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neptuneiris · 5 months

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Behind the Scenes (01/05)

Behind the Reencounter

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: Due to your work as a make-up artist and wardrobe assistant, you meet Aemond, a very successful young actor with whom you work and all professional relationship breaks down and a secret relationship arises, until you get pregnant and decide to run away from him so as not to ruin his successful and promising career. After almost two years, you and he unexpectedly meet again.

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hello! i'm back with another mini series! yay!

god, i'm so excited about this, it's nothing like what i've written before but the excitement and inspiration got the better of me.

also i must say that i had seen stories with this plot about daddy aemond and i wanted to make my own, adding angst, which i know you like and a story that i came up with that i really hope you like a lot:)

without more to say, enjoy beautiful people, I look forward to your comments, don't leave me without knowing what you think please!

warnings: angst, language, sexual content, smut

Your state of nervousness and anticipation is not much of help when it comes to the first day of your new job.

The film studio is a world of constant activity and you know that just on your first day it's going to be hectic. At least in your area which is Wardrobe and Makeup, it's a completely active area and you have to be available almost all the time.

You let out a long breath and before you leave, you stop in the studio's small nursery where your son, Aenar, barely a year old, spends his day while you work on set.

You can't help but watch him with adoration, a certain sadness and longing, for nothing would make you happier than to stay here with him, but you know you can't afford it.

These last few months have been hard, your income has been complicated and you need the money from this new job to be able to survive and make sure nothing is missing for him, your little boy.

Aenar crawls on the floor, exploring the world around him, while the woman in charge keeps her distance from you and him, taking care of other children. And when his big, curious blue eyes look up at you, he lets out a giggle of joy and stretches out his arms to you.

You bend down with him and take him in your arms tenderly and adoringly.

"You don't want me to leave, do you?" you murmur fondly as you leave a kiss on his cheek.

He babbles excitedly, unable to formulate coherent words, but his smile completely lights up your insides and you respond with giggles and smiles.

You take advantage of the little time you have before work to play and laugh with him for a moment. But eventually your time to leave arrives.

You leave a kiss on his forehead and with a sigh of defeat, you say goodbye.

"Mommy has to go but she'll be back soon, okay, my little dragon?"

His little hands explore for a second all over your face, making you laugh and you leave a couple more kisses on both of his chubby cheeks, loving to hear his laughter and loving to see the huge smile he places on his pink lips.

"I love you, sweetheart."

You leave one more kiss on his forehead and make sure one last time to cover his head well with his cap, taking advantage of the fact that it's November and Winter has arrived to hide his straight hair.

You distract him with all the colorful toys that are distributed on the floor for all the children and take the opportunity to leave, otherwise he will cry if he sees you leaving. You exchange a look of understanding with the woman in charge and finally head back to your workplace.

The trailer door opens with a soft creak as you enter, feeling the mixture of excitement and nervousness run down your spine. You had been looking forward to this moment with anticipation, but also apprehension.

For you knew that your past would come back to haunt you.

But you know you need to be here.

The first thing you see are the lighted mirrors with their respective chairs and vanities in front of them, where makeup and wardrobe experts hurry to prepare the actors for the day's filming.

A scent of pressed powder and beauty products fills the air, creating a familiar atmosphere. And when you barely have time to absorb the scene, a brown-haired girl approaches you with an enthusiastic, warm smile.

"Hi! Y/N, right? The new makeup artist."

She points at you with her index finger and a thoughtful look, without wiping away her smile.

"Hi, yes, it's me," you nod to her, as you return the small smile.

"Perfect! I'm Jess, the wardrobe assistant," she extends her hand to you in a friendly gesture, "Nice to meet you and welcome!"

You can't help but be relieved by the friendly reception, then shake your hand with hers.

"Nice to meet you too, Jess. Thank you for having me."

"Oh we're so excited to have you here, I've been looking forward to your arrival," she confides, "Let me show you where you can drop your stuff off and then I'll give you directions, okay?"

Again you nod, grateful for the kindness of Jess, who leads you toward a row of lockers where you can store your things, then gives you directions.

"First, let's go over the schedule for the day," she tells you, opening a folder with the itinerary for the shoot. "We have this first scene where we need to make sure every detail is perfect. And you'll be in charge of the wardrobe for the main characters today."

She indicates without losing the kindness in her tone and you nod, understanding.

"So, take the wardrobe list for each actor and check that we have everything in order."

He hands you a detailed list, making sure that you with your new addition are aware of every detail.

"After that, we'll move on to makeup," she instructs you, "Sam, our talented makeup artist, will give you a brief orientation on the look we're going for. Don't worry, she's amazing and will guide you through the whole process."

Jess grabs a pair of robes and hands them to you.

"Now, let's get to work on the wardrobe. When you've gone through everything, head over to the makeup area, okay?"

Again you nod, understanding the directions perfectly and dive into your tasks with enthusiasm, getting off to a very good start and feeling completely comfortable.

Besides, this is nothing you haven't done before, as way back when you used to work for the BBC television network right here in King's Landing as well, this was your job, so there's nothing new or complicated for you.

When Jess, frantically going through her checklist, looks up at you.

"Oh, Y/N, we need more pins for costume fixes. Could you go to the prop depot and get a package, please? I'd really appreciate it."

You nod with a small smile.

"Sure, I'll be right back."

With a determined pace, you step out of the trailer and head to the depot which isn't far away and start looking for the package, which you didn't think would take you some time since there are so many packages of different things mixed up.

You search through many huge boxes, until you finally find the package of pins and let out a relieved sigh.

You leave the huge room and close the door behind you, walking back. And as you walk, as you pay attention to your surroundings, you feel a mixture of nostalgia and nervousness, as these hallways, permeated with the buzz of film activity, take you back to memories you've been trying to bury.

You let out a long breath, not wanting to think about it now, and concentrate on your work.

As you enter back into the trailer, everything is immersed in a constant murmur of conversations and the activity of preparations, at the same time as the trailer door closes with a soft click behind you.

You are about to enter the area where the tables and chairs and mirrors and everyone else are when you hear a somewhat familiar voice in a distant echo in the middle of it all, completely stopping your footsteps.

"…they said at the training scene I wasn't supposed to look any different in particular."

You frown, thinking that maybe you're mishearing and are mistaking that voice for someone else's.

But still you advance just three steps, sharpening your hearing with a wary face, waiting, wanting to make sure.

"And which one of these for that scene?" you hear one of the girls in charge of wardrobe.

You wait for the answer from that attentive and completely cautious voice, thinking that it must probably be a figment of your mind that wants you to believe things that aren't.

"I think the brown one," you hear that voice say back to the girl.

Your heart stops completely in that instant.

No.

It can't be.

You think completely incredulous and terrified.

You stand completely paralyzed and with a face of total shock as the sound of that voice continues to echo softly throughout the interior of the trailer, flowing conversation between him and the makeup artist.

The pulse in your throat beats with a mixture of surprise and anxiety, suddenly losing strength in your body, so you lean against one of the walls as you feel an emotional vertigo begin to emerge.

All those buried memories, suddenly resurface, as it is no imagination of yours and you know it is him because his voice has not changed and you could recognize it anywhere.

It is him.

He is here.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of your emotions, but you can't, and you can't believe this is happening right now, on your first day of work.

Completely cautious, you slowly peek out, wanting to be even more sure and wanting to see that it's all just your mind making it up.

But as soon as you catch a glimpse of that signature flash of platinum hair, your heart rate begins to race faster than normal.

And there he is, with his hair pulled back in a small low bun as he discusses the details of the scene with the makeup artist, a scene that resonated with similarities to moments you and he shared in the pass.

Disbelief completely invades your eyes and your entire face as you watch him, surprised to see him after exactly one year since that day. You notice every gesture and every feature that is still etched in detail in your mind.

He, oblivious to your presence, continues the conversation, but something in your expression begins to tremble.

You go back in time to the spark you both shared in the corridors of that studio, the looks of complicity, the many nights you shared together and the whispers in the dim light of the dressing rooms.

But you also remember that day, when you saw him completely frustrated but willing to be there for you, where his manager and his entire team talked to him about the consequences and you also remember everything he promised you, on hidden, which is why you decided to run away when you were only three weeks pregnant with him.

A lump forms in your throat and standing there, watching him, after so long, tears begin to invade your eyes.

But Jess announces your presence as she emerges from the back where the dressing rooms are, watching you at the entrance completely static and with a look she can't instantly identify.

"Y/N! There you are! Did you get the pins?"

And that's when it happens.

Saying your name loud enough for everyone inside the trailer to hear, it catches his attention, who confused and attentive watches where Jess is heading and that's when the gazes meet.

And in that instant, a spark of recognition crosses the face of Aemond, Aemond Targaryen, the man you decided to run away from so as not to ruin his career and the father of your child.

His healthy eye opens wide and surprise and disbelief overcome him as he sees you, right there, less than five meters away from him, the woman who carried his child with her and whom he sought so much after she disappeared completely from his life.

Silent, with the urgency of tears threatening to overflow, you step back, watching him cautiously and fearfully, at the same time beginning to tremble all over.

"Y/N," he utters your name with a tone of surprise and longing, as if he can't believe it, beginning to slowly rise from the chair.

You recoil further, as all the sadness, pain and anguish wash over you as you remember the past and think at the same time of your son, your sweet little boy.

However, your first instinct is to run away. Again.

Without a word and without looking back, you turn around and exit the trailer quickly before you could no longer hold back and tears involuntarily flow from your eyes, taking with you the image of Aemond and the echoes of a past you cannot escape and forget.

You don't care about your job, you don't care that you left everything just like that, you only think about running away and going quickly for your son, crying and completely terrified.

Aemond watches you walk away, unable to move and unable to speak, with a look of deep disbelief, surprise, bewilderment, regret and remorse while the people around him do not understand anything.

He knows that he made many mistakes in the past and he knows that you have a right to feel upset and hurt. But he also knows that you also made mistakes and you recognize that too.

But for now, you run away and he stands still, losing strength, where you both barely process what just happened and at the same time travel to the past, where it all started and where it all ended.

ALMOST 2 YEARS AGO.

At just twenty-one years old, you barely graduated from college and landed a great job opportunity with the BBC television network to work as a professional makeup artist and wardrobe assistant.

And now at the age of twenty-two and having been working for the network for two years, your life couldn't be better.

You have the job of your dreams, you have achieved so much despite the fact that your parents had no faith in you for choosing to study something that didn't guarantee you a future, and now your income is enough to allow you to live an independent life where you lack nothing.

When then, a new project comes up, a new TV series where you participate full time and where you are passionate about what you do.

That's when you meet him, one of the main actors of the show, Aemond Targaryen, a young, successful twenty-four year old actor who has already attracted the attention of the show business in his early days with a very promising future.

But it was not only for his incredible talent, he was also recognized and attracted a lot of attention for his unusual appearance, beautiful bright blue eye and a peculiar long platinum hair.

In his interviews he explains the origin of the genetic descriptions of him and his family, which is what causes a lot of doubt in every interviewer and also in his fans, wanting to know his origin.

That's why when they tell you that you will be assisting him in his makeup and wardrobe, you can't help but feel nervous but also a little excited to work with him.

And when the day finally arrives, Aemond Targaryen is actually quite a nice and accessible man to work with.

In the first few weeks of working and shooting the show, your interaction with him was completely professional.

You take it upon yourself to bring out the best in his image for the screen, where he does his part, always being friendly, willing and cooperative with you to follow directions and achieve the perfect look.

Always both of you at the beginning had normal and casual conversations to start forming trust, where everything becomes routine.

And it's not until he would say anything silly to make you laugh and where you both got to the point where you allowed yourselves to talk completely freely without being judged.

The shared laughs and casual comments created a comfortable and relaxed atmosphere, where the relationship started to become more friendly and slowly stopped being so strictly professional.

And when you least expected it, you looked forward to working with him, doing his makeup and wardrobe, enjoying his company.

Even when he would arrive first at the trailer to get ready, he would look forward to your arrival.

And when you arrived, you couldn't help but smile a little shyly in his direction because of his intense gaze on you through the mirror, making you feel a little nervous.

As you carefully applied his makeup, Aemond couldn't help but notice that attention you paid to every detail on him, having you so close to his face, being a moment he also longed for it to come.

And as the days passed, accidental brushes and gestures that went beyond professionalism began to emerge.

During makeup sessions, the glances became more intense and prolonged, as if you were looking for something beyond the superficial appearance, where you noticed how he was looking at you beyond the professional surface.

But it wasn't something that bothered you, on the contrary, it made you feel inexplicable sensations that at the same time pleased you, knowing perfectly well that he wasn't like that with anyone else in your area, only with you.

And you both also made sure to act that way only when it was just the two of you or to do it subtly when you were around other people.

But you also knew the dangerous game you were both playing.

However, it was too late, you really started to like him too much even though you knew that the idea of him and you could not be possible.

In the film industry, relationships between colleagues are technically not allowed or frowned upon. Rumors and speculation about romances can alter fan perceptions and, in some cases, affect job opportunities.

In addition, you both have studio contracts and other projects in progress. And acting in such a way, where the intention of both is more than clear, can affect casting decisions and the perceptions of directors and producers.

And for Aemond, being an up-and-coming young actor with a solid fan base, the revelation of an affair can bring negative criticism to his public image.

His manager and team have told him that maintaining the coveted bachelor image may be convenient and commercially advantageous for him in his projects to attract audiences, as he is attractive and very talented.

Even though he had an accident as a child where he lost his left eye and now wears a prosthesis, that attracts more attention from people and they want to know more about him, causing him to be more relevant.

But all this mattered little to Aemond as he shared more moments with you.

As the relationship became more enjoyable, his feelings and emotions became more and more evident and so did yours, starting to overcome the barrier imposed by the entertainment industry.

And one day that line of professionalism that both were trying to maintain but was becoming increasingly difficult, finally broke down completely.

On a filming afternoon, you and Aemond meet in the wardrobe area, where you make sure he looks perfect in his required clothes for the day and he stands completely still, cooperating and watching you at all times.

The conversation between the two of you flows naturally, as it has so many times before, but this time, something in the air seems different, like a gentle tension.

"After we finish this final scene, we should go celebrate, don't you think?"

He suggests with a soft little smile, but his eye reflects an intensity and that desire he can't hide when he's with you.

"Sure," you say with a willing little smile, still securing his clothes, "With John, Rose and Lana?" you mention your partners.

"No," he murmurs, shaking his head softly, "Just you and me."

You look directly into his eye with a slightly surprised and bewildered look, not expecting to hear that, beginning to feel nervous at his words and also at the proximity of the two of you.

"But…" you look at him a little incredulously and with a small sad and disappointed smile, "We can't."

"Yes we can," he tells you softly, "We just have to be very careful and not tell anyone."

You watch him with a small spark of amusement on your face, smiling softly in his direction, not believing he's serious.

And it is at that moment that the looks on both of your faces makes it clear that the connection you both share is deeper than you both believed and where Aemond, more than anything else, makes his true intentions clear and wants to put them into practice, after so long.

A complicit silence surrounds the two and it is as if time stands still for an instant.

Aemond, with a soft expression, unable to contain himself any longer, gently takes your face in his hands and you let him, because you want him, even though you shouldn't.

"There's something I've wanted to do for a long time," he confesses, his voice laden with sincerity.

You, intrigued and captivated by the intensity in his eye, his beautiful blue eye and the closeness of the bodies, look at him with attention and desire.

"What is it?" you murmur, almost in a whisper.

And without another word, Aemond leans toward you and closes the distance between you, bringing his lips together with yours in a needy but slow and deep kiss that you reciprocate instantly.

It all happens in an instant of surprise, followed by a sweet surrender to the attraction that had grown between the two of you.

Time comes to a complete stop as you both sink into that first kiss, where Aemond's hands gently grip your waist and you respond with the same intensity by locking your arms around his neck and clinging to his lips.

You don't want him to stop, you don't want any of this to end.

Everything feels perfect and just as you imagined in your fantasy mind of wanting to live this moment.

And the moment doesn't end, as he pulls you further into the dressing room while still kissing you, leaning you against a vanity and pressing your body completely against his, making you gasp and respond to his needy kiss in kind.

Unfortunately, the kiss doesn't last as long as you would have liked, as a voice screams throughout the trailer.

"Next scene in five minutes! Everyone to the set, please!"

You and Aemond part abruptly, with surprised and terrified looks on your faces, instantly keeping your distance and pretending nothing has happened.

You head along with him toward the set, trying to hide any trace of the intimacy you both shared moments ago. And as you immerse yourself in the frenetic pace of the shoot, the complicity between the two of you manifests itself in small gestures and stolen glances.

And that's when the little relationship secretly begins.

Keeping the relationship a secret became a balancing act for both of you. As the connection you and he shared intensified, the need to hide the relationship became more and more crucial.

In the trailer and on set when you were around more people, as he did you had to learn to act as naturally as ever, carefully concealing any trace of intimacy.

Encounters became completely secret, kisses and caresses behind dressing rooms or in the trailer when you were alone, always alert to the possibility of being discovered. Even in the dressing room, it became a meeting place, where they could enjoy a moment alone.

You could also talk freely by call or text, but both he and you preferred to see each other in person.

That's why on days off, which were few, Aemond always took you to more private places. One night, for example, he took you to dinner at a small restaurant outside of town.

If it wasn't a restaurant, it was to invite you to a small coffeeshop and more discreet places, out of the reach of prying eyes, where he still had to go covered by his characteristic hair.

And when neither of them had the spirit to be always alert, you went to his apartment or he to yours, where they could act with total freedom and even go further.

In Aemond you found a friend, an accomplice and practically the perfect man for you, not because of what he possesses and who he is out there for everyone to see, but because of who he really is, inside.

You simply couldn't help but fall deeply in love with him and that fortunately he reciprocated as strongly as you did, wanting you and only you.

And although the fear of discovery added a touch of dangerous excitement to the relationship, the weight of keeping it all a secret was beginning to generate emotional conflict.

The strain of keeping up appearances and the constant need for vigilance began to wear on you. And as the relationship progresses, you can't help but wonder if there will ever be a chance to be free with Aemond.

But you both know it's not possible.

Much less will it be when one day, Aemond lets you know the news.

"I need to talk to you about something," he says in a serious and defeated tone, taking your hands in his.

He has come unexpectedly to your apartment and that seemed strange to you, but now that he is telling you this and behaving like this, you know it is for a reason and it is not a good one.

"Is everything okay?" you ask him intently and with your brow furrowed.

He sighs before answering, looking sad.

"Production and my manager are pressuring me to fake a relationship with my co-star in a promotional campaign. They say it will help generate more interest in the show."

And there are the consequences of having this relationship on the quiet with him.

Aemond's face contorts in anguish as he sees the expression on your face of mild surprise and definitely not expecting to hear that.

"I promise you that I refused and did everything in my power not to do this Y/N, but I didn't accomplish nothing and…. I-It shouldn't take more than three months, I swear."

He explains, but the sharp pain in your chest is already there and remains, as you begin to imagine what this is all going to be like.

You press your lips together in a thin line and not knowing what to say or what exactly to do, you let out a long breath and watch your hands with his, processing what he is telling you and what he will have to do next.

Even though you understand the demands of the industry and everything about marketing, still the idea of Aemond faking a relationship with someone else makes you feel weird and uncomfortable.

But what can you really do? Nothing.

This is his job and you're not going to get upset with him when you know it's not his fault and that this is what he does in order to make a living.

"When?" you ask him watching him with your soft gaze but with a slightly sad expression.

He lets out a sigh.

"I don't know, I just know that they are already setting everything up," he tells you frustrated with his low and serious voice, "But I need you to be okay with this, Y/N," he looks at you worried, "I know it will be hard for both of us but I don't want this to affect us when you know the truth behind everything and why I do it."

You watch him for a few seconds without saying anything, as you feel a lump in your throat and also feel the helplessness he conveys for all of this, as he really doesn't want to do this.

But he must meet the professional expectations of the production company and you have no choice but to support him.

"Well," you say softly, trying to hide your hurt look by forcing a small smile to reassure him, "These are the production company's decisions and you must do it. And you don't need to worry about me, you know I'll support you."

He takes his gaze away from yours for a second, letting out a longer sigh than before, then takes your face gently in his hands.

"Of course I worried about you, sweetheart," he murmurs with tiredness, then draws you into a tight, tender embrace.

He leaves a gentle kiss on your head and even though he is relieved that you understood, he still feels remorse and anguish because if he were you, of course he would disagree and it would hurt quite a bit.

But this is work and he really doesn't have much choice.

And when you least expect it, the moment arrives.

The next few weeks are a complete whirlwind of emotions for you as you watch the fictional relationship of Aemond and his co-star, the famously gorgeous actress Cerelle Lannister, prepare to come to light.

Joint promotions take them both to photo shoots and interviews where they must show complicity and affection. And seeing Aemond sharing moments that used to be just yours and his, now in the public sphere with someone other than you, becomes a painful test.

One evening, you see photos of Aemond and Cerelle having dinner at a famous restaurant downtown and all the photos show the complicit smiles and affectionate gestures.

And even though you know it's part of the act, you can't help but feel a knot in your stomach seeing them together. And even worse, seeing how the public is fascinated and in love with their relationship.

It is for all this that you no longer see him frequently and there is only communication by messages.

And when he finally has a space in his schedule, he takes the opportunity to see you, where you at all times try to look as if you are not affected by all this, so as not to worry him and frustrate him when you know he has a lot of weight on his shoulders.

He still apologizes and tries to make it up to you, but in the midst of your soothing words, the pain is reflected in your gaze.

And that's what you do for the next few weeks, you continue to support him from the shadows while he and Cerelle put on a show and are the center of attention.

At first you had told yourself not to see anything about them on the internet, but you can't help it and you see the pictures, read the headlines in the magazines and with each new performance, you feel a slight sharp pain in your heart.

When the day of a big awards event arrives where directors, producers, script writers, the academy members, the press and of course the actors and actresses attend, where precisely Aemond and Cerelle attend together as a couple officially in front of all public eye.

Images and videos of the two sharing laughter and affectionate gestures spread through every social network, while you, from your apartment, watch the scene with a mixture of pride as this is important in Aemond's career but also feel a deep sadness that threatens to overflow.

You wish it was you instead of her.

It's been months since you and Aemond started this relationship behind everyone's back and you want that, to be able to touch him and be with him in public.

But you can't.

And you can't stand this anymore either.

You decide to watch movies and change the channel, not wanting to focus on them anymore, trying to ignore your emotions and your wounded heart, not wanting to do anything else tonight but just forget and stay in the comfort of your bed.

After two hours, your phone starts ringing, indicating an incoming call and when you look at the screen, Aemond's name appears, but you decide not to answer.

You don't feel like talking to him, you don't want to get upset with him when he is not to blame for anything and start an unnecessary fight, so you prefer not to talk.

But after that call, Aemond insistent calls you a couple more times, in which you decide not to answer as well.

At your lack of response, he can't help but feel worried, thinking that you must be feeling bad because of him even though you understand why he's doing all this. And once the rewards are over, he in covered takes his car and drives to your apartment.

As he drives, his mind is filled with thoughts of how to talk to you and find the right words to ease the tension in both of you. But the nervousness doesn't let him think clearly nor has he forgotten the overwhelming awards he had to attend to.

Once he arrives at your door, he just hopes you're okay, even though he knows you're not and knocks three times.

"Y/N? It's Aemond," he says cautiously and hopeful that you will open the door, wanting to speak and see you.

The silence lingers for a few moments before you finally open the door, where the slight surprise of seeing him here at this hour is reflected in your gaze, not understanding anything. And he just sighs, feeling guilty.

"You didn't respond to my calls or messages and I got worried," he explains to you briefly and in a soft voice, "I needed to see you."

Despite all the emotions you're feeling, the fact that he's come looking for you shows you that he really cares about you and wants to do everything he can to make you okay.

You watch him silently for a moment and nod slowly in his direction with a look of understanding.

"I'm fine," you reply softly, wanting to convince him as well as yourself.

"No, I know you're not," he insists, concerned, "I-I… I know this is all very difficult and I don't want you to feel pressured, but…" he lets out a frustrated sigh, "I'm here to talk if you need to."

Appreciating his sincerity silently and seeing how terribly worried he is, you let him in.

The two of you have a difficult but necessary conversation, where neither of you have any intention of ending this thing you have together and where he's willing to show you that he doesn't care about Cerelle, just you.

"I only want you, baby. You and no one else," he murmurs lovingly and with desire in his gaze, closing his eye and catching your lips in a needy, deep kiss.

You respond in kind, gasping into his lips and bringing your hands to stroke his hair, clinging to him completely as he brings his hands to your waist and ass, squeezing the soft skin of both your ass cheeks.

"Do you mean it?" you ask in the middle of the kiss, beginning to feel the wetness between your legs.

"Yes, I fucking mean it," he replies against your lips, biting and sucking on your lips again.

You moan as he begins to leave a trail of kisses all over your neck, biting and leaving little marks on your sensitive skin, making you shiver all over your body and begin to feel the hardness in his pants against your pelvis.

Absentmindedly he brings one of his hands up and caresses one of your breasts over your shirt, making you moan and continue kissing him as he brings his hands back down to your thighs.

"Oh, Aemond," you whine.

"Fuck," he murmurs in delight, making you wrap your legs around his torso and feel directly on your needy clit, his cock hard and in need of release, "Such a needy little thing, arent you?"

His mouth roams and kisses every exposed part of your skin, as he pulls you along with him towards your couch, making you sit on top of him and you desperately begin to seek relief as you cause friction between your bodies.

He groans into your mouth, feeling his cock throb and ache.

"Can I take this off?" he grabs the edge of your shirt and you nod desperately, needy.

You are not wearing a bra and when your breasts are out in the open, Aemond lets out a curse as he stares at your breasts fully aroused to take one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch and bring his face closer to your breasts.

Not long after that he too takes off his shirt and you free his cock from its confines and then start riding him, unable to wait a moment longer.

"Shit," he hisses, "You feel so good, baby. So fucking good."

You moan loudly as he brings one of his hands to your already swollen clit and starts massaging it with two fingers, making you moan and making you move your hips with more fervor on top of him, as your skin slaps and rattles with his beneath you.

That night, not only does he fuck you on your couch, he fucks you on your bed too, not being able to get enough of you, loving to see your whole face contorted in pleasure as he fucks you against your bed hard, his cock continually thrusting in and out of you, the sound of skin against skin being heard.

You bite down on his shoulder and wrap your legs around his torso again, feeling him deeper, as Aemond kisses you and draws his eyebrows together in concentration and pleasure.

"Are you going to let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again, baby? I want to feel you fucking cum all over my cock."

He brings his hand to your clit again and begins to massage it furiously, wanting to watch you crumble and feel you do it around his cock, while you moan and bite his shoulder and neck.

"Oh y-yes, Ae-mond,"you moan.

You close your eyes, escape a quiet moan, arch your back fully and feel the whole wave of euphoria wash over your entire body, seeing stars behind your eyes.

And with one last hard thrust, Aemond cums inside you letting out a grunt and hiding his whole face in the curve of your neck, leaving a couple of wet kisses once you both come back to earth and melt into each other's arms.

A few weeks later, you're back at work and Aemond starts filming a new movie for Netflix, so you don't see each other as often as you used to.

Aemond's schedule is very tight and he still does everything he can to be able to see you and spend time with you, while you in comparison to him have more free time but can't spend it with him because of his work.

And it is in that same time that you start to feel strange, but you hadn't connected the dots until the signs became too obvious to ignore.

One day, while working on set, fatigue suddenly overwhelmed you and a persistent nausea made you realize that something was going on. Suddenly lack of appetite appeared and seeing things too sweet or chicken or meat meals made you sick to your stomach.

Or also weird cravings started, which your mind started to scare you with possibly confirming what you were thinking.

During a break in the filming, you discreetly retreat to the bathroom, feeling the need for a moment to yourself. And as you look in the mirror, you notice the pallor on your face and the different glow in your eyes.

Completely terrified, you wait for your break from work and rush to the pharmacy, buying three pregnancy tests of different brands and supposedly the best.

And once at home, everything is silent, as the seconds tick by and you feel like you are drowning in your own thoughts.

You're not ready to be a mom, in fact the thought of having children was never something you wanted or wanted in the long run, because you're still young, you have your dream job at only twenty-two years old and to stop focusing on your dreams and goals to focus on those of a child… it's not something you want.

But the pregnancy test you hold in your trembling hand confirms your suspicions, as do the other tests, all positive.

Fear totally grips you, not only because of the fact that you are pregnant, but because of the implications this brings to your life and also to Aemond's life.

God, Aemond.

You think completely terrified, starting to cry, feeling the pressure in your chest.

You know this will stop and totally ruin his career.

You imagine yourself facing the critical gaze of the media, the headlines of magazines and news websites, as well as the constant speculation about your personal life.

You feel completely scared and hopeless, having no idea what Aemond's reaction will be, but you know this is not good, a baby, right now is not good, not for you and certainly not for him.

But you must tell him. You know you must. Regardless, how could you keep something like this from him?

It takes you two days to finally get up the courage to tell him and as you wait for him in your apartment, the pregnancy test rests in your trembling, sweaty hands, feeling completely frightened amidst all the silence around you.

Your eyes burn from crying so much, you feel like you have no strength, you feel weak and you haven't been able to sleep well and you don't even want to imagine how you will be later when Aemond finds out and everything between you will probably go wrong.

The sound of the door makes you jump nervously, knowing it's him.

You feel more fear and uncertainty flood you but you force yourself to get up from your couch and head to open the door, feeling that you will burst into tears at any moment.

As you open it, Aemond's handsome face and his usual smile was nothing like your face, being quite the opposite, so noticing your state his smile drops and he looks at you completely distressed and worried as you let out a few tears silently.

"Hey, hey," Aemond holds your face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. His concern is palpable in the way his eyes search yours for answers. "What happened, baby? Are you okay?"

You sniffle your nose, inhale deeply and keep your eyes closed for a moment, only causing Aemond more unease when you don't utter a word.

"Y/N, what happened?" he insists, his tone laden with anxiety and seriousness.

"I'm really sorry," you murmur sadly to him, feeling each word weigh heavy in your chest and a sense of hopelessness creep over you.

"You're sorry, for what? What happened?" he asks again, completely confused and uncomprehending.

"I'm… I-I'm pregnant," you mumble in a broken voice, as if uttering those words would make reality more concrete.

Aemond's face remains completely static, his eyes wide open, watching you as tears slide down your cheeks. The gravity of the news is reflected in the tense silence that appears between the two of you.

"What?" he mutters under his breath, barely audible but laden with disbelief.

You nod slowly, reaching out to him for the proof you hold in your trembling hand. And every second that passes as he analyzes it feels like an eternity as you wait for his reaction.

But he barely processes the information, takes the evidence between his fingers and the seconds stretch out like hours as you feel your heart beating too fast.

But Aemond's face shows neither anger nor joy.

And finally he reacts by bringing his hands to his hair, his eye fixed on the evidence for a moment and then looking at a spot in your living room, beginning to see frustration and surprise invade him more.

He lets out a sigh and turns his gaze back to you in a desperate manner.

"Hey, baby," he says to you now nervously, "Are you absolutely sure?"

You nod slowly.

"I did three tests, all three came back positive."

He brings a hand to his forehead, averting his gaze from yours for a moment. His eyes reflect tumultuous thoughts, a mixture of thoughts ranging from disbelief to concern.

"But how?" he watches you blankly, still with surprise painted in his gaze.

"You didn't use a condom and I took the pill, but it didn't work," you tell him in a hopeless voice, trying to explain the inexplicable.

"Oh, fuck," he murmurs, biting his lips and bringing a hand to his chin.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean for this to happen either," you admit to him, your tears streaming down your cheeks.

You feel the need to apologize as if this burden is something only you should carry, the vulnerability clear in your tone of voice and on your face, which worries Aemond more at seeing you in such a state.

"Hey, no, don't, don't do that, don't apologize," he says instantly, turning back to you and placing a hand on your cheek, "We're both part of this, you understand me? You're not to blame for anything and I'm not going to leave you alone," he assures you, completely honest and determined with his words.

And despite the gravity of the situation, you feel a huge relief come over you knowing that you are not alone in this, as he looks at your sad face, with your dry tears and red eyes.

And then he places a soft kiss on your lips and encloses you in a comforting embrace that is all you need at that moment.

You knew that Aemond would eventually have to tell his manager and his team as well, however, you didn't expect him to do it on the same day you let him know the news and you didn't expect all his people to start working so soon on this, on your pregnancy.

You call his agent and in an instant he, along with his publicist and his team of public relations people, invade your apartment.

And his agent, Criston Cole, doesn't have time to start reproaching him for having had a secret relationship with you all this time, although the anger is there but the important thing is the baby on the way, where he can't do anything either because it's already in your womb.

So he only talks about solutions.

And it is precisely because of these painful solutions for you that you decided to run away and disappear from his life to save his career and also your child.

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut

1K notes · View notes

kvtie444 · 2 months

Text

˚｡⋆ SAY IT

a/n: this song and luv r on Chris's private playlist and im not over it.

warnings: NSFW, sex, oral, fingering, degrading, dom! chris, drinking, drugs

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I glance down at my drink, the ripples dancing to the beat of the heavy bass coming from the speakers near the back doors. My friends dragged me to this LA party, and as we stand by the pool, I spot a few influencers mingling around. Shifting my attention back to my friends, I smooth out my mini dress, just catching up and enjoying the conversation.

"He's such a fuckboy, I can bet you money he's gotten with at least half the girls here," my friend remarks, chuckling. I smile to myself before glancing over at the commotion. Drunk guys were playfully shoving each other into the pool, eliciting squeals from some girls who got splashed. The scene was chaotic, and I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity and the lack of people I actually knew here. I needed space.

"Yeah, he lied about a bunch of other shit too," one of my friends mentions, pulling me back from my thoughts. I zone out again, returning to people-watching until a familiar face catches my eye. Christopher Sturniolo. Obviously I knew who he was, even though he didn't follow me back on socials. Instead, he followed my friend, always liking her stories whenever I appeared in them.

As if feeling my gaze, he pivots away from his brothers, his icy blue eyes locking onto mine. My heart drops to my stomach as his gaze trails over my body. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, as if he's just now realizing who I am. He runs his hand over his mouth briefly before lifting his red solo cup to his lips, all the while keeping his eyes locked with mine. I bite my lip nervously, feeling the tension thickening between us, before finally tearing my gaze away, breaking the connection first.

I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks, accompanied by the pounding of my heart against my ribs. With shaky hands, I take a final swig of my drink, the lingering taste of Hennessy and Coke swirling on my tongue. I try to calm myself down, reminding myself to relax. Why was I letting everything get to me like this? I needed to chill and just enjoy the party.

"I'm gonna go get another drink," I smile at my friends, excusing myself from the conversation. As I navigate through the tightly packed crowd, squeezing past bodies, I can't shake the feeling of eyes on me. Finally, I reach the doors, the music now blasting so loud in my ears that the lyrics are inaudible, and I can feel the bass vibrating through my bones. Pushing through more people, I finally make it to the kitchen.

I brought my own drink, not trusting any of the beverages here, so my stash was kept safely in my bag upstairs in one of the bedrooms. The only thing missing was a mixer. I grab a bottle of Diet Coke and pour it halfway into my cup, screwing the cap back on. As I do, I feel a chest brush up against my back, assuming it's just some random person due to the crowded space.

Turning around with my cup in hand, I freeze as I come face to face with Chris, towering above me. His eyes seem impossibly bluer up close, and I'm momentarily speechless.

I look up at him through my lashes, feeling the cool marble counter pressing against the small of my back. "Where have I seen you before?" he finally says, his voice smooth as honey. "I came with Mads," I reply, smiling up at him, my head tilting slightly to the side. He nods, a realization dawning on his face. "Y/N?" he asks, his voice turning my name into something sweet and melodic. He knew who I was. I nod in confirmation, offering him a shy smile.

"You look better in person, ma," he leans down closer to be heard over the loud music. The combination of his hot breath fanning over my neck and the endearing nickname sends a shiver down my spine. I feel myself clenching around nothing, my body reacting to his proximity in ways I can't control.

He pulls away, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in my dumbfounded reaction. The tension between us is so palpable, you could cut it with a knife. Our eye contact is intense, locking us in a silent conversation that speaks volumes. The music that was once too loud to bear now fades into the background, practically inaudible as I lose myself in the depths of his piercing blue eyes.

His eyes break our intense gaze for a moment, flickering down to the drink I was holding, catching a glimpse of my cleavage before returning to meet my eyes. "Vodka coke?" he asks, making an assumption based on the empty bottles of Coke, Absolut and Ciroc scattered around the kitchen. I shake my head, correcting him, "Henny." He raises his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. "Didn't know there was Henny here," he remarks with a smile, leaning in again. My nose brushes against his collar, and I catch a whiff of his cologne - Dior Sauvage. Fuck me.

"I brought my own, it's in my bag upstairs," I murmur into his ear, feeling a surge of confidence fueled by his energy. He shoots me another smirk, flashing his perfect teeth. In the dim lighting, I swear I catch a glimpse of a tooth gem on his canine, his big toothy smile making him look like a little kid on Christmas morning.

"You can have some if you want," I bat my lashes at him, now smiling myself. His broad chest rises and falls with a breath before he licks his lips. "I'd love that, mamas," he replies. What a fiend, but I don't mind. He's fine. Call me delusional, but right now, I seriously think I have a chance.

I move my hand to his bicep, feeling it slightly flex at the contact, before running my nails down his arm, eliciting a shiver from him. Reaching his elbow, I pull him gently, and he follows behind me as I navigate through the crowded room and out of the kitchen. His arm hairs raise against my warm touch as I lead him through the mass of people and towards the stairs.

When we reach the stairs, I slide my hand down his arm to his hand, which he eagerly intertwines with mine, locking our fingers together. I start to ascend the stairs, feeling his gaze on me as we climb. I catch him staring at my ass, my dress riding up slightly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. As I turn back to him, his grin matches mine, and I continue up the final step.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I let go of his hand and lead him to the guest bedroom door. I push it open, flicking on the light as I step inside, followed by Chris who shuts the door behind him, the muffled sound of music now fading into the background.

I crouch down and retrieve my handbag from under the bed, pulling out the Hennessy bottle. Placing the cup down on the nightstand, I hear Chris walk beside me. He places one of his large, veiny hands on the small of my back, sending butterflies erupting through my body at the contact. He slides his hand to grip around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder as he watches me fill the remaining half of my drink with the cognac.

I take a sip from my cup as Chris leans over, his body craning over mine as he reaches for the bottle. I turn my head to look up at him, our eyes meeting as he takes a couple swigs before setting the bottle back down. With his hand still on my waist, he turns me around to face him, his touch now lingering just above my ass. I take another sip, holding his intense gaze before leaning back slightly to place the cup down, then stepping closer again.

Our chests are practically touching as he looks down at me with a predatory gleam in his eyes, as if I was his prey.

He licks his plump, pink lips before moving his hand up, his thumb grazing my lip. "Had my eye on you for a while," he mumbles, his voice now coarse with lust. I swallow nervously, eliciting a small, "Yeah?"

He hums in response, a low "mm" before tugging my bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb, watching it bounce back into place. His eyes shift up to meet mine for a brief moment before he leans in closer.

Like a magnet, I'm drawn to his movements, leaning in eagerly as our lips meet in a passionate kiss. I taste the Henny on his lips as our lips crash against eachother, his hand moving down to grab my ass, eliciting a gasp from me. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue in, asserting his dominance without hesitation. His other hand stays on my jaw, his thumb caressing it gently before squeezing a bit tighter. Fuck, he was a good kisser.

As he pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connects our now bruised and swollen lips. The intensity of the moment leaves me breathless, my heart racing as I meet his gaze, the desire burning between us palpable.

He leans down, kissing my neck with a fervor that sends shivers down my spine. I feel him suck and slightly bite, causing my breath to hitch in anticipation. As he pulls away with a pop, I hear him admiring the mark before going back in to make it darker. His tongue soothes over the skin before he moves to another spot, eager to leave his mark.

My jaw goes slack as my left hand rests on his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, while my other hand finds its way into his hair, gripping it tightly. He nibbles against my collarbone, causing me to gasp and instinctively tug at his hair, eliciting a groan against my skin that sends vibrations coursing through my body.

He peppers kisses up my neck to just below my ear, across my jawline, before crashing his lips to mine again. This time, the kiss is messier, full of teeth clashing and the sounds of our puckered lips smacking against each other, igniting a fiery passion that consumes us both.

His large hands reach below my thighs, giving them a firm squeeze as he effortlessly lifts me up as if I weighed nothing. I wrap my legs around his torso, maintaining the kiss as he carries me over to the bed. With a gentle drop, he lays me down on the mattress before crawling over my body, his chain dangling over me enticingly.

His lips trail down the exposed skin of my dress, his fists gripping the fabric against my hips as he sits back up on his knees, looming over my body for a moment. His eyes are dark and hooded as he grabs my left ankle, hooking it over his shoulder. He gives it a kiss before leaving a trail of kisses up my leg, sending shivers down my spine as he moves closer to where I need him the most.

My other leg instinctively goes over his left shoulder, causing him to smirk at my eagerness. "My girl's so needy," he teases, one hand rubbing up and down my thigh while his eyes roam hungrily over my body. His other hand pushes the bottom of my dress up, exposing my lower half, and my face flushes with heat.

He presses a kiss against my clit over my lace panties, eliciting a whine from me as my hips buck up, desperate for more. The sensation sends waves of pleasure coursing through me, and I arch my back, craving his touch.

He licks his lips before pulling my panties to the side, instantly in awe of the pooling mess between my legs. I feel his breath fanning over my heat, causing me to writhe, craving his touch. As if reading my mind, he finally reaches up, dragging his fingers up and down my folds, collecting my arousal on his fingers.

I whine against him as he pulls his fingers away and sucks them clean. "So sweet," he mumbles, looking up and holding eye contact with me as I bite my lip, desperate to relieve the tension building inside me.

Finally, he drags his thumb up to circle my clit, and my head instantly throws back, my mouth agape. The tension is finally cut, and it feels so fucking good.

He slaps my thigh, eliciting a moan from my swollen lips. "Look at me," he orders, his voice commanding. I squeeze my eyes shut as he speeds up his movements, the pleasure overwhelming me. With a shaky breath, I crane my head down to look at him.

As I do, he moves behind me, circling around my center with his pointer finger teasingly. His once blue eyes are now blown out with desire, sending a shiver down my spine. I grip the sheets beneath me tightly, my knuckles turning white as I succumb to the intense pleasure coursing through my body.

Suddenly, he dips his finger into me, curling it towards and thrusting instantly. "Fuck, Chris," I whine out, the words slipping from my lips like a porn star. He smirks to himself before adding another finger and speeding up his movements.

My jaw falls slack as I watch the concentration in his eyes, the sound of my wetness music to his ears. The sensation is overwhelming, pleasure coursing through me as he expertly works his fingers inside me. Every thrust sends waves of ecstasy crashing over me, and I can't help but moan louder, lost in the bliss of the moment.

I whine in protest as he pulls his hand away, but he uses his grip on my thighs to pull my heat closer to his face. Without hesitation, he dives his face between my folds, shaking his head from side to side. A loud, almost scream escapes my lips as his tongue flicks against my clit at an intense speed, causing me to squirm.

Chris doesn't like my attempt to wriggle away. He lets out an almost animalistic growl, vibrations echoing against me as he grips my hips and pins them down against the bed with a bruising, tight grip. My hands claw at his scalp, tugging at the roots as I'm lost in the overwhelming pleasure.

He moves his tongue down, sloppily making out with my pussy before dipping his tongue into my hole. "Chris," I whine out again, the sensations driving me wild. He repeats the motion, this time going deeper, and I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the knot in my stomach tightening with each delicious lick.

"Say my name, sounds so good coming out of your pretty mouth. Say it louder, baby," he smirks against me, his voice husky with desire. He moves his thumb up to my clit and starts to press against it, circling it with precision while simultaneously tongue-fucking me.

My grip on his hair tightens in response, causing him to groan against me, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through my body. "Chris! Fuck, I'm gonna cum," I cry out, tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming sensation of pleasure coursing through me.

"Cum on my face, baby," he mumbles against me, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, eager to watch me come undone. As soon as the words leave his lips, the tension in my belly snaps.

I let out a high-pitched, pornographic moan as I cum around his face, waves of ecstasy crashing over me. The sensitivity becomes too much to bear as he continues to lick me clean, driving me to the brink of insanity with pleasure.

Finally, he pulls away, leaving me breathless and utterly satisfied, my body still buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure. His chin and lips glisten with my arousal as my chest rapidly rises up and down, trying to catch my breath. Sweat causes my baby hairs to stick to my forehead, a testament to the intensity of our encounter.

He slightly smacks my thigh, bringing me back to the present moment. "You taste so fucking sweet, ma,"

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a/n: this was LOOONNGG but i was so close to using seeet sweet by travis scott for this omg. but lmk if u want a pt 2 u nasty freaks 😏

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tag list !!

@iloveneilperry @bernardenjoyer @daddyslilchickenfingers @mbbsgf @sturnvilmed @s1urnioloslvr @mattsbratt @mangoposts @christinarowie332 @recklesssturniolo @bluesturniolo333 @flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @pepsiskiess @poopydroopt @byechristopher @solarsturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @lustfulslxt @stardustmf444 @thankyounextt @glossyfx @bellasturniolo @justurniolos @cl0esblogg @strumbolisworld @strniolosworld @chrisloyalgf @aliyahsbody @spideylovin @justangelheree @sturnioloenthusiast @nickmillersn1gf @soursturniolo@bernardenjoyer@stuniolobbg @luv4kozume@luvmxtt@urmommysbathroom@lexisecretaccx

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

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morallyinept · 1 month

Text

Northern Lights - A Joel Miller One Shot

Summary: You and Joel watch the Northern Lights together whilst cold camping.

Pairing: Post Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.3k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Established relationship/fingering/hand job/kissing/lots of snuggles/Joel being a grump - mostly fluff, but you get the spicy too.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I was watching The Last Of Us (again), and this idea came to me. Have you ever seen the Northern Lights? I've been fortunate enough to see them in Iceland, which was incredible. Would have been better if Joel was there, mind... 😍

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

A cold-tipped nose brushes against your cheek, rousing you from sleep.

The shadows of his face blur into clarity in the dim natural light of the camp. Your back, hard and cold on the ground, aches. The layers help, but it still seeps into your bones when you camp out so exposed like this, in the middle of a trying winter.

The steep, shadowy jags of the snow-capped mountains cut into the horizon; a deep midnight sky spackled with the twinkle of stars. A clear night, which means it’ll only get colder.

You rub your eyes, yawning. “What time is it?”

“Hell do I know.” Joel mutters as he reaches for the tin mug and pushes it into your hands. Your eyes fall on the broken watch he still wears around his wrist.

The scent of burnt, bitter coffee mists into your nostrils as it sloshes around the inside like a muddy puddle.

Your mouth becomes a vortex as you yawn, eyes dry and heavy.

A dense canopy of towering trees stretch skyward as you sit upright in the little clearing; their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers to brush against the star-studded awning above.

Despite the desolation that grips the world beyond, the forest offers a sense of tranquillity - a reminder that life, in all its beauty and complexity, still thrives in the most unlikely of places.

It’s a good place to pause; two survivors, traversing the decaying landscape of a once-thriving world, seeking refuge to rest your tired bones wherever you can.

Striking a balance between coasting in the woodlands out of sight and only daring to penetrate fallen cities or urban landscapes when you’re in dire need of supplies. It’s what's kept you both going for so long.

“Did you sleep?” You ask him as he gulps back his own coffee with fervour.

He shakes his head under a furrowed brow, greying curls billowing. You frown at him and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re going to keel over one day.” You blow on your coffee, fingers heated as you grip round the mug.

“M’not dead yet-”

Suddenly, a distant howl pierces the stillness, sending shivers down your spine. The infected are never far away, a constant reminder of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

Joel stiffens, reaching for the rifle.

“That’s not infected.” You say, listening to the shrill, barking moans emanating from deep in the forest surrounding you, and he nods, eyes darting about.

“Maybe a coyote.” He keeps hold of the rifle anyway.

The air is bitterly cool and heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine resin, creating an atmosphere of eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant screech of a hungry mammal.

Sipping your coffee, feeling it warm down the centre of your chest despite its acrid taste, you close your eyes again.

“Ya gon’ miss it.” Joel murmurs.

“How do you know it’s gonna happen tonight?”

“I can feel it.” He says, pottering about and with the gas stove. He pauses to glance up momentarily at the glittery sky.

“Right. The same as you can always feel it’s going to snow.”

“It snowed, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, two weeks after you said it would.” You scoff with a wry smirk.

“Just be grateful it ain’t snowing now.” He bites back.

“If it snows now I’m sleeping in the cab. You missed your calling as a weatherman, clearly.” You chortle.

“Drink ya damn coffee.” Joel grumbles, dumping the stove in the back of the truck.

“It’s really gross.” You say, offering it to him.

You smirk as he comes and sits beside you.

“You’re a coffee snob.” He remarks as he gulps it back.

“Yes I am.” You concur with a grin.

Tucking his body into the sleeping bag with you and rubbing his hands, Joel opens his arm out. You shuffle into it as you wrap your fallen scarf over your shoulder.

“Any minute now.” He gruffs, looking up at the sky with stretched eyebrows when he’s eventually settled.

“Mmhm.” You retort sceptically. “If you woke me up for nothing, expect a black eye.”

Joel snorts. “That’s some mighty big smack talk for a lil’ lady.”

You put your fists up and he kisses your knuckles with deep, big browns peering at you over the ridges.

“C’mere,” he lays right down with you horizontal, and sighs out.

Within moments, small ghostly wisps of green fleck across the sky; a gentle birth of colour that seems shy in its solo performance.

“Told ya.” He mutters, trying not to smirk.

“No-one likes a smartass, Joel.” You quip, nudging him gently.

“Yeah they do. Are ya warm enough?” He wraps the mottled scarf around you further with soft eyes lancing at you as you shiver.

As you gaze back at him, you can't help but notice the delicate web of lines that radiate outward from their corners, framing his stare with a quiet wisdom and warmth. With each smile, the crinkles deepen, forming gentle crow's feet that cradle the corners of his eyes like little parentheses of joy.

Despite the hardships you’ve faced, swinging on the precarious, fraying threads between life and death at times, there’s a lightness in the way Joel's eyes crinkle when he smiles, even if it’s a rare occurrence; a resilience that refuses to be dimmed by the darkness of this world.

And as you trace the contours of his face with your fingertips, you feel a sense of gratitude wash over your skin, warming you.

Despite the ruggedness of his facial hair, there’s a surprising silkiness to the touch, a reflection of the affection and intimacy shared between you. An unspoken tag-team who keep each other alive and well without having to utter the words out loud.

His moustache, once meticulously groomed in another life, now boasts a craggy charm, with patches of grey peeking through the remnants of its original dark colour as his youth stubbornly tries to hold on that bit longer. Each strand curls softly at the edges, adding a touch of character to his weather-beaten features.

As your hand cups his cheek, you can feel the gentle pressure of his fuzzed beard against your palm, thumb stroking at the edge of his lips where the hairs riot in a cluster of different directions as you smooth them down. You’ll probably need to help him trim them again soon and the thought makes you smile.

Despite the weariness etched into his face, there’s a quiet dignity in the way Joel carries himself, a sense of pride born of the challenges you’ve overcome together. He’s more than just a man who’s dragged you through this world with bloodied knuckles and kept you alive - he’s your confidant, your ally. Dare you even admit, a soulmate.

A shared story of love and loss, of hope and despair, woven into the fabric of your mutual beings, Joel’s gentleness in moments like this offer a sanctuary - a place where you can be yourself without reservation, without the tough bravado where your fears and doubts melt away in the pull of his hypnotic eyes.

“Lookit.” He breaks the spell and pushes your chin gently with a thick finger toward the direction of the sky.

Above you, the Northern Lights paint the firmament alive with their mesmerising hues, casting an otherworldly glow upon the world below. Soft tendrils of pink and violet unfurl like delicate petals around the spectacular emerald green.

They pulse and flicker with a rhythmic cadence, casting a soft, iridescent glow that bathes the landscape in a surreal, spooky light.

Joel wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer as you share the warmth of the sleeping bag and your layered up bodies crushed tight against one another.

"Look at that," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the leaves carrying with it the faint scent of pine and earth. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing this.”

Joel nods in silent agreement, his gaze fixed on the swirling display of colours overhead.

In that moment, it feels as though you’re the only two people left in the world, cocooned in your own little bubble of warmth and intimacy from the brackens of an oncoming harsh winter that’ll test both your resilience over again.

You both watch in silent wonder, lost in the beauty of the moment, for moments like these are hard to come by. A respite in the doom-filled survival that snaps at you daily, for a moment of shared awe.

Joel pulls the sleeping bag further up as you nestle into his arms. As you huddle inside, you can feel the plush, ragged interior cushioning your bodies, moulding to your contours like a second skin.

The sleeping bag is large enough to accommodate you both, yet intimate enough to foster a sense of closeness as you lay side-by-side.

“So beautiful,” you say.

“Yeah, you are.” Joel remarks and you turn to see his eyes watching you and not the sky. Face illuminated in a green glow, lost in how your curious orbs reflect the ethereal beauty above.

The pull of need floods your body, tingles pitching down your spine as he loses himself inside your eyes.

“Kiss me, Joel,” you murmur to him, nose pressed against his as you pull him by his collar to your face. His lips pursed, they find yours - cold and chapped as they graze.

A warm tongue slips inside, sucking gently as he explores; tiny, soft nips felt peppered across your lip.

You already feel warmer, the prickles of the heat blooming under your armpits and on the back of your neck. His cool fingers stroke you there, engulfing your mouth with a growing need of his own as he crushes you closer to him.

You find his skin under the layers; stroking at the softness of his belly that overhangs his jeans a little more now, as he gasps into your mouth at the intrusion of cold fingers. Traversing gently over the welts of scars where the texture changes underneath your tips.

You can feel his fingers within the depths of the sleeping bag fumbling at your button, tugging at your jeans clumsily with deep pants before he gives up and just slides his hand in when the zipper won��t give.

You whine into his mouth as he finds your clit, rubbing with the thick pad of his middle finger against it.

Your hands do the same, releasing him from his scuffed denim, warm and heavy. Breaking your kiss to spit into your palm, he hisses into your mouth as you stroke him; succulently wet around his thick cock, weeping as you pump.

You fist at his collar, face buried into the plush heat of the crook of his neck. He grunts as your teeth dig into golden, weathered skin, muting your gasps from the pulsing between your legs as he strokes and taps; the heat begins to engulf you inside the sleeping bag.

He growls as you bite harder, nudging your face with his so he can kiss you again, his own teeth gnawing at your lips as he pants harder now.

Hard and pulsing in your palm, his whines upping their tempo as he closes in on that moment when he’ll dissipate.

“Come-” he wheezes, words barely audible as he breathes. “-M’gonna come,” choking breaths get tangled in his throat.

Eyelashes fluttering agasint your skin, breathes seeping into your mouth, his grip on you tightens as his back stiffens and hips thrusts his cock further into your hand.

“Fu-fuck,” he jolts, spilling into your palm, warm and thick.

Joel trembles, body shaking as he empties, face pushing against yours as he breathes out in satisfaction, a small bewildered snicker in confoundment as you nuzzle against him.

“You kill me, darlin’.” He whispers, breath warm on your lips and chin as you wipe him away on your scarf.

He moves his fingers still inside your jeans, stroking over the swell of nerves. Your grip around his wrist keeps him there, feeling him dip his middle just inside your hole as you contract, thumb smoothing over the oil-slick bead of your clit.

“Joel!” You gasp, tonguing the sparse tracks of sweat-salt hairs grazing down the side of his throat.

His finger slides right into the hilt, palm up and stroking deeply; thumb still pushing on your clit. Your nails cut into his wrist, pulling him against you as you subtly grind.

The hooked end of his nose notches against yours as you whimper.

Gentle, broken commands lose their endings as he loses his breath. “Give it,” and “want,” snuffling out of him as he strokes faster on your wet, fleshy spot.

Your body shakes as you come; his finger sopping as you clench and rib around it, knees jerking against his as you float in the lights, bathed in fuschia and jade strobes.

He stops stroking as you kiss him. Tiny, soft pinpricks of his moustache tickle your lip, making the insides of your cheeks tingle. Coarser, wiry greys prominent in the fading roots, mingling with the softer ones that still reside.

You run your fingers through patchy, bare spaces, smooth and free of any growth. You make patterns in them, trace their random shapes with your tips; an oval here, a heart there.

You both turn and look up at the sky together. The display falling into your eyes in that glow of emerald and pink as the Aurora shows off for an entrancing encore.

The heat envelops you both as you snuggle in together, his arm draped around you and your head resting on the muscled pillow of his shoulder.

You press a soft kiss under his jaw, of which he grunts with throaty appreciation. Your eyes continue to roam the falling curtains of colour in sky.

“Is it everything ya ever hoped for?” Joel questions gently, voice rolling around that familiar grizzle as he tucks you in closer to his side.

“Freezing my ass off in the middle of the forest with you?”

He chuckles with a wheeze. “Yeah.”

“It’s everything.” You smile.

I hope you enjoyed watching the Northern Lights with Joel. He gives the best snuggles, right? Would love to know your thoughts and if you enjoyed it, I'd appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy it too. Thankies 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #jett's writing

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

the same but different | the threesome series ; skz ; han/reader/felix

masterlist.

threesome series part 3/4.

You grew up with Felix and Jisung. Your definition of normal has always been unique, considering Felix is a faerie and magically connected to Jisung. So even though you are dating Jisung, when Felix tells you he needs to marry to keep up appearences in the faerie court, you see no reason to say no…

pairing: han jisung/reader/lee felix content info: sexual content. threesome. faerie au. this is an almost 16k word read. one day i will meet my maker and have to atone for that. warning for some ambiguous motivations plus general freaky faerie and supernatural stuff. felix and jisung have a magical connection, reader does not know the details but it seems they can physically feel each other's reactions and urges and they do a lot of the same things in an uncanny way. there is a 'consummation ritual' that involves being watched but reader is clever about it.

Autumnal flurries follow Han Jisung everywhere, little tornadoes of red-and-gold kicking up an elemental fuss wherever he steps. It might be a remnant of his time with the faerie folk, or maybe a coincidence, or maybe he is such a blustery font of chaos that he is simply kicking up wind storms on his own.

He totters into the café with his usual trail of leaves, much to the displeasure of the bus boy who follows with a broom. The wind gets restless at the window. It throws itself against the pane with a heavy, reverberating thunder as if nature is knocking in pursuit of Jisung’s attention. You watch a few pine cones hurl themselves at the glass before everything settles down on its own.

Jisung pays it no mind. He slides into the booth across from you, heaving a big dramatic breath.

“Good afternoon,” you say, amused with your boyfriend’s theatrics. They are as constant as his flurries.

“Yo, is it, ‘cause ah, HAHA—I’ve been having a day.” He thunks his head on the back of the booth and pretends to fall asleep. His round glasses skew with the loll of his head.

Jisung dressed up for today’s date. He is wearing a beige coat that flatters his warm complexion plus that cute checkered scarf you gave him last winter. You don’t mind his usual hoodies and caps as it always puts a swagger in his step, but you appreciate his effort even if it is a little random.

He lifts his head with another musical sigh, golden blonde hair fluttering from his breath. His big glasses make his dark eyes even bigger and you smile again.

“Hi,” you say sweetly.

He whimpers with more theatrical misery.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says like it is the most painful fact in the world. “Why are you so beautiful? And funny, and smart, and mine. If you weren’t gonna be ugly and horrible, the least you could have done is reject me. It wouldn’t have been so bad. I could have been a lonely suffering artist, hidden away in a basement, composing symphonies for the beautiful woman out of my league.”

“I think you just described the Phantom of the Opera,” you say.

“Even better.” Jisung sighs wistfully. “He lived in an underground sex dungeon, right? I don’t think he even paid rent.”

You laugh into your hot chocolate.

“What’s gotten into you?” you say. It’s a rhetorical question. Jisung is always a little silly.

Your playful boyfriend thumps his hands on the table and glares past you, out the window.

“Faeries,” he says brusquely. “And their stupid faerie bullshit. My life is a nightmare and an arthouse horror movie and no one has ever suffered more than me—oooh, is that a chocolate croissant?”

You slap his hand when he reaches for your pastry. He yelps like you chopped it off.

“Jisungie,” you say, lifting an eyebrow, “what do you mean faerie bullshit?”

He pouts spectacularly while unknotting his scarf. He speaks in a watery, despondent voice, very contrary to his usual goofiness, “What do you think I mean?”

This, it seems, is also rhetorical as you have no opportunity to answer. The bell jingles above the door and a little shiver moves down your spine.

Unlike Jisung, you have never been to the faerie realm, but you have a gift for recognizing a supernatural presence. Everything catches your eye as if they are sparkling fireflies, no matter their efforts to hide.

The courtly fae, the ones that look human, have a tendency to cast enchantments both literal and metaphorical, their impossible beauty captivating to any human eye. You are not immune to their gravitas, the way space seems to warp around them like earth is little more than gelatinous mire, but you can sense their other-worldliness before seeing them. This is most likely due to exposure. You did, after all, grow up with a faerie.

You look to the doorway.

Ah. Speaking of.

“Oh my god,” Jisung whines. “He said he’d give me time to tell you.” He steals your hot chocolate and takes a swig like it’s hard vodka.

“Tell me,” you repeat. “Tell me what?”

Though you are talking to Jisung, you cannot help but look over at his… his…

His Felix.

Felix smiles when he sees you. He scrunches his nose cutely and it makes his constellation of dark freckles dance on his sunny face.

The freckles have always been an intriguing part of his glamour – for his human-like appearance is a mask shrouding his true faerie form – because faeries typically regard such things as imperfections. Perhaps the freckles are residual from his time in the human realm, as Jisung’s flurries are the opposite.

Felix is unbelievably beautiful. He is wearing mortal clothes but he does not look truly human. There’s something in his movements, fluid and dance-like, sometimes too swift to perceive. His blonde hair catches the light with a perfect glow at every angle, his slender frame flawlessly draped in a black long-coat and a flattering black sweater. His lovely ringed fingers part the air with his little wave and his perfectly pink mouth curls up in a sweet smile. His dark eyes seem to sparkle.

He crosses the restaurant in a few strides, quicker than a human would. He smiles the whole time.

“Hello,” he says, his deep voice smooth as butter. Or maybe you’re the butter, his voice the knife, gliding right down the centre of you and settling low in your belly. It has always had that effect.

“Felix, hello,” you say in that quivery way you always greet him. You grew up with both Jisung and Felix but Felix flits off to the faerie world when it suits him, and every time he returns you find yourself awestruck by him, as if you had never truly seen him before.

Jisung smacks his head down on the surface of the table. You and Felix look at him, you with considerable more concern. Felix just draws his mouth into a flat line, neither smiling nor frowning, more like he anticipated his… his… his Jisung would behave this way.

“Is it okay if I sit?” Felix asks, pointing to the spot beside Jisung. Jisung is somewhat sprawled in the booth but this doesn’t seem to concern Felix. When you nod, he smiles, smooths out his coat, and simply bumps Jisung with his hip to squish himself into the booth.

Jisung whimpers again, resting his head on the wall and pouting at it.

“So,” Felix says. He folds his hands on the table and tips his head, looking at you. “How are you doing these days, hmm?”

Faeries are known for their decorum. It can turn sour very quickly, but it is imperative to adhere to rules of hospitality and general politeness.

It is still strange and unnerving to have a faerie prince plunk himself into your booth and smile at you so politely. Especially when you haven’t seen Felix in more than a year. A year and fifteen days, to be specific, because Jisung has counted them all. Jisung complains endlessly when Felix visits but he complains even more when he’s gone for too long.

You think Felix must have returned to the human realm a while ago. Jisung is usually friendly when he firsts sees him, but right now he is glaring.

“What?” Felix looks at Jisung. They cock their heads at each other, the same angle, same time.

It is always funny seeing them side-by-side. Singularly, they look nothing alike, perhaps because Felix has intentionally deviated his glamour from being identical. Jisung has a round face, cartoonishly cute at times, his build bulkier from his somewhat erratic workout schedule. Felix is all sharp lines with a pointed elegance to his features, though his presence fills what space his slender body does not. Their only similarity is their hair, similarly bouncy, alike in length, and identically shaded. Right now it is a matching blonde.

Despite their ample differences, there is an uncanny sameness to them. They move the same way, tip their heads at the same time, roll their eyes in tandem. They even take a breath at the same time. You are certain if you pressed a hand to each of their chests, you would find their hearts beating to the same steady cadence.

Felix was once a changeling. Faeries sometimes swap their infants for human ones, occasionally for fun, oftentimes when their offspring is sickly or malformed. Once a changeling swap has occurred, the faerie and human are inexorably linked to one another. If the human parents try to kill the faerie or let it die, it will also kill their child, so it is in their best interest to nurse the sickly baby and hope the faeries swap them back.

Felix was born too soon, a shrivelled little creature, third son of the autumn high prince’s third wife. His mother swapped him for Jisung, stealing the little mortal away in his infancy. Jisung’s mother was not a bewildered, simpering mortal, however. Her resilience and intelligence was part of the family’s initial allure, but it was also the downfall of the changeling operation. She ventured into the faerie realm and won back her son, plus the right to see the lonely faerie prince that had been so unceremoniously abandoned by his unloving family.

She returned to the mortal world with Jisung and Felix. The changeling prince spent his childhood bouncing between the human realm and the world of faerie. You grew up next door to Jisung and the three of you have been a tight-knit trio since before you can remember.

You love Felix just as much as you love Jisung, it’s just that… the faerie-ness complicates things. You aren’t sure Felix really loves you or Jisung in a way you understand. Even now, his enquiry after your well-being seems more like a necessary script than genuine question. He will be uneasy until you complete your side of the exchange.

“I’m good, Felix,” you say. “How are you?”

He smiles, freckles dancing. “Good,” he says. “Thank you.”

Felix cracks his neck and Jisung is compelled to do the same, though he looks irritated about it. The depth of their connection has always been ambiguous to you, but sometimes Jisung feels phantom aches and pains, urges that come out of nowhere and pester him like an itch until he satisfies them.

He seems impatient today, his glare not subsiding for a second.

“You said I could have time to tell her,” Jisung says.

“I gave you time,” Felix replies calmly.

“You gave me like five minutes, man!”

“It doesn’t take more than five minutes,” Felix says. He seems genuinely perplexed that Jisung would believe otherwise. He looks at Jisung with a head tilt that Jisung mirrors, then they both look at you. “Hi,” Felix says. “Will you marry me? See. That was less than five minutes. It was five syllables, actually. Well, I guess if you had asked it, you would have said, ‘Will you marry Felix,’ so it would have been six syllables, but that’s still less than five minutes, even if you streeeeetch it ouuuut—”

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Jisung says, then plants his forehead in his palm. “That came out wrong.”

Felix does not plant his forehead in his palm but he does rest his chin in his hand.

“So,” he says to you, smiling. “Will you? Two syllables, by the way.”

“Shut up about the syllables, dude.”

“Wait,” you say, interrupting their inane blabber. If you leave them to it, Jisung and Felix will dance in verbal circles for hours and still not clarify anything. “Marry you? Why would I— Felix, you know Jisung and I— I don’t understand what’s—”

You love Jisung and Felix. You find them equally attractive, in their own way and as a complimentary pair. As much as you adore Jisung, you feel bereft when Felix is gone for a long time. Your crush on Felix was as inevitable as your romance with Jisung. Only where that relationship has long since solidified into a stable love, you and Felix have never done much more than hug.

Jisung and Felix, on the other hand, have shared their own intimacies. You caught them kissing back when you were teenagers. You got pouty rather than angry, viciously jealous of both of them at once. Jisung was too flustered to speak, mostly chirping like a frightened bird, while Felix just smiled and cheerily said, “Jisungie says we’re practicing.”

“Practicing?” you asked, hands on hips. “Practicing for what exactly?”

Felix frowned, looking confused, like it had never occurred to him to follow that line of questioning.

“For girls!” Jisung exclaimed.

Felix snapped his fingers and nodded. “Right,” he said. “Girls. That was it. Wait.” He looked confused again and pointed to you. “Isn’t she a girl?”

“She doesn’t count,” Jisung said, getting redder by the second. You threw a shoe at him and stormed out of the house.

That was a long time ago. That momentary flicker of suggestion was the only time Felix brought up potentially kissing you. Even then, it seemed less desirous than pragmatic.

And now, for some reason, he is asking you to marry him.

“Oh my god, man, maybe if you used more than five syllables, she would get what’s going on,” Jisung says. His gaze softens when he looks at you. He reaches across the table to take your hand, though it takes you a second to respond. Your fingers are frozen stiff around your mug. “Baby,” he says in a soft, apologetic voice, “I know it sounds a bit strange, but I promise I can explain.”

“I have to get married,” Felix interrupts, ignoring when Jisung scowls at him. “I think it’s just for, uhhh, appearances, basically. My brother Chan just became high prince and I’m the only one of my mum’s kids who isn’t married and she thinks it makes her look bad because all my dad’s other kids have their lives together… anyway, she said either I find a bride for myself or she was going to give me one. And, uh, she’s not very, hmm, generous, is she?”

Definitely a rhetorical question. You do not need to have met the faerie princess to know of her predilection for malice. Felix would most likely be saddled with some Shakespearean donkey-headed monstrosity for all his days. Felix, being Felix, would smile blithely and accept his awful fate, saying little on the matter when prompted.

Felix is like that. He shows neither amity nor animosity to much. His emotions, whatever they are, manifest unpredictably. He smiles a lot of blank smiles. Occasionally he bursts into random tears that flood out of him with terrifying distress. It comes upon him unexpectedly, so big that it is almost theatrical. You think he might be mimicking expressions of human pain to convey whatever interior hurt he is feeling, however severe or benign, then it just stops until next time.

He is not the sort to wail and harass you. Even if he was desperate, he would not force you to marry him. Looking into his dark eyes, you know that much. There are plenty of stories the world over where supernatural princes steal mortal girls from their beds, where they compel them to dance until their feet bleed, where they fill their heads with songs that play until the human goes mad and dies in some anguished pit in their own mind.

There are not many stories where they propose in a café.

“Felix, you idiot!” Jisung smacks Felix on the arm. “You didn’t even tell her the important part.”

“Oh yeaaah,” Felix says.

Jisung scoffs and looks at you, his expression soft again. He squeezes your hand.

“Baby,” he says, “you know how Felix and I have a special, um, connection?”

You know he means the changeling magic but you think about them kissing. You push the image aside, as well as the lingering jealously, and nod.

“Right,” Jisung says. “We’re like… tied together and shit, right? Like if I got hit by a bus, Felix would also go splat.”

“Faeries don’t splat,” Felix says, bristled.

“Splat,” Jisung says sweetly, “like a big stupid faerie pancake.”

“Jisung,” you say, “are you going to make a point?”

“The point,” Jisung says, “is Felix is gonna live a long time, if he doesn’t go splat. So that means… I’m gonna live a long time too.”

“If,” Felix interrupts, “he comes with me to live among the folk.”

The fair folk. Another name for the courtly fae. Divided into seasonal realms, the four courts host a variety of faerie life. Felix is from the autumn court and Jisung was spirited to it as baby. You have never crossed from this world into the faerie world. You know the stories better than anyone, almost more familiar with the foreign realm than the world around you, but its reality has only ever been a distant dream.

This seems like the world’s strangest break-up: your boyfriend leaving you for his changeling faerie to live an immortal life in the faerie realm.

Except it’s not a break-up. It’s a proposal.

“I have no idea what’s happening right now,” you say, juggling feelings of confusion and jealousy and desire. “What does that have to me with me? And getting married?”

“It will bond us together too,” Felix says, smiling again. “Do you understand? Isn’t that wonderful? The three of us can be together for always. I think you’ll really like it.” He looks sideways at Jisung and adds, “And you’re smarter than him when it comes to the fair folk. I would feel better if Jisung had your company.”

“What?” Jisung slaps the table. “What are you talking about? I’m the one who’s been there! I am so totally super smart about faeries all the time!”

“You once ate a magic apple and grew a tail,” Felix says.

“You know I get snacky after my naps. Besides, I got better. Suck on some salty iron and boom, no tail.”

Felix sighs, exasperated, and Jisung sighs, even more exasperated.

“Please marry me,” Felix says imploringly. “For all of us.”

Felix cannot lie. Faerie magic ranges from miniscule to immense, but lying is an impossibility regardless of rank.

An inability to lie does not guarantee honesty. The truth can be obfuscated. Faeries are clever with words, cleverer still what they reveal at all.

Felix has not lied. He needs to marry. It would bond you. You are smarter than Jisung when it comes to the fair folk.

Felix has not told the whole truth. He does not need to marry you specifically. He would be happy with just Jisung, you think. They have something special, something you have always watched from the outside. You know a lot about faeries but you do not belong to their world. Felix could keep Jisung safe. You are a spare.

Despite the loving stare of your two oldest friends, you feel woefully insecure. You take your hands back and rest them in your lap, staring morosely into your cooling hot chocolate.

“Baby?” Jisung says gently.

You look up. They look equally concerned. They reach for you at the same time then look at each other. They mutely come to an accord and Felix takes your hand. You shiver immediately.

“Sweetheart,” Felix says. “It’s just me. I won’t… I won’t make you do something you don’t want to do, but I… I want to know… I mean, do you not…”

“You don’t want to come with us?” Jisung asks, his bottom lip wobbling. Tears spill over his cheeks seconds later. “I-I-I know it’s a bit weird. But you’ve always talked about wanting to see it anyway. And you don’t have any family here anymore. Are you worried about the royal court thing? Because I’m gonna be there and Felix says we’ll spend most of our time at his bower anyway and okay I don’t even know what that means and I didn’t wanna seem stupid so I didn’t ask—”

“It’s just my tree-house, Jisung,” Felix says.

“It’s just his tree-house,” Jisung sobs.

“It isn’t that,” you say. You reach for Jisung so you are holding both their hands. You give them a squeeze. “I love you both. So much. It hurts a little sometimes because of how much. And I’m scared… I’m scared of being left behind.”

They both pause. Felix looks more bewildered than any supernatural creature in history, you are sure. They are inviting you to come along and you express fear of the opposite. It must be incomprehensible to his mind.

Apparently it also confuses Jisung because he softly whispers, “What the fuck.”

You bring their hands together and withdraw your own touch.

“I just mean…” You are too embarrassed to vocalize it.

Recognition lights their eyes at the same time. Jisung rips his hand away.

“I can’t be alone with Felix forever!” Jisung cries. “Are you crazy? We need you! Without you it’s just… just… just us. It’s nothing, it’s empty. You… you’re our person. If you’re not there too… then… then… then I’m not going either. I’d rather get old and die with you than live forever without you.”

Felix’s mouth opens and closes with a storm of unspoken thoughts. He has sobbed spectacularly at birthday cards and scraped knees, but he doesn’t cry now.

Jisung’s exclamation rattles you. It was such a genuine burst of emotion, so rich with devotion that you feel silly for ever doubting either of them. Empty, he said. You never considered what kind of echo might exist between them, how your presence filled it and made it better, not worse.

You intend to remedy your blunder, an apology on your lips, but then Felix finds his words.

“I’ll tell you my name,” he says. “My true name. Will that be enough to convince you?”

Enough?

You and Jisung stare at Felix with your jaws dropped. Felix clenches his jaw, staring back at you.

Faeries go by many names in their long lifetimes. Felix was the name Jisung’s mother gave him, but it is not his true faerie name. Names are powerful things. If a mortal has a faerie’s true name, they can ensorcell and compel that faerie to do their bidding. It essentially enslaves them.

Faeries do not freely reveal their true names, not to other faeries and certainly not to mortals. Tricky mortals have uncovered faerie names, stories of humans triumphing over wicked creatures, but you cannot think of a single story where the faerie got down on one knee and willingly offered it.

Because that’s what Felix does. He gets out of the booth and gets down on one knee in front of you, then looks up at you with dark, desperate eyes.

“I’ll tell you right now if that’s what it takes,” he says. His hands are shaking. The wind starts knocking at the window again, harder than before. Leaves form columns of colour, shooting up to the sky, scattering in every direction.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t.” The trust this requires is extraordinarily substantial. It means more than any simple I love you. Maybe Felix feels human love or maybe he feels something different. Maybe losing you is not like losing a person, but like losing a limb or something equally vital. It must be, for him to offer up his entire being in a word.

The gesture means more than you can say. The best way to reciprocate it is by refusing it.

“It’s enough,” you say, choked up. “It’s enough that you would offer.”

“I’ll tell you,” he says, like he thinks you don’t believe him. But of course you believe him. He can’t lie.

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Come here please.”

Felix sits beside you and lets you wrap your arms around his neck. He is tentative at first but then he looks at Jisung and holds you tighter. The world outside settles once more.

“Wow, that was intense,” Jisung says. He grabs a napkin and blows his nose. “Wheeew. Wednesdays, am I right?”

Felix pulls back, just enough so he can see your face. You feel shy under his rapt attention, flush with warmth when his fingertips sweep from your temple to your jaw. He holds your chin and tilts your face up. He seems to be studying you. This close, you can see all the shades of brown in his eyes, even flecks of dark, dark green and threads of gold. There is a shimmer to the black of his iris. If he turned a certain way, you think his glamour would disappear. You think he would be beautiful anyway.

He exhales. His breath flutters over your lips.

“Will you come with us?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling so soft and low. “Will you marry me?”

You look at Jisung. You cannot imagine any circumstance in which a man would look so eager for his girlfriend to accept another man’s proposal, yet this feels completely normal.

Normal. The three of you have always had your own definition of that word, haven’t you?

You look at Felix, at the shimmer of his bold gaze.

“Yes,” you say. “Yes, I will.”

Felix smiles and Jisung lets out a whoop! You laugh, turning aside to wipe an unbidden tear from your eye. Felix touches your cheek. He looks more entranced than anything, blinking long and slow like a content cat.

Jisung is still celebrating. He shoves half your croissant in his mouth while you are distracted. Then, with his cheeks stuffed full of pastry, his eyes get wide.

“Ohyeah, weforgotsumffing!” he says around a mouthful of food. He coughs, swallowing too quickly. Felix clears his throat and passes Jisung your mug. Jisung gulps it down while you and Felix exchange an affectionate glance.

Then Jisung clinks the cup on the table and looks at you, sheepish.

“Haha,” he says. “By the way, you have to fuck Felix.”

There are entrances to faerie in the deepest part of the woods. Doorways are found in unlikely patterns that most humans will declare peculiar but innocuous: rings of spotted mushrooms, circular patches of darkening grass, shadows that arch with a perfect curve beneath a canopy of leaves.

You have known this all your life, but you also knew to never go looking. Not on your own. A mortal wandering into faerie is not so different from a lamb wandering into a wolf den.

Even with a wolf escort, you feel like that vulnerable lamb. You hold hands with Jisung the entire trek, trailing behind Felix who hums as he lightly dances his way through even the harshest terrain. Finally you come across two branches, twining up and up until they tangle like two hands clasping across a chasm.

Winded from the exertion of the hike, you and Jisung come to a slow stop to catch your breaths. Felix hurries ahead, his face brightening as he approaches the archway.

“You ready?” Jisung asks, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah,” you say. “You?”

“Oh, hell yeah, baby,” he says with a laugh. You look at him only to find his gaze turned on the archway, faraway with reminiscence. “I remember it, you know,” he says.

“What?” you ask. Jisung has never mentioned this before. “But you were just a baby.”

He looks at you with surprise, like he didn’t expect an answer. Maybe he didn’t mean to say it out loud. He laughs, deflecting the tension, and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “Magic I guess, or something. I dunno. I just know I remember it. There’s stuff that happened last week I can’t remember. In a year, or fifty, or a hundred, I don’t know what I’ll remember from here. But I remember this place like I never left.”

You squeeze his hand again. He looks at you and smiles, squeezing back.

“Come on!” Felix calls. He is standing at the archway, waving to you. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a leather satchel slung across his chest. The mundanity of his clothing looks unnatural. If he looked inhuman in that café, he looks even less human now. His glamour is in tact, his freckles pronounced, but there is a quality to him that defies logic. He looks like he could take off flying and it would not be unusual.

You and Jisung exchange a final glance then approach. Felix smiles and walks backwards through the archway. You can see him clearly as if he merely took another step in the woods. He holds out his hands, you and Jisung taking one each, then you step through as well.

Oh.

October orange sunlight pours through the trees, the early sunset colour of a clear autumn day at its close. The woods are a mosaic of colour: green, orange, yellow, red, brown, little swirls of leaves flying from branch to branch, gathering in piles and scattering again. You watch leaves settle over a pile of bones only for the whole apparatus to knit itself together. You stumble to a surprised stop as a cat made of bones and leaves unfurls before your eyes. It scampers up to Felix, rattling like an ivory windchime and somehow still purring. Felix scratches behind its leafy ears, smiling and greeting the kitty affectionately.

“Come on,” Felix says, not noticing the way you and Jisung are completely arrested by the sight of the cat. “It’s not far from here.”

It is the domicile of the autumn court. It is built into the woods, or swallowed by it, grand structures built within and around trees, some abodes very high in the sunlit branches, some disappearing into the ground. They are decorated with garlands of dried flowers, gardens of gourds and harvest fruit weaving around the lower rooms. You jump, startled, when a pile of nearby leaves rises up, revealing itself to be a deer, presumably also made of bones beneath its leafy surface.

“Whoa,” Jisung says, an apt summary. The leaf animals have no eyes, the faces uncanny. The deer turns its neck with a click of bone, dipping its head in a respectful bow to Felix as he passes.

Felix doesn’t notice. He is watching you and Jisung now, smiling with so much mirth you think he might start glowing.

“Do you like it?” he asks, looking directly at you. Maybe he knows what Jisung is feeling without asking. You try to school your expression to show more than just awe.

“It’s beautiful,” you say. You can see how a mortal could be a swept away by the beauty of the faerie court. Between the glitter of crunchy leaves and the wafts of cinnamon and spice, it fantastically overwhelms the senses. You can also see how quickly this dream could turn into a nightmare, if the sun was eclipsed and the undead creatures of the earth turned their vacant eyes on you.

You do not convey the complexity of your thoughts. Felix takes for granted that you always tell the truth, even though he knows you can lie. You think he sometimes forgets. His whole face crinkles up with a smile now, maybe too severely, but you appreciate his attempt to render delight for you.

“A little further to the palace,” Felix says.

“Palaaace,” Jisung says in a sing-song, squeezing your hand. He almost knocks you over when a bird swoops by his head. This raven is real, not made of leaves, and it perches on Felix’s shoulder. “Birds,” Jisung says woefully. “There’s always a freaky-ass bird.”

“This is one of mine,” Felix says, scratching its head. “I think my brother sent it.”

You watch as the bird leans in, eerily person-like in how it seems to whisper in his ear before fluttering off. Felix neither smiles nor frowns, his mouth drawing into a thin line as he comes to a halt.

“What is it?” Jisung asks. His startled tone reveals that Felix might be perturbed.

“They’re expecting us,” Felix says, gazing ahead as if he can see your destination through all the foliage. “They’re already preparing our wedding.”

“What?” you and Jisung say at the same time. You look at each other then you ask, “Did you tell them already?” Felix only proposed yesterday and he has not returned to the faerie realm, unless he snuck away overnight, but you don’t think so. He spent the night with you and Jisung, Jisung insisting on being the little spoon between two big spoons. Felix had his arm around Jisung and his hand in yours all night.

“No,” Felix answers. “I didn’t say anything yet.”

“This feels spoooooky,” Jisung sings, then laughs nervously.

“Maybe,” Felix says with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe not. Let’s go.”

You and Jisung exchange another look, but you have gone too far to turn around, so you follow Felix. He leads you to a red-bricked path that thickens with moss the further you walk. When you reach the base of a hill, Felix stops to hold your hand.

“Don’t look back until I say,” he says. “You could fall. Keep your eyes on me or the cat. She knows the way too.”

The cat is running around your feet, mewling, though the clack of its jaws is louder than its airy voice. You decide to look at Felix instead. Apparently Jisung picks the cat because he coos, “Aww, she’s kinda cute in a freaky way. What’s her name?”

“Babyeater,” Felix says.

“Oh nooo,” Jisung replies.

You follow Felix and the cat up an incline that grows so steep that at one point you are walking perpendicular to the forest below. You look at Felix the whole time, squeezing his hand tightly. His returned squeeze is reassuring. You remind yourself this is Felix, the same boy who kissed your scraped knees better, who sat through all your childhood tea parties even though he never really understood the concept of playing pretend, the same boy who has dutifully and lovingly obliged your every whim, however much he failed to understand its human purpose. For Felix, it was always enough if it made you happy.

He leads you safely over the crest of the hill, then it’s just a few more steps through a darker patch of woods before you are stepping into a huge clearing, bright and orange and gold. Three massive, broad trees stand in the distance, an elaborate stone citadel built around the trunks. There are faeries and other supernatural entities wandering around an autumnal garden, some scurrying with bundles of lights and candles and drapery. The clearing and castle have been beautifully and frightfully decorated with pumpkins and dried flowers and bones.

“Is this for us?” Jisung asks. “Uh, I mean, for you?”

“It looks like it,” Felix says uncertainly. “I don’t know how they—”

Jisung screams, a proper shrill yell right in your ear, when something bursts out of some shrubbery and blocks his path. You stumble back with wide-eyed surprise and Jisung instinctively shields you even in his terror. Felix is not scared, his face neutral as ever, but his connection to Jisung has him reacting similarly, guarding you with his body.

An eyeless husk straightens itself, bony limbs stretching for the sky. You hear the crack of a neck-bone and the flutter of leaves, then all at a once a glamour settles over the faerie, revealing a handsome young man with short brown hair and dark eyes.

“He’s still loud,” the faerie says. “You were loud as a baby too. Wahhh-wahhhh-wahhhhhh—”

“Seungmin,” Felix says, nonplussed. “Thank you for the raven.”

Felix bows and the faerie, Seungmin, who must be the aforementioned brother, bows back as per the dictation of decorum.

“Chan is mad he had to find out the news from Hyunjin,” Seungmin says, his mouth quirked in a smirky little half-smile. “You better to be ready to grovel.”

“Ah,” Felix says. He looks over at you and Jisung who are clinging to each other, still wide-eyed with surprise. “Hyunjin is a prince from the spring court,” Felix says. “He can see the future.”

“Oh,” Jisung says. “Yeah, sure, makes sense.” He looks at you with a face that says, it definitely does not make sense.

“Spring court,” Seungmin says with a little eye-roll. “They burst in here with a dramatic fuss like always. It’s embarrassing that the high prince of autumn learned about his favourite little brother’s engagement from a different court...”

“I can’t help that Hyunjin sees the future,” Felix says, more disgruntled than you have ever heard him. It occurs to you, as you look between him and Seungmin, that Felix stands out here just as much as he did in the human world. It is different, as here it is the little cracks of humanity that fracture his faerie face. Not just the glamour, the freckles or his clothes, but some intrinsic bearing. Maybe it is the sameness to Jisung, the way they block you with the same stance, the way they shuffle on the same foot. Maybe it’s something else, but it is suddenly pronounced.

Seungmin does not appear to notice Felix’s tone. He just gives another bow which Felix is forced to return. You see Jisung twitching and you squeeze his hand.

“You don’t have to bow,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, then bobs twice in an aborted half-bow.

You sigh. You jump when Jisung shrieks again, startled by a little leaf-dog that comes running out of the shrubbery. It is being pursued by some frantic sprites. They yammer at the puppy in a faerie tongue as it starts to chase the cat. All their bones are clattering as they run around, cat then dog then sprites. Seungmin blinks at the fiasco then looks at Felix.

“Let’s go,” Seungmin says. He turns and gives you a bow, as is polite, then looks at Jisung and says, “Boo!”

Jisung jumps and Seungmin cackles, bowing.

Felix gives Seungmin a little shove, his mouth a grim line again.

You follow Seungmin further into the garden, coming upon a feast that seems to be currently underway even while servants continue to set the party around the guests. Food appears and disappears off the table, some faeries eating and some of them throwing food at the servants. You have heard stories of ensorcelled human servants being trapped in places like this, but you only see faeries so far. It doesn’t put you at ease exactly, but you don’t feel quite as frightened.

Then all the faerie guests at the grand table stop and look at you. Then you are frightened.

“Hi,” Jisung squeaks.

It is nervously and thoughtlessly blurted, but it would be impolite to ignore it, so a chorus of “hi” and “hello” circles the table in return.

Most of them have a glamour of some kind. A stockier, handsome faerie with bright orange hair stands. He is on the other side of the long banquet table but manifests in front of you in mere seconds. You are very alarmed to find him wearing bandages under a black army coat, the white wraps stained with blood. It is very at odds with his deeply dimpled smile.

“Hi there,” he says, looking past Jisung and straight at you. “Wow, Felix really did it. Welcome. Call me Chan. Sorry for the, ah, blood, I think it upsets humans?” This apology seems sincere enough, accompanied with a tilt of the head, but he offers no further explanation. He pulls you into an embrace, tucking you into the fold of one muscular arm, and laughing with an unexpectedly adorable giggliness. “We have a human little sister. That’s fun, yeah?” He looks at the table and everyone nods and claps, only a few characters mutely unresponsive.

You smile, maybe. It feels a bit boxy. Your brain is fitting all the pieces together, recalling that Seungmin referred to Chan as the high prince of autumn. Chan is thus the highest font of power in this faerie court and he is hugging you.

The hug pulls you away from Jisung who moves closer to Felix. You look at them, watching as they hold hands, trying to convey with your eyes that you would rather be with them.

There is no time for any extraction attempt because a fuss stirs at one end of the table. A pink-haired faerie bursts out of his seat. He is long-limbed, tall and spindly, and he runs around the huge table at a fairly human speed. He is wearing a billowy green jacket and a long string of pearls, his pastel appearance at some odds to the deepness of the autumn court.

“Hey Fee-lix! Heeey!” he says, very literally bouncing when he reaches Felix.

“Aha, hi, Hyunjin,” Felix says.

“You brought humans!” Hyunjin says, sweeping down to look at Jisung, then turning his dark-eyed stare to you. His glamour is astonishingly beautiful, as bright as his pearls, a face like a handsome marble statue and a supermodel’s stature. But he slinks like a ferret, as smirky as a fox. ��The bride,” he says with something of a wistful sigh. His dark eyes are sparkling. “A faerie and a human. How romantic. I love romance.”

Then you are freed from hugging Chan, but only because Hyunjin cups your face in both hands and kisses you. Not a greeting kiss either, but a deep kiss. You sputter when he licks you.

“Um,” Jisung squeaks.

“This is High Prince Hyunjin. Of the spring court, of course,” Chan says amiably, not doing anything to stop the high prince of the spring court from sucking face with his brother’s bride.

Hyunjin stops on his own, smiling at you fondly. “Pretty girl,” he says, stroking his whole hand over your face. “I wish I could marry you.” This is spoken without much longing, but it must be true or he couldn’t say it.

He turns his sights on Jisung next. Jisung straightens, eyes darting around for an escape.

“The changeling baby,” Hyunjin says. “He’s so cute now. Can I marry this one, Felix?”

Jisung’s eyes widen, looking at Felix, then at you.

Felix looks unamused. “No,” he says simply.

Hyunjin pouts, slinking up to Jisung. He grabs his face, long fingers grasping him tight. Jisung’s lips part with surprise, his cheeks puffing when Hyunjin shakes his head around.

“That’s not fair,” Hyunjin says. “You already have one.”

“I said no,” Felix repeats.

Hyunjin just sighs. “I knew you’d say that,” he says. “Oh well.” Then he kisses Jisung full on the mouth too, Jisung squeaking through the very wet onslaught. Hyunjin just smiles and strokes his face, then goes back to the table.

Hyunjin’s self-introduction triggers a similar desire in the remaining guests. Soon they are swarming you, forced into the vaguest semblance of a queue when Chan waves a demanding hand. You meet Felix’s mother, who smiles and coos at you like she didn’t mandate a wife in the first place. You meet Changbin, another half-brother of Felix, who thankfully follows the example set by Chan and not Hyunjin and simply hugs you. He is so burly and strong that it lifts you off your feet, but he has enough restraint not to crush you, so that’s something.

There are clusters of other faeries, all noisy, all dipping in bows or trying to kiss you, and all of them from the spring or autumn court. A hush falls over the garden when the remaining guests approach for an introduction. Felix finally appears at your side, Jisung too, standing on either side of you and holding your hands.

“Winter and Summer,” Felix whispers as two courtly fae and their retinues step forward.

You know very well why Felix deigns to warn you. The autumn court and spring court, as per their seasonal equivalents, are shifting and transitory in many ways; they grow and they learn, and they often host humans, be it in a generous or malicious capacity. The winter and summer courts are hostile to change, and both have little to do with humans at all. Whatever human encounters have transpired in those courts have left few survivors to speak of it.

Their glamours fit them strangely, like new clothes not yet broken in. The first prince wears his glamour like a boy forced into dress clothes by a parent, walking with a stiff sort of discomfort. His robes are coloured blue and yellow, long and loose, his blonde hair turning dark blue at the root. His dimples are deep and cheekbones very sharp, and when he smiles he reveals a whole row of long, piercing teeth that he forgot to glamour altogether.

You jump, staring aghast as the otherwise too-pretty prince sweeps into a bow. He looks at Chan, sees him smiling, and copies the expression with a frightful brightness.

“Prince Jeongin,” Felix says. He squeezes your hand, reminding you to bow back. You do so swiftly. “Summer.”

“High Prince,” Jeongin says, laughing for some reason, a wheezing sound.

“You have fourteen older brothers,” Felix says.

“Had.” Jeongin smiles again, his dimples deepening, his teeth glittering. “I ate them.”

“Oh,” Felix says. There is a pause as he looks at you then looks at Jeongin. Your face reveals terror, you are certain, but Jeongin is waiting expectantly. Felix weighs his words and says, “Uh. You must be happy to be congratulated.”

You wonder how you ever thought Felix was strange. He seems so normal suddenly, the only one who finds something wrong with a person eating fourteen brothers. If he did approve, he would not have to word his congratulations so strangely to avoid a lie.

Unless he just did that to appease you, a small voice says in the back of your head. A different truth is not a lie.

You wish you were not such an overthinker. This is Felix. Your Felix. Yours, yours. As much yours as Jisung, who is breathing a little heavier, so it makes Felix breathe heavier, and their combined strain has you close to panting as well.

You are thus all breathless when you meet the final prince, introduced as High Prince Minho of the winter court. He is wearing dark clothes, apparently sans his usual furry winter accoutrements, and his glamour is a barely-there mask that vanishes when the light hits him at certain angles. He wears it like a loosely tied scarf, grudgingly donned. He has not glamoured his eyes, mismatched and vibrant and vacant of all human emotion. He does not smile when he bows. Like Jeongin, he does not hug or kiss you.

He looks you over, his stare raking, then he does the same to Jisung. Whatever he sees makes him laugh, though it is a derisive sound. Then he looks at Felix and says, “They’re fragile. Be careful, changeling.”

When he leaves, Jisung whispers, “Honestly, that last one got me kinda hard.”

“Yeah,” Felix says, unhappily, “I know.”

And just like that, you are trying very hard not to laugh.

You look at Felix and find his returned gaze to be very affectionate. You always thought his regards looked a little too precise, like he was concentrating on forming the appropriate expression, but compared to certain toothy grins and cold laughs, Felix looks positively alight with sentiment. He still looks strange in his t-shirt and jeans, but you think he might look strange anyway.

It never occurred to you before that Felix’s changeling life might have made him an oddity on both sides of the veil.

You feel a pang of sympathy, suddenly.

Felix looks down at where you are holding his hand. You see his gaze flit across to where you hold Jisung’s hand as well. It exacerbates that pang in your chest, recalling your own jealousy when you found them kissing, plus all the years spent wishing you shared their magical connection. It never occurred to you that Felix might feel some type of way about you dating Jisung, about you and Jisung both being human. Maybe it reminded he was an outcast wherever he went. Always very close to being part of something, never quite belonging.

Funny enough, Jisung has always been significantly more blasé. He sets his sights on what he wants and it never occurs to him that he will not have it. He has Felix, he dates you, you marry Felix, he lives forever. You look at your human boyfriend, at the way his dark eyes seem to sparkle as he looks around the garden. You think somehow, despite his occasional shrieks and frights, he looks more home here than Felix.

“Right then!” Chan suddenly claps in your face, startling you. “It’s wedding time, yeah? We’ve never had a human wedding here before but Hyunjin is an expert so he helped us out…”

Two faerie servants rip you away from Felix and Jisung. Hyunjin follows you, looking very keen, his hands clasped behind his back but his whole face lit up brightly. His eagerness does not put you at ease, nor are you reassured by his seemingly “expert” advice. Seeing as he thought it was appropriate to introduce himself by making out with you, you sincerely doubt he is the human expert he has proclaimed himself to be.

Sure enough, the slapdash preparations are very random. You are shoved into a very pretty dress, but then Hyunjin attempts to adorn you with both a veil and a headpiece, and you can see an array of other accessories from international wedding regalia. Being as polite as possible, you decline the offer to any headpiece at all.

“Wow,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face. “You are so humble. Humans are so amazing, the way they just let themselves be ugly. Wow. Wow. I won’t interfere with your hideous but humble head. Should we kiss again?”

“I think it’s better we don’t,” you say. “It might wrinkle the dress?”

He nods sagely. “That would be bad,” he agrees. “Especially because your head is so bare and horrible. The dress is doing all the work. Can I put flowers in your hair or do you really prefer to be ugly?”

“Uh, flowers, yeah, sure,” you say. He says everything so frankly that you somehow can’t feel offended. A compliment would feel just as meaningless.

“I’ve always wanted to attend a human wedding,” Hyunjin says. “You know, spring is a very popular time for human weddings. But humans are always dying so fast after, so it makes me sad to watch them properly.”

“You feel sadness?” you ask. Though Hyunjin and Felix seem quite different, perhaps you can glean an answer to the depth of faerie emotions. Especially considering this marriage business feels like an entirely different beast now that you are in a wedding dress with an entire congregation of faeries sitting in a garden waiting for you. It seemed like a simpler affair when it was just Felix and Jisung in a café booth.

“Oh, of course,” Hyunjin says. “I feel sad all the time. I feel sad right now because you aren’t marrying me.” He says this with a great deal of joviality, smiling at you like he’s proud of his supposed sadness.

You decide not to ask more questions on that front, because you doubt his answers will be very helpful. You do enquire after the wedding festivities. You try not to frown at the very random assemblage of traditions he has baked into a single ceremony. It sounds like a tedious affair but you decide to brace it, supposing it could be worse.

“Then we all watch the royal consummation,” Hyunjin says casually, adding another flower to your hair.

You grab his wrist without thinking, stopping him.

“Did I stab you?” he asks, blowing on your head to check for blood. “Sorry. I keep forgetting pins in heads kill humans.” He says this with a lot of exasperation, like it’s a personal inconvenience to him that humans die so easily.

“No, it’s not that,” you say. He pops another peony on your head, manifesting the little buds out of thin air. “What do you mean ‘we all watch the royal consummation?’ Who is ‘we’?”

“The high princes, obviously,” he says, tucking a rose behind your ear.

You stare ahead, mouth hanging open.

Yesterday seems so long ago now, but Jisung and Felix did explain to you that the autumn court required an act of consummation to legitimize the marriage. Apparently it has nothing to do with virginity or rearing heirs, mostly functioning as a ritual for the sake of itself. Once faeries decide something is a rule they must follow it.

You were very hot in the face the entire conversation. Jisung seemed content to describe the way you need would have sex with his changeling faerie, but you were too embarrassed to meet either gaze.

Maybe it would have been easier if you did not want to sleep with Felix. If it was just a necessity, it would be meaningless.

But you very much do desire Felix, even if he only smiled blithely during the discussion. He seemed unaffected while you were very flustered.

This is a very different type of flustered.

“I was not told there would be an audience,” you finally say.

“There isn’t usually,” Hyunjin says. “But that’s how human princes do it, if I remember. A whole council watches. Felix doesn’t have a council, though, so we’ll have to do it. It would be very rude not to indulge your human traditions. There! All done.”

He steps back to admire your appearance. You are still frazzled from the conversation, from the strong floral scent that is now wrapped around you, from everything.

“You look—” Hyunjin pauses, then, “—not horrible at all! I did a very good job. Now the wedding can start. I’ll tell Chan to start killing the sacrificial wedding goats. We only have one and it’s made of leaves and bones but I assumed that would be okay with you. This way we can just keep killing the same one over and over again. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I—” You feel panicked. You need to see Jisung. Hyunjin has you sequestered in some little golden alcove. You do not want to be hunted down if you just flee, so you ask, “Can I go look at myself in a mirror?”

“You’re testing me,” Hyunjin says, his long fingers covering his mouth with a surprised gasp. Then he giggles. “I passed! I know you can’t look at the bride before the wedding. Wait here!” Then he disappears out the gate and around the corner.

You sit down in a huff and close your eyes. You try counting backwards from one hundred to calm yourself, but you reach the low twenties and still feel tense.

Then you hear the patter of human footsteps. You know it is a human because faeries scarcely disturb the ground where they walk. You hear the crunch of leaves and lift your head, feeling a rush of relief with Jisung pokes his head into the alcove.

“There you are,” he says. “Felix is – uh – they’re getting him – dressed – and I wanted – wanted you—”

You stand as he talks, as his voice drifts, as his breath catches. He looks down the length of your dress then back up, his dark eyes watery as he exhales with a gut-punching whoosh.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he says. “This – this feels weird. I know it’s – weird. But it’s not – it’s not wrong, right? It’s just weird. But weird isn’t bad. It’s just—”

“Weird,” you say, with a little laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

He smiles softly. He wore his glasses here but he has since put in contacts. His hair is neatly styled and he changed into slightly nicer clothes, still human world, but very handsome in his black pants and black shirt. He is so handsome that for a moment you forget about all your worries, taking a step towards him with your hand extended. He catches that hand, bringing it to his shoulder. He sweeps you into a kiss that banishes all your bad thoughts, the familiar taste and feel of him engulfing you. You sink your fingers in his hair, parting your lips under the press of his mouth.

It's him who ends the kiss, breathlessly, stuttering, “S-sorry, wait. I came here to tell – to tell you – the consummation – that pink guy—”

“I know,” you say with a cringe. You bury your face in his neck. “Ugh, a bunch of faeries are gonna watch me have sex.”

“Faeries and me!” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Huh!”

“I tried to stop it, but no one would really listen to me,” he says. “Someone only listened when I said it was weird for a guy to watch his little brother have sex, and some people agreed, so Prince Chan said I should take his place, since there were no faeries of equal rank to him and at least I was human.” He slaps a hand to his forehead. “Sorry. I tried.”

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, giggling a little helplessly at your morose boyfriend. “How do you get yourself into these situations?”

“You’re wearing a wedding dress!” he replies.

“That’s only because I know you!”

“Your life would have been very boring without me,” Jisung says, smiling.

“I know,” you say. “It would have been awful.”

Because for as strange as all this faerie nonsense is, you cannot imagine a world where you never knew Jisung, where you never knew Felix, where you never had this love in your life, as messy and jealous and complicated as it has been at times.

You tip your head, gazing into Jisung’s eyes. He shivers when you twirl a bit of his hair around your finger.

“Jisungie,” you say, thinking of your own jealousy, of Felix’s confounding glances. “Do you ever feel jealous at all?”

“Of what?” he asks, totally innocent.

“I don’t know,” you say. You are not sure how to explain it without seeming ridiculous, which puts it into some perspective. “I mean, me and Felix are about to… you know.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s okay. I don’t want to have sex in front of the cannibal faerie,” Jisung says, making you laugh. “Not a joke!”

“I know, I know.” You kiss his cheek.

“I couldn’t be jealous of you two,” he says, looking contemplative, as if this has never really occurred to him before. Then he looks at you a bit sheepishly, his gaze skittish in how it darts around.

“What?” you ask, recognizing his shy mischief.

“I think it’s… uh… kinda hot?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I love you and I guess I also love that stupid faerie boy. And… maybe… I kinda wanna see…”

You feel very hot again.

“You, um, want to watch Felix fuck me?” you ask, frankly as you can.

“Yes.” He stares straight up, his ears gone completely red and his cheeks turning pink. “I think you’ll look hot together. I was kinda hoping we’d do something like this one day. I mean, the cannibal faerie is a surprise, but other than that…”

You kiss him. His arms circle your waist and he tugs you close, the kiss deepening naturally. You let all your flustered embarrassment fizzle away, thinking about Felix, thinking about Jisung. You get a bit handsy, squeezing Jisung’s biceps then resting your hands on his chest. He makes a little sound into the kiss, one of his needy whimpers. It never fails to light you up.

“I’m nervous,” you say, speaking low, against his lips. “Thinking about so many of them watching me and Felix…”

It is clear by his gulp and frantic nod that Jisung finds the scenario sexier than he should. “Yeah, baby,” he says. “What can I do?”

You know the faeries will be occupied with Hyunjin’s myriad of rituals for a while, so you peck his lips and ask, “Get me ready?”

“Ready,” he repeats. His gaze jumps up to the flowers in your hair. “You are ready.”

“Not like that,” you say.

Jisung really does his best to be appropriate, but he gets pussy-drunk faster than any man you have ever known. A suggestion is all it takes. You tap his shoulder and he obediently drops to his knees.

“Baby,” he says in a reverent whisper, sighing, eyes closing when you run your fingers through his hair.

Heavy-lidded and so seemingly submissive to your desire, Jisung looks up at you. Then he reaches past you, grabs the chair by the leg, and yanks. He is not too gentle, spilling you onto it with a forceful nudge.

You know Jisung does nothing by halves. He is singular in his passions. You ask him to kneel, so he kneels, so he closes his eyes, so he opens his mouth. He pushes your dress out of his way and licks through your panties until the fabric is sticky and you are so so wet that it clings to you. Your thighs tremble and he whimpers softly, high and light in the back of his throat.

“Jisungie…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he says in a raspy voice, drawing the fabric aside. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. I’ve got you, baby.”

He speaks so sweetly, like he is incapable of being mean, even while he torments you with long, twisting strokes of his tongue, never committing to a single pattern. It is a storm of sensation, rolling through you over and over again. You are so sensitive that slightest nudge feels like a miniature orgasm all on its own. You gasp and whine, trying and failing to close your legs around his head.

“Jisuuung,” you say, your voice rough. “We don’t have much time, I need to come…”

He moans when he buries his tongue in you, when he licks messily up past your clit and back down again. You grab his hair and tug, though it does nothing to deter him.

“Your husband can make you come later,” he says, giggling an inch from your pussy. “I’m just warming you up…”

“Please,” you say, “please, please, please.”

“Hmm?” is his reply, then he sighs and dives back.

Your eyes close, brow furrowing in concentration. You rock your hips against his mouth as he finally starts circling your clit with a single-minded resolve. You feel flushed and shaky, pleasure and heat coursing through you, and you know you must look as ravaged as you feel.

You open your eyes and see Felix standing in the entryway. He looks astonishingly beautiful, his long blonde hair neatly styled back, his freckles pronounced and eyes so dark. Long earrings made of sparkling orange gems dangle from his ears, looking at once like rippling flames and water running over bronze. He is dressed in an approximation of a tuxedo, except the pants are leather and the shirt and blazer are cropped too short.

He tips his head, his eyes on Jisung for a moment. Then he holds your gaze unflinchingly, maybe daringly. His smile appears slowly. It is too gentle to be lecherous, tender despite the fact his gloved hand runs over his belt and tugs. His tongue touches his bottom lip and he tips his head the other way.

His presence startles you for a moment. You should feel caught, or embarrassed, or something. But the initial surprise fades and you just stare back at him. You dig your fingers into Jisung’s hair and breathe harder as he strokes and strokes and strokes you with his tongue.

Felix exhales. His smile is still soft. He lifts a darkly gloved hand and gestures to you, curling two fingers, a suggestive come here.

Then Jisung’s hand goes from your thigh to your pussy, two fingers curling inside you without any resistance. Felix’s smile curves into a pleased, satisfied smirk. He nods.

You come, holding Jisung’s face against your pussy, letting him moan and whimper with his own pleasure as you roughly fuck his mouth. When he lifts his head, his mouth is so obscenely wet that you throb with a renewed ache of desire.

“I think you’re ready now,” Jisung says. He lowers your legs and slowly slides his fingers out of you. Your breath catches, swallowing up a sound of a surprise when he uses both thumbs to spread your pussy open to his gaze – his and Felix. Your head feels fuzzy and not with faerie magic.

“I think so,” Felix says.

Jisung does not seem surprised by his voice. He lets you go, your dress falling back over your lap. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks over his shoulder at Felix. Felix approaches, his steps silent despite his big black boots.

You watch. Jisung’s bottom lip twitches. He looks up at Felix with the same hazy intoxication he looked at you. Felix bites the tip of a glove, pulling the fabric off with his teeth, then he swipes his thumb across Jisung’s glistening mouth. Felix brings that thumb to his own bottom lip, his tongue only just swiping the tip of it.

Then Hyunjin struts into the alcove and slaps a shocked hand over his mouth.

“What are you doing?” he demands. You think he is going to remark on the man kneeling at your feet, not to mention your sexually dishevelled appearance, but then he says, “Felix. You’re supposed to have a hat.”

“I don’t need a hat, Hyunjin,” Felix says with a sigh. “I would like to talk to my bride for a minute.”

“That is impossible,” Hyunjin says. “You need a hat. Come with me.”

It occurs to you that you are watching the two most emotional faeries in their courts, even if those emotions are aimed in strange directions, like hats. Because Hyunjin is very adamant and Felix is very annoyed. You are more than a little concerned that if things come to a head, it will turn horrifying without much effort.

Then Jisung leaps to his feet and puts himself between the two faerie princes. It surprises everyone to silence. Even Hyunjin stumbles to a stop. He cocks his head like a predator regards a measly scrap of prey, eyes flashing as he takes a menacing step forward.

Felix has no time to react. You have no chance to scream.

Jisung is a step ahead of everyone.

He bows. Hyunjin stumbles to a stop for a second time. It takes him a second to realize what has happened but when he does his eye twitches. He bows back, then straightens with a huff.

Jisung bows again. You slap a hand over your mouth to hide your surprised laugh. Hyunjin looks far less amused. Glaring, he bows too, as per the rules of politeness.

Jisung leaps to the side and bows again, forcing Hyunjin to follow him. He does this twice more, leading Hyunjin to the exit, bowing back and forth the whole time.

“Make him stop!” Hyunjin shrieks.

“Okay, okay!” Jisung says, hands raised in surrender. He bows one more time, swooping low, then he turns and runs as fast as he can.

Hyunjin, obliged to return the bow, goes chasing after him with a frantic yelp.

“Is he gonna be okay?” you ask, springing to your feet. You dress falls neatly down.

“Yes,” Felix says. “Hyunjin won’t hurt humans. He likes them too much.” He turns to you then, his expression returned to a more passive neutrality, though you do not miss the way he looks you over. “Will you be okay?” he asks. “I’m sorry. I thought we would have more time when we got here. I didn’t know they would do this.”

“It’s okay,” you say, too shy for a conversation after he very much watched you orgasm. “Um. Might as well, I guess… get it out of the way.”

“Yes.” He frowns at this, turning aside. “You want to… get it out of the way. I understand. I’m sorry it had to be this way. You don’t want to marry me.”

He says it so plainly and without any hesitation. He must believe it is the absolute truth. For a moment, you can only stare at him, his handsome profile, the tendrils of sadness that tug at his features. How did you never see it before?

“Felix,” you say gently. He does not look at you. You touch his arm and he looks at your hand. “Felix, I am happy to marry you. I love you.” He looks up at that, his brow furrowed. “And Jisung,” you add. “I’m… I’m glad it happened this way. So that you and I—” He turns to you and your heart skips a few beats, affected by the warmth of his steady gaze. “So that you and I could come together as well. And now the three of us—”

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, then looks aside. “I’m sorry. That was forward, yeah? I just… don’t want the first time to be out there. Is that strange? To be honest, sometimes I don’t know what’s strange or what isn’t. The rules are different everywhere, you know? I don’t think I’m doing a good job of this. I’m sorry. We don’t have to—”

You cup his face and kiss him. It is very stiff for a moment, because you are both surprised by your brazen action. He somehow grounds himself first, a careful hand curling around your hip to guide you a little closer. A breath passes between you then he kisses you back.

You touch his chest, making a sweet small sound into the kiss when his lips slide so softly against yours. You are about to deepen it when Jisung interrupts with, “Aww, you’re kissing! So cute!”

You and Felix look over at him. His hands are clasped and he is gushing as only Jisung can.

“I thought you were running,” Felix says, with a hint of amusement.

“Stupid labyrinth led me back here,” Jisung says. He mimes zipping his lips shut and gestures to you. “Keep kissing. Pretend I’m not here.”

“I wouldn’t want to pretend that,” Felix says, so sincerely that Jisung’s eyes widen. They look at each other for a long moment, then Felix looks at you. He cups your face.

Then Hyunjin comes running in. He swings his arms in a dramatic flail and flower petals fly everywhere. The leaf dog comes running in and starts nipping at the air, trying to catch the petals. In the midst of this chaos, Hyunjin storms up to Jisung and promptly bows. Then he shoves him to the side and grabs Felix by the arm.

“Hat!” he shouts. “Now!”

It is a twenty-six hour wedding ceremony. You and Jisung fall asleep halfway through festivity number twelve, curled up under a furry blanket near a fire pit. You wake when Felix lifts your head into his lap. Jisung is already curled up with his head on your belly, so you smile and snuggle into Felix. He cups your face and strokes your cheek, the flickering firelight casting shadows on his face, making his smile seem bigger than usual.

The consummation ritual is last. It takes place inside the castle, in a beautiful room that appears to have been designed for this express purpose. The mossy stone walls are decorated with dried flowers, the plush bed laden with thick red throws and burgundy cushions. Despite the tall open windows, there is no autumn chill, a lit fireplace cozying the room with its warmth.

It would be a lovely chamber if not for the translucent curtain with a literal audience behind it. The winter and summer princes sit ramrod straight, so uninterested in their surroundings that it actually puts you at ease. Hyunjin looks… a little too eager to be honest, but you aren’t convinced he understands this ritual anymore than anything else today.

Jisung is side-eying Jeongin, who is sitting beside him because Hyunjin refused to sit by ‘the annoying changeling brat’. Minho is sitting between Jeongin and Hyunjin, casting the occasional side-eye to the spring prince. Despite his stoic countenance, his displeasure with the company is clear.

Honestly, the whole tableau is quite comedic. You find yourself trying to stifle laughter when Felix finally arrives. You were sent to separate rooms to undress and change into robes, but you arrived here first. Felix looks at you curiously, clearly perplexed by your laughter.

“You’re not nervous anymore,” he observes.

“No,” you say. “I’ve just been thinking like a faerie.”

He tilts his head at that. You smile and kiss him, a chaste kiss that makes his lashes flutter. The little reaction tickles a flurry of butterflies in your belly. You hold his hand and lead him to the bed where you sit down. His eyes shift with a nervous scuttle, but he follows the direction of your hand when you gesture to him.

You keep your eyes on his, intensely locked as you lift his hand and take two fingers in your mouth. When you close your lips around his fingers and gently suck, his breath catches. It echoes in Jisung.

Then Jeongin whispers loudly, “Is she going to eat him?” He sounds moderately intrigued.

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin replies.

“I think it’s over,” Minho says, catching onto your ruse before anyone else.

You smile and open your eyes. You separate from Felix and turn your head to the silhouettes beyond the curtain.

“A penetrative performance,” you state. “I believe that was the requirement. And I believe that should qualify.”

You are stretching the meaning of those words and you know it, but that’s what faeries do. His fingers ‘penetrated’ the breach of your mouth, so it should count on the most technical level.

“All done,” you say with a smile and wave.

“So you’re not eating him?” Jeongin says, frowning.

Minho is the first one to stand. He flicks Jeongin’s forehead as he passes, but otherwise says nothing before fleeing the room. Jeongin follows with a slightly disgruntled shuffle, then Hyunjin stomps his foot.

“Humans,” he says, marching past Jisung.

The door closes behind Hyunjin. Jisung claps a hand over his mouth and laughs into it, so hard he has to put a hand over his stomach as he doubles over. Felix laughs too, a pleasantly low rumble that he tries to stifle with a cough. You smile up at him, leaning back on your palms and admiring him in the warm orange light. He tucks some hair behind his ear, regarding you with a very tender gaze when he nods his head in a curt little bow.

“All done,” he says. It makes your brow furrow: the little shift in tone, the tension that still draws his shoulders back. You realize that even after everything, he is still uncertain about his place. Even Jisung knows where he belongs, not for a moment thinking he should leave the room, but Felix takes a step away from the bed like he intends to do just that.

You grab his hand, drawing his attention back to you. Blonde hair falls around his face, shadowing it. He doesn’t quite meet your eyes, gaze somewhere on your chin.

“Felix,” you say. His fingers tighten around yours and it feels like a question. You answer by tugging that hand, drawing him closer. His eyes flash gold when you drop his hand to open your robe. This time you can hear Jisung’s sharp breath too, all laughter subsiding as you let the robe fall off your shoulders, laying yourself bare before Felix.

He looks awed but stricken. You can see when he swallows. He looks at Jisung then back at you, his brow furrowing. His lips twitch in a bid to speak but no words come.

It would be funny, this supernatural being somehow struck dumb by you in your most vulnerable state, but your smile is more affectionate than amused.

“Felix,” you say again. “Have you ever done something like this before?”

He shakes his head frantically, his eyes still running up and down your body.

“No,” he says. “Uh, no. No. I can – feel something when Jisung – when you – I mean—” He chokes on an awkward laugh, turning away for a second.

“I fucking knew it!” Jisung says, poking his head between the folds of the curtain. “Bro, you’re such a liar. I asked if you could feel when we fuck and you said no!”

“I can’t lie,” Felix replies, turning to Jisung. He forgets to be embarrassed while arguing, very plainly and patiently stating his case. “I told you most faeries don’t think about sex like humans and that I couldn’t be certain what you were doing, yeah? And I can’t. And I would have told you more but you only asked the first time and I didn’t know you were going to keep… being with her. And I – I didn’t want to make things awkward… for you… okay? By thinking of me every time… so I just… What are you smiling at?” His deep voice breaks, pitching comically higher for a second.

Jisung is smirking and nodding, just a floating head with a vague silhouetted body behind the curtain.

“Man,” Jisung says, “you’ve been acting like a monk but secretly jacking it while we get freaky in the other room… That’s naughty.”

Felix draws his mouth into a flat line then looks at you for help. You are trying to hold in your giggles, lips pressed tight together. When he looks at you, you exhale, waving at Jisung to back down for a second. He ducks behind the curtain again, giggling to himself like the menace he is.

Fortunately, Felix is easy to distract. All it takes is opening your legs for his all his attention to zero in there. He swallows again.

“Sounds like we’ve been teasing you too long,” you say, your voice drawing his eyes back up to your face. You smile and beckon him forward. “Come on. Let me make it up to you.”

He looks like he is going to deflect politely, either because he is a faerie or because he is Felix, but then you grab his robe and yank him closer. He stumbles up to you, his fingers fluttering at his sides and his shoulders still tense. You take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, soothing him with another gentle smile as you unknot his robe.

He is already very hard and this seems to fluster him, but he points to the curtain and sputters, “He’s – touching—“

“Fuck yeah I am,” Jisung says.

“Jisung, shh,” you say, trying not to giggle again. “And slow down. You’re always so impatient.”

“Am not,” Jisung says, but you can see him lean back, folding his hands behind his head.

You look up at Felix, holding his gaze the way you did when you sucked his fingers. You like the way he twitches and breathes harder, the way his eyes flash, the way his jaw clenches. His thumb curls under your jaw when your mouth slides over him. You can’t help but moan when his whole face contorts with more natural emotion than you have ever seen from him. His breath stutters and stops and starts, his sounds so low and guttural that you feel them inside you.

“Oh, fuck, dude,” Jisung says, rasping. You pull back just a little, drooling and stroking with your hand, and glancing at Jisung out of the corner of your eye. He lifts his hips and squeezes himself over his pants. “We were fucking torturing you, holy fuck.”

“Mmmmrrgh,” is the approximate sound Felix makes. His eyes are partially-lidded, his expression one of immense concentration. He pulls your face back to him with a flick of his wrist. Appetent and quite demanding, he leads your mouth back onto him and holds you in place to shallowly and gently fuck your mouth. He makes a pleased sound, one of deep relief, his head lolling back and the tension leaving his shoulders.

You let him set the pace, matching the animal instinct that overcomes him. He stops himself when he’s close, breathing hard and stepping back. You want to ask if he is okay, but you have to flex your jaw and your voice is momentarily shot. Before you can find that voice, he turns to the curtain and says, “Show me what you did earlier. I want – I want to do that too.”

There is a quiet moment, Jisung maybe surprised at the sudden attention, but then the curtain parts and Jisung steps all the way through. He has unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, his partially unzipped pants doing nothing to hide the bulge behind his fly. The sight of him sets off more sparks, especially when he winks at you with all his cheeky wantonness.

Felix gives Jisung a once-over too, pushing a hand through his hair and steadying his breathing. His features look sharper than ever, darkened with a determined resolve. He says nothing when Jisung sweeps behind him. Jisung wiggles his eyebrows at you while he gathers Felix’s robe and slides it off his shoulders.

“She likes your freckles,” Jisung offers by way of explanation, smooching Felix’s freckled shoulder with a playful little mwah.

Felix tilts his head and looks at you. “Really?” he asks. “I can’t fully scrub them off the glamour. I think it’s somehow your fault.” This is aimed at Jisung.

“Everything’s my fault!” Jisung says with a great deal of pride.

“Why would you want to get rid of them?” you blurt, showing just as much as horror as you did when meeting the cannibal faerie. Felix without his freckles is equally abhorrent.

Felix looks at you, thoughtfully. Firelight is flickering over the room but you do not think it is a trick of shadow when his freckles seem to darken everywhere.

“Aw,” Jisung says. “He’s flirting.”

Felix looks at him with a certain degree of exasperation. “Show me what I asked,” he says.

“Oh, wow, okay, geez, pushy,” Jisung says, circling so he standing beside Felix. Felix drops the rest of the robe, evidently not the slightest bit shy to be standing there naked. Now your gaze is the roving one, jumping between them, darting upward when Jisung cups Felix’s face and turns it to him.

“You need to turn her on first, man,” Jisung says, swaying to the playful rhythm of his own voice. Felix follows, but his eyes narrow into judgemental slits. Jisung seems unbothered by this, standing still, tucking some hair behind Felix’s ear. “C’mooon,” he says, with an impatient little shoulder wiggle and a laugh. “She likes you… she likes me… as they say… badda bing badda boom…”

“I don’t think they say that during sex,” Felix says, frowning.

“He’s right,” you say, giggling.

Jisung sighs and looks at you. “No audience participation,” he says, miming a zip across his lips. “Just sit there and look pretty, baby. We’ll get to you.”

Felix looks at you. Jisung leans close to whisper in his ear. You try to decipher what he is saying based on Felix, but all Felix does is furrow his eyebrows then look sideways at Jisung. There is a moment of quiet, then they smile at the same time.

Felix delicately cups Jisung’s chin.

The last time you caught them kissing, it spurred only jealousy. But that was different. That was your childish reaction to exclusion, your own anxieties speaking over everything else. This time, you are not outside of their connection. You even swear you can feel the faintest tingling on your own lips when they gently come together in a feather-light kiss.

Their hands trace similar paths, Felix’s slipping into Jisung’s pants and Jisung touching him back. The kiss deepens until their tongues touch, then Jisung giggles while Felix grins. They look at you at the same time.

“Go,” Jisung says, nudging Felix forward.

They let go of each other and Felix climbs up on the bed, guiding you backwards until your head is on a pillow. Long tendrils of blonde hair brush your cheeks. He lays over you and kisses you, pressing your head into the cushion. Even lost in his kiss, you can sense Jisung with a fuzzy awareness. You recognize the familiar touch of his palm, his hand gliding up your inner thigh. Felix makes room, joining Jisung at your thighs. You twitch with an instinctive little jerk, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look at them. Jisung puts a finger over his lips and shushes you, smiling.

“We got it, we got it…�� he says. He cups the back of Felix’s head and pushes his head down to your pussy.

Felix glances up at you, then him, then down. His eyes close and he sticks out his tongue, his expression one of the sweetest pleasure when he puts his mouth on you. What he lacks in skill, he compensates with eagerness, messily diving in with an open mouth, licking and kissing and making a mess of himself. Jisung threads his fingers into his hair and tugs, laughing a little.

“Easy, easy,” he says. He and Felix look at each other as Jisung lowers his own face. When he puts his expert mouth on you, your head falls back, thighs parting further. You throw your arms over your head and dig your fingers into the cushions. You chase the rhythm of his tongue, looking down when it stops, when Felix replaces him.

“See, look at her,” Jisung says. Felix looks up at you. “Just like that.”

Then Jisung joins him. They torturously alternate whose mouth is on you. Jisung dives at Felix, licking across his wet lips and kissing him before returning to you. You can hardly tell one mouth from the next, gasping under two tongues as they stroke you and each other, matching blonde heads bobbing in perfect coordination between your thighs. It is inhumanly perfect, so harmonious that it almost agonizing. This is how mortals lose their minds here, you think.

Eventually you are so wound up that you can’t help but cry out.

“Oh noo,” Jisung says, very unrepentant as lays beside you. “I think we were teasing her… That’s so mean of us, isn’t it, baby? Huh?” He pinches your face in his hand, cooing at you while you playfully glare. He giggles and kisses you, your own wet desire smeared across his lips. “You’re so wet, baby,” he says, sliding his hand down your body and over your pussy, easing his fingers through the wetness there. When you whimper, he whimpers back in faux sympathy, pouting and nodding. “I know, poor baby,” he says, curling his fingers inside you.

Felix’s eyes light up, watching. He props himself up on one hand and touches you with the other. You make a sound against Jisung’s mouth, a breathy moan as Felix slides his fingers in too. It’s thick, that many fingers at once and so suddenly. Your thighs jerk and you whine into Jisung’s mouth. You see stars when you close your eyes, their fingers moving at the same time inside you. They share a heartbeat, a rhythm, not faulting in the slightest.

For a moment, you just lay there and dizzily take it, stretched around their fingers, wet and silky hot and so turned on that you feel like you’re floating.

“Jisung,” Felix says in his rough, deep voice.

“I know,” Jisung replies, just as hoarse.

Their fingers leave you and Jisung grabs your throat with that same hand, slick fingers nudging your chin to look at him. Your breath catches and you think Felix’s breath catches too.

“That’s my girl,” Jisung says, reaching down at the same Felix reaches up, a hand on each breast, teasing the pebbled peaks. You squirm and Jisung returns his hand to your throat, smiling at you so innocently, scrunching up his eyes with delight. “Good girl,” he says, squeezing. Felix gasps then moans, sucking kisses wherever his mouth lazily roams. Jisung places those same hot kisses on your neck, each kiss landing one after the other, lighting every nerve. Teeth and tongue lave at your skin, no doubt bruising it with each little love bite.

“That’s it,” Jisung says, and you really start to think your human boyfriend is made of more magic than autumnal flurries. His dark eyes sparkle in the light, his mischievous smirk lighting up his handsome face. He is so giggly and sweet despite the dastardly torture of his hands and mouth.

You find yourself sinking into the sensations, eyes closed, body running on instinct.

“Felix,” Jisung says. His hand leaves your throat, sliding down your body. You realize he is spreading your pussy lips again, teasing as Felix pushes inside you. It is easy now that you have taken so many fingers, but the knowledge of what is happening, of who is fucking you, makes your breath stutter and eyes open.

“Ohh,” is the only sound you can make, watery eyes on where Felix is moving slowly in and out of you. His brow is furrowed again, that look of concentration, then he groans and all but sprawls on top of you, fucking you with messy abandon. Jisung thumps his head heavily onto the cushion, panting heavily, as if he was fucking you.

“Felix, you gotta—” Jisung says, his own face twisted up with a tortured sort of pleasure. Felix does not listen to him, still rocking his hips with a frantic unevenness. It feels good and crazy and wild, your head lolling to the side, a hum in your throat.

Jisung finds the resolve to push himself up, groaning with the effort. You watch him roughly manhandle Felix, yanking his head up to get him to concentrate. Felix’s eyes flash gold then go dark. His mouth is hanging open and his cheeks are flushed. He never stops moving.

“And you said I was impatient,” Jisung murmurs, grabbing Felix’s hips and evening out his rhythm. You suppose it stands to reason that if Jisung is the most pussy-drunk man you have ever known, than Felix would be too. Except Felix actually is magic, and everything about Jisung seems to multiply in Felix. He looks completely overcome. Then Jisung suddenly asks, “Good tears or bad?”

“Good,” Felix rasps.

“So you wanna keep going?”

“Ye-es,” Felix hiccups, then suddenly starts crying, all the messy human-ness mixing with his confusing faerie-ness, coming together in an explosive physical and emotional mania that has him burying his face in your neck and fucking you so deep and hard that your own sniffles start.

“Yes,” you say at the same time as him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Jisung touches your hand, his other still guiding Felix’s hips. Felix moans in your throat then marginally turns his head.

“Jisung,” he says. “I can’t—unless you—”

Jisung very unceremoniously shoves a hand down his pants, then looks up at you and smiles.

“Okay,” Jisung says. He moves and Felix sinks back inside you, moaning deeply, clutching you possessively. You hold him back as fiercely, blinking up at Jisung when kneels near your face. “Come on, baby,” Jisung says, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.

“Yes,” Felix says, nodding at him and at you.

You open your mouth, nodding at Jisung. His pants get tossed somewhere and he removes his shirt at the same time his dick pushes past your lips. They really do fuck with an extraordinary identicalness, perfectly matched without a word. It is easy to fall into their rhythm, not even straining. You feel like you were born to be here, between them, sharing them, sharing yourself with them.

They come at the same time, Felix with his cheek pressed to yours, Jisung with his head thrown back. They lay down on either side of you, flopping back at the same time. Felix has a completely dazed look on his face, his breath stuttering when you tuck some of his sweaty hair back. He looks at you like he is seeing you for the first time all over again.

All three of you exhale at once. The resulting giggle comes in three-way unison too.

“Wow,” Felix finally says. “It’s much more fun like this.”

“Hell yeah,” Jisung says, holding out his fist for a bump. You swat it down before Felix can return it. Jisung just laughs, snuggling up to you.

Felix also rolls onto his side. He tucks one hand under his head and touches your face with the other. You and Jisung both look at him, his faraway stare, the way a small smile unfurls on his face.

“You’re mine now,” he says. “Forever. Yeah?” It’s posed like a question but evidently it is already fact to him, or he could not say it.

“Forever and ever,” Jisung says easily, stretching out on the royal bedsheets like he has always belonged there.

Felix looks at you for an answer too, still smiling. You are not as easy as Jisung, but you try hard not to overthink.

But you remember so many stories of humans wandering in the faerie world, never seen or heard from again, the tales of their disappearances ranging from beautiful to horrifying. You think it would be impudent to think yourself different or better than them. They thought they were safe too.

The question tumbles past your lips before you can think twice:

“Your true name,” you say. “Would you still give it to me if I asked?”

He clearly does not expect the question. He blinks quickly, then his gaze darts to the side. You look there to see Jisung nodding off, already half-asleep on your shoulder. Felix is not sleeping. You look at him, wondering still about the sometimes contradictory depth of their connection.

“Aren’t you tired too?” you ask.

“A little,” he says.

You realize he didn’t answer your other question and you open your mouth to ask again. He kisses you, cupping your face, making a happy sound when you kiss him back. Jisung makes his own little happy sound, sighing on your shoulder.

“I love you,” Felix says, speaking soft and low against your lips. He strokes the side of your face. “I want you to stay with me forever.”

“You’d really tell me your true name?” you ask.

“I’d do anything for you,” he says. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Felix,” you say, about to say more when he kisses you again. He smiles so big and bright, it crinkles the corner of his eyes.

“You do,” he says. “That’s the truth. You love me like you love him.”

“It’s the same but different,” you say. “Like how you love both me and Jisung.”

He is still smiling. He kisses the corner of your mouth sweetly. “The same but different,” he says. “Yes. I understand.”

He draws you into his arms and kisses the crown of your head, sighing a happy sigh. Jisung curls up behind you, already fast asleep while Felix murmurs sweet love confessions at you until you fall asleep too, nestled tightly and safely in his arms.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix smut #han jisung smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #faerie au

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pixiesfz · 19 days

Note

we need a dad Jessie fic please 🫶🏼

I am a D.I.L.F

Dangerously In Love with Fleming

father to be j.f

plot: You and Jessie are preparing for your baby but Jessie is somehow picking up dad traits?

warnings: fluff, prime Chelsea team, little blurb

“It’s a girl”

The words were magic to your ears as you laid down on the chair, Jessie’s hand entertained with yours as she took a great look at the monitor.

You would love your baby if it was a boy or a girl but you secretly hoped it would be a girl, especially if you planned to have another kid, an older sister would be great for them.

The doctor excused herself from the room before Jessie lowered her body to hug you from behind “we’re having a baby girl” she hummed and you nodded “we’re having a baby girl”.

It was at your private home when you started decorating your daughter’s bedrooms that you noticed the signs of Jessie’s new persona.

“If anyone touches her before she’s eighteen” she grumbled, folding clothes “you touched me before I was eighteen” you smirked and the Canadian glared at you

“That’s different”

You laughed at her expression “what?” She asks “I’m just very impressed at your protectiveness over our unborn child”

The next time was when she came home from training late with target bags.

“Could you not have called to say you went shopping” you stated from the kitchen where you were cooking “sorry baby” Jessie quickly said before kissing your cheek, walking to the table before laying the bags down.

“But there was this sale on kids stuff and-“

“You went shopping for our child without me?”

Jessie’s eyes widened under her cap as she realised her small mistake “the sale was ending tonight, Pernille came as well of that helps”

You cocked your head over “that helps”.

“Okay so I got her some clothes and then I thought cause she’ll be my little princess I got her these”

You tried to ignore the horrendous Elsa dress, not bothering to tell her that Elsa was actually a queen and instead focused on her words “your little princess?”

Jessie ignored you “and then I got books aswelll, some for education and some for entertainment and then I also got little footy boots”

You stared at your wife “This baby will be waiting a couple of years before going on the field Jess” you told her sternly and she slowly nodded.

“I just got excited” she admitted and you smiled, walking towards her “I know, and I love it” you said, wrapping your arms around her “I love you”.

Then came the building of the crib, your belly had grown a lot more and Jessie refused to let you help in the build, claiming that she didn’t want any chance of harm.

“Jessie my father taught me how to use a drill” you told her from the door but she had her fists on her hips and crossed her head “no you’re not doing it” she said before grabbing the drill again.

“You’re so stubborn” you grumbled from you space “Give me twenty minutes, then I’ll start the pram”

You watched her for the next fourty minutes as she completed the crib, many YouTube videos and calls to her family helped her along the way.

But you smiled in awe at your proud girlfriend who stared at her creation, hands on her hips with her training gear still on, she was so excited to start making it as soon as she got home.

In all honesty early she reminded you of your own father and the pictures you had of him when waiting for your little siblings.

“Onto the pram” she said walking out of the room, only to see that you had already assembled it.

You had finally realised what part of the parenting trope Jessie had picked about a month before you were due when she kept checking her phone.

Jessie was not a social person, let alone a social media type person but she never told you what she was looking at.

Until she started using them on you.

them as in dad jokes…

“Hey babe, did you hear about that Actor who broke his leg, turns out he’s still in the cast”

You rolled your head back with a groan as you had heard the eighth joke that night “How many times have you told that one?” You ask, sitting down next to her.

“Erin and Adam loved it when I told it at training”

“Of course they did.”

Though throughout the traits that Jessie had picked up you still loved her more than anything in the world, you would even go out to say you learned to love her even more but you didn’t want to enlarge her ego any more.

Instead you cuddled up into her side “You’re going to be such a good mum” you told her and you felt her relax “yeah?” She asked and you nodded.

“I can’t wait.”

#woso #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso community #matildas #jessie fleming #chelsea women x reader #portland thorns

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sluttywonwoo · 9 months

Note

omg i have had such bad mingi brain rot and i figured ‘who else to go to other than mother kaili?’

that g.i mingi pic is SENDING me into thoughts of him fucking you with his hands behind his back with that shirt between his pretty teeth to showcase you those abs he knows you love so much, his pants pulled down only to his glorious thighs as his hips sink into you with ease. i think he’d release a few chuckles when you fuck yourself back onto him, but they would quickly turn into a muffled, deep whimper when ur cunt tightens around him at the sounds.

- ur old pal, all cap minghao anon

the shirt between the teeth… the hands behind his back… WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

your dress is pushed up around your hips, a pool of fabric on the mattress underneath you. it was the middle of the day, the sun was still out, but mingi just couldn’t wait.

at least that’s what he’d told you as he’d pulled your panties to the side and ate you out on his knees at the foot of your bed— unrelenting until you came all over his tongue (and nose).

he hasn’t bothered to undress himself either. he’s just fucking you with his pants pulled down under his ass. he had been kind enough, however, to lift his shirt up so that you could see his tummy. he’s got the hem of it between his teeth, holding it in place so you could watch his muscles contract with every thrust. he’s thoughtful like that.

you’re clenching around him like crazy, making him swear incoherently into the material of his shirt. it’s so hard not to cum when you’re doing that but he knows you can’t help it. you’re still all sensitive from making a mess on his face a few minutes ago, and the way he’s fucking you now is only pushing you closer and closer to that edge again.

mingi slows down for his own sake but you take it upon yourself to resume his pace on your own, desperately chasing that feeling as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“mmph- fuck, baby, wait…” mingi grunts, hands coming from behind his back to grab your knees.

“i can’t,” you whimper.

he tries holding you still but somehow you overpower him, probably because he’s splitting his focus between manhandling you and not cumming.

“you’re… you’re gonna make me cum if you don’t stop,” he protests.

“i know, it’s okay,” you pant, “i’m, fuck, i’m going to cum too.”

he sort of half chuckles and nods. “i can tell. but i didn’t want to cum yet. wanted it to last l-longer.”

mingi manages to get you to stop moving by wrapping one of his massive hands around your throat and squeezing just a little. works every time.

“could’ve fooled me with the way you didn’t even let me take my clothes off,” you quip, strained.

“that’s because i was in a rush to fuck you, not to cum. did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“maybe.”

your boyfriend scoffs, shaking his head. “you know, i was going to let you cum… but since you want to be a brat, i think you need to earn it.”

your smile falls. “wha- please no, i’m so close!”

“i know. but you should’ve thought about that before. now you just have to pray you can hold on until i think you deserve my permission.”

#WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN #answered #anon #all cap minghao anon #ateez smut #atz smut #mingi smut #song mingi smut

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zeldasnotes · 1 year

Text

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PART 24 𓇼

𓇼 Ive seen a lot of Cap Moons and Risings who are the oldest sibling in the family and a lot of Cancer Moons and Risings who are the youngest.

𓇼 Ive also seen a lot of Capricorn Suns and Moons who had to take a lot of responsibility from a young age. A lot of them started working early or had to be the caretaker of a sibling.

𓇼 Venus 10th house people are so blessed. They are well liked and people love watching them do anything. Especially anything related to beauty. They are the kind of people who have thousands of people watching them do their makeup on tiktok live.

𓇼 Cancer placements/Moon 1st housers might want to live close to their parents. My dad is a Cancer Sun and ever since he moved to his first own home he made sure to live so close to my grandma. And when we moved again he made sure my grandma moved too. I could always see my grandmas house from my window.

𓇼 Ive said it a lot of times before Venus in the 1st house in synastry is a beautiful synastry overlay, BUT its such a ”I want beef with you” placement. Remember that Aphrodite (Venus) was very vengeful and extremely jealous. Nobody was allowed to overshine her. Aphrodite was actually a goddess of war, not only sex, beauty, love and fertility.

𓇼 People with Juno(3) conjunct Sun or Ascendant are very loyal friends.

𓇼 Pluto in the 10th house/Scorpio Midheaven can be such a lonely placement because people are sooo competetive with you. You feel like you cant share your wins with anyone because people are constantly wishing for you to mess up.

𓇼 A lot of mothers with Moon aspecting Pluto can feel like they have a hard time bonding with their daughters because they never bonded with their own mother or with women in general. Taking care of and raising a ”woman” can feel hard because they never had a woman be nice to them. Same with Moon/Lilith

𓇼 How long you stay angry at someone got a lot to do with your own placements BUT it also got a lot to do with the other persons placement. People with Venus conjunct Mars can do anything and people still have a hard time being mad at them because they have this natural likeability and charm. You cant stay mad at them. People with harsh Pluto aspects have a deep and longlasting effect on people which can make people less likely to get over what they did. People also think that Plutonians do things on purpose when they dont. People are less likely to forgive a Plutonian.

𓇼 Also when a Plutonian does something hurtful people will think they planned it. Plutonians are seen as calculating. People will be like ”oh he probably planned this for years” while when a Venusian does the same thing people will be like ”oh it was probably a mistake, she didnt mean it”. Anyways my advice for Plutonians dont try to make people see the good in you, give them a reason to hate instead. Be the bad bitch they project onto you😎 This is also why so many Plutonians grow up becoming very nasty and bitter because this was projected onto them which lead to them being outcasted, bullied, not welcomed, scapegoated etc.

𓇼 Plutonians be acting so funny. The kind of person to stare at someone and not moving their head only moving their eyes, thinking nobody will see them staring.

𓇼 People with Ceres(1) in the 1st house or conjunct Sun look better without makeup than with it. Same with a lot of Virgo placements. Ive seen it so many times.

𓇼 People with Neptune in the 1st house have this vulnerability to their appearance. They can look concerned or worried. They act like Claire Richards in the movie White Oleander.

𓇼 Fire signs are so good at working in the service industry, especially restaurants. Because they work fast and are social. They are also good at coming up with witty comebacks towards rude customers.

𓇼 To my Mercury/Pluto people please protect yourself. Dont be too nosy because you will see and hear things that will hurt you. You have an obsessive need to find out the truth and go deep into any situation. Sometimes its better to just leave it. Sometimes its better to not go on your ex social media profile, or make that call to ask that question. Sometimes its okay to close your eyes to protect your heart. (NOT close your eyes completely and start dreaming like the neptunians tho)

𓇼 Having your 12th house ruler in the 1st house can be a very hard placement to have because you will have less energy than others. Some of these people cant handle working a full time job. Others view them as lazy but its not their fault. These people should never work in the service industry because bumping into that many people can be too much for them since they absorb peoples energies.

FIXED STARS 𓇼

Fixed star Mirach 0° Taurus is the star of the artist. Having a personal planet conjunct This star makes you extremely artistic which will be seen in the way you dress.

Fixed Star Denebola 21° Virgo conjunct Sun or Ascendant gives a strong desire to rebel against what society says to be normal

28° Gemini Fixed star Betelgeuse makes someone very argumentative and witty with a quick mind. If its conjunct Mars it can make the person someone who looks for argumentations with others.

If you have Fixed star Antares (9° Sagittarius) in conjunction with a personal planet you have to be careful with becoming to obsessed.

The description of this Fixed star says ”Obsession leads to a downfall.”

Fixed star Izar 28° Libra conjunct personal planets makes sometimes very interested in the interested in the occult, the taboo and serious subjects.

Fixed Star Facies 8° Capricorn conjunct Ascendant gives a person a probing and intense stare. There have a lot of psychological insights into others. Very strategic and vindictive.

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #ascendant #lilith aspects #birth chart readings

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bwabys-scenarios · 6 months

Note

uvogin hcs? 🙏🏻

sfw or nsfw i’ll take even a crumb😓

Uvogin SFW/NSFW HCs

!!REPOSTS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: breeding, oral(fem!receiving), face sitting, he likes your natural scent, cockwarming, overstimulation, overstimulation

A/N: I may do a part 2 to this later on!!

SFW

-he doesn’t give a fuck whether you’re in public or not, you’re getting all his love and affection. he’s also one of the few phantom troupe members that will show his love for you in front of his fellow spiders without shame. you sit in his lap during meetings!

-he’s very gentle with you. those big hands of his that are usually used to crush his opponents and intimidate others, is also used to cup your cheek and wipe away your tears when you’re sad.

-he genuinely loves you. Uvogin has had many partners, but you are the first one he’s truly loved. he’s even had thoughts of buying a home to come back to where you’ll be safe. he’s not retiring from his thieving days any time soon, but the troupe has noticed he’s been more careful to come home to you safe

-his love for you was no secret, when he realized he liked you, he began flirting with you nonstop. he’s got a way with his words that had you blushing and it didn’t take long for you to fall for him too

-he will steal you anything you want. he even brings back money for you, even though he doesn’t like using it himself, he’d rather you not have a job where you could get hurt, so he provides for you

-surprisingly romantic, in his own way! you may not get store bought flowers and chocolates, but he’ll bring home wild flowers and cook you a nice stew(it’s the only thing he can really cook, but he’s damn good at it!)

-he goes crazy when you wear his clothes. it doesn’t matter what size you are, uvogin is huge so his cloths will be big on you!!

-enjoys watching movies with you on his lap and his hand gripping your thigh. laughs really loud at jokes, his chest rumbling. you sometimes fall off when he starts slapping his leg, causing the couch to shake. “oh, sorry princess. you alright?”

-he really would like a cute little housewife!! wear an apron and bake him little treats to snack on when he gets home and he’s putty in your hands

-gives really good massages, he barely has to try, his big strong hands soothe all of your sore muscles easily

-wants to be a dad someday. it’ll take a bit for him to finally accept that side of himself, but when he does, he’s ready to make you a mommy!!

NSFW

-he’s fucking huge, 9-10 inches and GIRTHY. it will take a lot of prep to take him

-he’s completely fine with that though, taking his time stretching you out on his fingers and capping at you’re clit until you’re nice and wet for him

-this man has a breeding kink, even before he realizes he wants to be a dad… he almost always cums inside, and it’s a LOT! you’ll feel very full after, and sometimes you’ll have the cutest bulge in your tummy that he loves to caress!!

-he’s very experienced, so if you aren’t don’t worry, he’ll guide you through everything! he’s surprisingly gentle and attentive, paying attention to each movement and noise you make to ensure the experience is an enjoyable as possible!

-he loves having you cockwarm him, watching you squirm and struggle to fit all of him inside your tight cunt. he’ll gentle rub your clit, making you cum around him over and over again.

-overstimulates you like crazy. he’ll have his big hands holding your thighs in place as he laps at your cunt, his big tongue fucking into you

-this man NEEDS you to sit on his face. he can take it, it doesn’t matter how big you are, he needs you to put all of your weight on him and let him tongue fuck you!!

-he’s definitely into worshiping your body. tells you how beautiful you are, how much he wants to fuck into you until you’re a mess

-he’ll hold your chin and force you to look into his eyes while he pounds into you!! “look at how good I’m making you feel, princess. making such a mess all over my cock…”

-he’s got a thing for your natural scent. goes absolutely crazy when you get done doing something that makes you all sweaty. he’s sniffing at the crook of your neck, groaning. “fuck princess, you smell so good…” this always turns into absolutely FILTHY sex

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Blurred Lines 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: some more Nicky for the girlies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Back to usual.

You say goodbye to Joey with an especially clingy hug. She’ll be gone back to campus by the time you get home. Her short visits always leave you a bit sad.

You arrive at Nick’s place and let yourself in. The remnants of the prior day’s get together are still littered over the dining room table and throughout the front room. There’s more in the kitchen.

You gather the empty glasses and a few bottles with varying amounts of liquid still inside. You scrape plates into the pin and sweep napkins in after them. You fill the sink with warm soapy water to wash it all when you hear the soft but clumsy pad of feet on the stairs. They’re too light to be Nick.

You have the coffee brewing in anticipation of your boss’ hangover. The aroma wafts into the air as the machine clicks. A figure appears in the doorway and you turn to greet the woman in her sleek but wrinkled dress. This isn’t unexpected either.

“Good morning,” you greet her stunned eyes as she blanches.

“Um, I’m sorry, I was only–”

“Coffee?” You offer her as you open the cupboard, “look like you need it.”

“N-no, I… should go. Is there a Starbucks around here?” She croaks.

“No need, I can do lattes,” you offer, “he’s got this ridiculously expensive machine.”

“Er,” she looks down at the heels dangling from her hand then back to you, “sorry, are you… do you live…”

“I work for Mr. Fowler. Just the maid,” you assure her. Her assumption fills your chest with an unspent laugh. You’re far too old for Nick. Besides, the concept is ridiculous.

“Oh…” her single syllable dangles.

You pour her a cup and turn to offer it to her. Her mouth slants in a guilty smile. She shambles forward and accepts the mug.

“You take sugar, cream? Maybe some Advil?” You suggest.

“Oat milk? And yes please, my head is pounding.”

“Right, he has almond milk,” you open another cupboard and pluck out the ibuprofen, “or whole milk.”

“Almond is fine,” she accepts as you rattle the bottle.

“One or two, hon,” you ask as you approach her again.

“Two, please,” she inhales the scent of the coffee and sighs, rubbing her eye socket before extending her hand to take the tablet, “the whole bottle if I could.”

“Ugh, yeah, I don’t miss those days,” you hum and cap the bottle.

You put it away and go into the large fridge, taking out the carton of almond milk for the woman. You take it to her as she approaches the island to clink down the coffee. You watch as she adds the milk and takes a slender spoon from you to stir it in. She takes her first sip and moans before tossing back the pills.

“Coffee good?” You prompt proudly.

“Oh, yeah,” she looks up at you, “yeah, it’s great.”

“Took me a while to master the beast,” you point to the machine. “I finally got my ristretto down, too.”

She gives a nervous laugh and gulps again, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, “you’re nice… really nice. Why?”

You blink at her question. It makes you wonder, was Nick not nice? That’s not really any of your concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug and turn to the full sink, “you’re a guest.” You plunge your hands in and scrub the porcelain, “plus, you kinda remind me of my daughter. I’d like someone to treat her nicely too.”

“Ah,” she accepts, “that’s really sweet.”

“It’s human, I hope,” you open up the dishwasher to slide in each plate.

“You really… didn’t have to make me coffee,” she murmurs.

You peek over at her as she stares into the depths. She seems sad but that might just be the hangover. You continue your work as you reply.

“It was already on. If you’re hungry–”

“Please, no, that’s okay,” she declines with a wave, “I think… I think I’ll just finish this and get an uber. Maybe go call my mom.”

“Well, you let me know if you need anything before you go,” you chime as you hook glasses into the top rack of the dishwasher.

You finish the dishes and grab a damp cloth to go wipe the table down. You stop by a few other surfaces to clear away rings from the finish and return to the kitchen. As you enter from the dining room, Nick appears in the other.

The woman faces him as she grabs her shoes, “hi.”

He growls and lumbers over to the coffee machine. He sees the mug waiting for him and peers into its empty body. You clutch the cloth in your hand as you watch his naked back tense. He wears nothing more than a pair of briefs. At most, you’ve seen him shirtless when he needs some stitches.

“More coffee?” You offer the woman.

“No, I should go,” she peeks at him nervously.

“Alright, well, you take care,” you bid her and take her cup.

“Thanks,” she says and skulks to the door, “bye, Nick.”

“Mmm,” he flicks his fingers at her as he pours himself a cup.

You narrow your eyes at his shoulder blades. That wasn’t very polite. Well, it isn’t your job to be his mother, even if it feels like it sometimes.

You put the almond milk away as he turns to lean in the corner of the counter. He presses the porcelain to his forehead and groans. You shake out the cloth over the sink and rinse it out.

“You have a daughter,” he states plainly. A question but not really.

“I do,” you answer evenly.

“I didn’t know that,” he says.

You shrug, “guess it never came up.”

"You’ve worked for me for three years…” he mutters.

“You never asked,” you say lightly, “it’s fine.”

He lowers the cup and slurps loudly. He swishes the coffee around before he swallows thickly.

“Your husband okay with you working twelves?”

You chuckle, “sir, really, it’s fine.”

His curiosity is not usual. You stick to the expected, the manageable. You don’t stray outside the lines. You’re friendly but you’re not overfamiliar. He always seemed to prefer that. He enjoyed talking about himself far more.

“You were busy yesterday,” he shifts his weight to one foot, his muscled chest rippling.

“I suppose as busy as you,” you roll in the racks of the dishwasher and add soap before closing it up.

“I… interrupted your plans?”

“Sir, it’s fine, I had a good day off and now I’m back,” you insist, “are there any other messes I need to worry about?”

He tilts his head and exhales deeply. His cheek dimples as he considers you. The cut on his head is exposed but not as bad as it was, though the bruise under his eyes has only gotten darker.

He scoffs as a smirk slants his lips, “sure. You could change my bed sheets.”

“Sure,” you accept breezily, repressing the glimmer of concern at the base of your skull.

Something about his response seems trite, as if he means to insult you. You’re an adult, you’re less than shocked at his after hours play. By now, you’re quite used to it. He’s in his prime, he’s well off, and he’s handsome by anyone’s measure.

“You could try some witch hazel,” you touch your cheek then point at his, “for the bruising.”

“I can handle it,” he retorts and pushes himself away from the counter, “enough chattering. Get to work.”

🥃

You knock on the office door and wait for an answer. The little device you keep clipped to your belt is still buzzing with Nick’s demand. He calls to you from within and you enter.

“Sir?” You greet him.

“What took you so long?” He growls.

He’s in a foul mood. He has been all day. He can be gruff, you’re used to that, but today, he just seems prickly. His romp must not have been much fun. Come to think of it, his partner had been all too eager to flee.

You shake away the intrusive thoughts and clear your throat, “I was in the laundry room. Sorry.”

“My head is pounding,” he rubs his temples.

“Right, sir, I’ll bring you Advil and some water–”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” he snarls.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure I’m a lot older than your daughter, so cut it out.”

“I wasn’t– sir, I’m sorry.”

“Go, get the pills,” he shoos you, “and call Rhonda.”

You nod and leave him. Wow. You don’t think he’s ever spoken to you like that. The mention of Joey also puts you off. Why is he so concerned? Most people could look at you and assume you have a kid or too. At your age, with your hips…

You go downstairs to retrieve the Advil and a tall glass of water. You climb back upstairs and follow the airy hall down to your office. As you enter, he sits with his head in his hands, his elbows on the desk. You don’t say a word as you set down the glass and pills.

He doesn’t move. You back away slowly and pull out your cell phone. You’ll call the masseuse, she should be able to work out the tension.

As you get to the door, he growls and his chair squeaks.

“You said something, about witch hazel,” he snarls.

“Uh, yes,” you face him, “it’ll take down the bruising.”

He narrows his eyes, the gesture tweaking his swollen cheek. Even battered, he isn’t unattractive. And the woman in his kitchen was just as gorgeous. So you find it hard to fathom why he’s in such a mood.

“Would you like me to get it for you, sir?” You ask, trying not to sound too pandering.

“Sure, whatever.”

You sweep away and go down the hall to the cabinet. You keep everything stocked well. Part of your job is inventory. You’ll have to go through the liquor bottles later and see what needs replenishing too.

You return to him with the witch hazel and a bag of cotton balls. You place them on his desk as he leans his head against the chairback, his eyes closed. You step back on your heel and his eyes pop open.

“Would you mind?” He motions to his face.

“Sure,” you take the cotton balls and pull one out.

You uncap the dark bottle and dampen the cotton with the liquid. His eyes close again as you sidle closer and you dab gently along his cheek. He flinches, just once, then stills. It must be cold.

His eyes flick open again and startle you as you retract your touch. Awkwardly, you move away and gather up the bottle and bag of cotton balls. He’s quiet as he leans forward to grab the bottle of pills.

“I should’ve guessed,” he says as he shakes two tablets out, “that’s what I do. I read people. You’re a mother, for sure. She’s older, isn’t she? College? You had her young–”

“Sir,” you sniff, uncomfortable.

“Just the one. And you didn’t answer me when I talked about your husband so he must be out of the picture. Divorced. About the time you came around here, huh? You need the job after the messy break up,” he suggests as he wags his finger with a knowing grin, “probably another woman, huh?”

You blink. You’ll let him think what he wants. His opinion of your marriage isn’t important. It won’t do to correct him anyway. He doesn’t really seem to care, he just wants to wound. You just can’t figure out what you’ve done to deserve it.

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #blurred lines #the 355

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disasterofastory · 7 months

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Like a father (Arthur Shelby x Reader)

Like a father Arthur Shelby x sister!Reader Warnings: none

Summary: You have a favor to ask Arthur.

The church is quiet and cold. The bench under you is smooth as you press your palms against the wooden surface. Your nails dig into it absently. You don't even notice the motion. Your mind is busy with other things. The altar at the back is old and unkept but still pretty and good enough for next week. Nobody cares about the well-being of an old building in Birmingham, even if it's a church. People here have their own problems. The cross on the wall is tall and sturdy. Jesus looks down on you. Candles burn at his feet.

The door of the building opens and closes with a loud creak and a thud. Your head snaps back over your shoulder. Arthur's tall and lean form gets closer and closer with each step. His eyes seem grey in the dim lights. A few strands of his hair fall out of place as he takes off his cap to place it on his knee when he sits down next to you. "Finn told me you want to talk," he speaks up, breaking the silence. His voice echoes and vibrates. "Are you alright?" "Yeah," you reply. "I'm fine." "Then?" He asks, watching you closely. "You soon-to-be-husband? Do you want me to take care of him?" You can't help but laugh. "No," you smirk, putting your hand on Arthur's to squeeze it. His long fingers curl around yours. "He is still fine." "Good," he grunts. "I want to ask you something," you start with a deep breath. "And I hope you will say yes." The frown that is always on his face deepens. "What is it, Y/N?" "You know I don't even know our father," you tell your brother, who nods in answer. You met him only once when you were little. He was strange and scary. You know he tricked Arthur and made you detest him more. "And my wedding is getting closer." Arthur nods again. "And I want you to walk me down the aisle." The silence that follows your words seems loud. Your brother stares at you, mute and shocked. "Me?" He croaks. "You want me?" A light smile pulls on your lips. "Yes. If you accept it." "But why me?" He asks. "I thought you would ask Tommy to do it." "All of you did what you could to make up for father," you explain. You and Finn were only children when you found yourselves without parents. Polly and Ada did everything to fill the role of a mother even though it was none of their responsibility. And the boys, fucked up because of the war and driven by the need to provide for the family, tried to give you some fatherly figure while the real one was who-knows-where. Tommy was the one who always decided and took care of the things he found important. John was the funny one. He gave you sweets, bought you everything you wanted, and spoiled you rotten. But Arthur? Arthur was your safety net. "I'm grateful for everything the others did for Finn and me," you continue. "But I always thought you were the closest someone can call a father. You were the one who always stayed up when I couldn't sleep or when I was sick. You walked me to school on my first day. You gave me a lecture about boys even though I saw how uncomfortable you were." Arthur still blushes when he thinks back at the conversation. "I didn't want you to get hurt." "I know," you smile at him. Your free hand lands on his arm. "I know Tommy did things how he thought was best, and John did too, but you... You were... there, you know?" "I know," Arthur sniffs, making you choke on your own tears too. "Don't cry," you smile at him, cupping his cheek. His skin is warm under your touch. "So, will you do it? Will you give me away?" "Of course," he says, grabbing your hand to kiss your palm. "Of course, I will do it. And if he ever dares to hurt you..." "I know," you nod, still smiling. "You will be there." "Always."

#arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 14 days

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Bad First Impression

dealer! reader x first time stoner! Choso SMUT, 18+ MDNI

Choso makes a really bad first impression on you after catching you selling to his younger brother. When he finally apologizes, he reveals he has never gotten high. You two change that. and then....ya know....

8.9k words of pure filth. I wrote this because I was horny and high and reminiscing about my dealing days. support your local drug dealer. Enjoy. ao3

content warnings- SEX, drug use, subby choso, kind of in charge reader, choso has a tongue piercing because i made it up, riding, eating pussy, a lot of talk about spit, like a lot, also a lot of talking about smell, again its nasty (im kind of on my high horse about weed, sorry, )

You met Choso a few weeks back. The air was hot and thick inside of the long ranch house. Bodies packed together, music blaring, lights of all colors and strobe speeds dancing through the space. You had been invited by the party's hosts to help “supply” the partiers with anything and everything that could keep them going all night. You didn’t deal in anything that hard, mostly weed, mushrooms, you could get acid easily if it were requested of you, occasionally you helped distribute the stray gram or two of coke for nights like this. But you tried to cap your work in hard drugs there. That night you were only holding ten or so pre rolls, and a quarter of unground flower, ready to help any first timers learn the process of smoking all the way from the beginning. You had already sold the single gram of coke you had been asked to bring with you, mostly to the wilder of the pair, who was currently grinding so hard with his boyfriend, the other host, that you were beginning to worry they’d lose their clothes soon. A few other lines had gone out earlier in the night, their users sweating away on the dance floor in front of you. You didn’t partake yourself, but you enjoyed seeing the results of your labor in their smiling, energized faces.

You kept to the side for now, sipping a warm light beer out of a flimsy solo cup. A hand tapped your shoulder and you turned to face a fresh faced girl with a cute auburn bob.

“Hey you’re the …..dealer….?” She kept her voice low when she uttered the street name of your profession

You matched her hushed whisper, “yeah. But you don’t have to whisper. Everyone here is already pretty fucked up. Anyone undercover would certainly have incriminated themselves.”

You were intending to make her laugh and put her at ease but she looked a bit panicked, smiling wryly with big wild eyes.

“I’m joking, babe.” You smiled at her, “what do you need?”

She giggled a bit, exhaling her anxiety, “I was hoping you had some more pre rolls for my friends and I?”

She gestured behind her to a pink haired guy and a taller black haired guy standing off to the side. The two of them were watching her nervously, but trying to remain cool, turning away quickly when you looked, one of them even whistling to convey his faux nonchalance. These kids are freshmen for sure.

“Sure.”, you nodded at her friends and at her before opening your bag and pulling the jar of pre rolls you kept sealed, for maximum freshness.

You picked through them briefly, “how many do y’all want? Are you guys pretty heavy smokers or still getting the hang of it?”

“We’ll-uh— I guess just whatever you smoke? I’m sure that’s good.” She shrugged, clueless.

No chance they could take what you take.

You pulled two of your lowest level strains. These kids were for sure just figuring out what they liked and you didn’t want them greening out in the middle of the party. Both because you had your own memories of over serving yourself and spending the subsequent eighteen hours truly and utterly miserable and you didn’t want to potentially cheat yourself out of three eager new customers.

“Why don’t you start with this, I’ll give you the second one as a freebie for your first time. it’s Zelato, mid strength hybrid strain, you won’t be too up but you won’t be couch-locked either. I think you guys will like it. If you do, you come back and see me, okay?”, you offered her the two pretty pink pre rolls along with your contact info and she gave you a clean crisp bill in exchange before fluttering back to her friends.

You watched the trio excitedly hurry out to the backyard, like kids on Christmas wanting to play with a shiny new toy fresh out of the box. You liked the job, you enjoyed gathering more and more knowledge about strains and terpenes and sharing what you had learned with your customers. Patients felt like a better term, but it also felt a bit self congratulatory. But it felt true, you loved how natural weed was, it made you feel more like a botanist or a healer than a pharmacist. Still helping people manage anxiety, pain, depression, or just to have a fun night and relax, but without all the side effects and the regulation.

You hoped she and her friends would call on you again. They seemed nice and like they could use someone like you. Especially if they were already experimenting with drugs and partying, it helps to have a dealer you can trust. One that isn’t just wanting to make money, but wanting to educate as well.

You were considering heading outside to smoke a joint of your own, a treat after a job well done. You would probably bail soon, the party seemed to be declining from its apex, and soon your services would no longer be needed. Before you could turn to head to the back yard you felt a strong hand clap around your shoulder. This was so different from the timid shoulder tap of your earlier customer, it almost made you laugh. You didn’t laugh, however, at the grip that stayed on your shoulder, pale knuckles clasped tight around your bone.

You followed the hand up the arm and finally turned to face your assailant. Dark, angry eyes ringed with smudgy purple eyeshadow met yours. A large black bar was tattooed across the bridge of his nose, in the dim, colored party lights you thought it almost looked red. His dark hair was messily tied up in two knots on either side of his head, you thought you could see piercings up along the sides of his ears and he was irate, staring right into your eyes, his lips were moving but you were so stunned and the music was already so loud, you couldn’t hear what he said. You found yourself opting to watch his mouth move for a moment, admiring the fullness of his lips, and the wicked snarl they held.

He was hot. Like really hot. But who the fuck did he think he was grabbing you like this?

You came back to your senses and smacked at his wrist, “back off, dude.”

“Did you sell drugs to my little brother?” He repeated, and this time you heard him. His voice was rough and low, he didn’t release your arm, instead gripping tighter.

“I don’t know who your brother is, I don’t know who you are. Get your fucking hand off of me, asshole.” You gripped his wrist tight and tried to pull it from you. Your touch was like nothing to him, this guy was strong.

He didn’t let up, gesturing behind him with his other hand to the pink haired boy from earlier, red faced with embarrassment,“The fucking kid that you sold drugs to. He’s not even twenty and you’re trying to dope him up?”

“Dope him up? What are you, ninety? Get the fuck off of me” Finally you pulled his hand off of you and pushed him back, hard.

“He’s still a kid, he doesn’t need your shit. Stay away from him.”

He had stepped too far by insulting your craft.

“I never even spoke to your brother, his friend is the one who bought it. Take it up with them if you have a fucking problem.”

The boy, the brother you now knew, and his two friends rushed up, trying to deescalate the quickly rising situation. People around you were starting to take notice.

“Choso, come on relax, we were just experimenting a little. It’s not anything crazy! Everyone smokes weed in college!” Little Brother tried to laugh off the stakes of the situation but his trembling voice betrayed him.

The man in front of you hadn’t stopped glaring at you, he seemed to be calming down a bit, but you could practically hear his blood boiling.

“Yuji, I told you not to come here. You’re here to study, not to mess around and get high.” He barked at his younger brother, who seemed to crumple lightly.

You were seeing an opportunity for a somewhat graceful exit so you started to withdraw, “sounds like this is a family affair, so I’m gonna head. Fuck you, don’t grab random women you don’t know. Kid, your friend has my card if your cop brother decides to let up.”

With your last comment you glared back at the older brother, before turning and leaving the party, Choso seething in your wake, anger now directed at the trio instead of you.

You figured that would be the end of it. That asshole ruining your night and probably never getting another sale out of those three. It was a week later that you got a message from the girl, Nobara, who you had spoken to. She wanted to buy again and you set up a date with her to come by your place and pick up from you. She seemed apologetic in her texts, but you couldn’t blame the girl, you were just thankful she reached out again.

It wasn’t until you opened the door that you realized why she had sounded so sorry. Swinging open your front door you were met with the same asshole who had been bouncing around in your mind making you furious again and again, it was a set up.

“Fuck off.” You slammed the door in his face, locking it loudly.

He knocked before speaking through the thick wood of the door, “I’m here to apologize.”

Yeah, right.

“Don’t care. You can go.” You were already retreating from the door, pissed that not only did you have to see this clown again, but you wouldn’t be getting the money from the deal you had lined up.

“Please let me apologize. I was way out of line. Yuji asked me to come here. Yuji’s my brother, from the party, please I want to apologize.” His voice came muffled from the other side of the thick wooden front door.

He sounded…..desperate. Embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. It wasn’t okay that he grabbed you, yelling at you without even knowing what had happened, but you couldn’t help but think he sounded genuine.

Kicking yourself already, you unlocked the door and opened it. He looked pitiful; big, brown eyes that once were so angry, now turned down giving him the look of a hurt dog. You could see now, in the light, that he had dark bags under his eyes as well, he looked like he had barely slept. His hair was down instead of pulled up like the other night, it hung in loose waves, stopping right at his shoulders. The black tattoo across his face was somehow less threatening, it looked almost like a bandage. The makeup from the other night was present again but softer somehow. You should have been so mad, you should have yelled at him for putting his hands on you and demeaning your work. But seeing him like this, you couldn’t help feeling bad for him. You opened the door and he looked down at you. He was taller than you remembered, a head or so above you. You met his eyeline and leaned against your door frame, crossing your arms in an attempt to maintain your cold demeanor despite how quickly you were forgetting why you had been angry.

“I never went to college.” He blurted, your face must have betrayed your confusion because he elaborated, “I don’t really know how it’s supposed to work. I guess drugs and parties and whatever are part of it. I overreacted. I want to make sure Yuji has a future and a good one, he was the one who deserved to go to college and I didn’t want him to mess up his chance. But that’s not fair. He deserves to have the full experience and I can take that from him.” He huffed out the last part quickly.

You raised your eyebrows. His admission was wandering and full of half offerings that you could piece together to create a clear-ish picture of an older brother pushing his younger brother to try his best and remain undistracted. You could empathize with that, but it doesn’t give him a pass to put his hands on you.

“I told him not to go to that party, I know the guys who were throwing it and I don’t want them taking advantage of him. Yuji’s a really great kid and he’ll go out of his way for pretty much anyone, and I didn’t want to see him get involved with people who don’t care about him. So I went to the party to bring him home, but when I saw him and his friends smoking I figured they had already started working him over and I took it out of you instead of them. I should never have grabbed you like that, or spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.” The words spilled out of him like a boiling over pot, fast and bubbly, quickly falling back to a simmer once out.

Choso looked lighter, still hanging on anxiously at the prospect of forgiveness, but lighter after bearing part of his soul to you. His hands that had been clenched into fists at his sides now hung freely, shoulders dropping slightly with less tension pinning them back. You felt lighter too, clearly the other night had been a misstep, and he obviously felt terrible.

Now that you felt saited in your week old anger, you could finally allow yourself to acknowledge how hot he was. Your anger towards being harassed had distorted your memory of him, he was tall and toned. You would have guessed he was a swimmer or did some kind of daily work that kept him in such incredible shape. The T-shirt hanging loosely over him was cropped enough to end right at his hips, a small sliver of skin peeking out underneath. He wore a simple pair of dark jeans and boots, nearly identical to what he had been wearing at the party. In the daylight you could see he did have a few piercings in each ear, hoops through his earlobes, silver barbells riddling asymmetrically along each ear's cartilage. His nose was strong and structured, lips full and pouted. You had never seen a tattoo like his before, obstructive and obvious right across the bridge of his nose, pure blackout work.

God that had to hurt.

“Why didn’t you go to college?” You pried, resting the top of your head on the doorframe as you looked up at him.

He looked surprised but shrugged, tucking his hands into his pants pockets, “Families are….complicated, I guess. When our parents died, I wanted to be there to look out for Yuji. He was always special, if either of us deserved to have an education, he would have been the one to do something with it.”

You couldn’t help but feel moved. This guy had quite the sob story, dead parents, a younger brother he was the caretaker of, it was noble for him to have sacrificed his own aspirations to support those of his brother. You admired it. A silence settled in between the two of you, wind rustled the trees outside of your house, you could see the chill set over Choso, he had turned his gaze to the ground, jaw set, hands still in his pockets.

“You want to come inside?” You opened the door more, allowing him to see inside.

He cocked his head a bit at you. You couldn’t blame him, you had told him to fuck off the moment he got here, and now you were inviting him inside. Still confused he nodded finally and you moved aside to let him in. He stepped in tentatively, as he passed you you could smell something metallic and organic, like wood stain or metal grease. He stood awkwardly in front of your door as you closed it.

“The smell is kind of…intense in here.” He cleared his throat.

“Right, I’ve gone a little nose blind to it. I hope it doesn’t bother you too much. Would you like anything? Water, coffee, I don’t know if you like tea. I have some beer or something like that if you’re feeling like drinking at 2pm.” You offered, realizing you didn’t actually know why you had invited him inside. Sure, he had looked cold but really you didn’t want him to leave yet.

“Coffee, if you have it.” He perked up a bit.

“Always.” You walked over to your small kitchenette.

You lived in a one bedroom. It really should have been considered a studio, but technically your bedroom did have a door. The living area, entryway, and kitchen were basically all one large room. You had a brown couch along the wall next to the door facing the tv, an afghan blanket draped over the back, a low coffee table in the middle covered in various hobbies of yours: books, your bong, half done crafts. A two chair dining set sat mostly unused against the far window across from the front door, you never sat there unless you were working, you took nearly all your meals in front of the tv. A bad habit you knew you should avoid, but just couldn’t bring yourself to break.

Your bedroom was off to the left, with the bathroom attached behind the door. It was a pain to have guests over, knowing they would have to walk through your bedroom in order to use the restroom. But it was a good incentive to keep your room tidy! You were suddenly thankful your anger had fired you up to do some cleaning this week, grumbling to yourself while folding laundry, “another thing-s” and “if he fucking tries again-s” leaving you as your scrubbed the bathroom and made your bed.

Choso was still standing, watching you, hands in his pockets.

“You can sit down if you like,” you nodded towards the couch, pulling two mugs down from where they hung above your sink.

You heard the sounds of his clothes rustling, some jewelry jingling, and the creek of your old couch adjusting to new weight. You tried to stay focused on pouring the coffee, pulling some sugar packets from a small drawer beside your coffee maker.

“Black is fine for me.” He piped up from the couch, he was sitting so stiffly, hands folded in his lap, back straight, thighs rigid as if just his presence would break something.

You dressed your coffee how you liked and grabbed his black cup and brought them over to the coffee table, sitting next to him. You sipped your coffee, watching him take his time doing the same.

“So if you didn’t go to college…” you started carefully, “how do you know Geto and Gojo?”

“Geto and I used to work together. Before he went back to school. He’s not a bad guy, neither of them are.” Choso held his mug close to his lips, he was being so honest, you got the sense he struggled with hiding his feelings. Hence the temper.

“Earlier, when I said I didn’t want Yuji around them. It’s not about them. They’re fine guys. I just don’t want Yuji getting distracted.” His voice was even and firm, he really did sound like someone’s parent.

“I get that. Those two…they’re kind of their own breed. I know what you mean.” You leaned back a little on the couch, letting one leg cross over the other.

Gojo and Geto were intense, and they had a reputation for throwing wild parties and nearly getting kicked out every year. You let the camaraderie of shared secrets hang between the two of you before pressing further.

“So I take it you and Yuji had a talk about casual drug use?” You couldn’t help but smirk a little, taking a mental tally of the bong on the table, the joints rolled and packaged on your dining table, the bag of flower tucked beside your tv.

Choso let out a strangled laugh, clearly an unfamiliar sound for him, “yeah he uh…he kinda let me have it. I know I made an ass of myself, but I didn’t realize how much I had embarrassed him.”

You joined his laugh thinking of the smiley, awkward kid laying into his much more intense older brother.

Choso turned his body toward you, “look, it’s not you. It’s not even the drugs. I just don’t want him losing himself to anything before he has the chance to figure out who he is and what he wants. I don’t want him stuck with something when he’s just barely starting his life.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you. Quickly it progressed to a fit of laughter. Choso was not laughing, he was watching you laugh at him. Something serious that he had shared with you, a real fear and concern of his that you were now cackling at. You could see the hurt in his face start to give way to anger again, and you came down from your fit.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I get what you’re saying, but don’t you think you’re kind of overreacting. It’s just weed, he’s not shooting up in alleyways. He’s not dedicating his life to anything, he’s just relaxing and having a little fun with his friends.”

“It’s my job to make sure he stays focused and I don’t see how smoking is going to help him.” He crossed his arms, starting to get agitated.

“Seriously? A little weed, a big cup of coffee, and you feel like you could knock out all the work you’ve been putting off for weeks. It can help you get rid of all that noise in your head that makes little tasks feel big and scary. You know what I mean?” You were a little on your soapbox now, but when he shook his head silently it dawned on you.

“You’ve never tried it?” You marveled at him. He had to be 26 or 27, and he hadn’t tried it once?

He shrugged again, “I don't really have a lot of free time, I guess?”

You gasped happily, suddenly all the anger was erased under a new beautiful light of discovery.

“Choso, you have to try it. If anyone needs it, it’s you. All that responsibility, you’ve got to be stressed out, give yourself an hour or two to get away from it. You’ll love it.” You had moved onto your knees now, energy shooting up your body.

“I don’t know…”He was smiling despite himself, hesitation in his voice but excitement leading the charge.

“ If you try it, and really try it, right now and afterwards tell me you hate it, we can forget all about this and we’ll be square and I won’t sell to Yuji and his friends anymore.” You offered already thinking about whether a joint or glass would be better for him, “but if I’m right and you like it, I get a new customer and you get completely forgiven for the other night.”

Choso looked into your winde, eager eyes and felt his reservations melt, how could he say no.

“Okay. Just a little.” He agreed, finally cracking a smile onto that stern, beautiful face.

An hour later, one coughing fit from him attempting to use a bong, and half of a joint later, you and Choso sat side by side on your couch beautifully high. Smoke hung thick in the room, his head was leaned back against the back of your couch, his ropey neck on full display, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed again and again trying to wet his dry mouth.

You rested your head on your wrist, watching him grapple with the high for the first time. You had turned some music on, something low and vibey, just to keep up the ambience and avoid any paranoia brought on by old house noises or -god forbid- silence itself.

“Did you want some more water?” You offered, gesturing to his mostly full cup that he had kept forgetting about.

He sat up slowly, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Leaning forward, he grabbed the cup and drank it down furiously, wayward droplets spilling out of the sides of his mouth. You watched closely as the little stream of water slipped between his lips, down the side of his chin, across the cut of his jaw, and down the column of his throat, passing the chain he wore and trailing underneath the neckline of his t-shirt. Your mind raced before you could catch it, you imagined how it would feel to slide your tongue up its wake, the cool water contrasting against his hot, flushed skin.

Quickly blinking away the fantasy, you saw he was looking back at you. He had been watching you, his dark brown eyes moving all over your face in an unreadable expression.

Could he read your mind? Could he tell how you had been imagining him?

He finally blinked and looked away, drawing in a breath and leaning forward to place the glass back on the coffee table, “Sorry.”

Before you could brush away the apology he continued.

“So how long have you been…..doing this?” he settled back down against the couch, the weed soothing any lingering nerves.

“A couple years, it's a good way to keep myself in school and avoid any debt. Plus you get to make your own hours, it's flexible.” You shrugged, “and, I don't know, I guess I like that it helps people. To have fun and relax or like, helping them just get through the day. I like that I can help people feel better.”

He looked surprised at you, and you shrugged again, feeling your face burn slightly.

“I get it's a dumb thing to say, and I know I'm really patting myself on the back here, but that's why I like it.” you pulled slightly at a loose thread on the hemline of the couch cushion underneath you, avoiding his gaze, avoiding his judgment.

“I dont think it's dumb. I know what you mean.” the sincerity in his voice was so simple, as though thinking anything else hadn't even crossed his mind, “I already feel more relaxed than I have in years. I didn’t know it was like this, so you helped me. I like that you want to help people.”

You smiled, you couldn't believe this was the same guy you had met so poorly the other night. He smiled back at you, a crooked, unpracticed smile that seemed as shocking to him as it was to you. You let the smoke linger between the two of you, both inside and outside.

“So obviously you know my job, but what is it you do?” you scooted a little closer on the couch.

He slumped a little, “a couple things, I do tattoos, piercings, that sort of thing..I’ve been working at an auto shop for the last few months, on days where I don't have appointments.”

“Do you do your own?” you asked, you had only seen the one across his bridge, you weren't sure if he had anymore.

“A few. I didn't do this one,” he gestures to his nose, “Not the one on my back, but a few others, yeah”

“Do you like it?”

“I do. I always liked to draw,” he stretched to scratch the back of his neck, “a buddy of mine let me into his shop a few years ago. I only started the car stuff when Yuji went to school, it's a good skill to know, helps me feel useful.” he shrugged, “I like working with my hands, it keeps me out of my head.”

“Are you in your head right now?” you asked, hoping being with you was relaxing him as much as the weed had.

“No.” He smiles just to himself, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, enjoying how clear and simple his usually racing mind felt, “I kind of forgot it's supposed to feel like this.”

You laughed a bit, “It can be.”

He laughed too, a calming, easy chuckle.

“I’m glad you came by today, Choso.” You said softly

“Me too. I know I said Yuji asked me too, but I wanted to come and apologize. I was out of line, the over protective big brother act is so lame, I know. We’re just…all each other has.”

He suddenly was struggling to find the right words, he didn’t usually talk this much. The drugs had made him chatty, you had made him relaxed. Choso realized he hadn’t been alone with a woman in months, going on a full year. He spent nearly all of his time working, rarely went out with his few friends, and almost never went out on dates. He hadn’t even thought of being interested in a woman in weeks, choosing to rely on himself whenever the rare sexual urge did arise. He wasn’t a man without libido, but he was usually so focused—stressed out— sex just kind of lost priority. But here, sitting next to you, nerves hazy, voices soft, it was quickly climbing back up his priority ladder. He hadn’t noticed the first night how beautiful your eyes were, now they were slightly lidded and sensual as they looked over him, pupils wide and hungry. Your lips were full and shapely, a little dry from the smoke, but your wet tongue would dart out occasionally to moisten them again. His neck grew hot thinking about how soft your tongue looked. He bet you tasted so good, the lingering taste of coffee and smoke in your mouth, sliding your soft tongue against his, running your skilled hands over his body. He had watched you rolling the joint earlier, it was so routine, so ritual for you, but it was so intricate. You had clearly perfected it, nimble fingers filling, rolling, and sealing the flower inside of the pretty pink paper. Looking at them now, he wanted to put them in his mouth, to suck on them, to feel them tangle in his hair while you rode him right here on your couch.

He thought he would burst into flame when your fingertips touched the top off his hand, derailing his perverse train of thought from continuing.

“Choso?” Your voice was so soft when you said his name, it sounded right coming out of your mouth. You liked the way the letters tasted, he liked the way your tongue slipped around each sound, directly into his ear.

“Thank you, for giving me another chance.” He said finally.

Neither of you were sure when or how, but you had become very close. You could smell the sting of tea tree oil on his skin, now identifiable, and see every little crack in his glossy lips. You were staring into his bottom lip, as if summoned he drew it in, whetting it before releasing it again. He could see you watching him, he was watching you right back, he could feel your hot breath against his face, he could smell your shampoo, he could see the small coffee stain on the corner of your mouth, he wanted to be the napkin or shirt sleeve you’d use to wipe it away. Before he realized it, he was leaning closer to your lips. Your heart raced as he came closer, you weren’t sure how you had gotten here, just minutes ago the conversation was so benign and so casual, and now there was this…heat… between the two of you. You watching his mouth, him watching yours, you felt the electricity in your body ignite. The fingers that had been on the back of his hand trembled slightly as he leaned forward. He was moving so slow, being so careful to not push you. You gripped his hand tightly and pulled him closer, connecting your lips.

Your eyes were closed tightly, or else you would have seen the way his flew open before rolling back in his head. The same hand that had first grabbed you a week ago now moved up your arm and up to your jaw, pulling your lips harder against his. His kisses were hungry and desperate, yours were just as fevered as you felt his spit combine with yours.You moaned, lips parting enough for him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. To your shock and delight you felt a small metal ball slide against your tongue, his tongue was pierced. You shivered, already thinking of how that cold metal would feel along your body, across your nipples, flicking against your clit. You thought you might faint as he pulled you over his lap.

He was faring no better, his hand pulling at you desperately, your jaw, your hair, your waist, your back, anywhere he could reach. He felt clumsy and a little pathetic, but he was too desperate to care. You were so hot, you smelled so good, your lips were so soft, he couldn't stop himself if he wanted to. When you finally did pull away, needing to catch your breath, he followed your lips eagerly, opting to kiss your chin or the underside of your jaw instead.

“Choso” you whimpered, pulling lightly at the hair at the back of his neck.

He continued kissing along your neck, moaning happily at the feeling of your nails against his nape. The sun had set outside, leaving the two of you in warm lamp light, the amber auras setting the deep brown of his eyes ablaze as he gazed up at you. Once your breath returned he moved one hand over the side of your face and pulled you in for another, softer but still passionate kiss. You relaxed into him, moving your hands over his chest, feeling the taught muscle and pleasure heated skin.

“I want you to tell me what you like.” He muttered against your lips in the form of a lover's secret, “I want to make it up to you. I want to please you.”

You felt yourself start to drip at his words, so devoid of the ego you were so familiar with in other men. A fast learner, too, his hands were carefully tracking your reactions, already finding erogenous zones that you usually had to demonstrate, tongue matching pace with yours. Kissing him deeply, tongues tangling, saliva and moans losing their origins points in the mess of shared wetness, you rocked your hips against his. He jerked up, unwillingly, a long, throaty moan leaving his lips as he threw his head back against the back of the couch, his hands on your hips gripping tighter.

“Baby….fuck”, he was getting hard so fast just from kissing you, it was embarrassing.

“You feel so big, Choso.” You rocked against him more, grinding into his erection over and over.

He blushed, the bar on his face doing nothing to hide the deep red settling across his cheeks. Feeling emboldened by the effect you had on him, you pulled your shirt off, leaving you bare chested on top of him. He was awestruck at the sight of your nearly naked body, his shock only growing when you grabbed his hands and brought them up to your breasts,squeezing them through his hands.

“Touch me here, like this.” You showed him how you liked to be squeezed and groped, all while keeping up your gyration on his lap.

He followed your lead immediately, mouth watering at how your breasts moved in his hands as you moved. He wanted to put them in his mouth, he wanted you completely naked, his own clothes felt so stiff and tight now. Choso removed his hands from your chest in a flash to quickly remove his own shirt before putting his hands on you once again, groping and squeezing the mounds freely. You moaned both at the sight of him bare and at how well he was following your directions.

“Fuck Choso… you look so good.” You marveled at him through your heavy lashes.

He was so toned, so well cultivated. His body was like that of a swimmer or a rock climber, lean and muscled, clearly focusing on mobility and functional strength above vanity. Tattoos littered his body, classic things, sigils and birds and quotes you couldn't quite read. All in due time.

In a move surprising you he sat up, abdominals rippling, keeping one strong forearm around your waist to hold you firm against him and he brought one of your nipples into his mouth. Even the fatty flesh couldn't muffle the haughty moan that escaped him, nor could it hide the way his eyes rolled back in his head. Your hands pulled at his hair, bringing him as close as possible, letting loose mewls of pleasure at his sucking. His tongue piercing circled around your areola, teeth quickly following to bite lightly at the rising peak. His dark eyes, now almost entirely black from blown out pleasure, looked up at you. The pornographic display in front of you was enough to have you whimpering already, the feeling of him so solid and throbbing underneath your hips wasn't helping, or was it, you supposed it depends on the goal; Longevity or absolute pleasure. Choso moved his mouth over to your other breast, repeating the same routine of circling and biting and suckling, he was completely blissed out, barely registering anything beyond the taste of your skin and the weight of your body on his. When you pulled at his hair to get him to face you again, you had to pull harder than you expected to get his attention. When you finally did, his head tipped back dramatically, a drunken smile across his wet, swollen lips.

“Take your pants off,” you whimpered breathily, “please.”

You stood up in front of him, feeling a slight ache in your hip hinges from your previous position and quickly rid yourself of your pants. He did the same, removing his belt, and kicking his shoes off before pulling his jeans off and tossing them aside. You stood in front of each other, in only your panties, him in black boxer briefs, length straining against the fabric. Breathing hard, you took each other in, it was so simple, but so sexy to be just standing before each other nearly completely naked. Not touching, not distracted by embracing hands or mouths, just taking a moment to appreciate the unguarded form of one another.

He was so taken by you, the swell of your hips, the curved lines of your silhouette, scars and lines and tattoos adorning your skin in a completely unique and deeply personal pattern. He liked the panties you were wearing, he wanted to keep them, maybe you would let him. They were a dark purple mesh fabric, his favorite color. There was no way you could have known, but it felt like fate. Your neck was starting to show little bruises from his kisses earlier, soon they would be purple too, he couldn't wait to see. Finally, he stepped toward you, his strong hands finding yours, bringing them to his body just as you had earlier. Your hands followed down the lines of his body, the muscles so hard under your touch. He moaned at your touch, chills rocking through his body, he was so reactive for you, every twitch of your fingers being amplified through his body like an electric current.

“You want to stay out here, or do I get to see your bedroom?”

“I’m a little partial to riding you right here, what do you think?” you flirted up at him, pushing on his stomach lightly, he was practically drooling.

You had chosen his exact fantasy from earlier and once again he found himself thinking that it was impossible you could have known, but it had to be fate. He kissed your lips again, the fever from earlier returning as you pushed him back down onto the couch, following him closely to keep your lips connected. Before you could move to straddle him, he gripped your hips.

“Please. Wanna taste you first, please baby, please.” He begged. He sounded so good when he begged.

You weren't one to argue with someone asking so nicely, so you did as he asked, sitting where he had been earlier, loving the feeling of the warmth he had left behind embedded in the cushion. Choso moved between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs and pulling your panties away from your aching sex. He couldn't stop himself from bringing the panties to his face and taking in your scent, he didn't care if it made him a pervert, he loved the smell of a good, wet pussy, and yours may be the best he had ever had. Your jaw dropped at the unabashed display, catching his eye as he exhaled luxuriously.

“Fuuuuck, can I keep these?” It was like he was high all over again, one hit of you knocking him on his heels more than your highest testing strain ever could.

You nodded slowly, too shocked to speak. You didn't even care that you liked that pair, they were comfortable and sexy, nothing could compare to the thought of Choso keeping a pair of your used panties for himself.

He set them on top of his pants on the floor, before resuming his migration across the sensitive skin of your inner legs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the couch, you didn't care, you were too turned on to care about anything except him. Lying on his stomach on your couch, he was finally face to face with your bare pussy. He could feel himself starting to rut into the couch cushion, aching cock desperate for relief. Finally, with one last cautious look up at you, Choso slid his fore and middle fingers between your lower lips, separating them slightly to look right at your weeping folds. Even the light brush of his fingertips separating you had you ready to arch your back, you were so wet, his long tongue swiped up your slit, and a strangled gasp ripped itself from your throat.

One hand flew to his hair, struggling to decide if you wanted to push him away or pull him in deeper, opting to just pull. Choso was completely lost within you, your taste, your smell, the feeling of how wet you had gotten already, he wanted to drink up everything you had. He moaned into your dripping pussy as you pulled his hair harder, loud squelching and slurping sounds filled the room alongside your gasping, frantic moans of curses garbled with his name.

“You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, his round tongue piercing flicking so deliciously against your clit as he spoke, “I knew you would. Fuck, you’re too good to me.”

You could barely hear him. Too fixated on rocking your hips against his face, trying desperately to amplify the pleasure he was giving you. Choso kissed your pussy with long, flat tongued laps, his piercing circling your clit in a delicious rhythm that had you wailing. You had never been so thankful to live alone, one of your hands left his hair so you could bite hard on your knuckles, a foolish attempt to stifle your moans. Wisps of his bangs fell in his face, blocking you from his eyeline, he attempted to blow the strands out of his way, needing to see you struggle to quiet yourself. You were putting on such a beautiful show for him, panting and moaning above him, showing him exactly how good he was making you feel, he didn't want to miss a second of it. Breaking away only momentarily to brush his hair away from his face, only to have them fall back in their place, Choso huffed in frustration, his hot, irritated breath sending tingles across your slippery folds. You looked down at him, feeling him pull away briefly to pull a black hair tie from one wrist and hand it to you. Your instructions were clear as he dove back in, once again devouring you; you pulled his hair into a small bun, tying it quickly and returning your hand to cover your mouth. His own hands were clasped around your thighs, bringing them into his ears and diving in even further.

The lower half of his face, from top of nose to under his jaw, was shimmering, he was losing all sense of himself. He wanted to die between your legs, he wanted your thighs to crush him, he wanted to drown in your cum, he wanted the last sound he ever heard to be your squeaking whimpers of his name. His cock was pulsing against your couch, swollen nearly to the point of pain, with every lap it was getting harder. He didn’t think he would ever stop, your hands in his hair, nails against his neck and shoulders, your smell in his nose, your taste on his tongue, he could have stayed there forever. It wasn't until you started to pull him away by his roots that he finally came up for air again.

You shuddered as you peeled Choso away from your pussy. A thin, glistening string of spit and your arousal joined his wet lips to your sex, it was so erotic. He was panting as well, eyes wild with pleasure, damp face, swollen lips, looking to you for why you would have deprived him of his meal.

“Please, Choso, please let me fuck you,” you begged.

He protested weakly, “But I want you to--”

“Please, baby. I need you inside so badly.” You pointed out, moving your hand over the side of his face.

He pressed his cheek into your palm and nodded, sighing hard trying to catch his breath. You pulled him up to you, he followed, crawling on his hands up to your lips. Your kisses were now wet after his pleasuring you, you could taste yourself at the deepest part of his mouth you could reach. Choso ground his erection into you, sliding his length across your slick pussy and panting into your mouth. Gathering all your strength back you sat up, moving to assume the position from before. In the movements, he had finally freed his aching cock, gripping it hard at the base as you climbed over his lap. You slotted your lips against his over and over, tongues tangling, hands moving over hot, prickled skin. You rocked your hips up and down your slit, drenching him and building your anticipation. Choso pressed his forehead against yours, you could feel the sweat of his skin and the sweat of yours combining in between your skin. He angled his now dripping cock right at your entrance, you hissed as you made your way down his length. Moans escaped both of you as your tight walls sucked him in, head still pressed together, his hand bruising your waist. It had become so intimate, he filled you so entirely, pushing hard against the barrier of your cervix. You started to grind against him, moving your hips up and down, whimpering pathetically, arching your back. Your hands settled on his shoulders and stomach as you rode him faster and faster.

“Fuck, yes, you feel so good. Thank you.” Choso’s eyes were locked on your bouncing breasts. He leaned forward and caught one of your puffy nipples in his mouth again, sucking hard.

The feeling of him so deep inside of you, your increased sensitivity from him eating you out, and now his hot mouth teething and pulling at your chest had you so close already. You were almost embarrassed, but you couldn't keep yourself from bouncing more and more, grinding right up against his pelvis. Your hands moved up the back of his neck, keeping his head buried in your breasts, he switched to suck on your other nipple, moaning against your hot skin. One of his big hands squeezed at the fat of your ass, he couldn't get enough of you; he wanted to keep his hands and his mouth full of you, his cock buried inside of you forever. Your moans rose in pitch quickly, the hair at the base of his cock rubbing right against your clit. You pulled away, arching into his hand on your lower back, and humping against him even faster.

“Cho-Fuck baby, I…” You mewl out.

“Cum, please cum for me, baby. Make a mess on me please, cum on my cock, pleasepleaseplease.” he babbled, holding your hips in a bruising vice and helping you to raise and lower yourself.

He planted his feet on the ground, thrusting up to meet you halfway. You were so tight and hot, he could feel your wetness dripping down his balls, he could taste your sweat on the backs of his lips. Your cries started becoming intense and your body was shuddering against him, you could barely string together any thoughts beyond your desire to cum. FInally it all became too much, the hot pleasure that had been building all bursting out from you at once.

“Choso! I-- I--I’m cumming!” You cried against him, his thrusts under you were relentless, not stopping even as your orgasm peaked and valleyed before him.

“Fuck baby, yes. More more, please, fuck please, im--,” Choso’s own orgasm ripped through his body with nearly no warning, finally slowing his thrust, opting to press as deep as he could and dropping his head back against the couch. He moaned your name scrambled with curses and his throaty raspy groans.

Coming down from your shared high, Choso thrust up into you a few more times, shuttering at the feeling of spilling long spurts of cum inside of your hot, wet walls. You stilled your motions completely, hips aching, sweat dripping down your body, you pressed your head against his again, trying to catch your breath as quickly as possible. Choso kissed your jaw, your neck, your lips, your cheek, your temple, anywhere his lips could reach, sturdy hands massaging your hips and ass as he did. You smiled down at him, his face was tinted pink, his eyes were wet and full, he looked so fucked out, and so beautiful. The bun you had styled for him was barely hanging on,his bangs now stuck to his damp forehead. You dipped your head down and kissed him, the kiss now lazy but just as wet. Slippery mouths joining again and again as he rubbed your back. Once you felt you could move again, you moved off of his lap, his softening cock sliding out of you and flopping against his stomach. He panted in recovery once you had taken your place on the couch next to him, he pulled your legs into his lap, wanting to keep as good a hold on you as he could while still inside this bubble of intimacy you had created. He moved the back of his knuckles up and down your shin, turning his face toward you and gazing at you.

“That was…” He started, trailing off as words failed him once again.

You nodded blissfully, reaching over to grab his hand. He kissed the back of your hand.

“You’re….” this time he found his finishing words, “wow.”

You chuckled, “You too. I’m really glad you came over.”

“Me too.” he laughed a bit as well, gesturing to the half joint on the table, “You’re a bad influence on me.”

“I think you liked it.” you sat up taking the joint between your fingers and taking a lighter from the table.

You held the pink joint in between your lips, lighting it and puffing once before passing it over to Choso. He accepted and took a hit, then another, exhaling happily.

“I did. I do.” he answered finally.

You took the joint back, sitting up to his eye level as you puffed.

“I hope you don't think I’ll be giving you a discount because of this, I’m not that kind of dealer.” you joked.

A flirtatious smirk pulled at his lips, “If you had let me finish making you cum in my mouth, I think I could change your mind.”

You rolled your eyes, already feeling your pussy dampen and your nipples harden at his candor. He slid one arm around you, pulling you close and kissing your smoke warmed lips.

“Could I, maybe, come over again?” he asked against your lips, “Without needing to apologize to you for making a total ass of myself?”

Your heart squeezed, you had not yet started to worry that this was a one and done, his expert work leaving you already craving more. Everything that had happened was so unexpected, you started the day still seething from the first impression, but he had melted your icy demeanor instantly. You did want to see Choso again, you wanted him to make you feel like that again, you wanted to spoil him the way he had spoiled you. You wanted a chance to show him how good he had made you feel, and now you had the chance. You knew his situation, you knew yours, it was incredibly likely that this would be temporary, but even one more chance to share a night with him was enough for now.

I hope you guys enjoyed! As always, i did! Remember to use drugs responsibly and not give in to peer pressure, unless you think itll make people like you, then succumb. (im joking). alright bye! -- <3 Doodle

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