone had gone home. He disappeared some time after that, the reason unknown to Yeonmi, who informed you of his sudden departure.

“I mean, you’ve done a great job at completely avoiding talking about Yeonmi before, so you should have no problem avoiding talking about whatever happened between us.”

He clenched his jaw. “That's not fair and you know it.”

You did. You were too proud to admit it to his face though, refusing to let him pummel through your already shattered dignity. “Whatever.” You were still seated, staring up at him in defiance as your fingernails dug into the cushioning of the couch.

“Don’t do that, don’t shut me out again. Talk to me.”

“I shut you out because you left me, Donghyuck. I’m sorry for not letting you back in with open arms, if that's what you wanted from me.” You were terrified of this, manic at possibly having to face the music. You were so much better at running away from it all, away from him.

He sighed in retirement. “We kissed.”

Your throat felt dry. “Yeah.”

“Y/n-”

“Don’t,” you warned, feeling emotion bubble to the surface and crack into your speech against your will.

“I want to talk about it. I need you to talk about it with me.”

Stupid, perfect Donghyuck. You loathed the way that even after everything, after all this time, trouble and everything in between, he was somehow still everything you had ever wanted.

You kept your voice airy and as light as possible although your tongue felt heavier than it had ever been. “If you’d like, we can pretend like it never happened in the first place, just like we pretended we weren’t a thing.”

A thing. What a gross, unjustified oversimplification of what you had with him when you were younger, and cruel too, but you had no choice. You had spent every waking hour going over the possibilities, every outcome of the situation you had stumbled into and had come to a singular conclusion: you were going to get hurt.

Donghyuck stared at you in disbelief, getting to his feet and pacing around the room as if he was trying to create space between him and you to get away, but coming back moments later. “Don’t pin that on me. That was all you.”

A bitter laugh left you as you stood up, now face to face with him. The tension was arid, almost choking you, but his gaze had an even more adverse effect, cutting right through you like you were nothing at all and holding you accountable. He was so close to you, close enough to reach out and touch and kiss once again if you so wished.

But wishing for the unattainable was futile.

His eyes dropped to your lips. Futility be damned, you wanted another taste of what it felt like to be kissed by Lee Donghyuck already, having been stripped of that luxury without having any say in it all those years ago. Just like that, you were breathless and your thoughts scattered, the air between him and you turning electric.

God, you were so tempted to just give in and press your lips to his, but you knew you couldn’t, no matter how the way he was looking at you made you consider risking it all.

“Oh and what did you expect me to say? That it was wonderful she was dating my ex-boyfriend?”

And that's when you heard glass shatter.

You startled, taking a step away from Donghyuck immediately and your head snapping to the direction of the sound, only to find Yeonmi standing by the door.

Two broken glass bottles of coke lay near her feet, their contents spilled and pooled around her shoes. The look on her face told you everything you needed to know- the disbelief in her eyes and agape mouth, those features laced with striking betrayal. In the heat of your argument with Donghyuck, you hadn’t heard the door open, neither had you heard your roommate enter, and you were certain that she had heard that last bit.

Worse, she had seen the two of you like that. It didn’t matter how quickly you had retreated away from him.

The scene was horrific in her eyes, and you could only imagine it from her perspective. The man she was dating and her roommate, someone she trusted and considered close, looked as if they were about to kiss each other right in front of her as if she didn’t exist in the first place.

“Yeonmi– I can explain–” You scrambled to try and piece together something that sounded plausible.

“Explain what, exactly?” She asked quietly, staring at you like she had seen a ghost. You had never heard her speak with such hollowness and it scared you. “That you, the both of you, lied to me?”

You had nothing to say to that because it was completely true. Everything about this was your fault and you could relate to the betrayal that she felt right then, you understood the hurt that she undoubtedly was experiencing right then.

“It makes sense now,” she said, tears springing to her eyes as she looked from you to him. “How you knew she knew so much about you, why you suddenly distanced yourself from me when I thought things were going well.” Donghyuck exhaled, looking at the ceiling and shutting his eyes. “You never really wanted me.”

“I’m sorry, Yeonmi.”

You watched as tears made their way down your friend's face. You felt like a fraud for still referring to her as a friend when you had been anything but one to her. She opened her mouth to say something, but it seemed like her grief took over, only a choked sob leaving her.

“I never want to see you again.”

And she turned around and walked out, storming into the hallway outside your apartment. You followed her out as quickly as possible in desperation, leaving Donghyuck behind. The yellow hallway felt intimidating all of a sudden, as if it was staring you down for the sins you had committed against your roommate. “Yeonmi, wait–”

She stopped outside the elevator and turned around to face you. “Why?” Her question felt like a sharpened rod prodding at your heart, or perhaps a knife driving through you and leaving you there to bleed out. “Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t know what to do,” Your helplessness finally escaped you in a rush, your own tears gathering in your eyes. “I didn’t want to, I swear I never wanted to hurt you.”

This was all wrong. You had never wanted to hurt someone else, you had never wanted to spread the pain you had carried with you all these years to her and had done everything in your power to avoid doing so. You had done everything you thought was right and yet here you were, having made a mess of it all anyway.

“I never…” You trailed off, your voice failing you as your tears trickled down, stinging your skin with their heat. “I never meant for it to be like this. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s your ex.”

You nodded miserably, burying your face in your hands and pressing your palms over your eyes hard. You let your hands slide into your hair, tugging in frustration before you gathered the courage to finally look at her again.

“A long time ago. We were kids.”

“And you’re still in love with him.”

You didn’t bother answering that one because you knew it wasn’t a question, looking at your feet until your vision got blurry from all the tears, some of them dribbling down your chin and onto the thick carpet beneath your slippers, staining it a darker colour than it was. Of course you were in love with Donghyuck, but it had come in between her own falling for him and she, despite having done nothing wrong, had to suffer the consequences.

“Fuck,” she muttered, leaning against the wall. “You should have told me. I would have stopped seeing him immediately if I knew.”

This wasn’t groundbreaking news, you had inherently known this from the start. “I know.”

“If you knew, then for fucks sake, why didn’t you tell me?” Her anger was warranted in every sense and ever scenario having to do with this, the force and outrage in her tone making you visibly flinch.

“Because,” you hesitated, before deciding that hiding anything more from her wouldn’t do you any good. “Because you were happy.”

She softened slightly at that. “But you weren’t, Y/n.”

“I hadn’t seen you that happy since…” You didn’t need to finish or mention her ex, you knew she understood. “I couldn’t bring myself to take that from you.”

She took a few steps towards you, failing to portray any malice now. “You ruined it anyways, and I think this is much worse.” Pity exuded off of her while she spoke to you, but just as quickly as you felt it, it was gone, replaced by the sheer magnitude of deception she felt. “You let me experience a false sense of happiness and consequently ruined it, and I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

You certainly didn’t expect her to. You didn’t even dare ask her for forgiveness, knowing that you didn’t deserve it at all.

“But I can’t blame you for loving him. And I can’t blame him for being in love with you either because I can see it. It finally makes sense now.” She sighed in defeat, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

“And I can’t be happy for you either, so I’m going to leave. I’ll stay over at Chaewons.”

You shook your head. “No, I should be the one who goes, you should stay at the apartment.”

“Yes, but I’m the one who deserves to have a friend to talk to, so I’m going to go.” You could tell how hard she was trying to remain calm, removing herself from the situation before she did anything stupid. She walked away from you and towards the elevator, calling it to your floor. You nodded, letting a defeated sigh escape your lungs.

“Okay. Drive safe. I’m sorry.”

“I will.” Yeonmi stepped into the elevator and faced you one last time, pressing her lips together. “I’m sorry too Y/n, because I never want to see you again either.”

xii] then.

You occupied one of the swings, humming an idle tune you had heard on the radio earlier that day while you looked through your phone. Currently, it was 7:15 p.m, fifteen minutes after Donghyuck had promised to meet you at the park. You didn’t think much of it though, since he was usually on time and would show up soon enough.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil.

You looked up from your scrolling to see him standing there a little away from you and smiled. He seemed out of breath as if he had run all the way here and his hair was tousled from the wind that blew, biting into your exposed skin. You realised you had left his jacket at home.

“Hey you,” you hardly ever recognised the tone your cadence took on when it was directed towards him, and you couldn’t pinpoint when it switched to such transparent affection either, but you weren’t one to question such things. Your love for him was as sure as the cycle of the earth around the sun, an inevitable happenstance of fate.

“I can’t stay for long,” he informed you regretfully, walking over and occupying the swing beside yours. “I have to be home earlier today.”

“That’s okay,” you checked the time. 7:17. “How early?”

He winced, “Eight technically, but I’m sure I can stretch it till eight-thirty.”

You waved this suggestion off, shaking your head. “Nah it’s fine, I don’t want you to get in trouble. We can talk while we walk home.”

“Okay.” He followed you out of the park and onto the streets. Still being winter, the days were short and the sky was already dark, the streetlights provided the pair of you with illumination, second to the moon peeking out from behind the clouds as if it was afraid to call the sky its own before its usual time.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you fell in step with him, enjoying the warmth he provided. “We can just hang out tomorrow.” The next day was a Sunday, which meant you had the entire day to yourselves if you so pleased.

His smile faltered slightly as he nodded. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

You completely missed the uncertainty coating the word and the anxiety he felt right then, pulling him along with you as you walked. Teenage foolishness was truly a fool's paradise, your blissful unawareness blessing you with a bounce in your step and a worry free mind. Donghyuck meanwhile was struggling to keep up, his guilt making it feel as if his feet were heavier than ever, the knowledge he possessed and had effectively kept from you being the cause of his misery.

So you talked about your day, the difficult question on your test that day and about Sakura’s progress with Yuta (which had been minimal at best, but you were proud of her nonetheless because at least now she could wave ‘hello’ to the boy). He listened to you chatter endlessly, the sound of your excited rambling distracting him from his troubles. There was never a moment he was bored when around you and he truly did love to listen to you talk.

He’d miss that more than anything. He’d miss you more than anything he had ever had the chance to miss.

“Oh we’re here,” you stopped outside your house and turned to him, walking right into his arms for a quick goodbye hug, planting a chaste kiss upon his lips before you pulled away. “Thanks for walking me home.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, watching as you began walking to your door. He already missed the feeling of your skin against his, wishing he had held you for a little bit longer. Was he already forgetting the taste of your kiss, even though you were only a few feet away from him?

“Y/n?”

You stopped and looked back at him, your smile visible in your eyes. “Yeah?”

He was leaving tonight. That was why he had to be home early, because it would be the last time he ever set foot in that house. Tonight he would be gone, and you still didn’t know a damn thing. It was too late to explain. That was his own doing and now he’d simply have to live with the guilt plaguing him for what would probably be the rest of his life. Every time he thought about you, it would attack him once more and push him underwater, holding him there until he ran out of breath.

So he would have to settle for something small and manageable to quell his culpability, at least by a little.

“I’m sorry.”

He knew that it wasn’t nearly enough to make up for everything. Two meagre words couldn’t do much at all and it wasn’t capable of fixing anything either, but it was the best he could do. His heart felt heavy, and he could feel his eyes sting with tears at the sight of your confused face at this, finally letting the unhappiness he felt crack through. “I’m so sorry.”

Concern bled into your features. “For what? Hyuck, are you okay?”

Donghyuck shook his head and blinked rapidly to stop himself from crying in front of you, stuffing his hands into his pockets and taking a step back. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just– see you tomorrow.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving you to eye his figure as it sauntered down the street and disappeared around the corner. He was confusing sometimes, switching from being happy to something entirely else within seconds.

You opened the door and walked into your house as night fell.

The next day, he was late again.

Usually he would pick you up on holidays before you went anywhere, but today he was nowhere to be seen. It was noon now, and you glanced outside your window, anticipating his car to pull into your lane any moment now.

You momentarily entertained the idea of him possibly forgetting. It did seem like he had a lot on his mind as of late, so you wouldn’t blame him if he had. The only issue was that he wasn’t texting you back, nor was he answering your calls and so you decided to stop waiting around for him to show up, opting to go over to his house instead.

The sky was cloudy that day, a chill in the air that had you remembering to pull on a jacket before you set out this time, the gravel beneath your feet crunching loudly in the silence of the afternoon. Most of the town took their midday nap on a Sunday such as this one, making it seem a lot quieter than it was.

So when you walked up to his door and noticed all the lights in the house seemed to be off, you didn’t think much of it, preparing to apologise for disturbing if his mother happened to answer as you rang the bell.

No response.

You frowned, waiting a minute or so before ringing the bell again twice in succession. When nothing happened, you slipped your phone out of your pocket and clicked on his contact, holding it up to your ears. It didn’t ring at all, immediately playing a recorded message instead.

‘This contact is temporarily out of service.’

Your intuition kicked in, telling you that something was inherently very wrong. Swallowing thickly, you tried ringing the bell one last time, louder than before.

“Y/n? What are you doing here sweetheart?”

You looked over to your right to see a lady in her fifties- a friend of your mothers- standing outside the neighbouring house, wrapped up in a robe. Embarrassment at causing a disturbance flared up inside of you as you rushed to explain yourself.

“I’m sorry Aunty, I just wanted to visit my friend Donghyuck.” You gestured toward the door to aid in your explanation, earning a perplexed look from her end.

“He’s not here anymore.”

There it was again, your intuition kicking you from the inside and clawing up, dread beginning to fill you. “I–I’m not sure I understand Aunty.”

“They moved out sometime late last night, his mother had told me about it a month or so ago when she needed help fixing a hole in the wall to get her deposit back from their landlord. I had my husband help her– but that’s beside the point. They’re gone.”

The implication of the new information hadn’t quite registered yet, leaving you to stare at the lady, dumbfounded. “Gone,” you repeated under your breath. “Oh.”

“I thought you knew since you were such good friends with her son.” Friends. The word sounded bitter right then, because you had been so much more than that, but as you stood there and listened to your mothers friend talk, you wondered if you even qualified for that. Didn’t friends tell each other things?

“Is everything okay, darling?” Why didn’t he tell you?

“It must have slipped my mind. I’m sorry for disturbing you Aunty.”

She waved it off, forgiving you easily and retreating back into her house. You stared at the door.

He couldn’t have been gone- it made no sense whatsoever. Just yesterday he had been by your side and had made plans to meet with you today. Why would he have done that if he was going to leave?

I’m sorry.

His cryptic words from the day before rushed back to you and you gasped to yourself when their magnitude finally hit you, causing you to stumble back and off of the landing of the house. He did know, he knew and had blatantly lied to your face without a second thought. Your mind went into overdrive as you tried to piece what had just happened together to form a coherent set of thoughts, failing miserably at doing so.

Two things were clear: Donghyuck was gone and you had no idea where or why.

You tried calling him again, punching in his number into the dial pad almost furiously, willing him to pick up. When the same monotone message repeated itself, you cursed, accidentally dropping your phone onto the path you stood on in your frenzy.

“No, no, no, no” There was a certain manic quiver to your voice as you picked up the device, staring at his profile picture. It seemed to mock you now, the bright smile he sported in it that portrayed joy directly challenging the torrential downpour of agony that you were inflicted with, thus rendered utterly despaired.

Your boyfriend was gone, and he hadn’t bothered to tell you about it.

The boy you loved, heck, the person you adored and meant the most to you in the entire world had left you without so much as a proper goodbye, leaving you behind to wonder why. You hadn’t the faintest idea where he could have been at that moment, just knowing that he wasn’t where he had promised he’d be and where you needed him most.

Hot tears spilled out of your eyes, catching onto your eyelashes and making it hard for you to see. You didn’t bother to stand back up, the asphalt beneath your knees digging into it harshly, no doubt going to leave a few minor cuts. The amount of questions you had were innumerable, each one crashing into the other until your head was full of incomprehensible nonsense that made it spin.

It felt too normal for him to have been gone. The rest of the town functioned as normal and yet it felt as if your entire world had just been flipped upside down.

When Sakura and Chenle sat you down and asked you about what had happened when they found you sitting all alone in the park after skipping school a few days later, you left out the parts describing how you desperately tried ringing the bell a few more times afterwards. You didn’t tell them about how you had so hoped that it was an elaborate prank, nor did you go into detail about how many times you had called him, hoping and praying for him to pick up.

The days melted into weeks without Donghyuck.

You hated how it felt as if he was everywhere, having tainted all your favourite places and being the majority of your most beloved memories. You half expected him to walk out from around a corner and surprise you, taking you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

But hope is a foolish sentiment, especially hope fueled by naive teenage fallacies. The rose tinted glasses that had been worn by you for the months you had been with Donghyuck seemed to fade in their vitality, sucking out all the colour from your life until it felt as if you were left with a dull combination of greys and blue hues to paint the rest of your life with. You were missing the components that gave it warmth.

For you, Donghyuck was the sun, enigmatic, alluring and all too elusive. He was everything you could ever ask to have and yet just outside your reach, your fingertips barely brushing against it before it disappeared again. You quickly learned that you were the moon, waiting amidst the stars and hoping for those moments when both the sun and moon were painted across the same canvas of sky.

That very sky had fractured into a kaleidoscope of colours when he left, leaving you to pick up the shards of your broken heart.

xiii] now.

You stood in the doorway of what used to be Yeonmi’s room, comparing it to how you remembered it looking before. The only thing left was the bedframe and an old cupboard, the rest of the room was bare.

She had moved out a couple days after the incident, leaving you alone in the apartment. You would have to look for another roommate or simply cover her part of the rent yourself considering you could afford to now with your promotion. Still, the silence was overwhelming, reminding you constantly of how easily you had ruined a friendship.

It seemed to be one of the core themes of your life- to experience debilitating loss over and over without having any time to prepare for the same.

The doorbell rang.

Ungluing yourself from her former doorframe, you dragged yourself to the door and opened it, your eyes widening in question when it fell upon the person who stood there.

“Y/n."

Donghyuck stared back at you with those captivating eyes of his, pulling you into a trance of sorts instantaneously. You forced yourself to snap out of it.

“What are you doing here?”

He combed his fingers through his hair, evidently agitated. “I didn’t know what else to do. You won’t answer my calls and I need to talk to you, even if you don’t want to.”

You were so tired, the events that had transpired over the past few weeks crushing you beneath the weight of it all. Looking at him now, all you could do was weakly shake your head, a frantic sort of fear consuming you whole.

“No,” you said, taking a step back. “I don’t not want to talk to you, I can’t.”

“Why?”

The question made you freeze in place, your feet rooted to the flooring of your apartment. Why? After everything that had transpired, it was for some reason much too hard for you to answer although the answer was at the forefront of your thoughts and on the tip of your tongue. Truthfully, you were afraid to sound it out, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to convey it correctly.

When he left you eight years ago, you didn’t have the opportunity to talk to him. He had taken away that possibility for you without ever considering if you’d want it, and gradually you grew used to silently harbouring ache that bloomed in your ribcage.

It occurred to you then that the same was the reason he wanted to talk. Donghyuck had forced himself to cut you off in every way after he moved, following his own teenage justifications that told him it was for the best. Now, older and wiser, he knew not to repeat the misdeeds of his youth, but the very opposite notion had been instilled in you.

“Donghyuck,” you whispered his name, giving him a knowing look, one that was filled with so much sadness and despair that he could barely recognise you. Where was the ever-cheery girl he had fallen for?

Was he the cause for her disappearance?

If so, he promised himself he’d be the one to bring her back too. “Be with me.”

You gasped softly at his proposition, shaking your head furiously, “Are you insane?”

He simply nodded, taking a step closer towards you. “Yes. About you, I’ve always been insane about you.” Conviction hung onto every word, and perhaps if you were younger you would have swooned and run straight back into his arms.

You missed your naivety, for life would have been so much easier with it. It was a boon, but now you were wary for the sake of your fragile heart. You could feel your teenage wistfulness rise to the surface as if it was trying to break out of the cage you had locked it in, doing its best to claw its way out and hand the rest of the pieces of your heart over to the man who had the missing bit you had been searching for all these years without him.

But you knew better.

Instead, you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make him go away. “No, no, no.” It seemed to be the only word your tongue could form right then and so you repeated it over and over, clinging onto what it meant as if you were trying to convince yourself that you truly meant it. “I can’t be with you.”

“Yes, you can. You know you can.” His own desperation began to shine through, exposing his own years of heartache. He had waited so long for a moment like this. Every goddamn day since the day he had left you, he had regretted it, heartache permanently etched into his bones.

You snapped your eyes open, disbelief overtaking. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. Be with me.”

“We just hurt Yeonmi,” you said, your words getting caught in your throat. Then, once again, your chagrin towards him glared up as you glared. “And that was because she happened to walk in on us talking. What if she had seen us kiss? Tell me, would we even be having this conversation if she hadn’t found us?”

“I…” He frowned and you scoffed.

“Would you have ever broken it off with her?” Or would I have had to deal with our intertwined web of lies all by myself? The bitter thought lingered.

“Yes.” The answer was immediate. “If you wanted that, I would have done it.”

“Of course I wanted it!” You blurted out, your fingers curling into the palm of your hand into a fist. “But I couldn’t want it, because she was my friend, Donghyuck. Even if you had broken it off, I still couldn’t do a damn thing.”

He swallowed thickly, “I know, its fucked up, but I–”

“Yeah, fucked up. Too fucked up for me to even think about being with you.”

“But you have, haven’t you?” The question threw you off, and as if he had magically read your mind, he clarified, “You have thought about it.”

You froze, and your silence betrayed you immensely. There wasn’t a single lie you could have uttered in response that would have been convincing enough, not even to yourself.

“I can do it this time,” he said so earnestly that it broke your heart all over again, his coffee-coloured eyes pleading with you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you again Y/n, I’m not a kid anymore. I can be here for you.” Promises fell from his mouth, sweet pledges and assurances that felt like balm to your wounded soul.

But how were you supposed to trust the very person that had given you trust issues?

How were you supposed to put those trust issues to the side and take him back with open arms without bruising your dignity any further? How were you to do it without falling apart?

Melancholy was a funny thing to have taken over you right then, self pity flooding your system, as well as pity for him. For so long, you had blamed him, but now that you took a step back and viewed your situation, you realised that you would have to do the very same thing he did so long ago.

The cyclical nature of life was pitilessly cruel, ravaging everything in its path no matter the case. It had brought you back to all you had ever known and wanted, all the while forcing you to let go, pulling the rug from under your feet without giving you the chance to find your footing. It had made him leave you and come back, only to have you walk away because of how wrong things were.

Love found in dark, twisted places was never love that was meant to be nurtured. Love emerging from lies and deceit, situations that were impossible- it was love that would forever have to be left behind, no matter how pure it might have once been.

“I can’t love you.”

“Y/n please-”

“I’ve already hurt her, and if I love you again I’m going to hurt myself as well because I–I’m always the one that's left to sit and think about you. And it fucking hurts Donghyuck, it hurts.” You couldn’t believe him when he said he’d stay, because he had told you the very same thing all those years ago. You couldn’t be with him without guilt haunting your every move when you had so severely hurt Yeonmi due to your own agony.

You didn’t even realise you had started crying, tears cascading down your face. It was all so unfair, how something that had always been advertised as being simple had been anything but for you. Love had never once ended well for you, constantly picking you up and throwing you back down subsequently without giving you a moment to breathe.

Love was supposed to be the most beautiful thing in the entire world, so why was it so goddamn ugly?

It crushed him to see you like this, so openly broken and yet guarded at the same time, your wall built up so high that he wasn’t sure he could ever break it back down again. He hated how it was him who always brought you to this point, and he tried to reach out to you to wipe away your tears, but you only flinched away from his touch.

How the hell had you ended up like this?

“Then tell me you don’t feel it.” He had to know. He needed to hear it from you.

Your lower lip quivered. “Feel what?”

God, you felt so much. Just looking at him was enough to stir up a surfeit of emotions that you hadn't the faintest clue how to handle, but one in particular overpowered the others, an ache emanating from your rib cage that was so potent, it exhausted you.

“Feel what you did when we were sixteen. Say it.”

Sixteen. You had felt so loved by another that barely understood the concept of it himself at the time, its meaning so completely untainted by the passage of time and complications that came. That innocence wasn’t to be found within you, but the remnants of it had grown and interwoven itself with what only he could bring out of you.

“I–”

“I’ll say it then, because goddamnit Y/n I love you.” The look on Donghyuck’s face ripped right through you. “I’ve always loved you, from the moment I saw you when we were teenagers. You’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with and I know you love me too.”

It fucking hurt. You couldn’t understand how the only person in the world who understood you so completely and saw right through everything you were was the one person you couldn’t let yourself be with. It was Donghyuck who used to notice even a slight switch in your mood when you were upset and it was him who would cheer you up the best he could. It was him who used to let you ramble on into the late of night and text you into the wee hours of the morning and him who now naturally gravitated towards you, just as you did to him. It was his jacket that you still had buried somewhere in your closet from all those years ago, with you unable to let go of it no matter how hard you tried.

Even now when you had only reunited for a bitterly short period of time, he was still the one who intrinsically knew every part of you. He knew you loved him still.

You inhaled sharply, noticing the red tint to the white of his eyes, realising that he too was struggling to keep himself together right then. Shaking your head slowly, you moved closer towards his figure, touching his face gently and cupping it between your palms, searching his eyes intently.

“I love you.”

He shut his eyes the moment you said it, tears slipping down and catching on your fingertips as you brushed them away.

“But even you know we can’t be together.”

The world had ripped the two of you away from each other once, and you had to trust that there was a reason for it. You knew you couldn’t let yourself go back because it was simply not meant to be with the circumstances and cards life had dealt you.

You loved Donghyuck- fuck, you loved him more than you thought was possible, and it still wasn’t enough. Neither of you could communicate through anything and shit was a hell of a lot more complicated than it was when you were just teenagers. He was right, he wasn’t a kid anymore and neither were you, but too much had happened. The timing was never right for him and you, there was always one thing or the other standing in the way, and the repercussions of everything was too much for you to simply put in the past, making the two of you something that would never work.

“I know.”

The syllables left his lips so brokenly that you instinctively had the urge to somehow fix him- whatever part of him that was fractured. The front he had been parading around, the false sense of confidence that he had pretended to have about you had finally collapsed, leaving him with a truth he hadn’t come to terms with just yet. The resignation he possessed broke you further, and you pressed your lips to his firmly, trying to mend your fragmented souls.

But it was fruitless. This was a brokenness that you would have to learn to live with until time bandaged your matching wounds, dulling it down into what would one day just be the thought of how terribly it burned.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered against his mouth. “I love you.”

Disentangling himself from you, he stepped outside of your apartment and looked at you, imagining you once again the way he had first met you.

“I love you too.”

It was ironic, how words could mean something entirely different to what they were, how seemingly unrelated sentences were connected, a confession of affection serving the same purpose as a final farewell. Goodbyes of such permanence were merciless things and so when presented with one so absolutely brutal, he couldn’t help but think about the beginning, from the very first hello that passed between him and you.

I love you. The very last time you’d ever hear it from him.

Those fragile, lovely rose tinted glasses you wore in your youth had snapped a long time ago, and you could see everything for what it was.

And now, he could too.

Time was said to heal all wounds, but only if it was a wound that was ready to be healed.

Everything about Donghyuck and you was unfinished back then, the millions of questions you had haunting your every move ever since it had so abruptly ended. For eight years that wound had been left wide open and time had only assisted in letting it fester, burying its memory deep within your psyche.

But time also brought wisdom in its stride.

You picked up the mail your new roommate had left on your coffee table, shifting through the pile until you found the envelopes with your name on them. Leaving the rest behind, you made your way to your room, sighing in relief at finally being back in your comfort space.

Sitting atop your bed, you began opening each envelope. A letter from your grandmother who refused to learn how to send you a text, a card from an aunt and a few bills- the usual collection, but one stood out from the rest. The sender's address was entirely unfamiliar to you, and you frowned lightly, carefully tearing open the top and tipping out its contents.

A soft gasp escaped your lips.

Right there on your lap lay two tickets to Lee Jieun’s upcoming concert.

As if you were afraid that they would disintegrate, you gently picked them up and inspected them, in utter disbelief at the fact that you were holding them. You had failed to get tickets of your own when you had tried and yet here you were with not one, but two of them in your grasp- and they were the expensive kind, the ones where you had access to go backstage and meet the artists as well.

For a moment you entertained the possibility of this being a mistake, but then you stopped your train of thought when it slammed head first into the only explanation as to how they had gotten here.

A small, wistful smile crept up upon you as you glanced back at the envelope, noticing a small piece of paper still inside. Taking it out, a breathless chuckle was all you managed after reading what it said.

‘Thought I’d at least keep this promise. – L.D’

Suddenly, you were taken back to that cafe where you had the conversation with Donghyuck. You hadn’t stepped foot in there since the last time you saw him- over two months ago when you knew it was over.

Sometimes, a story doesn’t have to have an ending to be finished.

You knew that a part of you would always love Donghyuck due to the ephemeral, innocent nature of the young love you had for him that had been ingrained within you. You had made your peace knowing that the two of you were something written into the world to die out eventually, something that you had to let go of even if it made no sense to you.

It was apparent that this was a love that could never truly be yours, as magnificent as it seemed it had never been yours to begin with in the first place. It was a mishmash of bad timing and rash teenage decisions mixed in with that sort of hopelessness you only found in the blissful oblivion of adolescence. You could wish and want a million things, but at the end of the day, now and then, some things were simply not meant to be.

The love between the two of you was something you were never supposed to claim, time and time again slipping through your fingers, and yet you still grieved for its loss.

But grief could be overcome. You shut your eyes, imagining his cheeky smile and fond eyes, the way he’d look at you while you were talking and all the pretty, empty promises he had made. All the talks of the future that had always been fractured for the two of you and moments of tenderness.

For once, you didn’t just picture him apologising to you over and over again, that ache having finally dulled out.

And when you opened your eyes, you didn’t feel sixteen anymore, instead you felt as if time had passed almost too quickly and reality was finally catching up. You felt older, properly this time, and much more experienced.

Donghyuck had been your first love at the tender age of sixteen, the cause of your flushed cheeks and racing heart; affectionate, shy smiles and chaste kisses underneath streetlights. He had been the torrential downpour of rain upon a stormy sea, as violent as it was beautiful. All you felt about him had only ever been intense in nature, your youthfulness unable to process them in any other way. Now, looking back, perhaps there were several things you would have done differently, and maybe some you wouldn’t have done at all.

You would remember it all, every single detail of course, but when you thought about Donghyuck, you’d think about all the good. You’d remember laughing out over him singing along to your favourite songs on the radio while aimlessly driving around town, the late night conversations you’d sneak out together to have and the ice cream you’d share on hotter summer days. You’d think about his infectious laugh and the way he always managed to make you happy, the way he’d take care of you when you were sick and kiss your forehead goodbye each and every time. How your hand would perfectly fit in his, fingers intertwined and clasped together tight, how he’d whisper the three words that you so cherished back then at the most unexpected of times. You’d remember the love that was very real and very much lost and its seemingly magical, wild nature that you doubted you’d ever find again.

You’d remember sixteen.

fin.

213 notes · View notes

strawbeerossi · 11 months

Text

Just Know, I Love You

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Reader hasn't been her usual self after a breakup months prior. Spencer takes notice of this, using her love of Valentine's Day and his own plans to try and bring a smile to her face while telling her how much he cares about her.

Content Warnings: Nothing bad, tooth rotting fluff, Spencer being sweet, pining, admitting feelings, ends with a kiss 🩷

Word Count: 1.1K

This blurb is my most favorite thing that I have ever written. Enjoy this little blurb that I thought of today on my lunch break.

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“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope." Maya Angelou

Spencer was never one for romance, mainly because he wasn't the type to have women falling over each other to get to him. He would admit that he didn't have a clue on what he would do anyway. He wasn't going to trouble himself with those thoughts for any hypothetical relationship.

Y/N was a great exception to his rule though.

It was a few months ago that she and her boyfriend ended up breaking up. Spencer could recall her coming into the office looking purely broken and exhausted. From what she had told him, they were doing well.

They were even looking for houses, he remembered. However, things came crashing down on Y/N's world when she was made aware that her boyfriend was cheating on her the entire course of their relationship.

Now, personally, Spencer didn't even understand how anyone could ever think of finding anyone else when they had her. She was the whole package; a good sense of humor, kind, a beautiful smile, and the best laugh that he'd ever heard. One that he missed terribly.

Y/N used to come in with a big smile on her face every morning, bringing coffee for Spencer because those two liked more sugar than the bitter black coffee that they would see Hotch or Rossi drink. They would joke about how they had to have had sugar packets hidden in their offices, maybe even hidden creamer and other things.

Valentine's Day was coming up, it usually being one of Y/N's favorite holidays. She was a hopeless romantic, loving the idea of a whole dedicated to nothing but love and appreciation.However with a sour view of love, she wasn't as upbeat as she was.

He noticed her all week, quietly moping around the office. It killed him inside. Spencer even asked if she wanted to decorate the office with him, something she usually would've been way too eager to do. This time though, he was met with glassed over eyes, a sad smile that even had a little bit of a lip quiver, and the assurance that the day was just any other.

That killed him more than anything. She was hurting to the point where she was avoiding the day entirely.

Spencer had a plan. So, the morning of Valentine's Day, he was picking them up an overly sugary coffee, stopping to get a red velvet cupcake from one of the bakeries in town, then Spencer even stopped to pick up a bouquet of yellow roses. the night before, he was racking over all the ideas in his mind for what he'd write on the little card attached to the flowers, he still had time to write something up.

When he made it to the office, he was letting out a sigh of relief when he realized Y/N wasn't at her desk just yet. He hoped she wasn't going to try and pull off a sick day, mainly because his whole goal was to make this a Valentine's Day that she'd never forget.

After the flowers, the coffee cup that was elegantly decorated for the holiday, and the cupcake box that was wrapped in a beautiful satin red bow were placed in an aesthetically pleasing set up, he was sitting at his desk while doing his best to quickly write down the note that he hoped wouldn't be overly sappy.

Boy, Penelope was gonna be so proud of him for this set up, she'd definitely approve.

Even if Y/N wasn't there yet, the rest of the team was. Emily watched in amusement, a smile on her face as she leaned back against her chair. "You know that you are really gonna brighten up her whole year, right?" She asked, making the youngest on the team peek up from his writing.

He felt a rush of pride run through him, his cheeks and ears starting to get hot from his blushing over the thought of seeing that beautiful smile spread across his coworker's face again. "You think so? I really hope she does. I like her a lot.. I just want her to see that she still deserves to feel appreciated." He rambled on while keeping his gaze on the card.

"Pretty boy, I'm almost jealous." Derek commented, ruffling Spencer's hair while looking over the spread with a chuckle. "You gotta give me tips, kid." He was teasing, though he felt like a proud big brother watching his younger sibling make his own moves.

By the grace of god, Spencer had placed the card on the flowers as soon as Y/N was making her appearance into the bullpen. Like Spencer suspected, she looked like she just didn't wanna be there.

However, her whole demeanor changed as she approached the desk, her eyebrows raising in curiosity. "What's all this?" She asked, looking to the coworkers who were close by. "No idea, mama. I seen all of that sitting on your desk when I got in this morning." Derek commented, a smile on his face as he was leaning against the edge of the desk. "There should be a card." Emily also commented, the two making a point to hang around the desk just a little longer.

Which Y/N had already had a small smile on her face from the surprise, as soon as she picked up that card though, her smile was growing wider, the appreciative tears already starting to burn her eyes.

'We both know I don't know how to do stuff like this. So I am gonna leave you with a quote that means a lot to me, almost as much as the amount that you mean to me,

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." - William Shakespeare.

I hope you know that no matter what you may be going through, I'll always be here for you.

Just so you know, I love you. -Spencer.'

The note really tied the whole ensemble together, Spencer turning in his chair as she began to read the note allowed, a smile on his face. He felt so proud of himself for pulling this off, especially after feeling like he was going to royally mess it up at some points while planning.

"Thank you." Y/N smiled, her gaze now on her best friend in the office while she was heading over to wrap her arms around Spencer with a tight hug, making Spencer hold her just as tight.

"Although.. I do have one thing to say." She spoke while pulling from the hug. The words made Spencer's heart fall into his stomach.

What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if this is weird? Oh god, what if-

His thoughts were coming to a screeching halt when he felt a pair of soft lips against his own.

Oh.

"Just so you know, I love you so much more."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid drabble #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff

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waynewifey · 8 months

Text

aporia — b.w

part one : dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

sumary: aporia suggests “an impasse”, a knot or an inherent contradiction found in any text, an insuperable deadlock, or “double bind” of incompatible or contradictory meanings which are “undecidable”. [reference]

pairing: battinson/bruce wayne x reader

genre: drama & romance

warnings: mental health struggle, miscarriage, car crash, a lot of internal dialogue

word count: 2k

A/N: the more i write, the more i put myself in this story. i feel like this ‘you’ is so complex i can’t help but try to explain her further. part four will be bruce’s perspective on all of this + an epilogue. i’m so grateful for the amazing feedback given on the last two parts and for the new followers, thank you so so much. i hope you enjoy this. (also this gif??? HELLO???)

GOTHAM. USA.

— bargaining.

the uncomfortable silence makes you want to scream. she told you that was a normal reaction and they couldn't get rid of those moments, they were essential for your self reflection. the problem was being alone with your thoughts, even for just one minute. they keep deciding you won't recover any time soon. everyone keeps holding you like a cracked vase. even negligence was better than being put under the microscope.

"i don't know what you want me to say" you respond, your gaze anxiously shuffling between the objects in the room. the woman's eyes, however, don't ever leave your face. she holds that journal like a scientist analysing a mutation. like you're some weird thing.

"you should say whatever you feel like saying." that's what she always answers. dr. quinn was extremely stoic, even for a therapist. you still liked her, though, because her pragmatic approach helped you shift your point of view and see yourself from an outside perspective, which made you want to help yourself. after weeks of feeling extra irritable, still trying to forgive your husband for lying to you, you realised maybe everything was too much for you to handle by yourself. you wanted to go back to the real world but before that, you had to do this. a quick chat with your psychiatrist and he gave you the contact to harley quinn.

"i think i've been way too mean to bruce" your confession has her nodding, like that observation had been made sessions before and she was waiting for you to realise that. "he's been so supportive and helpful, but sometimes words just fly out of my mouth and i don't even mean them"

"do you think it's easier to blame him than to come to terms with what actually happened?" you can't answer, because this was all you've asked yourself lately. you were a coward, hiding behind his suffering to prevent confronting yours. it's easy to curse him, to reject him, but it's not what you want to do. lately it feels like you don't have any control over your emotions and actions. you thought maybe if you pushed away the last person that still cared for you, you could disappear in your loneliness and finally stop hurting. "y/n you've been through something terrible. the kind of thing we never think it's gonna happen to us. i know it doesn't feel real, but you have to face it that it is. the thing about trauma... you have to keep living with it. you have to keep going, because it doesn't go away. but this is your life and you don't get to stay on standby. you hurt the people you love because it's better than hurting yourself. you told me you feel bad about it, so why won't you change?"

why won't you? you don't even know where to start. it felt comfortable living in sorrow forever. horrible, but comfortable. again, it was in fact easier to blame him than to accept this was reality. but he's right outside, been waiting for you for two hours, as he has done twice a week for over a month. you weren't being fair to him. he didn't deserve this. dr. quinn sees the defeat in your eyes and sighs in a mission accomplished type of breath.

"think about this, okay? we'll talk on friday." you nod, as if you weren't already overthinking it.

bruce sees you before listening to you. he's created the habit to stay in the waiting room with headphones in, blasting loud music. he didn't want you to feel like he was prying on you. he also didn't want to listen anything you had to say about him. you had the right to be mad at him, given everything that had happened. he knew you didn't mean it when you bomb dropped the word 'divorce' every now and then. it would take you some time to get back to normal and he wouldn't rush you.

you walk to the car quietly and get into the driver's seat. he agreed to let you drive to and from therapy. the office was actually in dr. quinn's house, a little bit on the country side of the city, if you could call it that. it was a 50 minute drive with no traffic, roads empty enough for you to drift off in you thoughts. he watches you drive, eyes brightening up a little more everyday. he realised that trying to shield you from the world wasn't going to work out. you need to learn how to be on your own. he needs to learn how to care for you while away.

"i'm sorry," you caught him off guard, observing the curves of your face. he frowns at the unexplained sentence. you glance at him but look back at the road. "for the way i've been acting. for pushing you away. for being too complicated. i know you're trying to help… thank you for staying."

"darling, of course. for better or for worse, remember? i'm never leaving you. we're getting through this, together. and don't you worry about me, i'll be okay when you are too, alright? you're doing great, i can see how much you're working towards it." he holds out a hand for you and you take it, intertwining your fingers. his calloused palms are softer now, courtesy of the months without batman-ing. they still embrace yours entirely and warm the cold tips of your fingers.

"i love you" the sweetness of that feeling dominates your tastebuds and it's almost like the day you started dating. that innocent type of love that consist of the pure enjoyment of each others company. however, your attempt to savour the moment is ruined by a shape in your peripheral eyesight.

"i love you too" bruce's voice is muffled by the anxious thoughts taking over your mind. the panic starts to overflow. he notices your body getting stiff and the wheel looking loose on your hand. your breathing lost it's rhythm to creaking gasps. there's something wrong. your eyes are frozen in a vehicle. he's seen this van before. maybe not this one, but an identical one, in a security camera tape in court. it looks exactly like the one that took you. "baby, hey, hey. i'm right here." you don't pay any mind to the man beside you. you can't, not when your instincts are telling you to run. not when you can feel the gun getting knocked on your head over and over again. bruce is saying something. the tears are blurring your sight. this is too much.

he's calling you screaming at this point, tears are rolling down your cheeks and you still haven't looked away from the van. there's a bump coming up, the car is dangerously fast and you're not driving at all. he goes for the wheel but isn't quick enough. the tires wiggle, going in their own direction. the car changes lanes, getting in the wrong way of the street. another car is coming and the impact isn't light. your head is thrown forwards, the airbag covering your face. the windshield shatters and little pieces of glass get stuck in your hair. the crash isn't too bad, you're both still awake and only the front has been smashed. but you get out hyperventilating, falling onto the ground and weeping.

bruce gets out as well, only a scratch on the forehead. he has to kneel on the dirt to hold you up. for a while, he doesn't say anything. the other driver is standing, phone in the ear. he's also fine. the cars were the only damage. two other drivers stop by, offering help. you wish he could help you, but it seems as if there's something inherently wrong with you.

— depression.

the weeks following the accident were harsh. it took a while to get you believing in recovery again. you still weren't sure. somehow there was press at the site, so pictures of you crying next to a car crash made it to the papers. there's minor commentary online about you faking it for your husbands popularity. most of the netizens feel desperately sorry for you and have painted you to be their new princess diana, the comparison seems wild to you.

you only go online every three days or so, because you can't resist the urge to know what bruce hasn't been telling you. jokes on you, he's actually been a lot more transparent lately. you agreed that the batman would show up to the sentence of edward nashton, to pressure the jury with his presence. it worked and the criminal got life without parole. the lawyers said that your public presence impacted on his trial, as 20 years was the standard. you were just glad he wouldn't do that to anybody else ever again. the case got national and your family from outside the state, that you not-so-kindly kept in the dark, started making contact, victimising you all over again.

but things were getting better, gradually. it had been almost a year and it felt like that chapter of your life was finally being finished. you were trying to get your life back, including your driver's license. it was suspended for a while after the accident, so now you had to submit a bunch of medical records to prove that you were mentally fine to drive again. that's how you found yourself in bruce's home office, searching everywhere for your documents. you could've asked him where he put it, but he had just fallen asleep in the living room and you didn't want to disturb him.

in one of the desk's drawers, you find a folder with the local hospital logo on it. you open it, shuffling through the papers you've seen before. only one stands out, with "ob/gyn" on the top of the sheet. you wonder if there's anything helpful there. your eyes start reading the words one by one, listing the examinations they've done on you. the subject changes abruptly.

the ultrasound analysis reports the miscarriage of an unknown pregnancy to the patient's spouse.

you feel like you're about to throw up. the world starts spinning as you force yourself to continue to read.

the fetus was estimated to be in the development stage of the beginning of the second trimester. the miscarriage was most likely a result of several mechanical trauma. dilation and curettage was performed with the patient in a medically induced coma.

you try to remember to breathe in and breathe out just like dr. quinn taught you. you expect the tears but they don't come out. the panic doesn't come. it's suddenly so quiet. it's not like a hole has been punched through your chest, it's like you have no chest at all. it's like you don't even exist. you somehow sit down, your body does. you feel as if it's moving on it's own and you're just watching from afar. your thoughts sound so distant, so irrelevant. you can only think of the baby that had once been inside of you and you didn't even realised. you didn't have the time to love him. you've had him there, right there, the thing you wanted the most in the world and he was taken from you. everything was taken from you.

if a tree falls on a forest, and there's no one around to hear, does it still make a sound? it felt like your fall was silent.

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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

Text

Dragon Sickness

Part 2;

Pairing: Bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader;

Warnings: No usage of Y/N, bookcanon Greens, potential spoilers for Fire&Blood (but not really), dubious consent, allusions to sex, to male masturbation and oral from Aemond (female receiving - he just wants to tickle your pickle with his fingers and mouth but yk), slight angst, minor and major character death, vague descriptions of death by asphyxiation;

For the sake of keeping characters as close to canon as I can, the eye that Aemond lost was his right, not his left!

Word Count: 7k+;

Author's Note: Repost because yeah...

Reblogs would be really appreciated, since I believe I was shadowbanned :") ♡

Sorry for taking so long with getting this next part out ♡ I wanted to make sure it's perfect (or as close to perfect as I can get it), because the last thing I desire is to post something I'm not proud of/I wouldn't personally read :")

This gif was made by the love of my life and the moon to my sun - @aemondx here on Tumbr ♡ if you aren't already following her, definitely follow her right now now. I'll wait. The story will wait. She is absolutely amazing, and the sweetest person ever.

I also dedicate this chapter to my literal soulmate @diamantesprincess , who beta-read this whole shit-storm for me, and supported my insane antics ♡

Young girls dream about their wedding day. And women prepare themselves for the humiliation bestowed upon them by the night.

Her cheeks flushed with the expectancy that was thrown before her – the avid sting that prickled her skin, flooded her veins and broke her soul. She could feel her smooth-green gown stick to her contorted form. The horrid fires of lashing out already licking at the corners of her downturned mouth.

The Velaryon thus swallowed thickly, whilst flickering her eyes by nigh to each corner of the squaring table. She needn’t glance into the silver plating to ensure what she had known, simply owed to the salacious heat that downed her heart in poisoned terror. How vexing it had been for her to hear the former Queen about – darting to her wedding night, hinting at her lack of purity. How terribly uncertain she’d felt, when Aemond all but abandoned her on that rueful and exerting night.

She’d searched feverishly for his company, trying to converse with him, to allude him to take interest, to inspire him to like her. But her attempts were answered with indifference, with clumsy lines of conversations, which never led her far in musings.

“– Even so, I trust that you understand your duty.”

She couldn’t have been quiet for long. For she felt how her mouth lulled opened, if only to blurt out a passive admission to Alicent’s extended words. Still she felt the decades pass, turning her old, and mean, and cold, as an ample flood of pain engulfed her sparring and incisive heart. The Queen Dowager sighed, either by lack of blitheness or by wry exhaustion, and merely shook her head at the sight of the conflicted bastard.

She supposed she should be grateful – for a private bedding brought across no prying eyes upon her form, upon her skin and womanhood; upon the shame she would soon feel, to spread her legs for the Qybor who slayed her kin. But a private bedding meant she'd have to be alone with him. A private bedding was unsafe, for it meant her maiden blood wouldn't have to be the one staining their rivetting sheets. And Aemond had killed men before, his flesh and blood, innocent spawn – so was there anything that would ensure he wouldn't cut her very throat?

A silent tear obscured her view, and one of Helaena’s beetles boldly flew nearby her plate.

Satin green and oryx white, silky blue and striking violet.

To be born a female was a wright cursed account.

Upon her birth, she belonged to her father. And when he died, she fitted Daemon. She suited to her brother, Jace, to the whims of the New Seven, and very soon to those of Aemond.

To be born a female stripped one of all crass autonomy.

When she was young, her Septa was the one to tell her the story of her cursed birth – how she was good and quaint and quiet, how she had not ensued hard labour. How her mother cried when she saw her small and portly face. And how she sighed with great relief at the notion of her naked sex.

Benevolence was to be found within the weakness of a poor female.

‘The girls are easier than the boys,’ The woman nodded as she spoke, ‘They're less rowdy and quick to anger. Easier to marry, too.’

To be born a female meant a deconstructive marriage. Simply something that must happen, not a matter of debate.

To be born a female meant fantasizing about that marriage. Salaciously filling your head with hopeful dreams of charming knights, or handsome princes and comely lords.

To be born a female was underestimated work. Work put up by sons and fathers, whose sole purpose of providing to the girl was to find her a well-suited husband.

A future to be well decided, set in stone and judged quite harshly – all in valour of a missing cock, and a lack of tiny stones.

When Rhaenyra married Daemon, she was happy for her loving mother.

‘I want to be just as beautiful on my wedding day!’ Her voice chirped through the halls of Dragonstone, whilst rotating about the room, chased by an ongoing Jace, ‘We’ll have a pigeon cake the size of a young hatchling, and a venue bigger than that made of the smallfolk of King’s Landing!’

‘Maybe one that smells better, though,’ Jace snickered inside her ear, earning a brisk tickle from his younger sister, ‘But you’re right, it’s better to stay realistic!’

A loud fit of giggles erupted from the waiting children. Rhaenyra only glanced at Daemon, who in turn shook his head, bemused by her swallowing visions.

‘Whatever prompts you to even believe your mother and I will allow such a thing?’ The Rogue Prince graced her with a trumping smirk, as the girl’s face fell in a childish and pathetic slouch.

‘I’ll have to get married one day!’ She rebutted her stepfather, ‘With a strong knight in shining armour, or a chivalrous Lord from an important House!’

‘There will be yet some time before that happens, sweet girl.’ Rhaenyra grinned at her daughter’s eagerness, pushing down the bittersweet feeling that gnawed beneath her bludgeon gown. She placed her hand atop her cheek and gingerly grazed the youth’s plumpness with a soft, motherly touch. ‘A couple of years from now on, at best!’ She hummed into her tender caress and opened her mouth to speak again, but Jacaerys’ mellow voice cut the base of her dream short.

‘I would be very careful with what I want,’ He mimicked a serious and grieving tone, ‘So far you could only marry Tyland Lannister or Kermit Tully!’

Her eyes widened to the size of two round plates, and the young Velaryon merely scrunched her nose up in dissatisfaction. ‘Kermit wouldn’t be that bad…’ She tried to reason with herself, ‘And his sister, Celia, is very nice! We would get along quite well.’

‘Of course, of course –’ Jace nodded in understanding, before throwing Luke a mischievous look, ‘Or you could always marry Aemond – he’d be quite a match, you know!”

Silence ensued for a while, until all three children broke down in their hysteric fits of laughter.

‘Oh, Gods be good…!’ She murmured lowly, shock and aversion evident on her once impatient face.

She’d found herself someone who loved her, someone whom she could amply trust. A man that’d be reliant for her, in her times of greatest fraught.

When the War of Ravens first ensued, it was he and her small brothers who went to deliver envoys. When Luke died, it was he who mended and arranged the curdling scheme of Blood and Cheese. And when Aemond took a hold of Harrenhal, cruelly burning at their allies’ lands… it was he who gave his life in an attempt to free their folk.

“Gods be good…!” Her voice strained through the musings of her handmaiden, so preoccupied with lacing up her constricting and excessive corset. “Could you go in any tighter?” Her snapping question deterred the young girl to remove her calloused hands from the fine silks that engulfed her. All of the other women who tended to her hair and eyes took a backwards convoluted step and, as if whipped across the face and wholly burnt by dragon fire, they froze up in minute poses – all of them gripping their hands, and looking down in taught submission.

Breathless and submerged in bashness, her reddened lips pressed to a line, as her gaze followed their in suit, falling on the stone below her.

“I’m sorry,” She began with a taut pitch, while expelling one of her brisk and tantalising breaths, “I didn’t mean to shout at you. That was below any level of discretion.”

"W-Would you like us to continue, Your Grace?" One of the older-looking wenches dared to ask the fair Velaryon.

No, she ached to bring herself to say, I'd stay like this, still half-undressed. Unpresentable for him to take.

"Of course," Her meek voice echoed in reply, "You must make haste to get me ready. The wedding is in but an hour."

Tens of dozen of pairs of hands flooded her every sensation with their ceaseless and insistent prodding. The softest of the cluster played with the slicked ends of her charcoal hair, adorning it with a myriad of pins and jewels, grazing her scalp with heavy and relenting hairstyles. Now there was prudence in her tying corset – as if she were a rabid beast who’d sink her claws into their necks, if only she’d feel indisposed by their way of picked-up working.

For the first time since her ladies swarmed into her darkened chamber, the girl’s leer settled on the gown before her. She took in a quick breath through the margins of her teeth, whilst feeling her stomach wail and churn with an unkept overzeal.

Her dress was of a deep set black, which seemed more fitting for a funeral than for a joyous feast precarred soon after by a most imposing wedding. Yet upon a closer look, the brims which laced its puffy bottoms smiled to her in rueful red.

Surprise etched upon her face, and the coy women must have noticed, for they all stopped forthwith again. She brought a hand to the light fabric, and grazed it slowly with her fingers.

She almost hummed in chasmal worry, before fixating her eyes away.

“Apologies, but who told you to bring this dress?” Her voice reverberated with a faint but levelled question, and a retort came back her way.

“The Prince Aemond, Your Grace,” What she assumed was a slight seamstress replied for the whole gathering, “He requested that his vest should also bear your House’s symbols.”

Surprise merged with upheld amusement, until her judgement simmered down to a least lenient of views – since the Blacks were there no more, what point was there for an exorbant gown with any shades of ghastly Green?

No matter his good-hearted message, Aemond hadn’t done it for her. Just like Alicent hadn’t proposed a marriage with her son for her clemented and invested sake.

Her family was dead. All she knew had gone with them – swallowed wholly by the sea, or by Sunfyre, by Vhagar.

There was no more point for her to wear his sickly green. There was no reason for the usurpers to display their endless rows of utter power.

“I see,” Her vocal cords strained with her roughened and perturbed reply, “It’s very beautiful,” She whispered not a heartbeat later, as she turned to the appraised seamstress, “Thank you. You must have worked very hard.”

As everyone resumed their tasks, a trailing truth pierced through her heart – she now had no family left to lead her to the Greater Sept.

His collar fell too tight on him.

He noticed late, as she approached him.

He swallowed thickly once before her, as his burnt brother gripped her hand.

Her softened smile lit up her face, though the disgust within her eyes unveiled her sickly mild facade. A rattled thought surged through his chest, mending with akin distraught. He knew full well she didn’t love him, but at the least, he’d have to try. The subtlety of her rejection stabbed right through his nervous gut, but still the Prince looked down upon her, gracing her with a half-smile.

The ease with which she then returned it relieved the throbbing underneath his leather patch, and as she mouthed him her timid greeting, the man bowed deeply in reply.

“You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection.” The Septon’s voice instructed deeply, snapping both out of their trance.

His calloused fingers unclasped the belts from his broad and heaving shoulders – the cape fell heavily into his hands, yet Aemond still approached his Lady, and placed the Targaryen embroidered mantle atop her tense and fragile shoulders.

Brown eyes clashed with an unnerving lilac – both bride and groom sucked in a breath, and yet refused to look away.

The silence of the Sept was deadly, and as Aemond closed his eye, allowing his relentless thoughts to slip into a hurried prayer, he swore that every witness to their union would hear the keen beats of his heart.

The High Septon clasped his wrinkled hands together, drawing a faint and muffled noise which reverberated through the clearing – signalling to the lost children to place their hands into the other’s.

His Lady was the first to reach him. Shyly she grazed his palm with the smooth padding of her index finger, flattering an anxious probe which distilled his wilted heart, and brought heat into his cheeks.

Her small diversion urged him to press back into her – with a doubting and reserved caress made with his thicker middle finger.

The man bit into his inner cheek, as he aligned his palm to hers, and waited patiently for the Septon to bind their hands with the white linen.

“In sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity.”

Her thumb gently caressed his own in an attempt to soothe his breaths. Though her smile had broadened yet, her eyebrows twisted to a brazen furrow. The old man hummed with unturned patience, and he nodded at their leisured and unhurried movements.

“Look upon each other and say the words.”

His chest tightened with unruly pride, as her cheeks flushed with a deep colour, which grew to match the lacings of her fitted cobbler – both took a moment to compose themselves, before Aemond’s voice filled the room with the silk-smooth baritone of his levelled and protruding tone.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” His lone orb swirled with both uncertainty and desire, as her own voice ushered him suit, “Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.”

Her chest heaved with a weighty exhale, and her pushed bosom shifted in her dainty dress. Abashed by his sexual intrusion, Aemond focused his left eye on the shape of her inviting lips.

Though they said the words in unison, only her better half beset his ears, “I am his, and he is mine.”

“From this day, until the end of my days,” The Targaryen hushed in return.

Thousand of cheers erupted in the Great Sept, and Aegon even whistled lowly, but nought of the crowd’s boastful words engrained themselves into his mind.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

His mouth pressed hungrily against her own, with a force and desperation that dispersed her every hope for a chaste, intimate peck. The shape of his lips moulded against her with an ease that left her wanting – wanting for it to end, for him to stop, for him to keep going.

His scent invaded her diluted senses, and flashes of her brothers’ faces danced across her hazy view. And just as Aemond was about to deepen and take his uncouth ministrations further, the greying Septon interjected with a subtle but alluding cough.

Despite the fact that he refused to speak to her since the incursive night of their engagement, the palpable need and excitement that seemingly had gathered in him burst for all high lords and petty maidens to see. Coveting whispers reached the girl’s reddened ears – each muttered truth more beguiling than the last.

‘A Kinslayer and a bastard… what an ill match for the grandeur of the Great Sept.’

With her mouth slightly agape and her breath still somewhat staggered, the former Velaryon avoided his stare, with an adamant and willful steer.

Her own eyes began to water. And the aching sadness that curled into her vrying soul muted out any reminder of the crowd’s elated boasts.

What had happened was now irreversible; and the Greens would host a banquet in honour of the newlyweds. Goblets would drown her violent sorrows, food would fill them like fattened-up pigs for cutting.

Aemond would breach her with his cock if he felt disposed to do it. Then he might smother her face, or cut her throat with the same dagger that he used on her late brother.

For why else would he deny a prim and proper bedding ceremony?

Though her eyes still looked at him, and a smile still spurred her lips, the girl swallowed down a prayer.

Perhaps he had grown to like her. She’d been good to him in those past weeks.

The High Septon yelled over the cheering crowd, cutting down each thought that breached through her weary and misguided mind.

“Let it be known that they are now one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder!”

Then cursed be she, in the light of the Seven.

The dizzying nature of the fifth waltz of the night left everyone in the Great Hall drained and panting – fully taken by the mistifying anticipation caused by the encapsulating ardour of Prince Aemond’s wedding reception. Roaring applauses erupted from the few women seated at the high tables – Aegon’s eyes followed the wanton skirts of the lowborn maidens, and even Helaena disregarded her fattened caterpillar to grace the crowd with her absent-minded stare.

At the centre of the King’s table stood the Court’s styled “star-crossed lovers”, each seemingly preoccupied with avoiding any further dancing at any and all occuring costs.

The girl’s fingers traced over the rim of the wine goblet, glancing from time to time at her newly acquired husband, who seemed hammered in his seat and not at all wanting for chatter. The dim lighting of the candled room sprawled its shadows all across his tired features, which loomed all the more sharp and perusing with each notion of a passing hour. His lack of joyful disposition was clear and evident for all to see – for even his contented mother had chastised him under her breath.

Alas, any notion of stability had at large been long repressed, and not even her able chirping managed to pry at her son’s attention.

As her eyes trailed lower yet, over the arch of his broad chest, and the poignant veins of his clenched fist, the Targaryen gasped at the obvious arousal restrained in his black leather pants. Her face turned promptly to the side, before anyone’s conviction should follow her indiscreet trail.

Another smile graced her red lips, as a very drunkened Lord tripped across her narrow view. He approached her with bemusing boldness, borne out of believed renown, and introduced himself as Quince Webber: a lower lord within the Reach, ‘right across the Arbour seat’. His puffy face was basked in red, an indication of his mind’s plied state – and as he blabbered on his woven lapses on what wedded life should be, the Lady bowed her head with grace, thus managing to stop his spiel.

He slurred over his predicted wordings in a heavy and relentless breath, but still managed to congratulate the twain for their well-thought-out alliance.

“Thank you, my Lord, I am indeed very lucky.” Her cheeks hurt from all the smiling, but still she forced herself to laugh, “Aemond has been very kind to me.” She turned to face his stare, abashed, and allowed her hand to touch him. The charcoal leather of his broidered vest burnt her at the faintest touch, and the girl had to stifle a gasp at the arid heat which charred her palm.

“He has, he has!” The lord of Coldmoat agreed well-pleased. A wolfish grin spread across his droopy face, pulling both his plump cheeks higher. An impish laugh beleft his lips, as he took a swing of liquor from a nearby empty glass.

The corner of her smiling eye darted back to that of Aemond, who merely glanced through the drunk lord with a horriedly vexated look.

“Although,” He teased them with a slurred hic, “I can’t say he’ll be nice to you when the bedding ceremony will ensue!”

Wholeheartedly amused at his inappropriate and shrivelled joke, the old man began to laugh, much to Aemond’s disarray.

His fists came into contact with the sprawled-out wooden table, shaking every cutlery which remained scattered across it. The lively whispering of the Great Hall ceased with his vicious display, and even his contented brother jerked his shoulders in dismay.

“Aemond,” Alicent spat out his name, as her face turned cold and wary. “Perhaps it’s time you two retire.”

A restless snarl etched from his throat, and he looked ready to pounce – were it not for the soft hand that touched him, and the sanity utter of her voice, which managed to somewhat reground him, and contort poor Webber’s choice.

But as cruel fate would weave and have it, another end would spend their night.

“Aemond,” His Lady tried to coax him in, “Let’s listen to your mother… please?” Her fevered eyes adamantly searched for his, until a strange yearning and passion registered on his reluctant face. His hand gripped hers in pure devotion, and his large thumb ran over her flaring knuckles, as she'd done so many times before for him.

The lord’s lost face painted over with uncouth excitement, and he turned his back around, almost hitting Daeron’s face.

“It’s time for the bedding ceremony!” He announced the crowd quite loudly, and tens of voices of plastered men rose with every passing second. Some of them swarmed close to the couple, some tried to pick the girl from her leering resting place. Most barely launched up their feet, struggling to uphold their balance.

“There will be no bedding ceremony tonight.” Aemond’s dark and frigid voice thundered through the cluttered hall. Women sighed in great relief, while the men and boys began to bicker.

“It’s tradition!”

“I’ve been told specifically that it would take place.”

“Such stupidity!”

“I bet Renly six gold dragons that –”

“The King long announced there would be none.” Otto’s otherwise calm voice resounded with a harshened tone.

“Has he now?” A slurring lord took three wide steps in the direction of the pressured lady. Her whole face morphed into preleened discomfort, as she placed both her hands upfront. “Oh, don’t you even think about it…!” She warned him with a throaty hiss, but before his hand could graze her, Aemond grabbed his arching fists.

When his nervous gaze settled on his face, he smiled.

The lord clawed at his darkened neck, for Aemond forced him in a kneeling stance, and wrapped his hands around his throat. The timber in his chilling voice rained affront with his obduring malice, sending a shiver down the bent spines of the mere on-watchers, “You wish to gaze upon my wife tonight, Lord Ashford?” The callous ends of his slim digits dug into his purple skin, “You want to see her naked form, and compare her dripping sex to your own wife’s loosened cunny?”

The older man opened his mouth – but the pressure on his wielded neck impedimented his speaking manner and, much like a fish that’d been hoisted out of water, he could barely form a word.

“N…No-n-no – I’m s-s-”

“You’re sorry?” His eyebrows rose in feigned surprise. His wails of anguish pierced his heart – and yet his grip didn't uncurl. “You’re sorry now, are you?”

“Aemond, that is enough!” Alicent’s chastising shouts failed to break his unsound trance. Among the mistifying flock of ladies, the Velaryon stood high, but frozen. Her parlous specks of deep brown eyes bore into the shocking scene, as her own transfigured hand prodded at her covered neck.

"You've heard, perhaps, what happened with little Luke Strong, the bastard.” Her own eyes widened at his cruel retorts, and her deft fist grabbed at her skirts. Despite it being aimed to scare the stupid and unbashful lord, Aemond’s dicey did nought else but expose her to the whole crowd whole.

The heated blade of loss and ire impaled her through her aching chest, cutting both her breath and temper and deterring her to simply shake.

“– I'll gouge your eyes out and present them as a wedding gift to my wife."

Little Luke. Jace. Rhaenyra. Daemon.

Joff. Rhaenys. Corlys. Allyn.

Baela. Rhaena. Viserys. Aegon.

“I-I’m b– begging you–”

Little Luke. Jace. Rhaenyra. Daemon –

“Then beg. Beg my wife for her forgiveness.”

Joff. Rhaenys. Corlys. Allyn –

“My L– My Lady, p-please…!”

Baela. Rhaena. Viserys. Aegon.

Mother, mother, mother, mother –

“Please, Aemond, stop! Just stop!” Her own voice screeched into the balling clearing, as the sound of breaking bones and the smell of copper blood menged right through her very veins. “Stop. It’s enough. It’s alright. I’m alright. Please–”

Her panicked breathing flooded her ears. Her lack of presence drowned her in.

Her husband threw her an affrighted look, as he instantly let go of the man’s entwisted neck.

He crawled closer to his own wife’s feet. His piqued-up breathing staggered for a brief momentum.

For two or three seconds they waited.

And then quietness enwrapped the Realm.

Her honeyed voice had reached his ears.

"We're man and wife now, you and I.” She began with a faint murmur, and a small smile on her lips, “We must start talking to each other. Eventually, I mean."

She spoke to him in utter earnest, despite her voice’s nervous edge.

Alas he must not have replied to her, for her body shifted in her narrow seat, ducking away from him in recluded and uptight tension. “I’d like there to be no secrets between us – I’d like for us to tell each other whatever happens to be on our mind.”

The alluring scent of her dark hair, the creamy skin of her bare shoulders…

His breathing turned close to erratic, as he morphed his hands to fists. But two waltzes he had danced with her, before he felt his breeches tighten, bringing forth his quaint undoing.

He would have stayed in bitter silence, focused on the passing hours – were it not for the unlucky words that the brittle lord had uttered.

Oh, and how she looked into his eye; full of shock and brittle terror.

She must have been scared of him. For she was shaking like a leaf.

The walk to their marital chamber loomed with ever-pressing silence.

If only he could read her thoughts – then he might just mend his error.

“I rather liked the pigeon pie.” Her voice came out as weak and gruff, “Though it was far too big for those at present.”

When his answer wouldn’t beckon, the Lady turned and closed her eyes. She snapped her head in his direction, faltering her present smile. “I think that what you did was very chivalrous and brave, my Prince.”

The corner of his left eye widened, as her words registered in. The margins of her flimsy skirts kissed the ground atop her form – the swish and flicker of the candles remained the only source of noise.

The corners of his mouth bent slightly, at her ludicrous but fair assertion. Whether he had meant to thank her, or kiss her on that very spot, the Prince failed to puzzle out. Though his step halted in place, and his face turned briskly to her.

“Aemond,” He sighed, reluctant, whilst awaiting for her change of heart, “You said it yourself, we’re man and wife. You should start calling me Aemond.”

Her daring eyes looked up right through him, dissolving to a kindred stare. “Then you should also use my name… Aemond.” She uttered with a playful tone, testing his name upon her lips. “Though I… much prefer it when you call me ‘wife’.”

His reply was fast, forthright, “I’ll call you whatever you wish.”

“Then…” She began with a weak mutter, allowing her hair to hide her face, “No, forgive me, never mind.”

“Tell me,” He commanded with grave urgency.

Tell me of anything and I will make it yours.

“Mayhaps,” His Lady paused a while again, “You’d agree to call me your ‘dear wife’?”

His cock twitched inside his pants. The blood that pigmented his face descended lower in its lax pursuit.

All that you need do is ask.

“Anything you want,” His voice rumbled in a breathless timber before he could stop himself, “Dear wife.”

She must have thanked him with a smile again. All she did those days was smile.

She smiled when that low lord approached her. She smiled at her engagement feast. She smiled when Aemond took her dancing.

“I trust,” Alicent had swallowed deeply, “That your mother already taught you what’ll occur after the wedding.”

Better said during the bedding. When she’d be forced to spread her legs for the one man who’d damned them all.

She smiled when Aegon named her bastard. She smiled at the mention of her sweet dead brother.

She hummed as she touched her fingers, rotating her golden rings.

“What of Aly Blackwood?” Her eyes pried at her heavy conscience, “You said that if I marry Aemond, you’d think of a way to release her and make peace with Benjicot’s House.”

–

Her trail of thought was pulled before her, like a feeble dream which she won't reach.

The handle of a leaden door was yanked, pulsing the quaint hall with clatter, and basking her with a warm light.

“We’re here.”

Though wailing dread flooded her senses, her voice came out in slight bemusement.

“It isn’t furnished.”

“I wanted you to have a say.” The depthness of his mellow tune carried out his crass remark, “I didn’t know how many dresses you’d have.”

The notion of her moving in, of sleeping side by side with him, of sharing a bed and a mattress and a bath with him – it hadn’t failed to make her snort.

Hidden from his plane of sight, she allowed a distant scowl to break in her pretty features.

She wanted to scream and shout. To lash out in grave disconcern the moment his revolting hands came in contact with her lower back, urging her to step inside. She wanted to laugh at him – at the sight of his scarred face, his forceful probe and lack of honour.

“You’re so thoughtful, Aemond. Thank you.”

A grave unease surged in her gut. Pure fright prickled at the apex of her thighs. Her once loose dress seemed to constrict her form from running – from hitting him over the head and at last make her escape.

A pained sigh escaped his lips – the One-Eyed Prince who killed her family.

The Kinslayer. The Trident’s Terror. The Prince Protector of the Realm.

Almost as if he could sense her worry, the lithe Targaryen beckoned her in.

There’d been a moment when he only looked at her, bearing holes into her face and the front lobe of her skull, as his thick brows twisted slightly, jarring in misguided silence. Her jaw clenched involuntarily, as his face hithered in closer. She closed her eyes for two, three seconds, before she opened them again.

The lack of ease with which he gawped at her would have dearly made her laugh. The great and feared Aemond Targaryen, so incursed, taken aback.

He exhaled deeply in connived frustration, and simply took a few steps back. A rumbled hum of welting havoc trailed behind his high-arched lips, and a simple look of ardour was engraved on his sharp face.

The hands which had been snaked around her let her go within an instant, and as a curse sprung from his throat, the man found refuge and retreat towards the blazing fireplace. The girl followed his lenient steps, which faltered near the goatskin armchair.

His hands moved in accord with stress. Stiffly he had poured himself a hefty glass of liquid courage – swallowing it down with haste, and indifference towards the spectacle that he made with his demeanour.

His hands were shaking. His gulps of dark and bitter wine accentuated with every guise of stolen looks he dared to throw and hatch her way. At one point through his fretful jitter, the Prince snapped with a scorned hiss.

"Do you reckon you need help with your black dress, my dearest wife?” The rattled edge within his voice echoed through the room's long walls – his tone was mystified by pain, by torturous need, and want, and lust.

"N-No, my love, that I do not." She tried with shear to reach her lacings, as her mouth quirked with a smile. The desolation in her orbs spun the man to heave a sigh – his wobbled hand to reach his collar, and pull at it with forced renown.

Multitudes of scattered feelings reveled on her softened face – pain and fear, disgust and anger, lack of confidence and broad distress.

Inch by inch she thus revealed patches of her creamy skin. Feeling all her fingers stiffen with perturbed stilling discomfort, shame and angst and staid mistrust.

Although her corset was now loosened, the source of air within her lungs remained scarce and all the same.

She maintained his carnal stare, watching how his one eye darkened, turning to an opaque black. His lips pressed into a line, his furrowed brows deepened his stare – he gulped another hoist of wine and swallowed thickly at her chaffing stare. His adam's apple bobbed up and down in repressed bewilderment and apt surrender. His weary mind surged with a vast contrast of thoughts, each one more torturous and sparse than the mentioned fleeting latter.

He felt utterly inadequate.

He'd touched and fucked women before – handmaidens that caught his eye, wenches that offered their heat, servant girls who lured him in.

But none had managed to prepare him for the unrelieved pressure of her. Of the one woman he loved, of the one he wanted most.

She'd been kind to him when they were children – and remained polite throughout when he dared to rain his anger on his ludicrous half-sister.

He regretted every hostile instance where he hurt her with his words. And every bite full of prone venom, that he threw her brothers' way.

He regretted how he acted, when he killed the raucous lord. How he taunted him with perverse pleasure, how he named Luke's shocking perish right across from his sweet wife – knowing somewhere all too well that she'd take offence to it.

His face felt numb, his limbs felt heavy. He wanted to denude her slowly, to prode at the extended nature of her smooth and nuanced skin. To devote himself to her fair pleasure, to worship the slickness of her womanhood with a reverence and love perturbed.

He longed to lay his masculinity at the altar of her maidenhood, get on his knees and devout his being to making her peak with him – on his tongue, on his slim fingers, on his chin, or on his face.

He’d read the ways to get a cunt wet – it would take no less good skill and incredible amounts of patience; but for her, he’d gladly wait, and gently stretch her virgin hole, with the aid of his firm touch and the pulsing of his deepened voice.

He closed his eye in a small prayer, as he begged his Gods for guidance – to be able to bring her to the heightened cliffs of sinful rapture, to be able to prove himself as a man fit for her needs.

To make her love him in return, perhaps, and make her see his side of things.

As he remained hammered in place, trying his hardest to regain control over his trembled conscious and his indulgent thoughts, the man failed to notice how his Lady made impressive progress into her methodical and empty musings.

Her head hung low as she undid the lacings of her fitted garment. Her eyes were cast in shadowed doubt and in utter lack of certainty – her breathing came as fast and laboured, and her hands with-held a tremor with every new poignant display of another patch of skin.

Unbeknownst even to her, hot tears of merciless aversion rolled off her rosy cheeks, landing on her petticoat and the cold stone ground below them.

The Prince sucked a jarring breath, as she turned to face the bed with a heartbreaking and crushed compliance. Her softened eyes peered at his form, and a forceful smile unfurled along the corners of her swollen lips.

His expression must have tightened, and his form recoil in slightly – for her hazy eyes enwrapped him, and her shapely brow rose up.

“Aemond…?” She tried to lace her voice with sweetness, “Do you–” The latter words died on her lips, and she remained with her mouth parted, until her thoughts surged loudly clear.

“Should I… d-do you want me to sit in any way?”

The hoarseness in her tender voice made the man pale in disgrace.

“You’re scared of me.” He long admitted, with a rough and neutral tone.

Aemond’s feet carried him slowly, towards the place in which she stood. When his hand came to rest over her wet cheek, she stiffened up and almost winced.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” The desperation in his utter broke the silence of their spacious room, “I would never hurt you. I would sooner die than see you in pain.”

Realisation settled in, and her lost face morphed with awareness. She brought her palm smooth on his own, and searched despairingly to entwine their hands together. When she opened her mouth to speak, she blinked away her forming tears.

“No, my P– Aemond. I could never be afraid of you.”

“Yet here you stand,” He murmured weakly, “Half-naked before me, and shaking.”

“The chamber just feels very cold.” His wife hung onto the excuse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I swear to you that I do want this –”

“I will not bed you.” He hummed as he wiped off her tears – a soft and feeble grazing led about by the callous ends of his smooth pads.

Her face breached forward with mistrust, as her weary mouth lulled open, “W-What? No, Aemond, believe me, I–”

“I will not bed you,” The Prince repeated to her gently, “Not until you ask me to.”

A disgruntled and affronted sigh left the high arch of his lips, yet an understanding look rained across his lustful stare. The one hand which hung loosely by his side trailed a slow path to her jolting shoulder. He swallowed thickly before speaking, pushing down his burning desire.

"Ziry iksos ao qilōni lurksas issa kesīr." The meek admission in High Valyrian made her relax into his touch, "Nyke jāhor daor gaomagon mirros bona mazverdagon ao zūgagon."

The Prince staggered with a shaky breath, whilst looking her into the eye. "Skoro syt kostagon ao ūndegon bona?"

Although she tried so hard to speak, not a word etched from her throat. She nodded in undisplayed wonder, and gripped her husband by the shirt.

He took her balling fists in his, and kissed atop the even skin.

Thoughts strengthened with affirmed abhorrence steered clear through her befuddled mind – there may be hope to fix the error that she so tactlessly set off that night.

And yet before she could place Aemond’s hands down the shape of her small back, the Prince grabbed his sharpened knife, and merely nicked his open palm.

Droplets of deep-crimson liquid seeped into the whitened sheets, and the girl remained upright and frozen, as she watched him clean his blade and rummage through his modest cupboard for a piece of airy cloth.

With one hand he gripped the footboard – and began to firmly shove it into the stone wall up ahead.

The avid creaking of the bed turned into a pleased refrain. One not too fast, but not too slow, which carried on for a few minutes.

Outside their petulant and guarded door, whistles of men and cheers from women crassly seeped into their ears. Though most were muffled down by the sensitive and leal guards, some managed to blurt out half-enthused encouragements upon their midnight escapades.

A flow of compliments descended upon Aemond’s lasting pace – and some of the more improper ladies even dared to coo at her.

“It’ll feel better once you give it time, sweetling!”

“You simply must confine in us what it was like to ride a dragon!”

How utterly humiliating.

Like all bad things within the world, their idle and unseemly chatter ceased after a little while. Aemond sighed and stopped his motions, while granting her a knowing look.

“I’ll remain here for mere more moments. Then I’ll leave you for the night.”

‘N-No!” Her eyes widened in mistrust, as she gnawed her bottom lip. Almost too soon for her own well liking, she’d begged incessantly for him to stay. “Please remain near me, sweet husband… I so long to sleep by you.”

When her words seemed to elude him, she reached for his wounded hand, giving it a slight caress. She pressed her lips atop his cut, and devotedly looked up at him.

“Ao vestretan bona nyke udrāzma ao kesīr. Nyke lurksas bona ao umbagon issa rūsīr."

Aemond drew in a sharp breath, and merely settled on the bed.

“As you wish, my darling wife.”

Translations:

"Qybor" = uncle - specifically, from the mother's side;

"Ziry iksos ao qilōni lurksas issa kesīr. Nyke jāhor daor gaomagon mirros bona mazverdagon ao zūgagon. Skoro syt kostagon ao ūndegon bona?" = 'Tis you who commands me here. I will not do anything that leaves you frightened. Why can’t you see that?

“Ao vestretan bona nyke udrāzma ao kesīr. Nyke lurksas bona ao umbagon issa rūsīr." = You said that I command you here. I order that you stay with me.

498 notes · View notes

satorusugurugurl · 27 days

Text

Part of My World

Pairing: Gojo Satoru X MAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,704

Warnings, Ropes, public play, gags, arranged marriage, bottom!gojo, public vehicle sex?? (Is it vehicle sex or carriage sex??)

A/N: I received this request from @princeasimdiya12 for a Gojo x MAB!Reader. I had so much fun thinking of ideas of what to do, and the story just took off on its own! Please enjoy!

The scorching sun burned your skin as you went through the palace. Your parents had informed you that your future husband was waiting for you near the fountain in the gardens. To say you were not excited at all was an understatement. Gojo Satoru was notorious for being annoying.

He always made a commotion at every event he attended. Teasing other princes and princesses, insulting the elders (regardless if they deserved it), and relishing that he was the most eligible prince. Little did you both know he wasn't as eligible as he thought. Just last month, the Gojo and Y/L/N families officially announced that you were to be married.

Gojo, of course, threw a fuss the last time you had seen him. Arguing that he didn't want to move to your desert kingdom, that he would much rather you stay in his coastal kingdom. The tantrum was so terrible both your parents agreed it would be best for the two of you to tour each other's kingdoms.

Of course, he wanted to start with yours.

You could see where he was coming from. Your kingdom was hot, surrounded by sand, and there wasn't much to do. But your people made the desert kingdom an oasis. The streets were always bustling with vendors and life. It, indeed, was a magical place to live.

“Finally!” A vein twitches in your forehead as you turn to spot your future husband sitting on the edge of the large fountain in the center of the courtyard. “Do you know how long I've been waiting? It's hot out here.”

A breath caught in your throat as Gojo stood up. He was wearing the robes of your people. Tunic sleeves are short and light blue. His pants were slightly baggy, hanging on his hips. Fuck why did he look so hot? The image of him had your cock throbbing inside your pants as you quickly turned away.

“Go down, go down.” You commanded your cock. “Fuckin’.”

“Hey!” Bright blue eyes popped into your view, causing you to jump. “What's your problem?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing!” Clearing your throat, you tried to look anywhere but his body. “Where did you get the clothes?”

Gojo smirked, stepping around you like a shark would circle their prey. “Oh, please, since our engagement was announced, I’ve done my research. I know everything about you, Prince Y/N, and your kingdom.” You seriously doubted that, but as he spoke, he lifted the top of his robes, causing you to suck in a breath.

The robes that Gojo wore were those a bride or groom would wear. Underneath that, his body was tied with silk ropes, squishing his pectoral muscles together and twisting around his torso in intricate designs of hearts. Your Y/E/C eyes trailed further down his body, admiring how the dark blue silk stood out against his ivory skin and how tiny his waist looked. Fuck, how had you never noticed Gojo’s figure before?

Your eyes lingered on his v-line; a well-trimmed happy trail led further. This was unbelievable; what was he doing? What was he thinking?! Wearing robes and ropes like these was something to do on the wedding night. Not your first day showing him around the kingdom. You were about to turn your head to look the other way when Gojo’s hand moved. You followed it, watching with wide eyes as he tugged his pants down, just a bit revealing the base of his semi-hard cock, which was also wrapped in the intricate ropes.

“W-What are you—?”

”Y/N, I don’t like beating around the bush. If we're going to be together, I want to make sure my needs will be satisfied, along with yours.” He gently tugged at the two strings hanging off the side of his hip. When he did, the ropes around his body tightened, causing both of you to moan. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not about to buy a carriage without a test drive.” Oh yeah, no, this was fucking crazy. “What, cat got your tongue?” Satoru sneered, tugging the string again, making an almost pathetic whine resonate in his throat.

If you don’t do something soon, you will lose your mind. It was hard enough seeing his body like this, but hearing him talk, those dirty words and the teasing tone. You wouldn’t be able to take him on the stupid tour of the kingdom if he kept up this act. If anything, it would end with you dragging him to your chambers. There was always time for that later. Right now, it would help if you did something about his mouth.

“Awe, I left you speechless.”

Your arm snapped out, grabbing the strings from Satoru and giving them a hard tug. “Speechless, no.” Whimpers slipped from Satoru’s mouth as you tugged the strings harder. “I was just thinking you talk too much.” Your other hand squeezes his face, his lips turning into a pout under your fingers and thumb. “Plus, you forgot one essential part, your veil.”

(~)(~)(~)(~)(~)

The tour of the kingdom was going smoothly. You had begun at the palace, showing your future husband around the many rooms, the gardens, and the courtyard before you both made your way into town by carriage. The ride was enjoyable, but it was even more fun the second you stepped out. You and Satoru walked around, bowing at the villagers as you passed, making small talk with vendors, just enjoying another warm and sunny day amongst your people with your future husband by your side.

Gojo kept his eyes focused forward, not paying attention to much of what was going on. No one was wise enough to pick up on what was going on. But the two of you, you knew what he was hiding underneath the pretty robes. A secret that was making you harder and harder with every passing second. From the muffled whimpers and twitches from Gojo, you had a distinct feeling that he was enjoying himself just as much.

”Oh, Prince Y/N, Prince Gojo, it is truly a pleasure!’ A young vendor boasted as you looked over the wines in their booth. “Is there anything you were looking to purchase?’

”Hmm, I’m not sure; what do you think, darling?” Gojo shot an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Yes, Prince Gojo, is there anything you want to partake of? Please, anything is on the house for you, our future king!”

Blue eyes glanced around, roaming over the inventory. As they did, you tugged on the strings near his hip, causing the ropes to tighten. Gojo’s eyes went wide as a muffled moan sounded from his throat. Your future husband hunched over slightly in an attempt to conceal the growing tent in his robes. Ever since the veil had been put on his face, the same veil that hides the silk cloth gag in his mouth, you had made it your life's sole purpose to tease him.

The young vendor gave him a puzzled look as you loosened your grip on the strings. “My prince, are you alright?” Satoru had just straightened, gaining some form of self-restraint, and before he could nod or gesture in any way, you tugged the strings again, harder this time. The sudden action had Gojo nearly falling over. “Prince Gojo?!” The vendor's worried tone drew the attention of a few bystanders.

“Oh no, are you alright?” To anyone else, you were the concerned fiance. To Gojo, you were the main culprit behind his throbbing erection. “I think the desert heat is getting to my precious flower.” Your tone was full of faux concern. “I should get him home, but I will have my guards pack whatever you recommend. I will also pay you double for the goods.”

“Oh, you're so generous! Thank you!!”

You grinned, waving to the people and vendors as you helped Gojo back into the carriage. The moment the door shut, you snickered into your palm. Winning a glare from your betrothed. He was not in the slightest amused with your enjoyment of this.

“Yw’ll pwy fh ehwy.” His barely inaudible muffled whines slipped through the gag. “Athwle!”

Either he told you that you would pay for this, or it was some form of gibberish you couldn't understand. “Oh, I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying.” More muffled whines and moans filled the carriage.

He was most likely getting annoyed with the torturous teasing you were putting him through. In all actuality, he brought this on himself. Gojo was the one to show up in those robes. He was the one who revealed the intricate ropes decorating his beautiful body. You did what any other person would do. Claim what was yours.

“Pwhse.”

“Huh?” You heard that request this time. His hands toyed with the strings dangling from his hip. “Please?” Gojo responded with a wine and a nod, white hair in his eyes. “Please, what?”

He scooted closer to you, dropping the strings into the palm of your hand. He was putting so much trust in you. Someone he barely knew. Yet he was still willing to give you the power to not only please him but to please yourself as well. As your fingers curled around the ropes, you realized that this match might not be as bad as you both thought it would be.

“Fine, since you said please so nicely.” you tugged the strings as hard as possible. The sharp, stinging sensation resonated from almost every inch of Gojo's skin, a pained pleasure. That had him rocking his head back as the carriage began moving. His hips were thrusting against nothing as he whined. “My gods, you're not so against my kingdom now, are you?”

Slowly, you pulled the veil off, revealing the drooling, messy mouth of your betrothed. “Pwse! Pwsease!” The weeping noises had you smirking as you tugged the string harder.

“You're so fucking beautiful like this.” You slid your hand into his pants, stroking his cock slowly. “Dressed in the robes of my people, only to be dressed for your husband underneath them.” his cock throbbed at your words, the tip dribbling precum out of the head. “You like that, like hiding your dirty secret under these clothes, a secret only I get to revel in.”

“Fwk mw!” Satoru cried out, making you cease your strokes over his cock. You couldn't be sure if he said what you believed he said. Noticing the confusion in your eyes, Satoru huffed a loud scoff, drawing your attention to his gagged mouth. “Fwk mw,” he repeated, emphasizing the words as best as he could while gagging.

“Fuck you?”

You needed to clarify that this was what he wanted. When he nodded, you felt like your heart was about to explode. He wanted to be with you, and gods be damned, toy wanted it too. But there were steps you needed to do, prep, that required you to be with each other. Seeing the hesitation on your face, Satoru sighed before shimming his way out of his pants and briefs.

You sat back, swallowing hard at your dry throat as he turned, revealing his hole, stretched and lubricated, ready for you. It seems as though your fiance truly had done his research. Without hesitation, you all but tackled Satoru to the floor of the carriage, kissing his neck and running the tip of your tongue over the ropes and his skin. Fuck he tasted so sweet; you needed him.

He pulled your robes down, your cock bouncing “Satoru.” You groaned out before spitting into your hand, lubing up your cock. “Fuck I want you.” In response, he wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you down on top of him as his legs snaked around your waist. “I-I’ll take that as a yes!”

“Yws!” He sounded but nodded to make sure his consent was concise.

Holy shit, this was happening, all of the teasing, the bickering, the attitude. It had led to this. You never assumed that your betrothal to Gojo would lead to such an erotic moment in your life. This was definitely how you imagined your first day with your fiancé turning out. Yet here you were, on top of your future husband, your cock pressing against his tight hole.

You were so lost in your thoughts that Gojo huffed out a whine before pushing you inside. You winced as the head of your cock slipped inside of him. The tight warm heat nearly hard you cumming as he clenched down on you. He felt so good; gods, you needed more; you required all of his body, mind, and soul!

“Are you alright?” Your lips hovered over the gag. Satoru took a second, white brows pinched together as he adjusted to your size. A moment passed before he hummed, nodding his head again. “Good~ now be quiet. We don't want the guards to hear us.”

You slowly began thrusting in and out of Gojo with whimpers and whines. Gripping his hips as you set a pace. It was slow and steady, the carriage gently rocking in time with your movements. Thank fuck. Gojo was still wearing a gag because he was loud with it in. You couldn't imagine how he would sound if he weren’t wearing the gag.

His whines were like your own personal drug. The more he whined and whimpered against the ropes, the harder you found yourself thrusting into him. Desperation ruled your mind and your cock. You wanted to make him cry, wanted to see his eyes roll back into his head. Gojo Satoru was your fiance, your husband, and you were his in every shape and form.

Pushing his cock in as deep as you could, you hit that particular spot inside of him. One you had read about in books or heard people talking about in passing. Gojo whimpered, eyes wide as he arched his back, his legs tightened around you, urging you to stay where you were, to have you keep hitting that special spot. Taking his not-so-subtle hint, you pulled out just a bit before slamming your hips into that special spot, rocking into it over and over until tears began to well in those big, beautiful blue eyes.

“Mwphh!” Satoru cried out, those big tears rolling over flushed cheeks.

More? He wanted even more? He must be close. “Anything for you.” Your large hand wrapped around his shaft, jerking him off in time with your bullying thrusts that kept hitting that spot deep inside of him.

“Ngggh! MMM!” Satoru’s body stiffened, back arching as he clamped down on you so hard you felt your balls clench. Satoru’s cock throbbed in your hard as he came, spurts of white cum hitting his chest, your hand, hell, it even hit his chin. The pure glazed-over look in his eyes had you thrusting several more times before his clenching became too much.

“Fuck,” you whispered, yanking the gag out of his mouth, “I’m cumming, fuck, fuck fuck.” You pressed your lips against his drool-covered mouth, silencing your moans as your cock throbbed inside him. You filled him with your cum, pushing it deep inside of him until you both laid them, twitching in overstimulation. “Satoru.”

“Mhmm.” He hummed happily, pulling you down so you were lying flush against his cum coated chest. “That settles it.”

Pulling back just an inch, you watched him. “Settles what?” A chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you shook your head. “Did I somehow fuck the brains out of you?”

”You sure did, Prince Y/N,” His long fingers slowly ran through your Y/H/C hair. Finger twisting around the strands. “I gave you a test ride.” A bark of a laugh escaped you as you helped Gojo sit up. “I want to sign my agreement to be yours and yours alone.”

“Only if you let me do the same.” You shared a kiss with the man you were arranged to marry. An arrangement that you had come to love.

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machiavellli · 24 days

Text

In the HEAT of the moment

Pairing: Cal Kestis x chiss!jedi!reader

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: reader is in heat, unholy use of the force, slightly angst dynamic (we are a bit bratty), 0ral f&m receiving, p in v, dom!cal(?)/switch (accusingly), p0rn w/o plot (not really?), no use of y/n

Summary: Terribly h0rny on a ship with an attractive redhead, what could possibly happen?

MDNI!

Author’s note: it all started that I wanted to write an old classical sex pollen! fic, but then I remembered how a lot of people (myself included) headcanon chiss people to have a mating cycle and I thought it could be an interesting alternative. Also the only thing you really have to know about chiss people is that they are generally speaking slightly cold people, they have blue skin (NOT MENTIONED) and red eyes (which glows when they feel strong emotions). Reader is depicted as a force user, but this honestly only serves the purpose to make it even more filthy.

Sorry for the BAD DESCRIPTION of the Mantis, do you really care though? Also BD is safe and sound from any inappropriate view🤌

English isn’t my first language

I watched the red-haired figure beside me trying to land the ship as fast as he could, fear painted all over his face, anxiousness filling his chest. If only he could know what was actually wrong with me.

I was spread out on the co-pilot seat, breathing heavily, clothes increasingly damp from the sweat that was now clearly crowning my face. I was trying to concentrate exclusively on my force signature, or rather I was desperately trying to keep it closed. I just had to wait for the wave to pass, for this embarrassment to end.

I hated the fact that it happened in front of him, I usually was able to handle it myself. I wanted to shout at him to leave, I wanted to maintain my usual cold character, he had never seen this vulnerability in me before and he was scared.

He was probably thinking a fever had come over me, he couldn't possibly know how my biology worked and he couldn't, shouldn't know, that I was developing a soft spot for him.

It was so hard to be this close yet so far from his touch. If I had spoken I would have lost all control over my signature and he would have been able to sense my heat expanding. How the heat ran more and more in my blood until I felt my eyes burning. If only he could know.

I remained contorted in the chair, trying to tighten all my limbs, trying to make myself smaller and smaller, to repress this uncontrollable situation. My head was back, eyes half closed, I couldn't look at him, even though the image of him, those damn red hair, was now imprinted on my retina. Every time I tried to open my eyes even slightly, he would turn his worried gaze in my direction. My glowing red eyes left me no opportunity to escape his peripheral vision.

I closed my eyes definitively, trying to cling to the little concentration I had left. I could feel Cal landing the ship, this is absolutely useless, I kept thinking. BD scanned me, «I know her temperature and pulse are high, I can see it» he replied with a frustrated tone to the droid, he didn’t like at all this unusual situation.

My eyes were still completely shut, not even for the love of the Maker I was going to open them, especially now that I could hear him rising from his piloting seat.

«You have to tell me something though, what the hell is happening to you, you were fine thirty minutes ago» he was now hovering over my face, and I could feel his warm breath as he spoke.

His hand reached out for my face, but I quickly sent him away, dismissing it with my arm, still, the brief touch made me tremble from the inside. And he noticed it.

You aren’t getting any information out of me, I would explode before letting you know anything, I thought.

He loudly snorted, starting to grow frustrated by his anxious state and my attitude.

«Listen, you got to tell me something. Why can’t I access your signature? You never blocked it. Let me read you» he then gripped with decision at both of the sides of my now completely sweaty head and made me face him.

I had to bite so hard my lips to hide the moan that almost made it out, to the point where I tasted my own boiling blood.

Focus, focus, focus. For the love of the Maker and for my dignity.

I tried to remove myself from his cautious touch, but his callous hands gripped harder, keeping me firm in my place. I then opened my eyes, the light of the cockpit invading my sight, making my eyes water from the discomfort, but I kept my burning gaze on him. Hopefully, even if a tear started to descend, he would recognise my furious gaze, which I had unfairly dedicated him numerous times, on missions, but also in everyday activities. I was just trying to keep my distance for all of those months, but all the crafting I did on my persona was breaking just in front of his eyes. If only he knew.

«I just want to help you. Let me help you. I know that you hate being helped, especially by me, but I need you alive and healthy kriff» he sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, but I kept my gaze fixed on him, breathing even more heavily. It felt like oxygen wasn’t enough. Because it wasn't, as I resignedly knew; and I knew I was going to need his help if he didn't get out of here in mere seconds.

«Since I don’t know what’s the matter with you, I’m sorry, but I have to try to access your mind. You look like something is giving you a panic attack» how ironic.

If only he knew.

After that sentence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold the game, the control I had over my force signature was feeble, so it took me all my strength to do it, but I kicked him as hard as I could in the stomach, desperately trying to send him away. The kick ended up being much more delicate than I had in mind, it didn’t even hurt him, but it still made him step back a little and remove his delicious hands from my skull. I tried to catch the opportunity to leave the cockpit, but as I tried to stand up, my bloody wobbly limbs made me crash on the floor, my head hitting the seat just above and failing forward.

I hissed in pain, desperate, needy and desolate for the scene that Cal had to endure. I was barely lifted from the floor with my elbows, I lifted up my gaze towards his direction. Hairs sticking to my forehead and breath still as heavy as an imperial cruiser.

«Let me help you. You are a mess» he slowly walked next to me, lowering his broad figure to my level. Flashes came back in mind from all the times I had the upper hand over him, in our training sessions or missions. I was so good at hiding everything, until I wasn't.

«Y-you need…t-to stay away from me» I whispered and it made him widen his eyes from the surprise that I could speak. Words as light as air destined to fall into the sea of uselessness as quickly as lead. And with that, the unstable hold I had on my signature fell.

«I can’t leave you here, don’t be rid-» he started saying by lifting me from my arms. And with that, he knew. Now he knew.

Moments that felt eternal passed as I held again my gaze, now completely stripped of any decency. Kriff, if he knew.

I couldn’t reach for his signature, I simply lacked the strength to do so, but I was sure that he was scanning my interior from top to bottom, I could sense him everywhere in me. It was so good, I imagine the real touch, how good that must feel.

«Go away.» I replied, closing my tired eyes once more, letting my head fall forward, hiding hopelessly my bare mind.

«But I thought that I felt so good…» he said meanwhile rising my head once more, lifting my chin with one of his damn hands. And a light moan escaped my lips.

My mind went blank there, eyes fixed on him as I would be staring into the void itself and my mouth opened from the shock, revealing the now dried blood painted on my lips. I felt the agonising tears and the sweat mixing over my face, this was purely mortifying.

One thing was being shamed without addressing it and one thing was whatever was going on here. But as much as I felt shamed, I felt this growing heat rising once again in me: it felt good.

And it certainly didn’t help when he started to gently brush away the dried blood from my lips with his thumb. I was just glad his eyes were fixed on them and not my eyes, you know, for the sake of my decency.

«All of this…all of this for what?» He chuckled lightly, readjusting his gaze on me, making our eyes entangled again «For hiding from me? The only one ashamed is you, wilful as always».

«Leave the matter to me, I-I will handle-»

«You don’t get to handle a thing. Be a good girl and let me help you or your rut won’t pass» he voiced firmly.

This time, my eyes widened in surprise and the little nickname made my body flinch.

«Tell me you want my help and you will be served.»

For a moment, I breathed heavily again, focusing entirely on reaching for his signature: he was being honest. That’s all I needed. I needed him and he knew. He knew it all.

«Help me, n-need you»

Without any other dancing around, he lifted me easily, closing the cockpit door of the Mantis behind him, and locking up BD. My head instinctively went back, just for him to catch it with his large hand. I wanted any clothes off.

Once we reached for the table, he delicately leaned me against its surface, ice against my warm skin. He climbed over me with his broad figure, feeling his own arousal growing. He waited for this for so long. And I did not know.

Our lips, now, mere inches away. I was hot, but kriff, I could feel his heartbeat also running. Our breaths mixed over our faces and for cutting short all the theatrical tragedy, I simply lifted one of my hands to cup his face, making him come instinctively closer. Now as my lips danced on his, I knew it was over.

I was burning, to the point where the heat gave me back my strength and I started holding onto his hair with both of my sweaty desperate hands, making a moan escape from him. He felt like a sweet fresh relief from my pain, but Force, if I need more than that. Our hips then started to stroke against each other, searching for the real relief.

It felt like we were eating off each other’s faces, sloppy kisses filled with burning passion, mixing with the sweat and blood, nothing too different from our condition on a battlefield wryly.

Then, he started travelling down to my neck and moans finally freely left my mouth, as I felt the ginger growing harder on my thighs.

«You are so warm, so good» he muttered half moaning into my neck as his hands started working on my tunic, but he stopped for a moment and looked at me with those pretty green eyes: «Can I?».

«Hurry.» was my response.

And he hurried. Basically ripping my damp tunic away, and without losing a second he was on my breast, skilfully sucking one as he played the nipple of the other with his callous hand.

«So soft, can’t believe I had to wait this long» he whispered as his voice grew hoarse with desire.

«More Cal» I whined softly, now completely blinded by lust.

And my wish was his command.

He navigated down, in the direction of my wetness, leaving a trail of careless kisses behind. His hands, which felt frigid, given my temperature, followed him as he went down, gripping firmly my waist, and making my eyes roll. Hence, he held me still with one large hand flat over my lower stomach, pressing lightly, as the other worked to remove my trousers. At last, I was bare before him, a desire I hid for long.

«It took you a heat wave, almost a heart attack, for letting me touch you. So obstinate to prove yourself, when you were already perfect in front of me» he breathed while he lowered himself, as my thighs were being spread upon his face.

As my legs parted, I felt my indecent drench slide down, feeling exposed and turned on like never before.

«You are going to be my four-course meal» he mumble, taking a look at my condition and smirking, before starting to rub over my sensitive clit, as his breath kept teasing me.

I was in no condition to speak, my mind was already far too gone, and filthy sounds were the only thing coming out of me. And Force, the sight would have killed any Jedi master back at the temple. Too bad.

Once he considered it enough, he closed the gap between my heat and his lips, starting to suckle intensely, holding me open for him, feeling every one of his digits pressing into my flesh. The touch felt electric, combined with his force signature overwhelming me inside. I wanted him, may this be the last thing I ever do.

And he damn knew.

«For someone so bitter, you taste so sweet» A low groan escaped from him as he gripped greatly at my inner thighs, parting my lips even more, whilst I held on the table for my damn life, trying to steady myself as my body trembled beneath him.

His lips, the swirling of his tongue over my swollen bud, the slightly cool sensation from his lower temperature and the air around us, were driving me wild. I was getting close and instinctively I tried to force my legs closed, but I was immediately shut by his powerful hands, keeping me more open and vulnerable than ever.

«Don’t try. Let me have what is mine» he hissed while flipping me over to my stomach.

My face and chest made contact with the cold surface, as I felt my hips being lifted and dragged at the edge of the table. His cool grip, air, surface and exposure made my walls clench. The sight of my bare ass made his cock, still hidden beneath all his clothes, twitch in anticipation. He nudged over my warm soft flesh, admiring my curves, gripping it with force and giving it a loud slap.

«Don’t you think you were bratty enough? It feels so good to have the upper hand, no wonder you like it some much»

He was enjoying this almost as much as me, the only difference being that I was utterly submitted to my own desire, my rut, desperately trying to get me filled with his seed.

He lowered once more his gaze to my warm, opening my lips with his rough thumbs, as my wetness fell on the table’s surface. His mouth captured my clit once more, making me tremble from the newly acquired angle, but his hands were quickly on my sides, supporting my weight.

We kept filling the room with my indecent moans and his low groans as he ate me out like a starved man, till the point where I reached my peak, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation coursing through my body. Oh Force, oh stars. Why did I wait so long for him?

Instinctively, I let my hips fall on the table and Cal followed me, resting his head on my lower back, giving it a soft kiss. We were both breathless, but we were both far from being over with this.

We both knew.

My heat returned after mere seconds, making me whine. I flipped myself over as Cal lifted himself from me, gripping one of my ankles to drag me closer to him.

«Undress. Come over to the table. Quick.» I commanded and so he did as I said.

Rapidly he removed his own clothes and I got to stare at his toned pale body, covered in delicious freckles and reddish hairs travelling all the way down to his throbbing member. What a show.

He climbed for the second time that day over my figure and when he got to the level of my face, I decided that before anything else, I would have to taste him, my thoughts driven by my burning lust. I took him from his shoulders, switching our positions, causing his head to collide with the table and blocking him with my thighs, my wetness now pooling on his lower stomach, just above his crotch.

«My turn, you had your fun Kestis»

Whiteout giving him the time to protest, I descended over his body, leaving a trace of warm bites from his neck till the lowest part of his abandonment, making him squirm at every touch. I felt like my blood was boiling even more, raising my temperature once again.

I softly bit the flushed skin of his cock, before opening my watery mouth and taking as much as I could from his size. My boiling mouth, working in sinuous movements around his member, made him let out a low groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.

«If o-only I could’ve shut you up before like this, mhm. So pretty. So good.» he stated bringing his hands over his face moaning, lifting his hips up a little, causing me to pleasantly choke on him.

Hence, he moved one of his hands on my head, encouraging me to go deep, to move faster, increasing his excitement. From now on, I wouldn’t have ever again protested to remain silent.

Then, he lifted my head from him, a hand taking me from my chin, cleaning once more my lips, but not from blood this time.

«Nobody here wants me to come in your mouth, let’s be honest» he asserted and it was almost as if my rut snapped me out of my state, remembering what I truly want and need.

All I wanted was being filled, till I couldn’t take it anymore, filling me with pleasure and relief from the unbearable heat that has been consuming my body.

«Please» I pleaded softly, biting my lower lip between my teeth, desperation adorning my words.

Cal lifted me from my stance, sitting up and swinging my legs around his lap, my core just in front of his.

«You are beautiful, you have always been amazing, even if I thought you hated me» he spoke softly, caressing with one hand my face, removing some of the hairs sticking over it, whilst, with the other one, he held my waist firmly.

«I am sorry, I was just trying to be professional» I confessed lowering my gaze. The sounds of our heartbeats were the only thing I could hear as our force signatures started to entangle.

«You were more annoying than professional» he chuckled, «And professional for who? Do I look professional? C’mon.»

«Mhm…annoying…just because I kept beating your ass Kestis»

I took his chin with one of my hands, as the other gripped at the nape of his neck, his Adam’s apple rising as I bit again into his neck, making him breathe heavily.

«So annoying…» he moaned, «Tell me what you need to make you feel better, I would do anything for you»

Our signatures overflowing into each other, make me see the stars and the kriffing galaxy, I said in his mind. He thankfully knew.

Without another thought, he laid my back again on the surface, as he towered over me.

Breathe in, breathe out.

His fierce mouth was on mine, filthy kissing me, catching restlessly my swollen lips and whimpering while doing so. His hand adorned my curves, clasping at the softness of my hips, gently moving one leg up, aligning himself at my entrance.

Locking our eyes, sharing one last breath, before his length entered me.

Instinctively, I rolled my eyes back as his thick member filled me completely. He was everywhere inside of me, his pleasure was mine and mine was his. The Force could reserve such unholy uses.

«See? Good girls get stretch real good» he muttered in a groan of pleasure.

The carnal desire was burning more now than ever.

As he moved inside of me, I arched my back and let out soft moans, whilst he was holding me tightly, growling at the nape of my neck. I clenched my walls around him as he hit every sweet spot just right. Every deep trust emanated a lustful indecent sound, skin against skin, clapping together, coiled by sweat and desire.

He was filling me divinely, but I needed it raw. Animalistic. As my rut intended.

But, without words, he knew that.

Cal flipped me over, grabbing onto my waist from behind, as he impaled himself without warning in one trust. His powerful thrusts sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through my entire being, and I felt the intensity of his emotions radiating through every cell in my body as he poured into me relentlessly. One of his hands reached for my neck, bringing him even more inside of me.

As our hearts synchronised, the combination of the raw act and our force signature fuelled his movements. the connection deepening with each powerful stroke.

Every noise, every sound of pleasure, filled the room, intoxicating our actions even more, the sound of our skin colliding acted as a frame, in this almost dazzling lust.

We both become lost in the heat of the moment, Cal blinded by my rut that I shared with him in the force.

His cock throbbed with excitement, eager to release its energy deep within my welcoming embrace. The redhead filled me up completely with his solid, pulsating presence. The sensation was invigorating, propelling both of us closer to the brink of euphoria.

«Close» I mumbled with the little strength left in me.

His muscles tensed, as I tightened around him, feeling my pleasure intensify as Cal’s arousal reached its peak.

With his last powerful strokes and the connection we shared in that moment, I saw the stars and the galaxy, feeling our bodies intensely tremble at the reach of our high, whilst gasping loudly.

He painted my inside white with his warm liquid, turning my body temperature back to normal.

Breathless, he fell onto my back, his nose brushed deliberately over my ear, with his member still inside of me.

Restored our normal heartbeats, he lifted the both of us from the table, guiding us to the sofa, where I sat on his lap, brushing some of his hair away as he did the same with me.

«I had no idea chiss had a mating cycle»

«Nobody knows, it’s embarrassing»

«It was fun in my opinion baby» he confessed before giving me a small caste kiss. The action, made me flush and smile unintentionally, which produced a soft laugh from the redhead.

«Fellow associate» I replied, hiding the smile.

«Don’t start again ple-»

«The cycle lasts a week» I said, cutting him off by placing one finger over his own swollen lips.

His eyes widened and a smile formed upon his face as I pressed my forehead on his, smiling, without control this time.

There was nothing he didn’t know now.

Lovely gifs from @vindicia !!

Beautiful dividers from @cafekitsune !!

Star Wars masterlist

General masterlist

My request are open, just know that I’m slow✨

100 notes · View notes

princessaxoxo · 7 months

Text

Strangers to lovers Part 3

Sherlock x reader

Summary: Being Enola’s sitter was an adventure, but not as much as falling for her brother, Sherlock.

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, Unprotected public sex (p in v), very little fluff, angst as well, kissing, cussing

Word count: 1.9k+

Sherlock has consistently shown up at your house carrying flowers for the past week. You conveyed your appreciation for each of them; they were all beautiful. It started off the same way as usual when he arrived early today with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers-lilies.

"Sherlock, all of the flowers are beautiful," you remarked as you opened the door. This, however, will not mend what you broke. You cannot buy my trust with anything."

"Will you kindly give me an idea of sorts? I am really trying my best," he muttered.

"No, you will manage. You are, after all, the notorious Sherlock Holmes. You have probably experienced worse moments."

You shut the door after saying those final words to him. Although doing something like that made you feel terrible, it was a good decision.

Your cousin Miranda made the decision to pay you a visit after sending a letter to your family. "Is everything okay? Your letter sounded worrisome."

Even though you were not very close to Miranda, you reasoned that it might be okay to hear her opinion. She grinned when you told her you had fallen in love.

"Please try not to get too excited. There is no happy ending to this story." When you said that, her face fell. "He left me not too long ago; in the most horrible way, I think it is possible to leave someone you love." You told her everything that had happened in the past. Now that he has returned, he wants me. And, my goodness, I want him too. I just cannot be with him yet, though. I need him to show me because it does not feel quite right. He has not done anything but buy me stuff. Love and trust are not things that can be purchased."

She listened carefully. "I am not sure what to say," she said, leaning her head against her palm and sadly glancing at you. "Do you still love him?" You sighed. “I will always love him more than words can describe. You do not realize how close I was to giving in to his pleas for me to stay with him. How I was able to say no is still beyond me.”

"Though I do agree with you, could you perhaps be a little lenient with him the next time you see him?"

"Be lenient with him? You must be joking. He deserves this. You do not realize how painful it was because you were not present, Miranda.”

"I understand, but if he asks, just go out with him for a day and see how it goes."

You decided to see him after giving her a farewell for the evening and considering what she had said.

When you had not seen or heard from Sherlock for a week, you were taken aback. You were already dressed when he knocked on your door and said, "I have a day prepared for you. Please come." And you had nothing planned for yourself.

He extended his hand for you to grasp.

Gazing upon it, you inhaled deeply and grasped his hand.

The two of you took a carriage to a location of which you were unaware. You asked once, but he wouldn't tell you. “It’s a surprise." You wanted to ask again but decided against it. Not wanting to appear eager.

You hadn’t known how long it took, but the carriage came to a stop. Sherlock stopped you and said, "Cover your eyes.” You gave him a look that told him he was ridiculous for suggesting such a thing.

Still, you tried to get out, but he was blocking you. “Cover your eyes, and I'll help you out."

You huffed but did as such.

Sherlock guided you, telling you where to step and what to watch out for. “Okay, we’re here,” he mumbled under his breath, but you managed to hear what he said.

“Are you ready?” he asked. “Yes, now let me see!"

He removed his hands, and you saw a huge picnic set up for the both of you in a beautiful vineyard covered with tons of flowers.

You’d never seen such a view; you were at a loss for words.

“Sherlock, this is breathtaking. You really did all of this?”

“Of course, I thought you would love it."

He took your hand and led you to sit down on the blanket.

Sherlock sat across from you, curiosity got to you, and you reached to open the basket that was in the middle and started pulling out the produce.

There were various fruits, vegetables, and meats for the afternoon lunch he planned.

Sherlock and you were having a marvelous day together. It was as if nothing had changed; it felt the same as it did four years ago. Just the two of you, enjoying each other and not wanting it to end.

He was eyeing you diligently, especially the way you would reach for a strawberry and how your lips looked when taking a bite.

The sound of your laugh made goosebumps rise on his skin.

He hadn't noticed how much he missed making you laugh, along with your infectious smile.

“Sherlock, this was something that I won’t forget. Thank you for all of this."

“No, don’t thank me. I don’t deserve that, but you deserve this. All for you, y/n."

Sherlock ran a hand through his curly hair that fell in his face, and you gave him a smile.

"Oh, you have,” he said, stopping mid-sentence and reaching his thumb out to wipe away some of the juice that came from one of the many strawberries you had.

His face became eerily close to yours; without thinking, you moved towards him, and his thumb caressed your cheek. You took his thumb in your mouth and sucked on it—the familiar taste of a strawberry on your tongue.

His lips found yours in a slow kiss.

The dress you wore slowly moved upward, and his large hands squeezed your thighs in a needy way.

He kissed and sucked on your neck, causing a moan from you.

His lips grazed your neck up to your mouth, and his nose nudged against yours before going in for another kiss.

He pulled down your underwear and rubbed your clit with his index and middle fingers. “How does that feel, baby? Does that feel good?”

“Mhm, yes, it feels so fucking good; please don’t stop."

His hand started to gently caress your breast, and you moaned into the kiss you two were sharing. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he laid you down carefully.

He removed his hand from underneath your dress.

You pulled up your dress past your hips, and you helped him unbuckle his trousers. He pulled his cock out and eased his way into your pussy.

Both of you moaned simultaneously, and his movements started to quicken.

Your hands grabbed his buttocks, and your legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you.

No words were spoken between the two of you.

Just this moment with him was enough.

Your mouths and tongues moved in sync with one another like they always had. His grunts started to become louder, along with your cries of pleasure.

Your back arched, you were breathless, and you felt Sherlock's hips still with his seed pouring into you.

His head hung low in your neck, and as you started to come out of your sex-filled haze, you realized what had happened.

This wasn’t what you had planned.

This shouldn’t have happened at all.

You scolded yourself for being stupid.

“Sherlock, this was a bad idea.” He looked at you, and you could tell that what you said hurt him.

'What do you mean this was a bad idea?"

“We had sex, and while I enjoyed it, it shouldn't have happened."

He pulled his cock out of you and put it back in his trouser while you pulled your dress down, trying to cover yourself as best as you could. Suddenly, an anxious feeling started within you.

Sherlock lowered and shook his head, and then moved his hand down his face in defeat.

“Would you please take me home?”

"Is that wise?" he asked, looking at you. "You look as if you don’t want me near you again."

You didn't have words for him, although what he said wasn’t true. You wanted him near; you wouldn’t be here with him if that were true.

“Are you going to leave? Again? I know who you are and what you do. Sherlock, you don’t need to explain that to me anymore. I can see you’re trying; you’ve bought me tons of flowers, my favorite ones. Which I’m grateful for, and you planned this whole picnic for me. And sweet gestures like this are what have been meant to earn my trust and get me back. But in the end, is this all worth it if you end up leaving?”

He looked at you and lowered his eyes. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want you, and I’ll want you always. And if one day I must go, then I would hope you’d come with me.”

“You would want me to pack up my life here? Is that what you would want me to do?”

He waved his hand. “No, I would never make you do something you wouldn't want to; we could find common ground, a compromise? If you want this as much as I do",

You did; you wanted it more than life; you wanted him.

But you had nothing left to say to him. “May we go, please?"

He let his shoulders drop in defeat but ultimately said yes.

He packed up the picnic, and the mess that was caused by the sex you had a few moments before

The carriage ride to your home was silent—a silence that could kill. A storm blew over London, which fit the mood of how the day was ending.

You sat picking at your nail beds for the rest of the ride until the carriage reached your home. Sherlock helped you out. “Thank you,” he said, but he still walked you to your front door. “I wish you a good rest of your night,” he said before walking off. You watched as he walked back to his house in the cold, groggy weather instead of the carriage.

Walking back into your house, you aimed straight towards the shower to wash away his scent and the sweat that formed on your skin from the sun earlier, combined with the sex you and Sherlock shared.

The water was hot and refreshing on your skin; you felt renewed once you were dressed in your nightgown and in bed.

You tossed and turned for the rest of the night, Sherlock on your mind and wondering what the future held for the both of you.

Sherlock walked along the pavement, enduring the London rain, as he came upon a pub. He walked in, needing a drink. He sat in an open chair, the barman appearing in front of him. “How many?”

Sherlock got lost in thought about the question he was about to answer the barman when the barman answered for him, “Let’s start you with one, and if you wish for more, let me know."

A few seconds later, a lager was put in front of Sherlock; he analyzed it for a moment before downing the drink.

Without a second thought, he ordered another one to forget the prior events that had taken place; it was going to be a long night ahead.

Taglist: @mysticwitchcraftco

Part 4

#henry cavill #first post #fluff #henry cavill smut #sherlock holmes #smutty #angst #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x you

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drarrily-we-row-along · 7 months

Text

It had been literal years since Harry had seen him, it shouldn’t still feel like this.

Looking at Draco Malfoy while he swanned around the gala, not even noticing Harry’s existence, felt like he’d been hit with a bombarda to the chest. The grief, the rage, the fear, the brokenness, everything came back like it was yesterday. Like he was twenty one and desperately in love, like his entire life was oriented around another person. And the devastation of being left without a word; the empty, expansive void that filled his entire body.

He couldn’t stop watching him. Couldn’t take his eyes off his lithe form, so similar and yet different. He walked taller now, he was self assured in a way he hadn’t been. Open, smiling, like he actually knew he was worthy and it changed how he viewed other people. But he was still himself; clever and funny, still a little bashful when someone praised him.

Harry wondered what else was the same. Wondered if his mouth still tasted the same, if his hands could still make Harry’s body go pliant and his mind go blank. He wondered if he still got giggly after sex. Wondered if earl grey was still his favorite type of tea. If he still hated tequila. Wondered what Harry’d done wrong and how he could have messed up badly enough that Draco left after three years together without a word.

It was inevitable that he found himself following Draco when he went to the men's room, a moth to a flame that would incinerate it and leave its charred smoking remains in a pile of ash. Locking the door behind him, he waited, leaning against the row of sinks until Draco emerged from the stall. There was barely a hitch in his step, barely a flash of recognition in those silver eyes when he looked at Harry.

"Not even a hello?" he asked, suddenly incensed at Draco for ignoring him, at himself for setting himself up for this.

"Hello, Potter," he said evenly. "Enjoying yourself at this fine Ministry Gala?"

"Fuck you," he hissed.

Draco turned and raised an irritatingly perfect eyebrow at him, "Was a hello not what you wanted?"

And Harry saw it, the flicker in his eyes that meant he knew he'd asked the wrong question. "Not what I wanted," he repeated, throat tight and eyes stinging. "Not what I wanted?" He shook his head, "when have you ever cared about what I wanted?"

"Right," Draco said. "Terribly sorry that this Gala helps to fund my research and I had to be here tonight for my job." He said it calmly, devoid of any of the emotions that were racing under Harry's skin. "If you'll excuse me," he said, starting past Harry and moving toward the door, "I'll just get out of your way."

Harry's hands were on him before he even knew what he was doing, shoving him back against the door and pinning him there. "Seven years, Draco. Seven years and not a single word."

"Let me go," he said, voice still unerringly calm.

He shook his head, "No. Not until you-" he broke of, chest heaving as he fought for control, as he fought to get a breath.

"Until I what?" he asked.

"Not until you tell me why," Harry said, voice shaking. "Not until you give me the reason that you threw away three years together without a single. fucking. word."

He just stared at him, still not giving him a word.

"Tell me," he said, begged really, "just. Give me something. Give me some closure. Let me move on."

"Nothing is stopping you from moving on," he replied steadily.

He growled, "Fucking hell, Draco. Just tell me-"

"You're hurting me," the other man said, pressing a palm against Harry's chest.

Harry loosened his grip, "You hurt me," he whispered. "You tore out my entire heart when you fucked off and left. You left this giant, gaping sink hole of a wound in my chest that has never closed, never healed right. It always fucking hurts."

He shook his head, eyes suspiciously bright.

"Tell me," Harry demanded. "Tell me what I did. Tell me how you stopped loving me. Tell me why you left. I would have given you anything, I would have done anything, would hav-"

"I know!" Draco exploded, his voice sharp and furious, and Harry reveled in it, in his loss of composure. "I know that you would have and I didn't want you to."

"What?" he asked.

Draco shoved him off, "Let go of me." He tried to turn and get the door open but Harry grabbed him and spun him around again.

"What do you mean?"

"Let go!" he demanded, pushing roughly at him.

"No," he replied stubbornly. "You owe me this much, at least."

"I owe you nothing," Draco hissed, voice low.

Harry released his grip on the other man, body involuntarily taking a step back as he shrunk in on himself, curling away from him. "Fine," he whispered, wishing he could sink into the floor, wishing he could just disappear, wishing for anything that would take the pain away.

The other man sighed and Harry could hear him straightening his robes before he pulled open the door. "I owe you nothing because the cost of leaving was too high in the first place," he said.

And Harry's head filled with a thousand questions, he looked up but Draco had already left. Rushing out after him, Harry caught him just at the end of the hall. They were in plain sight of everyone at the Gala, if they cared to look their way, but Harry couldn't have cared less. "What?" he asked, maneuvering so that he was in front of the other man. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone can see you," Draco said, voice low so no one would hear, his face impassively blank in a way that Harry detested; it made something go funny in his chest, the desire to break him from that shell, to muss him up, to kiss him until he was breathless and smiling, color high on his cheeks.

"I don't care." He shook his head, "For fuck's sake Draco. I don't care what any of them think. Please," he whispered. "Please just," he let out a rush of air that he'd been holding too tight in his lungs. "Please."

"Not here," he said, glancing around the room very clearly trying to clock who'd noticed them talking.

He nodded eagerly, "tell me where and when."

Draco looked at him, actually looked at him, his eyes moving over Harry's face like a caress. "Mac's, 9:00 pm."

He spun off and left Harry standing there, staring at the wall. He hadn't been to Mac's in seven years, not since Draco'd left.

The rest of the Gala couldn't go quickly enough and Harry found himself leaving before he really needed to but he couldn't help it; he couldn't stand and talk to one more person that he had no interest in talking to. Not to mention the torment of watching Draco swan about, wooing donors; Harry's heart couldn't take it.

Flooing home to change into a green jumper and a pair of jeans before heading to the diner seemed like the only reasonable course of action.

The neon clock behind the counter revealed he was only ten minutes early and he mentally congratulated himself on taking up as much time as he had.

"Well bless my soul," the waitress, Barb if Harry remembered right, said. "I haven't seen you in ages. Look how you've grown."

"And you look just the same, lovely as ever," Harry replied, smiling at her. It was true, she wore the same blue dress and apron, hair pulled back in a bun, still had the same blue eye shadow.

"Flatterer," she accused, but she looked pleased. "Where's your young man?" she asked, leading him back to the corner booth that they'd always preferred and for a moment Harry's heart twisted painfully in his chest.

"Coming, I hope," he said.

She nodded, eyes full of understanding, "Now, don't tell me," she said. "You're a strawberry shake and he's-" she broke off, brow furrowing in concentration.

"A chocolate malt," he said at the same time as another voice behind her.

Both he and Barb looked up to find Draco standing behind her, hands shoved into the pockets of his impeccably tailored trousers, top button on his black dress shirt unbuttoned. He looked like he'd stepped straight out of a muggle magazine, hair just a little disheveled but devastatingly handsome. Harry could barely breathe around how fucking gorgeous he was, how badly he wanted him.

"But if I'm being honest," he said, "I haven't had that much sugar in ages. I should probably-"

"Nonsense," she said, shooing him into the booth across from Harry. "Reunions always require something of the old to mix with the new."

Before either of them could respond to that, she bustled off to the kitchen, leaving the two of them staring awkwardly at one another.

"Draco-" he started just as the other man began with "Look-"

Harry shook his head and gave a little chuckle, running his fingers through his curls and tucking them behind his ear, "Go ahead," he offered.

Squaring his shoulders, Draco began again, "Agreeing to come here with you was a moment of weakness."

"A moment of weakness?" Harry interrupted.

Draco glared at him, "Yes. I'm really not interested in having this conversation. I'm not interested in rehashing everything that happened."

He took a slow breath, "I deserved a good bye," he said eyes stinging.

"Excuse me?" he asked, sounding a bit taken aback.

Barb came over and deposited their shakes and a platter of nachos between them. "I'll just be tidying up," she said. "Over there," she added pointedly. "Don't be shy if you boys need anything."

Harry waited until she was a reasonable distance away from their table before he said, "Listen, I don't need to know why you left. You're right, you don't owe me that. So even though I'd like to know, even though it kills me not to know what happened, what I did wrong," he broke off, shaking his head. "You can have your own reasons and I don't have to know them. But I deserved a good bye."

Those grey eyes, the ones he'd spent countless hours staring into, the ones he'd dreamt of more times than he could count, stared at him like he couldn't comprehend what he was saying.

"I loved you, Draco," he said softly, the truth splitting the wounds in his heart open wide. "I loved you more than anything, I would have done anything, I would have given you anything. If you'd told me you needed to leave, I would have been heartbroken, but I would have let you." He took a deep shuddering breath, "but I deserved a good bye."

"I couldn't," Draco said simply. He started to slide toward the edge of his bench but Harry reached out.

"Damn it, Draco," he said. "Sit down. Please. If you ever loved me-"

"If I ever loved you?" he asked and finally his exterior cracked. "If I ever loved you?" he repeated incredulously. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he repeated, blood pressure rising.

"Yes, you fucking idiot! What do you mean 'if I ever loved you'?" He shook his head, "How can you possibly imagine that my leaving wasn't out of love for you?"

"Because it wasn't!" he exclaimed.

"Yes it was."

He shook his head, "There's no way in hell," he said. "It wasn't for me because you leaving completely destroyed me. You leaving left me in a state of depression that made me wish I was dead. For fucking months. I went to therapy; I still go to therapy, you leaving still comes up. Regularly. There was nothing about that choice that was good for me.”

“How do you imagine that relationship would have ended?”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t know. I’ve been too preoccupied with dealing with the fall out of how it actually ended to wonder how it might have ended otherwise.”

He sighed, rubbing his forehead in a gesture that Harry had seen enough to know that he was getting a tension headache. He wondered if scratching his fingers through the hair at the back of his head still helped, wondered if rubbing his neck still eased the pain. "That relationship would have ended with you hating me."

"Right," he said. "So glad we avoided that outcome."

"Do you hate me?" he asked, looking at Harry like the answer mattered to him.

He let out a breath, "I wanted to. It would have been easier if I could have."

Draco nodded, "And I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I didn't want to stick around for that." He sighed, "Look, we couldn't have kept living in the shadows. Coming out to muggle restaurants, sharing a bed, living on the edge of the world and hoping that we didn't get caught."

"Draco, I would have come out with you. If you'd wanted to tell people, I would have. Godric. How little can you possibly think of me that-?"

He shook his head, "That's my point. You would have come out, you would have told the world, and we would have lived under the proverbial shit storm that rained down on us. Constant harassment, we'd be the front page of every newspaper. I had to leave the country to get accepted into a training program that would accept me as it was."

"And?" Harry asked, "I'm not new to the media shit-show."

Draco looked at him, eyes sad like he could see something that Harry couldn't. "You're not, that's the point. Harry," he said, and the way that he said his name felt like Harry's heart was being ripped open, "you deserved time to heal. You deserved a shot at a normal life. You deserved to be happy. You deserved so much-"

"That wasn't your choice to make!" Harry exclaimed. "What I deserved, what would make me happy; it wasn't your decision. Not without me at least. Because it didn't make me happy. You made me happy."

"But I wouldn't have," he said. "It was the only way. For both of us. I needed to get my life together. I'm brilliant," he said, and somehow it didn't sound cocky, it was just a statement of fact. "Harry, I'm so good at my job. I'm so good at developing potions and magic that is helping people in ways we couldn't have imagined even five years ago."

"I know," Harry replied. "I've followed your career. I've read your articles."

The little smile that curved Draco's mouth shouldn't have felt like that still, it shouldn't have made him feel like his heart expanded four sizes. "And you needed to find your life outside of me. It felt like you hated everything, like you wanted to burn the entire world, everything outside of our bed. And I was never going to be enough to fill that need."

"You were," he said, throat burning. "Draco, I would have supported you. I would have given you anything-"

"I know. And I couldn't let you." He shook his head, "Leaving you," Draco looked down at his hands where they were clenched on the table. "Circe, Harry, it nearly killed me. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. I meant what I said about the cost of leaving being too high. I wanted to give you the life you deserved.”

“All I wanted was you,” he replied.

“I know. And don’t you see why that is a problem? Harry, if all you wanted was me, how could I ever be enough? When all of your dreams, or goals, or aspirations revolve around me,” he shook his head. “I wanted more for you.”

“I didn’t mean to put pressure on you-”

He nodded, “I know. But by the end, neither of us even knew how to be a complete person on our own.”

“Three years of shared life will do that to a person,” he replied blandly.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, and Harry couldn’t count the number of times that he’d wished to hear those words. “I am. But I would do it again.”

The dried, brittle remains of his heart crumbled in his chest. “Right.”

Draco’s hand reached across the table and covered Harry’s, and Harry stopped breathing. “You might be right,” he said. “You probably deserved a good bye. But if I’d given one to you, if I’d even tried, I never would have been able to leave you.”

He opened his mouth to reply but Draco continued.

“I’m not a brave man, I’ve never been well versed in denying myself what I wanted. But I had to give us a chance. I had to give us both the chance to grow into the men we needed to become. I had to give you the chance to be happy.”

“Is that what you think I am?” Harry asked. “Happy?”

Draco blinked, “Well, yes.” His eyebrows furrowed, “you run multiple successful charities that are doing immeasurable good. You’re always in the Prophet with some new witch or wizard gazing adoringly at you-”

“I haven’t slept with anyone since you,” he said bluntly. “Some events require a plus one, so,” he shrugged. “But I still sleep on the left side of the bed. I still unconsciously check to make sure the covers aren’t bunched under me when I roll over because my body got used to not wanting to take them from you.

“Yes, I run my charities,” he continued. “I attend ministry functions. I visit my godchildren and hang out with friends. Yes. I do the duties set before me in my life and I make time for people I love.” He shook his head, “but no one who knows me would say that I am happy.”

Draco stared at him uncertainly.

“It never made sense,” Harry continued. “I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong, how I’d fucked up so badly. I loved you so much, I wanted what was good for you, and I came to terms with that not being me. But for you to tell me it was for me,” he blew out a breath and shook his head. “Whatever you may think, that wasn’t what was good for me.”

No words came out of the other man’s mouth, and Harry decided he’d probably tortured him long enough.

He rapped his knuckles on the table and stood, dropping some money for the bill before murmuring, “good bye, Draco. I hope your life is everything that you wanted.”

Then he all but fled the diner, desperate to be anywhere that wasn’t there. His heart couldn’t take it. Maybe Draco has been right and a conversation only made things worse.

Before he could get to the alley down the street, the one he and Draco had stood in more times than Harry could count to snog until one of them got too horny and apparated them back to Harry’s bed, he heard the sound of footsteps chasing him down the sidewalk. And he would have recognized those footsteps anywhere, could have picked out Draco’s gait out of any line up. “What-” he began, turning toward him.

But he was interrupted by Draco cupping his face and kissing him, his body surging against Harry’s.

Harry didn’t waste this moment, he grabbed onto the other man and pulled him in, kissing him back with all of the heart ache, all of the desire and love that he hadn’t been able to give him when he’d left.

Draco pressed him back against the wall, caging Harry in and making him feel kept and held. “I’m sorry,” Draco managed into the kiss. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, trying to just draw him back into the kiss, he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want anything but this moment; Draco in his arms, bodies pressed together, not a space between them.

But he pulled back and Harry felt bereft. “Forgive me,” he pleaded. “I really believed I was doing the right thing-”

“Draco-”

He shook his head, pressing a trembling finger to Harry’s lips, “there hasn’t been anyone else for me but you either,” he confessed. “Harry,” he broke off, a tear sliding down his cheek, “you are the love of my life. I wanted you to be happy.” He broke, tears spilling down his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re brilliant,” Harry echoed back to him.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. “If you meant it, when you said you weren’t happy here,” he started, “come with me. Salazar, I know it sounds crazy.” He shook his head, “but I’ve hated every single moment of not being with you. I love you.” He pressed his forehead to Harry’s, “I love you so much. Come back to France with me. We can start a new life there. I know it sounds crazy-”

“Yes,” he interrupted him. “Godric, yes. Let me come with you. Let me stay with you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Draco cried, tears still pouring down his face. “You don’t know-”

“I know you,” he replied, holding Draco’s face in his hands to kiss him. “Yes, this is fast and sudden, and I’m sure we’ll have more than one fight about it. But I love you too. I have spent the last seven years wishing you’d walk back into my life, I’m not about to waste that opportunity now.”

“Come back to my hotel with me?”

He shook his head, “come back to our flat?” he whispered. “Come sleep in our bed?”

“You stayed?”

He nodded, “it was ours. I didn’t want to leave behind all I had left of you. And if you ever decided to come back,” he broke off. “Well, I wanted to be there.”

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, “take me home,” he whispered.

“Home is anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

#drarry #love #reconciliation #break up and make up #light angst #happy ending #the author is not dead #just living life with its highs and lows #I’m working through a lot right now. writing is hard because it’s all coming out sideways.#I hope this isn’t as terrible as it feels 😅

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lendeah · 4 months

Text

Daggers and flutes

Happy New Year! I decided to release this a bit earlier than expected as a New Year's present. Also! The TAV in this fic is called Lilianna because I wanted to change my narration for once and it felt more fitting. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: AstarionxOFC!Bard

Summary: In which Astarion and bard Tav agree to a deal: Astarion teaches Tav dagger skills, and in return, Tav is supposed to teach Astarion how to play the flute. The thing is, Tav is terrible with weapons, so things don't go as expected.

Tags: Smut. A bit of fluff if you squint.

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: NSFW (minors dni), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus (fem receiving), squirting, choking, kind of dom-sub dynamic? Just pure filth.

The idea had been hers, naturally. Astarion had cautioned her against coming within 50 meters of any weapon after her near-fatal axe incident with Shadowheart. But it wasn't just that – she had also nearly blinded Lae'zel with an ill-advised attempt at archery, and may have even caused Gale a concussion during his staff training session with her.

Okay, she was terrible with weapons. And any kind of fighting, for that matter; it was not her forte.

But when she had seen Astarion in the heat of battle, his agile and toned body moving swiftly and gracefully like a dancer's, every muscle tense and defined under his glistening skin, his hands wielding a dagger with expert precision and ease, an idea had planted in her mind. And not just the dirty kind.

A few nights later, as they camped near the looming Crèche, she saw her opportunity and seized it. Without hesitation, she entered his tent, unannounced.

"Teach me how to use daggers" she blurts out, her voice echoing in the small space. The leather straps of her boots creak as she shifts her weight, and the faint scent of pine and firewood fills the air.

Astarion is engrossed in one of his books, his shirt carelessly unbuttoned to reveal a sliver of pale skin. Strands of white hair fall over his eyes, obscuring them from view. He jumps, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Gods, Lelianna, have you got no sense of privacy?"

But Lelianna only shrugged, her wide smile never faltering. "I have already seen you naked quite a lot," she said nonchalantly, "there is no more privacy needed between us."

He closes his book and sets it aside, standing up from his bedroll to face her fully. A twinkle of amusement flickers in Astarion's eyes as he crosses his arms, leaning against the tent's frame. His lips curl into a mischievous smirk that sends a cascade of butterflies dancing in Lelianna's stomach. "Well, the thought of you holding a dagger does sound quite thrilling, my dear. But are you sure you're up for it? You do have a tendency to turn any weapon into a hazard."

She playfully rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on! I've seen you in action. You make it look so effortless and graceful. I bet I could do the same with some guidance from the great Astarion."

"You know flattery is the way to my heart, little bard" He leans in closer, "But what will you do in exchange? Surely you know that nothing comes for free in this world." A mischievous glint sparked in his eye as he continued, "even less so when my life is on the line from, you know, being near you wielding a weapon".

Lelianna giggled, swatting his arm lightly with the back of her hand. "Oh, you'll be perfectly safe. I won’t use you as my practice dummy, promise," she said with an innocent blink of her eyes. "As for the payment... maybe I could let you drink from me tonight?" Astarion raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms "I drink from you almost every night, my dear. You are going to have to raise your offer." She pouts, lips pursed in frustration as she considers her options. There is not a lot she can offer. She could compose him a song, but he absolutely hates those and would end up using his daggers on her instead if she did. Her mind races with possibilities before a brilliant idea takes hold. "How about I teach you how to use the flute? I remember you said you would like to give it a try back in the groto"

Astarion scoffed, his usual smirk quickly replaced with a look of utter disbelief. "Me? Play the flute?" He began to laugh, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the tent. "Oh, little bard, you certainly know how to make a vampire chuckle."

Despite his mockery, Lelianna stands her ground, hands on hips in a defiant pose. "I'm being serious! You'd be great at it. And besides," she leans in closer to him now, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she murmurs into his ear, "I hear it's quite the hit with the ladies." She could already imagine Astarion, handsome as ever, blowing into a flute with an alluring expression on his face as women swooned around him.

The smile fades from Astarion's face as he considers her words, running a hand through his stark white hair thoughtfully. "Hmm... that is... an interesting proposition," he muses aloud.

"I knew you'd come around," Lelianna beams proudly.

The corners of his lips quirk upwards into a small smirk. "I see you have a brain beneath all of that messy hair, perhaps I can use that as well." he adds, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Thank y- wait what did you say about my hair?"Lelianna's eyes widened with mock offense, her hands automatically going up to her unruly hair. "Hey now, my hair is not messy! It's...cascading chaos, a masterpiece of untamed locks! It's..."

He interrupts her with an annoyed swat of his arm.

"Fine, fine! I'll teach you if you shut up, gods"

She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"But I will take the flute lessons AND I will drink from you tonight, of course. I can't resist indulging in your company" he retorted, trying to suppress the grin and failing miserably.

When she exits the tent, she can already imagine herself, wielding a dagger with as much grace and skill as Astarion. She spins lightly on her heels, her heart swelling with hope and excitement. Everyone would see her as cool and capable, finally recognizing her talents beyond just singing, playing the flute, and being an excellent drinking companion.

The next morning, as Lelianna approaches the designated meeting spot in the distant forest clearing, she can't help but notice the objects that Astarion has strategically placed around. There is a small wooden dummy with various markings, indicating where one should strike with a dagger. Next to it, several throwing knives are laid out neatly on a log, glinting in the morning sunlight. Astarion stands nearby, his posture relaxed yet alert. The morning light caught the hard planes of his face, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his piercing gaze. He exuded a quiet confidence that is both alluring and intimidating. But she can't help but feel a flutter in her stomach at the sight of lean body, toned muscles visible even under his loose-fitting shirt.

"What's all this?" she asks, distracting herself from her filthy thoughts and gesturing towards the objects.

Astarion grins mischievously at her arrival, his gaze fixed on the makeshift target he had set up. "Ah, my dear Lelianna, I thought we could make our dagger training a bit more interesting," he replies, sauntering towards her with a certain swagger in his step, stepping forward to pick up one of the throwing knives. His movements are fluid and effortless as he twirls it expertly between his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he sends the knife soaring through the air, hitting the wooden dummy dead center. Wow.

"Now, my dear," he says, handing her a dagger "It's your turn"

She takes it from his hand, inspecting it. The dagger is sleek and sharp, the blade glinting in the sun. Its handle is adorned with intricate carvings, giving it an almost regal appearance. The dagger is surprisingly light, yet its edge is sharp and dangerous.

She scoffs "Easy peasy." But as she throws it, her aim is way off and the dagger lands nowhere near the wooden dummy. She pouts, feeling embarrassed by her poor attempt.

"Not as easy as it looks, is it?" Astarion chuckles lightly at her reaction. "Don't worry my dear," he says reassuringly as he retrieves the dagger for her. "It takes practice and precision."

Lelianna can feel Astarion's warm breath on her neck as he leans in to correct her stance, teaching her how to position her body for a better throw. She gulps nervously at the proximity of his body. His cold fingers gently and confidently guide her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. Her own hand trembles slightly as she holds the dagger, feeling the weight and sharpness of the blade beneath her fingers.

"Ahem, I think I got it" she quips, nervously.

Astarion steps back, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watches Lelianna take aim once more. She takes a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the wooden dummy. With a flick of her wrist, she releases the dagger, and it lands in a nearby bush. Astarion snickers lightly beside her, and she gives him a dirty look.

"Just laugh it up, Mr. Tall, Pale, and Annoying," she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

Astarion only laughs harder, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I must say, your aim is...interesting."

"Alright!" Lelianna declares, swiping another dagger from his grasp with a huff. "Enough with the teasing already. I'm going to get this right even if it kills me!"

And she tries, for like, 107 times. She really tries. In fact, she is panting and sweaty by the time she fails misserably for the umpteenth time.

At this point Astarion is not even hiding his amusement. His laughter fills the clearing, his mirth evident in the sparkle of his eyes. "My dear Lelianna, I must say, your persistence is truly commendable," he says, wiping away a tear that had formed from his laughter. "But perhaps, just maybe, throwing knives is not your calling. You know, some people are simply better suited for other talents."

Lelianna huffs indignantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Maybe if I imagine your ugly face on the dummy I won't actually miss," she declares, her voice filled with determination.

He laughs and smiles indulgently at her determination. "You know, that actually is a good strategy. Go, try it. I'll watch." he leans up against a rock and waits for her to take her shot.

She grits her teeth, narrowing her gaze on the object in front of her. She focuses intensely on each step she was given: positioning her hand, gripping tightly, and then making the wrist movement. With a loud and determined grunt, Lelianna gathers every bit of concentration and strength she has left and throws the dagger with all her might. To everyone's surprise, especially her own, the blade lodged itself into the dummy's wooden heart.

A triumphant smile lights up Lelianna's face as she turns to look at Astarion.

"Ha! I did it!"

Seeing her thrilled reaction, Astarion bursts into hearty laughter, clapping his hands in aknowledgement. His eyes are shining slightly when they meet hers. He stands up from the rock, sauntering towards the dummy to retrieve the lodged dagger.

"Well, I'll be damned," he says brightly, removing the blade with an easy pull. "Who knew that imagining my so-called 'ugly face' is all it took for you to land a good hit?"

He turns to her then, the sun glinting off his white hair and turning it to silver, and with a sly grin adds "One in a hundred is not a bad start, especially for a small and weak bard."

She gasps, taking a hand to her chest in offension. With a fiery intensity burning in her gaze, she points a finger at him, her voice laced with defiance. "I'm not weak!"

He smirks devilishly "You are, as a matter of fact" he laughs "I reckon even a wooly sheep would stand more of a chance in a brawl than you."

Her rage grows exponentially. Calling her weak? maybe. But comparing her to a damn sheep, of all things? No way. Lelianna's eyes narrow, her fists clenching at her sides. She takes a step towards Astarion, her voice filled with defiance.

"Oh, is that so?" she snaps, her eyes ablaze with indignation. "Well, let's see how well you fare against this 'woolly sheep' in a brawl then, bloodsucker!" she declares before thinking better of it.

Astarion smirks at her challenge, his eyes glinting with amusement as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure about that, my dear? I wouldn't want to hurt your fragile ego." With a confidence that surprises even herself, Lelianna moves closer to Astarion until they are mere inches apart. As they stand face to face, Lelianna can see the subtle upturn of Astarion's lips and the playful glint in his eyes. She raises her chin defiantly, staring him down with unwavering determination.

"I may not have your strength or your agility," she begins, her voice steady as she meets Astarion's gaze, "but I have wit, creativity, and a few tricks up my sleeve. And you know what they say, Astarion, brains can be just as powerful as brawn." she states firmly, her voice laced with undeniable purpose.

And then he is laughing again - boisterous and loud. "Yeah, and you have neither" he says once his laughter has subsided enough for him to speak.

Lelianna scowls but doesn't back down, her heart beating loudly in her chest. She swipes the dagger from Astarion's hands and squares her shoulders, eyeing him fiercely. "Just you watch," she rejoins. "I'll have you running scared before dawn."

Astarion raises an eyebrow cockily at her response, a slow smirk curling up his lips "And what do you propose? That we settle this with a dagger-throwing contest? Or perhaps a duel of wits?"

"A real duel," she declares, her voice resolute. "No weapons. Just you against me. Pure strenght only."

A flicker of intrigue flashes across Astarion's face as he sizes her up. His sarcastic smile slowly fades, replaced by something akin to curiosity. Folding his arms across his chest, he tilts his head and regards her with a newfound interest.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he asks, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Lelianna nods firmly. "Deadly serious," she replies, her voice laced with determination.

A sliver of something dangerous flashes his eyes.

Astarion's lips curl into a half-smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, my dear Lelianna, if you truly wish to test your mettle against mine, who am I to deny you such an opportunity?" His voice dripped with mock sincerity as he takes a step closer, closing the gap between them.

Lelianna felt a shiver race down her spine, a mix of excitement and nerves tangling within her. She couldn't quite decipher if she was being foolish or courageous for challenging Astarion to a duel.

Without breaking eye contact, Astarion extended his hand towards her. "Very well, then," he said, his tone filled with a challenge. "May the strongest win."

Shit, shit, shit. What did she get herself into?

Astarion cracks his knuckles with a self-assured smirk, relishing the opportunity to test Lelianna's bravado. He begins to circle her slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. Lelianna mirrors his movements, trying to maintain a steady distance between them. Her palms grow clammy as the weight of the challenge sinks in, but she refuses to let it consume her. She squares her shoulders and meets Astarion's gaze head-on.

"Scared? I'll admit, you have every reason to be," Astarion taunts playfully, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You can still back out if you're too frightened"

And she knows. She knows she could back out and return to normal and avoid getting absolutely destroyed and humilliated by the man in front of her. And he would give her shit, fair, but at least she would keep her dignity.

However, the weight of pride and the fear of appearing weak held her back from backing out. So, she meets his eyes, trying to keep steady "I never back out."

Astarion watches her with a light smirk on his face.

"Fine, my dear. But remember you asked for this" Astarion's smirk widens, his eyes glimmering with anticipation as he readies himself.

With a sudden burst of energy, Lelianna lunges forward, feinting to the left before swiftly changing direction and attempting to deliver a swift kick to Astarion's side. However, he effortlessly sidesteps her attack, evading it with a grace that only serves to infuriate her further.

Undeterred, Lelianna regains her balance and pivots on her heel, launching herself towards Astarion once again. This time, she aims a series of quick jabs towards his chest. But Astarion's reflexes are lightning-fast, effortlessly dodging each blow with a surprising swiftness. She is already breathing heavily, while he looks like he is just batting a fly. She needs to change tactics.

So, with all the strength she can muster and a war scream, she climbs into his body, wrapping her arms and legs around him as if he's a tree. But as soon as Lelianna's body connects with Astarion's, she realizes her mistake. She had underestimated his strength and agility, and now she was paying the price.

Astarion's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her tightly against him as he falls to the ground with her in his grasp. He pins her to the ground effortlessly, his legs straddling hers to keep her from moving. Lelianna grunts as she hits the ground, her breath knocked out of her. Astarion's strength presses down on her, his body pinning hers with an intensity that sends a jolt of panic through her veins. She struggles beneath him, the weight of his presence suffocating her. She begins to wiggle and squirm, using every ounce of her strength to break free from his grasp.

"Nice try, my dear," Astarion chimes, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "But you'll have to do better than that if you want to best me."

Lelianna grits her teeth, refusing to let defeat consume her. A spark of determination ignites within her as an idea takes shape in her mind.

And then she bites his arm. Hard.

Astarion lets out a yell, and with a sharp movement, he releases his grip on her. "Damn you, that hurt!" he says, his tone is serious and he's now glaring at her. "Did you really just bite me? Are you mad? That is my thing!"

Seizing the opportunity, she rolls to the side and scrambles back onto her feet, as she smirks at Astarion's bewildered expression.

"You said I had to do better," she says, winking playfully. "I call that a win."

And then his gaze turns vicious, making a shiver run down her back.

"Oh dear, we are far from over".

Astarion pounces, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and amusement. Lelianna barely has time to react before he's on her again, his speed blurring their surroundings into a mess of colours and shapes. Desperate, she kicks and squirms, trying to dislodge the infuriating vampire who pins her down with ease.

"You fight dirty," he accuses, his voice low in her ear as he attempts to immobilize her wayward hands.

"Funny," she retorts, grunting as she manages to connect an elbow with his side. "I thought you enjoyed that."

Lelianna's smirk quickly fades as she finds herself once again pinned beneath Astarion's weight. She struggles against his hold, but it seems futile as he chuckles, clearly enjoying this game of cat and mouse.

"I must admit, you have some fight in you," he says, his tone smug. "But don't think biting me will save you every time."

Lelianna bites her lip, feeling a mix of frustration and excitement coursing through her veins. She knows she can't win against Astarion with just brute strength. She needs to use her agility and wit to outsmart him.

With that thought in mind, Lelianna suddenly shifts her weight and twists her body, causing Astarion to lose his balance and fall to the side. She quickly flips over and straddles him, pinning him down this time.

"Now who's on top?" she grins triumphantly.

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise before he bursts into laughter, throwing his head back as if he finds the situation hilarious.

"You truly are something else," he admits, still chuckling. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

Lelianna can't help but feel a sense of pride at getting the upper hand on Astarion. But before she can bask in her victory for too long, he flips them over once again and pins her down.

She charges him again, but he's ready this time. His hands shoot out to catch her wrists before she can land a punch and with a smooth movement, he twists her bound hands back and holds them behind her back. His other arm curves around her waist trapping her against him.

"You really are more like a wild beast than I gave you credit for," he purrs in her ear with amusement. "Are we going to keep rolling around? Or are you ready to surrender?" he smirks down at her.

She tries again to twist, do something. But this time his grip is unwielding, and his whole body is pressing down on her. So that leaves her with only one option. "Let me go, you creep!"

Astarion's smirk only widens at her words, his eyes glittering with mischief. "Oh, is that how you ask nicely?" he teases, keeping her pinned beneath him. His grip on her wrists tightens just a fraction, but it's enough to make Lelianna squirm under his hold.

"You're enjoying this too much," she huffs, her face flushing as she tries to wriggle away from him.

He chuckles again and shakes his head. "Such a shame," he muses, his smirk never leaving his face, "You could have been a worthy opponent."

"I am a worthy opponent!" she retorts indignantly. "I am far more than you could ever handle."

"Maybe," he concedes with an insouciant shrug. But instead of releasing her as she'd hoped, he tightens his grip on her wrists even further. Her face flushes in frustration as she squirms beneath him. "But look at you, so small" He presses down again, making her feel his whole weight on her, rendering her movements even more futile. Sweat trickles down her forehead as she struggles for breath, her chest heaving in the effort to break free. And then he leans into her face, warm breath tickling her skin "I will release you... if you admit you are weak"

"Never! I'm not weak!" she spits, even as a gasp tears from her throat due to his crushing weight. Her pride won't allow it. She can't let him see her as weak, can't admit defeat.

Astarion's smirk only grows wider at her continued resistance. "Oh, but you are," he taunts, "You're just a small, insignificant creature in my grasp."

She wiggles and writhes beneath him, feeling his hot breath on her neck as he leans down closer to her ear. The smell of his sweat and musk fills her nostrils, making her head spin.

"I'm not weak," she repeats stubbornly, the words barely a whisper as she fights to get them out. "I'm just... strategically disadvantaged."

Astarion's laughter rings in her ears, a rich and genuine sound that makes her heart flutter despite the situation.

"You are weak," he repeats says softly, his voice dripping with sensuality. "I always knew it." His hand curls around her neck possessively, holding her in place like an animal that has just caught its prey. "My pretty little bard" he says, grazing his fangs over the skin under her ear.

His rough grip sent shivers down her spine as his hot breath fanned her neck, sending a jolt of excitement through her body. Her breath catches, and she finds herself arching her back a little.

She feels helpless and trapped beneath his larger frame. And for some twisted reason, she likes it.

"I am not your prey" she mutters raggedly.

"Oh, but I think you are," he says, trailing his teeth from her neck to her jaw "and I will use you however I see fit."

Lelianna's breath hitches at his words, and she fights back the blush threatening to spread across her cheeks.

"You can't do that," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion chuckles, his grip tightening around her neck, making her breathless. "I can do anything I want, and you won't be able to stop me." He leans in, his fangs just barely graze against her throat, a delicate stroke that sends fresh shivers skittering across her skin. "And I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill."

Her heart thuds loudly in her chest at his words, drowned out only by the sound of their mingled breaths.

"But you would like that, wouldn't you? Look at you, all flustered under me." he smirks "you love feeling helpless, feeling weak."

I stiffle a moan when I feel the hand on my neck slowly caressing its way to my chest.

"Y-you don't know what you're saying," I manage to stammer, my voice breaking.

"Oh, but I do," he says, his smirk never wavering. "I see it in your eyes, the way your breath hitches when I touch you, the way your body trembles beneath me. You feel it too, don't you, Lelianna?"

His hand moves inside my leather top, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my breast, making me shiver with desire. My breath hitches in my throat as he leans in closer, his tongue brushing against my neck, sending a wave of pleasure.

"You want me to take you, to use you for my own pleasure." he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "So needy and desperate"

"T-that is not true. I don't want your self-centered ass" I mumble.

He gives me a wicked smile, before lowering his hand. Lelianna's eyes widened in shock as she felt his hand dipping beneath her pants. He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Your words say one thing, Lelianna," his lips curl into a wicked smirk, "But your body says something entirely different."

"I…" His thumb lightly brushes over her stomach, causing her to gasp sharply. Her mind is a whirl of thoughts and desires - part of her wants to push him away while the other part yearns for his touch.

She tried to reply, but her voice was muffled by the panting. She was lost in the pleasurable sensations coursing through her body.

"You can't keep losing yourself like this," he continued, his voice soft and gentle. "You have to stay strong."

I can't answer him, as he's already started to move his hand again over her breast. Her senses are overwhelmed with the sensation, and she feels like she's about to lose it.

"Do you want me to stop, Lelianna? Do you really?" he purrs in her ear.

She bites her lip, scared that her mouth will betray her.

His voice trails off slightly, and his movements slow. "My poor little bard..."

And then he stops altogether

"What-?" she begins, disapointment coloring her words.

But his grip doesn't relent. Instead, he grabs his belt and places it over her wrists, with the intention of binding her. He leans in and whispers in her ear, this time softer "Do you want to stop?"

His crimson eyes study her face intently.

"No," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. "I don't want to stop."

And he grins widely.

"Great." he finishes binding the belt hard. She feels his hips moving against her, his erection pressing into her, and she can't help but arch her back, wanting more. "You're a tempting little thing, Lelianna," he growls, his voice low and thick with desire. "But we have to be careful. We can't have you wriggling around, can we? That would spoil all the fun"

She struggled against his grip, but it was no use. He had her completely under his control. "Oh, you look rather beautiful like this," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"No fun in fighting, Astarion?" she manages to retort despite the arousal clouding her senses.

"Quite the opposite, my dear," he purrs back at her, pressing his body closer to hers, making her squirm even more. "The fight is half the fun. The other half... is in winning. So you may want to start behaving better, hm?."

"Oh, but I'm behaving so good!" she exclaims, trying to sound innocent. "You're the one with the wandering hands."

Astarion smirks, a devilish grin spreading across his face. "Oh, are you now?" he purrs, his fingers still tracing the sensitive skin of her chest, teasingly slow. "Then I suppose I'll have to make an exception for you." he whispers, his lips now surrounding her nipple, gently suckling.

Lelianna's breath hitches, her body trembling as the sensation courses through her. She tries to struggle against him, but it's no use. She's putty in his hands.

He takes her nipple between his teeth, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. Lelianna's back arches, her hips bucking against him as pleasure rippled through her.

"Freaking vampire" I murmur "always biting and sucking where he shouldn't."

Astarion's chuckles fill the air as he continues his torment. "You are right. I should be putting my mouth somewhere else."

He retreats from her breast, his smirk never leaving his face as he moves lower, his fingers dancing over her stomach before finally unbuttoning her pants. His gaze is intense and possessive, filled with a hunger that makes her heart race.

"I think you deserve your punishment for losing, don't you agree?" he whispers, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Her breath hitched and she bit back a moan as he nipped at her thigh lightly.

"W-well, not exactly lost," she tries to reason with him. "I mean, the rules weren't explicit, and-"

And then he dives in, and his tongue darts out tasting her slowly, teasingly. She gasps as he laps at her folds, savoring the taste of her arousal. Her legs tremble beneath him, helpless from his iron grip on them.

"Mmm," he hums against her skin, giving her pleasurable vibrations. Her legs quiver at the sensation, and she lets out a small whimper.

He separates for a second and smiles up at her.

"Not that hot-headed anymore, are we darling?" He says, while slowly introducing a finger inside of her. Lelianna gasps as Astarion's tongue torments her clit, flicking it in a way that sends shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She tries to wriggle again, but the binds hold her tight. Her hips begin to buck against his face unconsciously, seeking more contact with his mouth. The friction of his lips and teeth on her most sensitive spots make her moan loudly, sending vibrations across the clearing where they are. His fingers inside of her stretch and fill her, causing her insides to clench around him incessantly. His tongue laps at her folds, teasing every inch of sensitive skin it can find and driving her crazy with desire. She feels like she's on fire everywhere. The belt binding her wrists scrapes her skin sending sparks of pain through her system. Every nerve ending is alive with desire as he plays with her body, and she can feel herself getting closer to the edge with each passing moment.

His fingers slide in and out of her tightness with ease, stretching her further than she ever thought possible. Each thrust is accompanied by a low groan from deep within him. She opens her eyes again, and find him already looking with a predatory look, as if he's devouring her

"I won't last long if you keep looking at me like that," she finally manages to gasp out, her eyes fluttering closed again as each wave of pleasure seems more intense than the last.

His fingers move faster inside of her, stoking the fire within her until it becomes unbearable.

"Say my name," he growls against her skin, his fingers curling inside of her in just the right way.

"N-no" But he just bites the inside of her thigh.

"Say my name"

She resists for a moment, a stubborn streak burning fierce in her eyes. But his fingers are unrelenting, his touch too exquisite. And the weight of his gaze, predatory and possessive, is more than she can bear.

"Astarion," she breathes out, her voice barely more than a whisper yet laden with an intensity that has him grinning wickedly.

"That's right, Lelianna," he purrs against her skin, his lips tracing a searing path up her thigh. "You're mine tonight."

Her body is quaking beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing through her with each stroke of his fingers and lap of his tongue.

"All mine," he purrs again, his tongue flicking over her clit. "Tell me you're mine, Lelianna." It’s a demand, an order that she finds herself all too willing to comply with.

"I'm yours," she cries out. His fingers curl within her, brushing against a spot that has her seeing stars and gasping for breath. Astarion’s smirk widens at her response, and he leans down to nip at her inner thigh lightly. The combined sensations of his fingers moving inside her and his teeth on her skin tip her over the edge, and with a cry, she comes undone beneath him.

“Astarion!” she gasps, her thighs quaking around his head as he thrashes his tongue against her. She can feel waves of pleasure coursing through every inch of her body, radiating from where he's touching her. Her arms strain against the belt tying them together, the rough texture of it scraping against her skin and adding a touch of pain to the overwhelming pleasure. Her back arches, and she cries out his name once more before succumbing to the bliss.

But instead of stopping, Astarion's tongue and fingers keep their unyielding pace, making her shiver with the pain of oversensitivity.

"W-what are you doing?" she breathes, struggling against her restraints.

But he just looks up with a wide grin, his hand still pounding inside of her "I'm giving you your punishment."

And with that, he quickens his pace, his tongue and fingers relentless as they push her towards another wave of pleasure. His crimson eyes flicker with delight as he watches her writhe beneath him, sweat glistening on her flushed skin.

"No more..." she pleads between gasps, her body quivering from the intensity. But her protest is drowned out by the pleasure he's igniting within her.

His free hand reaches up to grip her breast, his thumb rubbing circles over a hardened nipple. The combined sensations have her writhing and bucking beneath him, desperately seeking release. Each touch is electric, setting her skin. Astarion’s lips curl into a devilish smirk at her reaction, his tongue continuing its torturous pace. He flicks his finger against her increasingly sensitive nub, drawing out a whimper from her. “What’s the matter, darling?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Can’t handle your punishment?”

She would've rolled her eyes if she wasn't so lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

She tries to form a response, but all that comes out are fragmented moans and short gasps of breath. She writhes underneath him, the binds on her wrists chafing against her skin. But he doesn't let up, his fingers thrusting deeply within her as he skillfully plays with her clit.

"I... I hate you" she gasps out.

Astarion just laughs, the sound dark and throaty. "Oh, I know," he replies, his gaze unfaltering, as if he knows a truth she herself has yet to realize. His fingers increase their rhythm, torturing her remorselessly. Every touch sends jolts of pleasure radiating from her core and spreading to every corner of her being. She starts getting dizzy, all the sensations coming to her at once. Her body convulses beneath him once again as another orgasm rips right through her. She screams his name, her voice hoarse and breathless, as her body shakes uncontrollably. But Astarion doesn't stop, keeps driving his fingers within her folds while his tongue flicks over her sensitive bud.

"Gods" she cries, as fire sweeps through her veins, searing every inch of her. She gasps, completely breathless as her body convulses in the throes of bittersweet pleasure.

She rides the wave, writhing and thrashing in the circle of Astarion's arms. At that point, she is just blabbering nonsense, far too gone to make any coherent thought. She can hear him whispering something, a low rumble of words against her skin that makes her shiver with aftershocks.

"Again," he orders, his fingers flexing inside of her, and she obeys without thought, brought back to the brink by the insistent pressure of his hand.

"I can’t... I can’t..." she gasps, feeling her body start to tremble again. She tries to get away from his mouth, but the binds and his arms are a powerful restraint.

"Shhh," he whispers against her skin, "you will. For me."

She can't distinguish between her orgasms anymore, everything a jumbled mess of sensitivity and pleasure. His fingers continue their relentless rhythm, pushing her further and further until she feels like she might shatter from the intensity. His mouth returns to her clit, sucking harshly and her vision turns white as she convulses underneath him once more. She is screaming so loud her voice breaks, her hands clawing at the dirt beneath them. Her entire body tenses and spasms with pleasure. Suddenly, she feels a rush come out of her, and sees what has happened before she processes it. She’s squirted, soaking him and the ground beneath them both. Astarion pulls back, laughing in delight at her shocked expression.

“Doesn’t look like you hate me that much, darling,” he teases, wiping his face with his free hand.

Her cheeks are flushed bright red, the embarrassment nearly consuming her. She's too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought, let alone a retort. She just glares at him half-heartedly, her energy spent on the pleasure he'd mercilessly coaxed from her body. Her breasts rise and fall quickly as she gasps for air, sweat trickling down from her temples to pool in the hollow of her throat.

But Astarion only seems to be spurred on by this new development. He lowers himself down between her legs once more, tongue darting out to taste her again.

Lelianna squirms, oversensitive from her previous orgasms. "No...no more..."

But he isn't on her anymore like before. Instead, his lips and tongue are cleaning her thighs and the space between, lapping up every last drop of her release, smirking up at her with a look that was equal parts predatory and satisfied. The cool night air sends a chill down her spine as Astarion’s tongue hits her overheated skin.

"You're such a mess, darling," he coos, his fingers lightly tracing over her sensitive mound. His touch is light now, soothing after the relentless torture he'd subjected her to. Despite herself, Lelianna lets out a sigh of relief.

Her body is shaking from exhaustion and overstimulation. But she can't deny the thrill that still thrums through her veins or the rush of adrenaline that leaves her feeling both breathless and revitalized.

He briefly rests his head on her stomach, his white disheveled hair tickling the sensitive skin there. His hands are gentle as they trace patterns along her waist and hips, soothing her trembling muscles. Once he’s done, Astarion takes her out of her bindings "I think you've learned your lesson,” he murmurs meanwhile, with a little smile.

Lelianna blinks up at him, still panting and trying to catch her breath. "You're... insufferable," she stammers, voice hoarse from her screams.

But he just smirks and kisses her softly. Then, Astarion curls protectively around her, his hand resting casually on her stomach. He's warm and solid, his chest rising and falling steadily against her back. The quiet night is a stark contrast to their previous activities, but it’s peaceful and comforting in its own way. She turns to look at Astarion, his face bathed in the soft moonlight filtering down from the trees above. His expression is unguarded, with a hint of smug satisfaction playing about the corners of his lips. They kiss lazily, and then with a gasp she remembers.

"Wait you didn't" she starts, weakly reaching for his pants.

But he catches her wrist and kisses the side of it. "Not today, little bard. Today was about you." he whispers softly, his breath teasing along her skin and stirring goosebumps in its wake.

"I think I've had enough of your idea of punishment," she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed with the lull of relaxation coursing through her.

"Let's go back to the tent and I will make up for it" he whispers over her ear.

He gets up and swiftly helps her sit up, but her legs give away at the movement and she slumps against him, her body too spent to hold her upright. He laughs heartly "And there's our strong bard who can take anyone in a fight."

She rolls her eyes, too tired to even attempt a retort. "You're lucky I can't move," she grumbles, leaning heavily against him.

His chuckle rings out through the quiet night. He puts his cloak around her, clothes discarded somewhere in the clearing. Then reaches down and easily lifts her into his arms. She yelps in surprise, gripping tightly onto his shirt as he carries her back towards their tent.

"Don't get used to it," he warns playfully. “I don’t make a habit of carrying damsels in distress.”

She scoffs weakly at that, resting her head on his shoulder. "You wish I was a damsel in distress to feed your ego."

Astarion's laughter is infectious, filling the otherwise silent forest with his mirth. It sends waves of warmth coursing through her despite the cool evening air.

"So, when is our next lesson?"

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