#beware of smut here

[soupandsorcery]

"Astarion and I had a conversation about you once," Ciro says, seemingly apropos of nothing. They're stoking the fire higher in the hearth to ward away the chill in the air. Astarion is in the bath, which he'd promptly claimed for the next 'hour--no, two. Actually, just come check that I haven't drowned if you don't see me before bed'. Gale is sitting on the bed, making a face at the way it squeaks, even though the three of them have stayed in much worse places than this.

"Do I want to know?" Gale asks, and Ciro can feel him watching them. They've grown to learn the differences between the way Gale and Astarion look at them, though they both manage to convey their own hungry sort of awe with just their eyes.

Ciro smiles and feeds another small, neatly split log into the fireplace. "It wasn't bad. It was complimentary even. For Astarion."

"Oh, I'm sure that was interesting. Tell me."

The bed squeaks, and Ciro turns to see Gale lounging. He's shucked off his outer robe, and is just in a tunic and pants. For a man who looks so good in finery, Ciro thinks they might like him best when he's dressed down and comfortable. He looks more approachable then. More touchable.

"It was a little while after he bit me for the first time," Ciro explains. "And he was saying that after tasting me, he was wondering what the rest of our group might taste like. I think he compared you to a fine, well aged brandy."

Gale's eyebrows lift and something sparks in his eyes. It's curiosity, the same light he gets when he's about to spend the next few hours buried in books, chasing down some obscure spell or reference.

"Really?" he asks. "That is high praise from Astarion."

"I told you." Ciro smiles and comes to join him on the bed. It's going to be a tight fit for the three of them, but when the inn keeper offered them two rooms to divide up, they'd quickly declined. "I agreed that you'd probably taste very good."

Gale's cheeks go pink, and Ciro laughs softly. For a man who can weave erotic magic like no one they've ever met before, sometimes the simplest things make him blush. And maybe that makes sense. Maybe Gale has spent so much time with the grand and the ethereal that the small and mundane still manage to catch him off guard.

It bodes well for Ciro then, small and mundane as they are.

"What is it like?" Gale asks, sitting up on his elbows. "When he bites you?"

"It hurts," Ciro answers truthfully. "But that part is over quick. Then it just feels sort of...warm. Woozy. But Astarion always makes it a seduction. You know how he is." Gale nods. "He's good at distracting me from the pain of it and making it into something more tender."

Gale's eyes are very warm now, lit by the firelight and the heat of his curiosity and desire. "What does he do?" he murmurs. "Paint me a picture."

"That's not my thing." Of the three of them, Ciro is the worst with words, but they try anyway. "He kisses the spot where he bites me, and his hands wander. I don't really think about the pain when he's stroking me...you know."

Now their cheeks are on fire, a splash of red across their pink skin. Gale is still gazing at them intently, like he's expecting more, and Ciro feels the heat from the fire and the thump thump thump of their heart.

"Words are all well and good, Gale darling," a drawling voice interrupts them. "But they're no comparison to the richness of experience. Wouldn't you agree?"

Astarion emerges from the separate bathing area, draped in nothing but low slung pants. His pale skin glistens in the firelight, and his hair is damp and even curlier from the steam. He looks like a treat, but then, he always does.

He catches Ciro looking and smiles, small and tender, before winking at them.

"You ah-- You might have a point," Gale says, clearing his throat. "And I have been thinking about it."

"Really?" Astarion's eyebrows climb up his forehead. "I...didn't think you were interested."

"I wasn't. At first. Not that I'm opposed to you feeding yourself, of course, but Ciro had it well covered, and. Well, I'll admit I was being a bit of a baby about the pain aspect of it. But Ciro makes it sound very intriguing. And I've seen the way they look when you're finished with them."

"How I look? How do I look?" Ciro asks, glancing between the two of them.

"Soft, sleepy," Gale says at the same time Astarion purrs, "Ruined."

It's enough to make them blush darker, and then groan, falling face first into one of the pillows on the bed. "You're the worst," they mumble.

"Which of us are you talking to?" Astarion wants to know.

"Take your pick."

He chuckles, a low, rolling sound that does things to Ciro's body and their heart. It's not fair that he's so casually attractive. Or that Ciro is so easily flustered.

"Leave them alone," Gale says fondly.

"Alright, I'll turn my attention back to you then," Astarion replies. "Are you actually interested in seeing what it's like? I won't be offended if it's more of an...idle curiosity."

Gale is quiet for a moment, and Ciro can practically hear him thinking. "I suppose I should try it, shouldn't I? I can hardly be involved with a vampire without letting a little blood every now and then, right?"

"Well, you could. It's hardly a requirement. But I won't deny that I am still ravenously curious to find out what you taste like."

Ciro snorts into the pillow at the word choice and gets poked in the side for their trouble. Their men and their drama.

"We'll call it an experiment, shall we?" Gale declares. "I'll try it, and if I don't like it, no harm, no foul."

"No harm, no foul," Astarion agrees. "I should have done this better when it was my first time with Ciro. You won't be offended if I make this a little more romantic for our dear Gale, will you, pet?"

Ciro sits up and finds Astarion looking at them intently. It's an honest question, they realize, from the way Astarion looks at them and the little furrow of anxiety between his brows.

"I won't be offended," they promise him. "You've more than made up for it."

Astarion smiles, reaching for Ciro's hand to kiss the back of it before sweeping around the room. He grabs one of the chairs from the little side table and puts it near the fire, then stands in the center of their rented room with his hands on his hips. His eyes flick back to Ciro, and a smile plays around his lips.

"Could I trouble you to help me?" he asks. "Gale isn't as...familiar with pain as you are. It might help if he had a distraction." There's a mischievous glint to his eyes, and he picks up one of the pillows from the bed and lays it in front of the chair.

Ciro catches on to Astarion's meaning before Gale does, and they smile, sliding off the bed. They kiss Astarion's cheek, leaning into him for a moment. "I can be distracting," they murmur.

"You certainly can."

"I--oh," Gale says, finally catching on.

"Indeed. Come sit," Astarion drawls, gesturing to the chair.

Gale practically scrambles to obey, sitting down in the chair, legs spread. Ciro slides in gracefully, sinking down to their knees on the pillow. It's clear that Gale is nervous, from the way he's shifting and his eyes darting back and forth. Ciro can't pretend they didn't feel the same when they did this for the first time, but they've all come a long way since then.

"Breathe," they murmur to Gale. They slide their hands up his thighs, fingers massaging the muscles there. "We'll take care of you."

"Yes," Astarion agrees, moving in behind the chair. His long, elegant fingers slide over Gale's shoulders and down to his chest. "You are ours to look after."

"Alright." Gale takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and his posture relaxes. He sits back in the chair and tips his head back to regard Astarion. "I'm ready."

"Hm, not yet, I think," Astarion murmurs. "Ciro?"

That's their cue. With an ease borne of practice, Ciro walks their fingers up Gale's thighs even more and starts unlacing his pants. Gale lifts his hips enough that Ciro can drag the garment down, freeing Gale's cock. He's already on his way to being hard, but it never does take much to get Gale going when the two of them are involved.

Ciro glances to Astarion, to make sure he's comfortable with this amount of sexual contact happening right in front of him. It comes and goes these days, and sometimes he wants to be involved, while sometimes he'd rather not be in the room at all. But now there's a honeyed warmth to his eyes, and a slow, pleased smile tucked into the corners of his mouth.

He catches Ciro looking and inclines his head a little, in answer to the silent question.

"Focus on me," Ciro murmurs to Gale, one hand wrapping around his cock to stroke it slowly.

Gale's eyes are riveted on Ciro as he sucks in a deep breath, hips already bucking minutely up into Ciro's touch. Ciro grazes his thumb over the head of Gale's cock, gathering the growing wetness from the tip to spread down as he keeps working him up.

Astarion keeps his hands on Gale too, fingers dipping under the open collar of his shirt, dancing over his collarbones.

"Ciro's beautiful on their knees, don't you think?" Astarion purrs into Gale's ear. It must have an effect because Gale's dick twitches in Ciro's hand. "So very eager and obedient. So ready to please you. To please us both."

There's so much promise in that tone of voice, and it catches Ciro up in it too, making them swallow hard.

"Perhaps we'll both indulge in how good you must taste tonight," Astarion says, and Ciro dips their head to lick a hot stripe up Gale's cock.

"Ah," Gale moans. His hands are wrapped around the arms of the chair, a white knuckled grip as Ciro and Astarion work him up between them.

"Yes, very good," Astarion continues, and Ciro doesn't know which one of them he's praising. They suppose it doesn't really matter.

They ease their mouth over the head of Gale's cock and then take him all the way down to the root. Not having a gag reflex has come in handy many a time with their lovers, especially Gale, who is surprisingly well endowed.

They hold it there for a moment, taking in the feeling of Gale in their mouth, the way the head of him hits the back of their throat, the way they can feel the tension climbing in his body.

Then they pull off, sucking in a gasp of air before going back to it.

Astarion just waits. Watches. Occasionally offers praise in his low, seduction edged voice. When Ciro glances up, they can tell that Astarion is thumbing Gale's nipple under his shirt, and that Gale is sprawled in the chair, almost boneless with pleasure.

"If you keep this up--" Gale chokes out. "I am not likely to--ah! I'm not likely to last."

"That is the goal," Astarion says. He sounds a bit breathless now, but is otherwise composed. Ciro knows that if they looked into his eyes there would be a million different emotions in them, but they focus on their task, sucking Gale down and swirling their tongue around the head of his cock.

He leaks a salty drip, which Ciro laps up eagerly, letting themself get lost in it. Gale's little moans of pleasure are almost musical, and Ciro knows from experience that he's beautiful when he falls apart.

He's close now, Ciro can taste it, and apparently Astarion can too because he chooses that moment to bite him. Ciro hears his voice, a low, "Breathe, love," and then Gale's gasping sharply.

Ciro looks up, but it's not pain on Gale's face. At least not entirely. He looks like he's in a harsh sort of ecstasy, sharp and brutal, but like he's enjoying every second of it. His body arches a bit, and Astarion keeps a hold of him, not letting him buck too hard.

He's learned, from his time feeding on Ciro, how to really refine this art. How to walk the line between pain and pleasure, and wait for the moment when the two can blend together beautifully.

Gale's there now, wrapped up in it, and Ciro has just enough time to pull back a bit before Gale comes undone, coming hard in their mouth.

Ciro works him through it, licking him clean before they pull off. Astarion pulls away a moment later, dragging his tongue over the small drips of blood that have spilled down Gale's neck. He presses a kiss, tender and soft, to Gale's neck, and then lets out a pleased sigh.

"Well?" Ciro asks, sitting back on their heels. "Was it everything you expected?"

Astarion smiles, and he almost looks drunk with it. "And more, darling. We were right, all that time ago. He's positively exquisite."

"I'm flattered," Gale says. "And spent."

"It's a very good look for you," Astarion tells him.

Between the three of them, they manage to bank the fire and move their way to bed in various states of undress. By an unspoken agreement, Gale gets the middle, and Astarion and Ciro curl up on either side of him. It is a tight fit, but Ciro has never complained about having to huddle close with these two.

It's several minutes later when Astarion speaks again. "Was that...was it alright?"

Gale chuckles and turns his head to kiss the tip of Astarion's nose. "'Alright' doesn't do it justice in the least. That was an experience. One I would be happy to repeat, if you're all willing."

"Count me in," Ciro murmurs sleepily.

"I suppose I could be convinced," Astarion replies, and he sounds very pleased behind the flippant words.

"Then it's settled."

Like so many things between the three of them, it comes down to a conversation and mutual agreement, and Ciro smiles, happy and eager to see where life leads them next.

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 2/12)

hiii here's these two again, enjoy!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie still hates you, you're way too nice, and gareth fucked up big time

contains: enemies to lover trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, reader gets injured (nothing crazy), eddie hooking up with someone that's not reader, mean eddie, sexual themes, a glimpse of needy n sad eddie, mild violence (eddie punches someone), and Eddie being nosey <3

word count: 5.6k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie can’t do it.

He can’t fucking stand you. He hates that you’re everywhere, always around, always lingering— like a fucking hawk— just silently watching and waiting for one of them to fuck up. And he hates that you carry that fucking journal everywhere, always jotting down notes about whatever bullshit you write about— and he’s sure it isn’t any good either way because most of the time, the band does the same shit every day. There’s nothing for you to write about. They do a show, hang out backstage, catch wind of some party, stay out until they can’t physically walk anymore, and crash as soon as they get to the hotel. 

It’s the same shit. Yet, you’re always writing something down as if something new has happened— as if it’s something intriguing and eye-catching. 

You barely talk for the first few days; you just watch and observe, and Eddie thinks this must be how animals at the zoo feel— on display and putting up some fascinating show. He hates it.

After the third show, you start to loosen around the edges and start actually talking, like a normal human being. You talk to Jeff the most, laugh at his shitty jokes and ask him questions about songs and lines he’s written in past songs, and Eddie hates that. He hates watching you sit next to Jeff and scribble in your journal as Jeff strums out a new hook. 

He hates that whenever he brings you up to Jeff and makes some snide comment about you, Jeff never joins in— just shrugs and says, ‘She’s not too bad, actually.’

As if Eddie would ever believe that.

Gareth hardly pays any mind to you; he's too busy checking out chicks and just… being Gareth, but you’ve talked to him on multiple occasions. Eddie’s caught glimpses of you two chatting at rehearsals or in the green room. You even sat with him at breakfast the other day, and Eddie— Eddie almost blew a gasket because that was his fucking seat.

You’re ruining everything, and nobody seems to notice except for Eddie, and it’s driving him nuts.

“Dude, you’re gonna scare her away if you keep glaring at her like that,” Jeff mumbles, turning back to his guitar as he runs a dust cloth over the neck of the instrument. 

They’re in the studio today because there’s no show tonight, and against all of Eddie’s wishes, Richie still invited you to come sit in for their session. Eddie watches through the glass of the sound booth as you settle in on the brown couch, pulling out that stupid journal and a pen, mindlessly clicking it a few times before writing a note. Ridiculous. 

Eddie glares at Jeff and works the gum in his mouth as he pulls a face, “Good. She can blow off the face of the earth for all I care.” He grumbles, sitting down in the metal chair beside Jeff. 

Jeff looks at him, raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and shakes his head, “She’s not going anywhere, man. You’re gonna fuck it up if you keep being so… hostile toward her.” He points out. Eddie leans back in his chair, pulling out a box of cigarettes and sparking up. “I’m not gonna be the one to fuck it up,” Eddie mumbles through smoke, “You guys are practically feeding her all the information she needs on a silver fucking platter. She’s a goddamn shark.” 

Jeff scoffs and says nothing more as he continues cleaning his guitar. Eddie glances at you and watches you talk to the producer, smiling and laughing at something that Eddie can’t hear because the mic is off and the door is closed. 

Aside from how annoying and creepishly lurk-y you are, Eddie can admit you’re pretty. You have a pretty face, pretty smile, pretty hair, a bright look in your eyes that Eddie can’t stand because you look at the rest of the band like they hung the fucking moon when they speak. You look at everyone as if they’re so important, and Eddie thinks that’s dumb. 

He glances at Jeff, watches him silently for a moment, and glances back at you, takes a hit of his cigarette before speaking, “You like her?” he asks.

Jeff glimpses at Eddie and laughs with a shake of his head, “Isn’t that precisely what you’re pissed about?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No, like,” he kicks the heel of his shoe into the floor, “Do you wanna fuck her?”

Jeff pauses his task and watches as Eddie puffs on his cigarette. “I have a girlfriend, Eddie.” He reminds the boy. Eddie glances at him and scoffs, “That chick from Chicago? Thought that was just for fun.” He responds. 

Eddie remembers the girl from a few weeks back, remembers Jeff sneaking her on the bus while they had dinner. He didn’t know they were serious.

Jeff shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, “No, man. She’s come to like every show— and her name is Naomi; she’s not a chick.”

Eddie grunts in response, burning to the end of his cigarette when Jeff stands up and nudges him with his foot, “Just talk to her, dude. She’s not as bad as you think she is, and she asks good questions— actual questions, about the music and shit. None of that,” he waves a hand in gesture, “stupid shit we get from reporters. She’s good. Just try.”

Jeff leaves Eddie to mill about it and finish off cigarette, snuffing it out in the ashtray sitting on the amp. Eddie doesn’t believe Jeff one bit; he thinks you’re a liar who’s mastered the art of manipulation and has weaseled your way into gaining his friends' trust. He doesn’t believe you are here for the music, as Jeff had said; he thinks— knows— that you’re here to find the cracks.

You’re here to find the cuts and bruises and press into them so you can tear them apart piece by piece. A starved monster, preying on his band for some sick and twisted story to feed the media so you can climb the ladder of your industry. Eddie has met and knows people like you, and he can call your bluff from a mile away.

He doesn’t believe Jeff. But he does, however, know how to play your game. 

The next day is show day— the fifth show of the residency, and Eddie is in a good mood. He woke up with a girl in his bed, got high, went for a short walk to a nearby cafe, and even signed a few autographs for some lovely fans. On top of that, you haven’t shown up for rehearsals yet, and Eddie thinks the world is working in his favor today if you skip.

He’s playful today. He jumps on Gareth’s back and makes him run down the rows of the arena, screaming and hollering like wild animals. He and Jeff take Richie’s golf cart and go for a spin backstage, giggling when the security chases them and tells them speeding backstage is prohibited. They don’t listen, though; Eddie ignores everyone’s warnings and keeps hauling ass down the nearly empty hallways, swerving around boxes and equipment like a madman.

And Eddie may be mean sometimes; he may push people's buttons for the hell of it and do things he knows he shouldn’t just to get a reaction out of it, but Eddie isn’t cruel. He isn’t a psychopath who likes hurting people, so he doesn’t mean to speed past you and spook you badly enough to stumble into a stack of road cases.

Eddie saw you, and he tried to warn you, yelled out for you to move out of the way, and even honked, but you had a pair of headphones stuffed over your ears so that you couldn’t hear the squealing wheels of the golf cart or Eddie’s warning. He almost took you out. Almost. But he didn’t because he swerved at the last second, and you panicked and stepped back, stumbling on the heel of your shoe and falling onto the cold cement floor, slamming your back against the black boxes.

Eddie curses and comes to a screeching halt, parking the golf cart and following Jeff as he jogs over to you, quickly asking if you’re okay and helping you to sit up. As you speak, your face is twisted in confusion, wincing and sitting up, “I’m fine, I just— I just fell, it’s fine.”

Eddie watches from a few feet back as Jeff helps you stand up, face pinching in an expression of pain when you put your weight onto your ankle, and Eddie doesn’t believe it for a second. “I think you might need to get that checked—” Eddie cuts Jeff off and speaks the first thought that comes to his mind, “Why didn’t you move out of the way?”

You look at him, anger replacing your look of pain as you glare at Eddie. You grip the band of your headphones and wave it at him, “Because I didn’t fucking hear you, jackass.” You snap. “What, you couldn’t see the big ass machine hurling your way?”

“No,” you seethe, “You shouldn’t have been driving that fast anyways; this isn’t my fault. The least you could do is say fucking sorry.” You spat. And Eddie just thinks you’re a brat. Before Eddie can respond with an even bitchier response, Jeff is cutting in with a wave of his hands, “Okay, this is fucking stupid,” he scoffs, “just let me drive you to medic so you can get checked.”

Eddie doesn’t even bother helping Jeff get you to the golf cart; he simply watches as you fake your limp all the way to the vehicle and thank Jeff for helping you get in. Jeff looks back to Eddie and raises an eyebrow, “Are you coming, man?” 

Eddie wouldn’t willingly spend a minute with you if someone paid him to do it. 

He shakes his head with a scoff and tells them to go on, he’ll meet them at the stage later on, and Jeff takes off without another word.

“Did you try to hit the journalist with a fucking golf cart?”

Eddie’s good mood is long gone. 

After the whole golf cart fiasco, Eddie took his time walking around backstage and burning through cigarettes before finding himself in the room filled with snacks and drinks. He’s standing at the table filled with chips and sodas when Richie storms in and starts causing a goddamn scene.

“What—” “You know what I’m talking about.” Richie snaps. Eddie’s face twists in annoyance, “I didn’t try to fucking hit her; she didn’t move out of the goddamn way because she’s an idiot,” Eddie grumbles, returning to his task of sifting through the different brands of chips. Eddie doesn’t believe you’re actually hurt. That pathetic fall was as minor as a fall can get, and he thinks Jeff and anyone else who believes your shitty acting skills is dumber than a rock. 

Richie snatches the bag of chips out of Eddie’s hand and tosses them onto the table, ignoring Eddie’s protest as he speaks, “She sprained her fucking ankle, man.”

Eddie scoffs, “She’s faking it, Richie; anybody with brains can see that from a mile away.” He rolls his eyes. Richie looks at Eddie as if he’s lost his mind, as if Eddie is the worst villain to ever grace the goddamn planet, “You’re fucked up,” and Eddie’s stomach twists in some weird way he can’t explain. 

“You have some serious fucking issues, man. That girl did nothing to you, and you treat her like shit.” Richie spits, and Eddie hates how his throat feels tight, like someone shoved a golf ball down his throat. “Get over yourself.”

Richie leaves Eddie in the empty room, silent and, against Eddie’s wishes, feeling like the shittiest man alive. 

Eddie’s good mood feels like a dream now.

He’s silent throughout rehearsals. He sings his parts half-assed and plays his solos half-assed, too. You watch from the side of the stage, propped up on one of the road cases to take the weight off your ankle, and Eddie doesn’t even glance in your direction the entire time. He avoids you at all costs, leaving the room when you walk in, going the other direction you’re walking in, and even skipping lunch to avoid crossing paths. 

You’ve been like a ghost all day; everywhere Eddie goes, you’re somehow there, walking with a shitty limp as if trying to rub it into Eddie’s face that, ‘You did this. This is your fault.’ and Eddie can’t stand it. By the time the doors open to the arena, Eddie is more than ready to finish the show and steer clear of all traces of you.

You watched the show on the TV in the dressing room, silently snacking on a bag of Ritz crackers with your foot propped up on the coffee table beside the couch. The medic advised you to avoid putting pressure on your ankle for the next few days so you couldn’t have your usual front-row view of the show. 

The boys do good; they perform a new song they’re working on, and the crowd seems to have loved it. As usual, they get up to their ritual backstage antics, pregaming for whatever party they’ll attend, loud and obnoxious music, and cheering on whatever drinking game they’ve made up. You’re silently writing in your journal, updating the last entry on what you’ve witnessed today. Interpretations on the new music, drabbles on what you and Gareth briefly discussed about his childhood, and quick notes on whatever comes to mind while writing.

You hardly notice Eddie stumbling through the dressing room door until you hear him bumping into the side table with a curse. You look up, silently watching as he looks around the room, searching for something you’re unsure of. You try to keep your voice level to not scare him, but he is startled either way, “What are you looking for?”

His eyes are low, puffy around the edges from the alcohol he’d tossed back earlier, hair tousled with curly strands clinging to his lips. His lips are slick, swollen, and red, clothes askew on his lean frame. His jeans are unbuttoned, belt clinking as he sways a bit, licking his lips as he stammers, “Uh… my uh, my jacket—” he blinks, stumbling to lean against the door and blinking hard, “M’looking for my jacket.”

Your eyebrows raise as you watch him, the disheveled and captivating mess he is, bleary eyes gazing at you through a cloud of eyeshadow and whiskey. You breathe and point to the chair in front of the vanity, “It’s over there.”

His gaze follows your lead, landing on his strewn jacket, cursing as he walks across the room. You busy yourself with your journal, picking up where you’d left off. You can hear Eddie rustling behind you, and you try to avoid glancing back at him, but you fail, glancing in time to watch as he leans forward into the mirror to tug at misplaced strands of his hair. 

He’s silent for a moment before clearing his throat, glancing back at you through the mirror, “I’m uh… I’m sorry about,” he gestures to your elevated foot, forgetting you’re not even facing him, and rubbing the back of his hand to rub his nose and sniffling, “About your foot… Was really shitty of me.”

You glance back at him, a ghost of a smile gracing your lips, “Thank you, Eddie. I appreciate your apology.”

Eddie scoffs, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and shoving a stick between his lips with quivering fingers, “Yeah, well, that’s the first and last apology you’ll ever get from me so…” you silently watch as he lights his cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke and glancing at you through the mirror, “cherish it.” 

You quietly sigh and shift in your seat, ignoring his remark, “You going out tonight?” You ask.

You watch as he steps away from the vanity and walks over to the couch, plopping down on the farthest side from you with a deep sigh, “That’s the routine.” He mumbles around a cloud of smoke.

You nod, an uncomfortable silence settling over the two of you as you continue writing. Eddie is slumped down in his seat, quietly puffing on his cigarette as he gazes at you through low lids, “What are you writing?”

You look at him; pen paused over the sentence you’d been writing as you tilt your head, “I’m working on my piece… you know, the piece you’re starring in.” Eddie grumbles in response with a single nod of his head, and his eyes are so low you’d almost think he’s falling asleep if it weren’t for his determination to finish his cigarette. 

“Why— why haven’t you asked me anything?” Eddie asks.

You look at him, doing your best to keep a neutral expression as you fold your hands over the paper of your notebook, “I wasn’t under the impression you wanted to be… bothered.”

Eddie glances at you, scoffing, and you remind yourself that you’ve already somehow made the man despise you, so it’d be better to hold your tongue, opting not to remind him of the shitty attitude he’s had since you met. “I’m part of the band, aren’t I?” He shrugs, picking at the loose threads of his ripped jeans. “Shouldn’t I have as much coverage as… Jeff?” He mumbles, and you think he might be under the impression that you can’t hear him, but you do either way.

Your eyebrows raise, and you shift in your seat once again, “Well… would you like me to ask you some questions?”

Eddie is more gentle when he is drunk, you think. More pliable, softer. The stone-hard deflective shield he has thrown up for you has withered beneath the alcohol. Where his eyes are usually cold and sharp, they are now softer and telling— of what, you’re not sure yet. He shifts further into the couch and shrugs, and you take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, scribbling Eddie’s name in the corner.

“Okay, Eddie,” you begin, turning ever so slightly to face him. “Tell me about yourself. Tell me about who you are aside from the frontman of Corroded Coffin.” You glance between your notebook and Eddie, patiently waiting as he takes a drag of the burning paper. He looks at you, the majority of his face shielded behind unruly dark curls, and the room is so silent it’s nearly deafening.

Eddie shakes his head so gently you almost don’t notice the movement, “I don’t…” he bounces his leg once, “I thought this was about the music.”

You nod, “It is.”

Eddie gently blinks, like if he blinks too hard, the earth might shatter, and you think it’s beautiful, and you think you might hate that.

“It’s about the music, but I can’t write about the music without knowing the creator, can I?”

Eddie looks at you, eyes almost clear with lips parted around smoke. He blinks again, and you smile in encouragement, situating the pen in your grip. He looks at you, studies you, his gaze dropping to your awaiting hand, and his face twists in some expression you can’t put a finger on.

Before Eddie can speak, the door opens, both of your heads snapping toward the door as a tipsy Gareth pops his head inside, “Eddie, come on man, the car’s here.”

If Gareth had noticed the odd combination of you and Eddie sitting on the same couch, willingly enduring each other's presence, he wouldn’t mention it. 

You look back to Eddie, and you almost want to stop him as he gets up because, god, you were so fucking close. So close to finally touching Eddie. But he’s gone quicker than he came, the scent of his cologne and smoke lingering like a ghost, and despite Eddie giving you absolutely nothing to write about, you find yourself writing about him either way with nothing but his scent to aid you.

Eddie is drunk, and he can not, for the life of him, stop thinking about you.

A girl is climbing over him in the back of a taxi, and Eddie can only think about you. The look of pain you had when you stood up after falling, the way you looked at him as if he was the bane of your existence— it makes Eddie’s stomach churn, and he wishes the culprit for his nausea was the alcohol, but it’s not. Eddie knows it’s not because the second he thinks about the way you smiled at him in the dressing room, the way you said his name, the way you spoke so gently despite how much of an asshole he’s been to you, Eddie’s sick stomach settles and erupts in this annoying warm flutter.

Eddie can’t think of anything but the fact that he wants you to smile at him more, wants to hear you say his name again, and talk to him in your gentle way.

His face pinches in frustration, fingers gripping the girl's waist as she mouths at his neck. She moans against his skin, grinding down against his bulge and grinning when she feels him rut up against her. Eddie mumbles something, he’s not sure what he mumbles because his brain is split between worlds of scary feelings and arousal, but the girl laughs, scraping her teeth against his thumping pulse, “That journalist?” She asks.

Eddie blinks away the foggy cloud, “Huh?”

Lany pulls away from his neck and looks at him, biting her lip and tilting her head as she rubs up against him again, Eddie grunting in the back of his throat as his face twists in pleasure. “The journalist. You said her name.” Lany hums, drifting her hands up Eddie’s chest and grappling at the collar of his unbuttoned sheer top. Eddie blinks again and shakes his head, “I didn’t,” he denies.

Lany giggles, “You did, Eddie.”

Eddie glances over her shoulder, making awkward eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror, and he slightly grimaces and looks back to Lany as she leans in, ghosting her lips over his and tauntingly whispering your name. Eddie grunts in protest, squeezing her hips in a warning. Before he can say something, Lany kisses him with a hum before pulling away to where her lips brush against hers as she speaks, “Did you fuck her?”

Eddie pulls away from Lany, a look of distaste on his face as he glares at her, “Did I— what? No,” Eddie cringes as if it’s the worst thing he’s ever heard— and it’s not, and Eddie… Eddie hates that, he thinks. “No, I didn’t fuck her. Are you serious?” “You want to fuck her then?”

“I want you to stop talking about her,” Eddie counters, dragging his thumb across her bottom lip and watching as he drags the plump flesh down, grinning when Lany nips at his fingertip. “Maybe put these pretty lips to good use, hm?” He taunts, grin widening when she nods and sucks his thumb down to the last knuckle, his jeans tightening at the feeling and sight.

And if Eddie did say your name, he doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that he’d been thinking of you for whatever odd, fucked up reason, and he doesn’t try to figure out what that weird flutter feeling is when he thinks about your softness, the softness he’s been depriving himself of.

He doesn’t dwell on any of it because Eddie is drunk, and when Eddie drinks, he thinks of and does stupid things, things that sound good at the moment but will screw him over in the long run.

And Eddie wants nothing to do with you anyway, and it’s not like one half-assed drunken conversation changed that, right?

Eddie’s got a blistering headache and a churning stomach as he stands outside the studio the following day. It’s drizzling, gloomy clouds drooping over the looming buildings of New York, and Eddie always hated this kind of weather; he preferred a full storm over the tease of a shower.

New York has never been Eddie’s favorite place, it’s dirty, and reeks of trash, and the people are shitty, but he likes how easy it is to blend in with the crowd; not many people notice him here, and that’s rare these days.

He’s leaning on the stoop of the building, tiny drops of rain dripping from the portico onto his leather-covered shoulders. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he watches the traffic go by, taking slow puffs to ease his body.

He hardly notices you when you bounce up the stairs until you stand just two steps below him. He glances at you and sees the coffee cups in each of your hands. You extend one out to him, “Would you like one? They accidentally gave me two.” You offer.

And you’re fucking nice. Despite how shitty Eddie has been towards you, you’re still nice to him, and Eddie, for the life of him, can’t stand it. He thinks you’re weird, insane, stupid. Thinks you were probably dropped as a baby more times than anyone can count because there’s no way somebody in their right mind would willingly give him the time of day when he’s treated them as shitty as Eddie has treated you. He nearly ran you over, for Christ's sake.

Still, Eddie doesn’t falter, “No. Probably spit in it on your way here.”

You laugh, and it irks Eddie in a way that makes him want to shiver as if the sound were nails scraping against a chalkboard. He distracts himself with a drag of his cigarette as you say, “I didn’t, but thanks for the idea.”

Eddie grunts in response, focusing on the last of his smoke as you tell him you’ll see him inside before walking up the rest of the stairs. Eddie barely acknowledges you as you pass him, but he acknowledges the sound of something dropping beside his feet. He looks down with pinched eyebrows, eyeing the notebook lying on the wet ground.

It’s your notebook— obviously— he’d know that stupid journal from anywhere. It’s a pale yellow with two leather straps you like to tie in a lousy bow, and Eddie believes it’s an annoying color, but he thinks that has more to do with the fact that you chose it. Mindlessly, Eddie picks it up, shaking off the rainwater before it seeps into the pages, and he turns to give it to you because he’d assumed you realized you dropped it, but you’re gone.

Eddie blinks, eyeing the door and the book in his hands, and Eddie knows he should just follow you and give it back because that’s the right thing to do. Knows he shouldn’t peek inside to see what your mind is like, knows you’d probably kill him because Eddie would do the same if anyone looked into his thousands of journals back home, but his fingers itch, and before he can stop himself, he’s flicking his cigarette bud away, leaning against the building and cracking the front page open.

Eddie’s not sure what he’d expected. Maybe something interesting, like a list of dudes you’ve fucked or some rant about a friend, but Jesus, how much more boring could you get? Grocery lists, reminders to book appointments, dates for work meetings, boring shit that Eddie could care less about. He flicks through nearly half of the book before anything piques his interest, snickering when he comes across a page of you talking about a guy named Danny, “What a sap,” Eddie mumbles to himself, softly chuckling and turning the page.

He flips through a few more pages before halting because Eddie's name is right at the top of the page. 

The door opens, and he jumps, fearing you might be searching for your lost journal, but it’s only a staff member. Eddie watches them trot down the steps before returning to the treasure in his hands, eagerly reading as if the book will turn to dust before he gets a chance.

And Eddie thinks he’s fucked up, screwed up in ways he never really wants to address. Despite Eddie’s outwardly attitude of thinking he’s the best at everything and knows all, there are still ugly parts of him that he so badly wants to reach inside and pull like weeds from a garden, crack his chest open, and take it from the root; pieces of him that can make him crumble quicker than a house of cards on a rickety table. 

However, the way you write about Eddie— the words you use and the so careful placement of each thought— it makes Eddie feel something he forgot he ever could about himself, and he doesn’t like how it makes his insides twist. He hates it. Eddie hates that you can read him as if he’s a fucking children’s book. Hates that you can see and point out parts of him that have been lost for so long he’d thought it was a dream. He can’t stand it. 

But as much as Eddie swears he hates what you’ve written and as much as he hates that it makes him feel something other than disdain, he can’t stop reading. He wants to read all you can say about him and only exist in the imagery you create of him because Eddie, for once in a long time, is someone in your eyes.

You write about Eddie like he is a person, a human being with real feelings and depth and a history of memories you’ve never seen or heard of before, but you still somehow manage to paint him so clearly. Inside your words, Eddie exists as more than the entity that fame has created him to be, and Eddie can’t remember the last time he read something about himself and didn’t feel like a pawn. 

It’s… refreshing.

Eddie flips the page, thinking there will be more you’ve written about him, but he’s selfishly disappointed when he realizes it’s just a personal entry. He scans the page, nearly deciding to close it for the day, when he catches a glimpse of a familiar name— Gareth.

It takes Eddie a moment to fully grasp the words you’ve written, the meaning of what exactly you’re explaining that you’d apparently discussed with Gareth. As soon as he lets the words settle into his chest, he’s storming into the building quicker than he can comprehend.

Bursting through the room of Richie's rented studio, Eddie makes a beeline for the sound booth where Gareth is busy tapping out a steady beat.

Eddie barely acknowledges you and the rest of the band in discussion off to the side, but his abrupt appearance has halted all conversation in the room. He storms up to Gareth behind his drum set and wastes no time gripping the man’s collar, gaze lit with fire and words seething as he leans in and glares down at the man. The room goes silent as soon as the question leaves Eddie’s lips, “Did you fuck Chrissy?”

Chrissy Cunningham was Eddie Munson’s high school sweetheart.

As the story goes, Eddie spent the better part of high school crushing on the cute captain of the cheerleading squad. For as long as he can remember, Eddie had been labeled as the school freak— something to do with his love of fantasy games and ‘odd music taste’— so he’d never imagined he would get a chance with Chrissy, but that all changed after a weird spiral of events they experienced together.

Eddie and Chrissy dated for a few years until Corroded Coffin went big. The long-distance trial of their relationship didn’t last long; Eddie rarely called Chrissy, and when he did call, they could only ever find time to argue about whatever Eddie had been photographed doing. Chrissy never came to watch the band once they moved out to LA, and she broke Eddie's heart the one time she did. 

So, it’s no surprise that reading the words in your journal has twisted the knife that’d been lodged in Eddie’s chest for so long that he was sure he couldn’t feel it anymore— he was wrong.

Gareth is looking at Eddie as if Eddie has asked him if the sky is blue and Eddie’s mind is a whirling wind of fire. “What are you talking about, man?” Gareth’s eyebrows pinch in confusion.

Eddie sneers and pulls him closer, Gareth leaning so far off his stool that Eddie's grip on his shirt is the only thing keeping him from the ground. Gareth drops his drumsticks to grab Eddie’s wrists as Eddie speaks, “Don’t bullshit me, Gareth. Did you fuck Chrissy, yes or no?”

Eddie looks at his best friend, and he sees lies, something he’s never had to associate with their friendship, and it almost hurts him more than what Chrissy did. Gareth stutters, shaking his head as if he wants to say no, tries to say no and deny that he slept with his best friend's girlfriend, but he can’t.

Gareth whispers Eddie’s name so quietly Eddie nearly misses it, but the quiver in his voice is all Eddie needs to hear to know the truth. Eddie doesn’t take a second to think before he cracks a closed fist down on his best friend's cheek, sending him back, crashing into the symbols in a clatter of noise.

He doesn’t wait to hear Gareth’s spew of apologies, and he doesn’t wait to listen to the pathetic excuses he makes up because he’s marching over to you next, a scowl on his face as he tosses your journal into your lap, and you look up at him in shock, “You dropped this on your way in.” 

And if this is the end of Corroded Coffin, then Eddie’s sure you’ll have one hell of a story to write. That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?

A good story.

————

part three

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a/n: AHH U MADE IT TO THE END, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975

[afoggymirror]

반짝반짝 너와 함께 있을 때

‧ ₊ ˚ * ๋࣭ ⭑ ⚝ twinkle twinkle when i’m with you ༘ 𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

broke!annyeongz | smut; fluff; puppygirl!Yujin; petplay; shock collar; drunk sex; heavy foot stuff; light hypno; light overstimulation word count | 8000 ao3

Buried several pages deep into a small newspaper, back in her old home town, she’d once read a completely inane story that, God knows why, lodged itself in her brain. It was about a local woman who, due to health complications, had lost the use of her legs, and so she trained her dog – a very pretty Border Collie mix – to fetch the groceries from the local store. Why this story just so happened to pop into her head again at that very moment, Yujin could only guess.

In total, she was carrying five bags: her purse from work balanced precariously on one shoulder, a large tote bag filled to the brim with stuff from the supermarket, and three plastic bags full of whatever couldn’t fit in the second bag. Really, Yujin wouldn’t mind carrying all this junk if it weren’t so fucking cold that day. She’d walked all from the office to the store with her hands awkwardly buried into her armpits for warmth.

She shitstepped around a corner and away from the wind. Her head sunk into her scarf and all the hair she had wrapped it around. Her breath condensed in the air, painting the view of the city around her a paler shade of gray. For a moment, something changed she felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her. The next moment she realized one of her bags had just ripped.

“Ah, shit,” she heard a loud, glassy thoonk against the pavement below, “fuck.” Yujin craned her neck, just fast enough to see the bottle of wine bounce a few times, before rolling to a lazy stop against a concrete bench nearby.

Waddling as fast as she could between the bags and her long fuzzy trench coat – its bottom now certainly coated in gunk from brushing against the ground – she squatted awkwardly to pick up the wine. A light pink rosé, one that they’d never tried before, but which seemed like something they would enjoy, soft and smooth, tending towards a dry. The bottle had some scratches where it hit the ground, but it looked to be intact otherwise. Thank God, who knows what Wony would have her do if she knew she’d wasted nice booze.

Maybe it was her mind conjuring Wony, maybe it was the Sun hitting the bottle and projecting pastel pink swirls onto the pavement, but the city suddenly seemed a lot less gray. Yujin saw in color. It was a Friday, and she was about spend three days with the love of her life. She wanted to hold the feeling in her hand, but instead she held the bottle tight and continued to waddle home, newly oblivious to the strain on her wrists, from where all the groceries now bounced.

Yujin arrived at their apartment building – a discreet little place, not far from the heart of the city – and fumbled taking the keys from her purse, fumbling through the front door and fumbling with the elevator button. She stood in front of the metal doors for a little while before remembering that the elevator broke that week. She took the stairs.

Entering the studio apartment, Yujin took off her shoes and her coat, before dumping all the groceries on the kitchen counter and diving onto bed. The kitchen counter and the bed were, of course, a few feet apart. Their apartment was very small.

She let herself relax, but not for long. Wonyoung wouldn’t be back for a little while, but she still had a lot to prepare before then.

Before the tiredness could get to her, she got up and got to work putting away the groceries. Her mind wandered through the minutes, taking salmon fillets from their package, laying them on a pan with oil (just a little oil, Wony was sensitive about that), setting the water to boil for the pasta…

A nice smell began to drift from the fish on the stove, and she opened the large window at the end of the studio apartment, so it wouldn’t be overbearing later. Wony was also sensitive about that. Speaking of which, was she supposed to leave the wine in the fridge? They’re meant to be in room temperature but Yujin remembered hearing it might be different for rosés?

Her mind busied itself as the Sun lowered in the sky. This evening must have cost most of her paycheck that month, and preparing it was becoming exhausting very quickly, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that Wonyoung had a really bad week at work, and if Yujin could do anything to make it better, she would, regardless of price.

Often, she would catch herself fantasizing her words, once Wony got home. Hey baby! she would say, romantic, I know these weeks have been rough for you, I hope I can help get your mind off things for the weekend. Are you hungry? The dinner in her mind tasted amazing, they ate and then went out and then danced through the night, and when they came back their shitty studio had become a beautiful refuge, shielded from the world, lit by stars and candles and fairy lights- oh yeah, shit, the fairy lights!

She plugged in the lights that hung around the far window, framing the darkening sky in a homely orange glow. The dinner was ready by then: salmon and small farfalle with a light lemon and garlic cream, which she plated all fancy, just like they’d seen that guy do in Masterchef. Wony had to have gotten off work about now and Yujin was a little behind getting everything ready – one thing, she really needed a shower.

Yujin covered their shitty, repurposed garden table in a big, Lady and the Tramp-type cloth, magically converting it into the scene of a beautiful dinner, and was halfway turning to find a candle, when she caught sight of something weird, a really ugly orange stain on the floor tiles. Oh, absolutely not, what the fuck was that? She grabbed the rubbing alcohol and some towels and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, but the damn thing wouldn’t come off.

And so, when Wonyoung first saw her that evening, Yujin was on her knees, messy hair and work clothes, swiping at some unknown goo on the floor.

“Oh hey, the maid is here!” Wony joked, taking off her shoes at the door.

Yujin’s heart jumped. She turned around to see her girlfriend, an apparition framed in the light of the door way, long hair and winter coat trailing behind her in the air, her beauty gleaming even through the tired face of someone who’d just left a full work week.

All Yujin’s preparation faded from her mind. Through all these years, she could never get used to seeing Wonyoung. She wanted to say she loved her. She wanted to recite all the sweet nothings she’d practiced, to tell her how glad she was to see her and how lucky she was to be with her and that she gave her life meaning.

Instead, the stunned lump in her throat won, and what she said was,

“Did you like, puke on the floor here? What the fuck is this stain?”

“Language!” Wonyoung half-laughed, leaving her purse and coat on the counter and climbing straight into bed, “it’s probably something your clumsy ass spilled.”

Yujin rolled her eyes,

“My clumsy a- hey, don’t go on the bed with outside clothes!”

“You do it too!”

She literally did earlier. Whatever. Yujin turned and kept wiping at this cum stain or whatever this was. Oh yeah wait, she didn’t even say hi to the love of her life.

“Stop cleaning,” Wonyoung said in a whine, and Yujin stopped.

She looked back up at Wonyoung, puppy eyes failing to mask the expectant adoration they always held.

Wony laid back on the comfy bunch of plushies and pillows they kept propped against the the wall and, pouting, opened her arms wide, “hug.”

The word was a higher force moving her, Yujin dropped everything and jumped onto bed, scaling the pillows to lay her head on Wony’s shoulder. Wonyoung wrapped her arms around Yujin like she would any other plushie. Half her head was covered by a forearm and it was a little hard to breathe. She was in heaven.

“Good girl…”

Yujin’s cheeks turned red under Wony’s arms. She couldn’t help but smile her wide, dimply smile, before burrowing deeper into her love’s shoulder. There it was. That weird burning pride that made her want to hide her face. “Good girl,” why did she like saying that? Yujin was literally older than her.

They were both very young when they moved in together, and it had been scary for both. They’d been dating for a few years, and friends long before that, so they knew they’d always have each other. Still, things changed fast, money was tight, and work was insufferable. Since Yujin arrived in town, they’d jumped from shitty studio apartment to shitty studio apartment, frail ships braving the blinding city lights.

When everything else was uncertain, some things had to stay constant: their kiss, their arms, their love.

Wonyoung was warm. Yujin assumed she was, too. Neither had really rested all day. Wony’s wispy, flowery perfume hung now low and scarce around her slender neck. Yujin reached her head to kiss it, kissed down to her shoulders. Her eyes focused on Wony’s delicate collar bones, gentle beneath the wide neck of her blouse. Yujin traced them lightly with her fingers,

“Oh yeah I uh… I made you dinner.”

“Yeah, I can smell it.”

“Do you want some?”

“Later.”

“…”

“…”

“…it’s gonna get cold.”

“We can eat it cold.”

“…”

“…”

C… can we? Yujin hesitated, is salmon ok cold?

Wony’s remained stoic in her poutyness, though Yujin could see her fighting her cheek from forming a smile. Clearly she picked up on Yujin’s worries, and found them cute.

I guess salmon can go on sushi…

“Is… is the smell too strong, do you want me to go open another window?”

“Stay,” she squeezed Yujin tighter.

She stayed.

Wonyoung pet her hair. She got chills. Wony was right, they didn’t need to get up to eat right now. Or get up for any reason, really.

“Actually, go get the remote.”

Yujin got up and crawled to the corner of the bed where the remote had fallen and fetched it, immediately coming back to the pillows. Wonyoung set the TV to the most vapid thing she could find, at a volume just loud enough that they could hear the voices but not distinguish the words.

Hands weaved through Yujin’s hair, scratching lightly, drawing slow paths from the top of her head, ending behind her ear. Shivers followed where the finger tips passed. Yujin felt herself sink deeper into the crook of Wony’s neck, felt a sleepy whimper push through the lump on her throat, felt her vision blur just a little. She hadn’t noticed, but she really was tired.

Her bangs were scratching her eyes a little. Yujin liked her hair short, but these days she hadn’t had the time to have it cut, it grew to her shoulders. Moving a hand up to adjust, pushing off the weight of sleep, took considerable effort. She eyed the TV, but couldn’t make out much. Muffled sounds meshed together in a lullaby, frames blended in impressions of waves, the rhythm of Wony’s breath and the beating of Wony’s heart swayed her as the tides.

With the way things had been at Wony’s work, Yujin knew better than to ask about her day. She was somebody who knew what she wanted, so if she said she just wanted to snuggle and fall asleep to the TV, that’s what Yujin would give her.

It killed her to see Wonyoung this tired. Yujin’s mind had run in circles all day, and even now it jumped from the food which was getting cold, to the bugs coming in from the open window, to how she should clean the floor later… but she knew none of these things mattered. Meaningless gestures to distract from what really troubled her: Wony’s life wasn’t perfect, she couldn’t make it perfect, and it wasn’t fair.

Wony was radiant, blinding, the light from which all else emanated. Yujin couldn’t find the words to express her adoration. It twisted her throat into knots, filled her mind with useless concerns, filled her mouth with stupid irony. When they were younger, first falling for each other, Yujin was nervous, a giddy mess of jumbled feelings, but she somehow felt more at ease expressing herself. Now that they had set into domestic life, that habit gripped them in its jaws, she often felt that her words had dried.

Not a moment passed when she didn’t have something on her chest. She wanted to tell her all she felt, give her everything she had. She wanted to change it all, make this broken world right, make it so Wonyoung never had to work another day in her life, so she’d live life as a princess in a soft, cotton-candy cloud far above it all, away from any sorrows or worries.

And in that moment, Wonyoung twitched a little. She was falling asleep, deep amid the pile of soft pink pillows. She did not seem worried in the slightest.

Before long the arms that squeezed Yujin tight relaxed, the hand waving through her hair came to a stop. She felt the sway of Wonyoung’s breath slow further, her chest rising and falling at a measured pace. Yujin blinked lazily to focus her clouded gaze, chancing a glimpse up towards Wony’s face, and saw it still, doll-like, eyes peacefully shut and lips just a little parted, lit by fairy lights and the flickering ghosts of the TV screen.

Wony was ok. And Yujin was ok, because she was in Wony’s arms.

After chasing her tail all day, Yujin felt the exhaustion truly creep in.

She settled her arms around Wony’s stomach in a way that wouldn’t trouble her love’s breathing, and allowed sleep to take her over.

A faint, compressed gun shot rang out from the low-quality speakers, just loud enough to rouse Yujin. Instantly she noticed something missing. Her body was submerged in pillows, but the comforting arms that held her were gone.

Sleep covered her eyes, her vision was a few large orange blots of light and the vague, blinding rectangle of whatever drama was on TV.

“This is really nice,” Wonyoung’s voice was inviting, accompanied by a slow harmony of metal cutlery on porcelain, somewhere off to her left.

Of course, looking there showed only an array of strange halos, scintillating stars that, really, probably didn’t amount to more than fairy lights hung onto the curtains. A slender shadow amid the dazzling glow sat looking back at her.

“It would be nicer if we’d eaten it warm,” Yujin’s irony woke up before she did.

“You feel asleep too!” she didn’t need to see Wony clearly to sense the laugh in her voice, “you were snoring, did you know that? You snored really loud just now, it’s probably what woke you up.”

“I woke up because you left the TV on too loud!”

“Well then turn it off and go back to sleep!”

Yujin stretched before palming around the pillows, finding the remote and turning off the TV, suddenly noticing she didn’t want to go back to sleep. She looked back at Wonyoung, still blinking mist from her eyes, as if to ask if she really had to.

“I was joking, come eat.”

She went.

Yujin didn’t know why Wonyoung’s words had this effect on her. It was Pavlovian. Her reflex was to please.

Wony’s glass was empty so Yujin filled it again.

“Is the wine good? I was a little worried it wouldn’t pair well with the fish.”

Wonyoung looked at her and smiled,

“You’re so cute,” she picked up the glass and swirled it absentmindedly, “the wine is wonderful.”

Heat creeped to Yujin’s cheeks. She sat, averted her eyes, still hazy from sleep, and began stuffing her mouth with food.

“So my day was awful, but how was yours?” Wonyoung asked, reaching out across the table and stroking Yujin’s wrist.

“I, uh…” frankly, she was drawing a blank. All memories from the previous hours were of worrying about Wonyoung. She knew she’d been neglecting her own things to care for Wony. She couldn’t just admit that, though, “I sure cleaned the house a lot for your ass.”

Wind passed through Wony’s nose faster than usual, in what could, generously, be called a laugh. A laugh, however, which clearly held less patience than it did even a few minutes ago. Sometimes Wonyoung seemed as frustrated with Yujin as Yujin was with herself.

Still, if they weren’t done teasing, Wonyoung would make the most of it.

“Oh yeah? What a good little girl…”

Yujin’s face was on fire.

“Stop calling me that, I am literally older than you.”

Wony leaned forward to rest her cheek on one hand, eyes locked to Yujin’s.

“You know, you’ve been such a good girl today, I’m thinking I might even indulge your weird foot thing.”

“I do not have a foot thi-!” Yujin felt a sock crawl playfully up her calf, coming to a stop between her thighs.

A giggle lost itself between Wonyoung’s lips,

“I’m not judging!” Satisfied with Yujin’s discomfort, she changed the subject, “anyway, you were saying about your day?”

Wonyoung pushed her heel slowly into her. Yujin made a fist, held her knuckles to her mouth, chanced a glimpse up at Wony through her bangs. She couldn’t meet her smiling face for long, her eyes closed before gluing themselves to her plate again.

She scrambled for words to say. Of course she could speak like normal, this wasn’t distracting. She didn’t even know where Wony got the idea she liked foot stuff. She began a story about someone from work who ate at their desk yesterday and so today they had ants inside their laptop or whatever.

Wonyoung pushed firmly against her. Yujin pushed her hips back against her foot. Shit. Maybe Wony didn’t notice her sudden eagerness, maybe she still had plausible deniability. Wony noticed,

“Oh you love this,” she laughed, rocking her slender leg into Yujin at a quick rhythm, “gross baby.”

“Stop…” Yujin angled herself so Wony would be pressing at the right spot.

“Do you want me to stop?” She leaned further, chin resting on both hands, her voice affecting the tone of someone being nice, “I’ll stop if you want.”

Yujin still wore work pants, but the pressure was having its effect, even through the fabric and the shame. Maybe because of them.

“Mm… mm-mmm…” she shook her head no.

She was warm. Not just her cheeks, though those burned with the fires of Hell. All of her. She was a gradient from the heat building in her core to the shame blazing across her face. The fairy lights shone on Wonyoung’s pale skin, a spotlight beaming straight at her,

“Say it with your words, baby.”

A weak moan broke through Yujin’s lips. She wasn’t even entirely sure why. Maybe Wonyoung’s taunts, maybe the fabric rubbing against her skin, beginning to make her sensitive, beginning to hurt. Maybe the confusion itself, the sleepy, shameful heat. Wony knew how to play her, make her confused, and she loved doing it. Wony loved to cause an impression.

“You don’t have… to stop…”

“Stop what?”

Yujin looked back up, a little dumbfounded. What did she want from her now?

“‘Please don’t stop fucking me with your foot, miss Wonyoung. I love this,’” she tilted her head to the side, a cat playing with its food. “Say it.”

Her obedient reflex finally found resistance. Yujin looked mortified. She had a hard time talking about her day, let alone whatever this was.

“Ah,” Wonyoung sighed, performing great impatience, crossing her arms, “I knew you wouldn’t say it,” she pulled her foot from Yujin’s thighs. There was peace under the table.

Sometimes – and for reasons Yujin found easy to ascertain after the fact, but nearly impossible to predict – Wonyoung would simply turn a key. The playful tone that lately permeated their every conversation would feel heavy, trite compared to what they could be saying, those words they both knew were stuck in Yujin’s throat. And so, to entertain themselves, Wonyoung would stop playing, and begin toying with her. Yujin was hers for the night.

“…why are you like this?” Yujin smiled, finally allowing herself to lift her eyes, half shaded by her bangs, and meet Wonyoung’s again.

“You know, I actually bought you something too,” she crossed her legs, and pointed theatrically across the apartment to the kitchen counter, deep into the recesses where the fairy lights could barely light the orange walls. “Go get it from my purse.”

Before Yujin knew it she was in the kitchen, half engulfed by darkness, fumbling through Wony’s purse. It didn’t take long to find what she needed. She pulled out the strange object, squinting to identify it in the dim light. It resembled a thin but sturdy choker, except for a large, black, plastic cube poking from one side.

“Come,” Wony waved, struggling to hide a smile.

“You’re evil,” Yujin went.

“And you’re cute.” Wonyoung pulled Yujin’s chair with two fingers so it faced the window, “sit.”

She sat.

Her heart thumped.

Wonyoung leaned in behind her, held her neck soft with one hand, moved her hair aside with the other, breathed into her shoulder. The warmth of her engulfed Yujin, scarce, stuffy perfume from yesterday intoxicating.

She tried to adjust her posture, arch her back just a little, act like she was comfortable, fully awake and present of body and mind. Like her sleep-deprived eyes weren’t blending the little fairy lights in front of her with the city lights beyond. Like Wonyoung’s fingers didn’t feel like feather pillows, tracing their way from behind her neck around the collar of her shirt, like she didn’t feel herself sinking into them just a little.

She wasn’t fooling anyone. Wonyoung knew she couldn’t think straight. That’s how she wanted her.

“You’ve been thinking too much these days, baby girl.” Oh my God I am older than you, Yujin still considered saying. “And saying too much nonsense.” She was glad not to have said anything. “Why don’t we shut you up for the night, and help you relax a little?”

Now that threw her for a loop. Wony seemed tired these days, that was evident. But did Yujin look like she needed a break too…?

Wonyoung’s breath hitched against the back of Yujin’s neck as she reached to take the collar from her hands. Wony might have been perfect, but even her poker face could slip sometimes. For a second her breathing skipped, it lacked the regal, gracious rhythm she usually projected, for just a second she exhaled too heavy and too fast, betrayed the excitement she felt having Yujin in her hands.

She snaked the collar underneath Yujin’s hair, shoulder length and airy, it moved with Wony’s fingers, reeds on a warm breeze. It tickled, Yujin shivered. She felt the collar clasp behind her, her breathing restrict just a little in its tight hold, and in a second the apprehension hit. How strong would the shock be? She’d find out soon, she guessed. The next time she made a noise. Did Wony even test this?

For what it was worth, Wony didn’t seem concerned. Petting her hair before circling around Yujin, a satisfied “ah” left her lips. An expression like she had something to share, she half turned to one side, to the other, looking for the handle on the window. She slid it half way closed, just enough for Yujin to see herself, reflection vivid against the backdrop of the dark city, framed by the tiny orange lights. She hadn’t seen clearly in what felt like hours, from sleep, from shame, apprehension. Nothing that night felt real, Wonyoung had created a dream for her. But there in front of her, her reflection was crystal clear.

Yujin looked beautiful. She would never have guessed it, the way her work shirt still clung to her with yesterday’s effort, the way her thoughts drifted directionless through the fog of sleep. But she did, she looked beautiful. Her hair, some locks stuck under the choker, bubbled in a messy volume, made her collar bones, her half visible shoulders under the crumpled shirt, glow against the night. Framed her face to accentuate the giddy loyalty she felt with Wony next to her. That Wony brought out of her.

For a moment she couldn’t tell the gleam in her eyes from the stars beyond the window. She looked to her love, golden in the half-light, convinced that the Sun herself was beside her.

“You’re so pretty,” Wony complained, eyes burning into Yujin,

“Ah-” bzzt. Dozens of pins pricked the side of her neck.

A triumphant smile spread through Wony’s face. She had made Yujin forget about the collar entirely.

“Great, it works,” still smiling, she brushed Yujin’s hair into place, delicate, “is it too strong, baby?”

Yujin gave it some thought. The shock had been a little too strong, she did feel a lot of pain, but it made Wony smile, and so she could endure a million shocks just like it. She shook her head “no.”

Wonyoung’s eyes pierced hers,

“Say it.”

Wony’s smile spread to Yujin. She pursed her lips, then, resigned, enounced,

“It’s not-” bzzt.

Seeing Yujin jump, Wonyoung’s smile widened. She moved her legs, tossed her long hair over one shoulder, straddled Yujin’s lap, sent her arms loose over Yujin’s shoulders and the back of the chair, an angel descending upon Yujin.

Yujin held her slim frame, one hand resting on her stomach, another exploring her shoulder blades, pulling her close. She caught a scent, one more personal than the flowered perfume hanging low from Wony’s neck, one just a little savory, sneaking into her with a kiss. The soft lips she loved so much embraced her senses, pulling her deeper into a dream.

Her love was weightless over her, a warm cloud, a rising air current to make her soar. Wonyoung’s kisses moved along her jaw, her head fell further to the side, allowing passage. She felt her hair be brushed back, a soft teasing bite on her ear lobe. She shuddered into Wonyoung’s shoulder, heat building up in her again. Wony’s hair brushed her cheek as she kissed her way down her neck.

Yujin opened her eyes to see herself, pretty reflection bright against the city night, eclipsed by the flowing white blouse and the flowing black hair of the girl she loved, falling over her. Just then, Wony opened the first button of her shirt, pulling it aside to expose her shoulder, before biting down. Yujin moaned, loud.

Bzzt.

Needles traipsed around her neck. She jumped again. The sudden pain brought a spasm from her, sent her arm twitching, her hand made to wrap around Wony’s fore arm. A smile formed on Wonyoung’s face again, Yujin could feel it buried on her shoulder. Wony loved making her feel like this, confused and hazy under her, incapable of thinking straight even for self-preservation, a lucid dream Wony could turn from joyous to apprehensive to painful and back again at will.

She lifted her head, looked down at Yujin. Her smile settled into a smirk, knowing, like she had just divined a way to extend Yujin’s bliss. Tossing her hair over her shoulders, Wony stretched to reach aside, to the table next to them, and when her hand came back into Yujin’s view, it carried with it the rosé. She took a long, comfortable swig, stopping to move the wine around in her mouth a little, breathe in the after taste,

“You should try the wine, baby.”

One hand moving behind Yujin’s neck, she positioned the bottle to pour into her mouth. The wine came slow. It was nice, clearly not the most expensive, not the most complex taste or whatever, but for their standards it was nice. Yujin swallowed, a little rushed as Wony didn’t stop pouring. In fact she seemed to be pouring faster.

Wonyoung’s eyes became sharper, her smile more intent, the more uncomfortable Yujin became. Wine invaded her, she didn’t want to move her head and make a mess – really she didn’t want to deny Wony whatever she wanted with this – but it was becoming harder and harder to gulp down what she was given.

It filled her mouth, her throat already felt a little restricted from the choker, she swallowed, and swallowed, until her muscles sent a spout from the corner of her lips. She shut her eyes, shaking her head reflexively though never daring take her mouth from the bottle, and a loud whimper left her. Bzzt.

The pain contracted her throat, sent spurts of wine down her chin. Wonyoung laughed. She might have hated wasting booze, but this wasn’t wasting, she seemed very entertained. She pulled the bottle from Yujin’s mouth and took it back to her own. Yujin’s throat burned, some wine had gone down the wrong hole and she had to fight the urge to cough loudly. She felt her chin drip, liquid begin to soak her chest,

“My shir-!” Bzzt.

“That shirt was thrifted baby, it’s not the end of the world.”

I might have to buy a new one next week for work, the worry crossed her mind, before she distracted herself with an attempt to cough quietly enough that it wouldn’t trigger the collar, before her eyes lost themselves again on Wony. If she wanted Yujin to stop worrying, it was working. In her confusion, she could focus on nothing else but her.

Wony stretched to put the bottle back on the table before leaning over Yujin, half-open eyes possessive.

“My messy little girl,” Yujin’s cheeks were red for so many different reasons at this point, hearing her say that barely made a difference. She climbed off Yujin, “wait here, I’ll get something to help you clean up.”

Sounds of drawers and kitchen utensils echoed for longer than expected. Bzzt, Yujin’s neck contracted in pain despite not having said anything. She turned to look at Wony,

“Ow-!” bzzt again.

“Hey, it works!” Wonyoung beamed from behind her, pocketing a little remote. She ran a hand through Yujin’s hair, looking down in greed. She pulled slowly on Yujin’s hair, leaning her head back, pulling a handkerchief to wipe carefully at her chin. Yujin reached with one hand, grasping blind at her love’s thigh, eager to pull her closer. Wony acquiesced, grinning, coming closer to tower over Yujin, pulling her hair further back, so she’d see it fully as she reached an arm behind herself, and grabbed a chain she carried over her shoulders.

Wony leaned in to kiss her again, the side angle a little awkward, her hands wrapping soft around Yujin’s neck, a touch of the chain cold against her skin. The metal ran down her chest, crawled over her as Wony moved to attach it to her collar.

She broke the kiss a little too soon, leaned back, one hand cupping Yujin’s cheek, the other wrapping itself in other end of the chain,

“Well… this is great, but I actually want to finish my dinner.”

Um…

“Wony what the fu-” bzzt.

Wony what the fuck are you talking about, she thought, with her inside voice.

Wonyoung pulled away, walked around her toward the table, lips twisted into a smile, chain growing taut between them. She stopped, brought a finger to her lips, affecting like she was really considering what to do next, then pulled strong on the chain.

The tug on Yujin’s neck – the alcohol might have begun to set in – sent her off balance, tumbling. The little lights next to her darted fast past her vision. The floor welcomed her with open arms. Before even fully regaining her senses, her eyes followed, incredulous, the chain up to where Wonyoung stood, a satisfied smirk on her face,

“Come on, girl,” she said, tone half baby talk, “let’s eat.”

Something told Yujin she wasn’t supposed to get up again. Wony continued pulling on the leash, walking carefree to her seat at the table, it was all Yujin could do to follow on all fours.

Wony sat, legs crossed, Yujin knelt. She looked up, expectant, eyes big under her bangs, afraid of what her love had in mind. Wonyoung ate a piece of salmon, some noodles, absentminded, like she’d forgotten Yujin was there.

“Oh, why don’t you entertain yourself while we’re here?” Wony, suppressing a smirk, pushed one foot forward, as if offering it to Yujin.

Frustrated, she blinked, eyeing Wony through messy bangs, furrowed brow and pursed lips. The heat in her cheeks grew insufferable again.

“Come on,” Wonyoung mocked, pulling Yujin by the chain, bending her closer, “don’t be shy.”

Yujin sighed, thankfully too quiet to trigger the collar, laughing a little to the side so Wony wouldn’t see. The window next to them was harder to see through the lights, but the glimpse she caught was beautiful. Wonyoung, long flowing hair, pretty with her posture perfect, enjoying dinner and a nice wine, her in disheveled formal wear, bent before her in chains. This was fine.

She leaned forward, Wonyoung’s foot bobbing close to her, black sock worn with its seam a little off-center. Reaching under her sole and around her ankle for support, she leaned forward and kissed it. Wonyoung chuckled above the table, she did too. She leaned again, kissed down the bridge of her foot,

She was serious. She actually didn’t like feet – she did not! – there was just something comforting about this. Embarrassing herself in front of Wony, expressing her adoration in such a direct, if gross, way.

And adore she did, compelled, by whatever force, to pull off Wony’s sock. She heard more quiet giggling from above the table, Wony crossed her legs in the opposite direction, allowed her to pull off the other. Her feet were long, slim, her skin soft and pristine save for a vein visible when she moved, bones gentle around her slender ankles. They were pretty, she concluded – like how she would comment on a friend’s hair style, not like she would say if she was into feet, which she was not.

When Wony lowered her eyes again, Yujin was deep into a kiss, lost in the skin between two knuckles.

“Here, get the bottom, too,” she flexed her ankle, mocking, pushing her sole to Yujin, before tugging on the leash. It was all Yujin could do to keep herself from smashing face first. She wanted to pull away, take a moment to even process Wony’s words, but her neck was pulled back into place. It was alright, her soles were pretty as well.

She leaned in to kiss her heel, her arches. Her hands held up Wony’s ankle like a relic, a work of art she wouldn’t dare damage by letting go, she wouldn’t dishonor in that way. Her skin was so soft, Yujin had always wondered how Wony kept her skin, her hair, her figure, despite her hectic work hours, and, she couldn’t deny, she loved being able to enjoy it, even if it made her cheeks burn with shame sometimes.

Her kisses climbed to Wony’s toes, before her love began to pull her foot away. It rested on Yujin’s shoulder, and began to push her down. She looked up at Wonyoung, smiling down entertained as ever. Yujin had no mind to resist, wouldn’t know how to anymore, she was gone. Her body leaned forward, as if pulled by gravity, Wonyoung’s gravity. The burn in her cheeks felt nicer now. The wine must have been getting to her.

Wonyoung stepped on Yujin’s chain, pulled her down until her head was level with the ground. Yujin, fully bowed, hair falling around her and spreading on the floor, cared less about her embarrassment by the second. When it rained… Kissing one foot, the other moved to pin her head in place, her whole world was down there, the task at hand engulfed her. Wony wanted her degraded, so that’s what she would be.

Her kissing grew louder, more focused. A moan left her, met promptly by a bzzt. From above, Wony sat back, the melody of her cutlery changed tempo, slowing as if satisfied with Yujin’s eagerness. She took her time to enjoy the humiliation she’d brought out of Yujin, before moving to bring out the next,

“Hey puppy, you must be hungry,” she disentangled Yujin from her legs, leaned over holding her plate, dumped some noodles and some salmon on the ground, scraps thrown under the table.

Yujin looked up, looked at the food. She was well past shame at this point, the desire to please was the first thing on her mind. She lowered her head to the food, took it in, getting sauce on her nose, fish grease on her chin, surely draping her hair on something horrible down there. Whatever. Wony would probably find it funnier if she was messy anyway. The salmon was nice, they really should’ve eaten it warm though.

Bzzt, Yujin jumped, a bit of fish still left on the floor. Wony had the little remote in her hand, and a mocking smile on her face.

“You’re so gross,” Wony laughed lovingly. She patted her own lap, “sit, let’s wash that down.”

She began pouring another glass as Yujin got up, knees sore from being on the ground too long. Standing again felt wrong, like she’d lost the right to be a biped after the previous minutes. Thankfully, Wonyoung, sitting wide and relaxed, offered a leg for her to straddle, a safe haven to keep herself degraded.

One leg on either side of Wonyoung’s thigh, she lowered herself, her movements nearly escaping her, all just a little too long, eyes just a little too heavy. She let her head fall on Wony’s shoulder, one hand holding the other shoulder, a quiet, tired moan running through her.

“You good, baby?”

“Yeah-” bzzt. Wonyoung laughed.

Feeling Yujin’s shirt, still wet from wine, cling onto her, Wony stopped pouring the second glass, pushed her back just a little and began undoing her buttons. Her moves were utilitarian, like it had to be done and Yujin was incapable of doing it herself. Be it some leftover claim to human dignity still in her, feeling patronized by Wony’s tone, be it simple dumb desire from a dumb baby who couldn’t think straight, Yujin just had to interject.

A dimply smirk forming, she reached out her hands to cup Wonyoung’s face – so small, so pretty – and fell, dazzled, into a kiss. Her movements were, by then, noticeably sloppy. Their faces slammed together, Wony smiled, Yujin giggled, a bzzt made her jump, they smiled more.

Wonyoung allowed herself to be pulled closer. Her fingers changed pace on Yujin’s buttons, dancing with revived hunger. When Yujin’s shirt fell open, she tugged on its collar, grasping her in their kiss. Even despite the sorry state of Yujin’s mind, it was clear that behind Wony’s formality, she too wanted more with every moment. She wanted Yujin deeper and deeper under her spell.

Led by bewitched strings, Yujin’s muscles flowed heavy. Her head fell back, hair tickling shoulders as Wonyoung slipped the shirt from her arms. She felt herself move back, her whole body pushing down against the thigh she sat on. As Wony pulled her in, her hips rolled closer, then rolled away, closer, away again. Her weight drove her into a lazy rhythm.

Hands wandered her shoulders, her waist, the small of her back. Cold flowed from the half-open window and harassed her skin, a refreshing contrast to the all-encompassing warmth she’d been feeling all night. She huddled closer to Wony, riding her core higher against her thigh, lost her hands amid the folds of her clothes, hid kisses into her neck and her hair and scent.

Wonyoung held Yujin’s waist with one hand, reached past her with the other to finish pouring those glasses. She brought Yujin’s body back, brought a glass to her lips, before Yujin’s fingers wrapped around it and chugged down the wine, no mind to savor what she tasted. She wanted more of what Wony gave her, more of Wony, more of her magic.

She half-flopped backwards to leave the glass on the table, movements as careful as she could muster, before falling back into Wonyoung. Kissing her cheek, her jaw, her pretty pouty lips, waves crashing faster upon her with drunken euphoria, humping her leg like a bitch in heat.

“I lov-” bzzt. She jumped, but the pain didn’t feel bad anymore. The jolt was a discordant tone complementing the harmony Wonyoung crafted. “-e you,” bzzt.

Wony chuckled, drank a little of her own wine, pulled her back into a kiss,

“Get up,” she did, slow and awkward, hands still resting on Wony’s shoulders. Her love’s eyes burned, keeping her warm through the cold breeze. Wony reached behind her, unclasped her bra, kissed her stomach, her ribs, her chest. Yujin felt herself shake, maybe from cold, maybe from giddiness. She couldn’t stay still, she missed the thigh between her legs, she felt her hands move down by themselves. Wony caught the movement and pulled on Yujin’s pants, “off.”

Yujin moved with the finesse of a dying fish, fingers fumbling around the button until it opened, tugging it down blindly. Hands held hers, Wony looked up into her eyes, amused with her state,

“Slow.”

She did what she could, sluggish movements charged with all the energy of the Sun, hands vibrating in nervous joy, a phantom tail wagging wildly.

With much difficulty, she shrugged off the rest of her clothes. Standing there, in Wonyoung’s hands, lips pulling light on her nipples, barely able to muster a coherent thought, night breeze cutting through her, she felt exposed, she could almost feel embarrassed again. She did not. It didn’t matter, she was not herself anymore, she was simply Wonyoung’s.

She was guided back down. Before she saw them, she felt Wony’s fingers, held up from her thigh,

“Fuck yourself on me,” Wonyoung whispered as Yujin eased down, shaking, over her. She didn’t have to ask twice – not that she ever did. Yujin gasped as Wonyoung entered her, body welcoming her, rhythm building again.

Wony leaned back, reached with her other hand to take another sip of wine, let her lips twist slightly with that perfectly crafted, immaculate arrogance, at the girl falling apart on her.

Grabbing at her blouse, Yujin let her head fall again. She couldn’t bear it. She wanted more. More of Wonyoung’s long fingers in her, more of her scent, more of the exposure, more of the state she left her in, she wanted to throw herself to Wonyoung, live and breathe for her,

“More-” bzzt. She wanted more of the pain, too, “more-” bzzt. “Pleas-” bzzt.

Another chuckle bringing out a fruity after taste in Wony’s mouth, she finished her wine. She reached behind the back of Yujin’s neck, fingers intertwining with the base of her hair. Leaning in, she worked a third finger into her.

Yujin whimpered into her mouth. She was pulled closer by the hair. The taste of wine swallowed her whole. When she couldn’t pull away anymore – when she didn’t have it in her to break their kiss – Wonyoung released her hair. Her hand crawled slow down Yujin’s skin, tracing her neck, her ribs, her waist, her thigh, leading Yujin’s pace while she clutched disoriented at Wony’s blouse.

She held on for dear life. Her mouth was lost in Wony’s. At times her tongue poked shyly inside, but her attention was elsewhere. It flowed blurry, drunk on the scent, always slurring back down her body. Wony used one hand to lead her, grinding, into the other’s fingers. Yujin’s pace was desperate now. She felt her leg twitch, her sides. She arched her back into Wony just a little, the twitch climbed all the way to her shoulders. Their kiss was interrupted by a whimper. It was all so much… Another whimper, then another, then more. Wonyoung smiled against her, curled her fingers in her,

“My good girl…” her face was so close, so pretty, her tone so encouraging, “let go for me.”

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzt… Yujin jumped, grasped at Wonyoung’s shoulders, shook her head like that would shake the pins and needles from her neck. Wony pulled her back down, fist wrapped around the little remote. Her fingers pushed deep in her. Wony wanted her to cum in pain, and so the pain felt sweet.

Yujin lost herself. She hugged Wony close, felt her shoulders, her delicate skin, bones, hair, clawed at them for a second, before she stopped herself, she didn’t want to hurt her. She just held her while enjoying her own pain buzzing down her back, her own pleasure crashing from her core.

For a second, her mind was completely empty. No words, no worries, just the feeling of pain and relief and the smell of Wony. The feeling of a job well done – Wony wanted her to be a good girl, and she was. The feeling of being well taken care of.

When Wony let go of the remote, Yujin was light headed, barely able to keep her rhythm. She slowed, grinding still, she wanted to keep this forever. Wonyoung ran a hand through her hair, petting her slowly, scratching behind the ear.

Wony left the remote on the counter, jumping onto bed where Yujin lay exhausted. She went to unlock the clasp on Yujin’s collar, before stopping herself,

“Hmm… one last thing…” a final flash of malice crossed her face, “thank me.”

Yujin looked up, big smiling puppy dog eyes meeting hers, dimples forming deep,

“Tha-” bzzt. “-ank-” bzzt. “-yo-” bzzt. “-u,” bzzt. She could’ve said it in maybe two shocks, but she really had started to like them by now. Her head fell back on the stack of pillows, her brain really was fried.

Wony pursed her lips into a smile,

“Cutie,” she unclasped the collar, and threw it overboard off the bed. Their ship now held just Wony, her pet and their plushies.

“You don’t… want me to…?” Yujin brushed a hand on Wony’s hips.

“Later baby, after you brush your teeth.”

“Ah shit, I must have ruined your pants…” she noticed the spot where she’d sat on Wony’s thigh, still humid.

“Language!” Wony bonked her light on the head, before slipping off her pants and throwing them toward the stars. She jumped into the plush pile, “so anyway, how was your day?”

Wony, long legs bare, pulling the covers to nuzzle against her, threatened to freeze the words in her throat all over again, but she pushed past it. They were past it.

“Honestly, Wony, I don’t know what to say. All I’ve thought about these days was whether you were alright… sometimes you seem so beaten down…” she brushed her bangs from her face, before reaching under the covers to join her hands. “You’re too good to be having these problems, to be this stressed.”

“We’re too good,” she hit Yujin on the shoulder, “but we can handle it.”

It was true. With Wony, she could handle anything.

“If I could tell you how much I love you…”

“You don’t need to,” Wony touched Yujin’s head with hers, “I see it everyday.”

They lay there, enjoying soft pillows and soft covers and their soft love.

“My good girl.”

“No, really, why do you like saying that? I am literally older than you.”

“Because you like to hear it…” Wony opened her eyes quick to plant a kiss on Yujin’s forehead, “dumb ass.”

They fell asleep, aboard their soft ship, cruising through the fairies and the city and the stars.

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of It - Putting on a Show(*)

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: NSFW, smut, pre-discussed kink, light bdsm, voyeurism & exhibitionism (discussed, nothing is done in public).

Word count: 1,929

Summary: Jason tries being a little meaner in the bedroom, to delightful results for everyone.

Masterlist

----

In the middle of the night, the bedroom door opened and the Red Hood walked in. 

Andy looked up from the book she had been reading. It was a little after three in the morning with the muted sigh of wind rushing past the lofty heights of his apartment. The bedside lamp cast the large industrial-styled room in golden light and murky shadows. 

Jason shut the door behind him. 

She opened her mouth to ask how patrol went, then found the words dying in her throat. He was standing at the door, mask inscrutable, observing her in silence. 

Belatedly it struck her that she had never seen him wear his armour into the bedroom before. She slid her reading onto the bedside table and cocked her head at him. 

“Did you wait up for me?” His voice rumbled through the modulator. 

“Blame the jet lag.” She shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d try again once you got back.”

He slowly crossed the space between them.  

She pulled her knees up under the blankets. She didn’t know what to make of the way he studied her, but her body already knew how it felt about having his sole focus. The armour only made it worse. She wondered if he knew. 

“You remember that talk we had?”

“Which one?” she looked up, only to recall exactly the conversation he was referring to, in the face of blinding white lenses. “Oh.”

Her cheeks warmed. She was very aware of the looming figure standing over her, and anticipation unfurled within her.

“Yes, I remember.”

He pulled his gloves off, loosening finger by finger. He reached down a warm, bare hand and gently traced her cheek. His thumb grazed her lip. He pushed down lightly. She opened her mouth. He slid it in and she curled her lips around it. 

He drew his damp thumb back and traced it down her jaw to tilt her chin up. 

“The safe word?”  

As though it hadn’t been branded onto her mind the moment she agreed to this. 

She repeated the word. It came out breathless. 

He turned away. 

“Take off your clothes.” 

Her cotton shirt then her silky bra and matching panties landed on the floor. Her nipples pebbled in the sudden cold. She sat bolt upright, awaiting further instructions. Her heart in its cage beat like the wings of a hummingbird. 

Jason reached up to take his helmet off and placed it on the desk. 

“Lie down,” he said and he removed his weapons. “Spread your legs, and get yourself warmed up for me.”

A blush rose in her cheeks. He sat in the armchair, facing her. He leaned back, with his legs casually spread wide, and lit up a smoke. He watched her expectantly. 

She did as she was told. 

She had never put on any kind of performance before, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her now. Most nights Jason relished this part himself. He was an artist with his fingers and she was his sculpture, beauty and pleasure drawn from stoic marble. Tonight he was the audience, and she was artist and art together.  

The idea turned from daunting into arousing without her noticing. Her timidity fell away and her pleasure rose. 

In the half light the glint of the cigarette reflected in his eyes. 

“Do you touch yourself when I’m out?” 

She shook her head, mussing her hair against the sheets.” 

“No?” he drawled, incredulous.

“No.” It didn’t occur to her to be dishonest. Her role in the scene was not a fabricated one. 

“Why not?”

“I… prefer the ache of waiting for you.”

He swore quietly.

“There’s a toy in the bedside table. Get to it.”

She reached out blindly and swiftly found it. Jason enjoyed using it on her, but she had never used it on her own. It let him draw out and build up her pleasure to his own exacting standards without getting distracted by his own ends. He was a wretched tease. She both adored and hated the thing. 

He took a long drag of smoke as she adjusted. Her head tipped back against the pillows. Her eyes fluttered shut, but she didn’t want to lose sight of him and kept reopening them. He watched with burning intensity. 

Her excitement built and built, far past any notions of simply warming up. He had told her to get ready for him, but he made no move beyond stubbing the cigarette out and attempting to brand her with the heat of his eyes alone. 

“Can I… can I climax?” she asked.

“No.” 

She withheld her whine.

Normally Jason’s body language was so open and reassuring around her. This was nothing of the sort. The Red Hood, hard and uncompromising, watched her fuck herself on a dildo, and she was more hopelessly turned on than she had ever been under her own touch.  

 Slowing down was unthinkable as stopping. She had unthinkingly built her pace up, and now she had no off-ramp.

She wasn’t going to ask again. 

She wasn’t. 

With one hand cast over her face and the other between her legs, she writhed. 

Jason let out a harsh breath and stood. Every heavy step towards her felt like salvation and doom both. 

He put a hand on her shaking knee. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. Despite the calluses and the hardness of his demeanour, his thumb rubbed her skin in a familiar reassurance. 

It did not help her predicament. Her breath hitched.

He pushed her hand aside and withdrew the toy. He replaced it with two of his fingers. 

She moaned. His touch set her alight and her breath grew thin. His touch was as scorching as his gaze which pinned her down like a lance through the chest. 

“I’m-I’m going to cum if you keep doing that,” she said. 

So he stopped. 

She wanted to cry. She covered her face with her hands and took desperate heaving breaths.

The sound of unbuckling belts cut through her panting. 

“Look at me.” 

Her eyes snapped open. 

Jason lifted her by her hips and impaled her in one blow. 

She sang out in relief. 

He set a swift pace, slowing only a moment to let her rearrange pillows to support her back, shooting her straight back to the loft heights she had teetered along for so long. He drove her higher still. His thumb rubbed circles over her clit only twice, and her climax slammed into her. 

Her whole body shook. He did not slow his pace, relentlessly working her through it. 

She breathed hard as she came down, arching her back for him. The relief was short lived but it brought her a moment of clarity. 

Jason’s focus was fixed to her entrance, watching himself sink in and out, in and out. So locked up inside his own head tonight. 

“Okay?” she asked quietly, breaking character. 

His eyes flickered up to hers, and he gave a short nod. His hand on her hip gave a quick squeeze. 

Then the hard tilt returned to his jaw and they were back in it. 

“Spent the night at a strip club,” he said harshly. 

Her eyebrows rose. It was unusual only in that he was telling her about it: his protection extended to sex workers all over the city. She trusted him, it was a non-issue.  

“Working out a territory dispute. Negotiations. Should have been done hours ago. But no, they had to keep stopping to watch the girls.” His lip curled and he changed his angle to something deeper. “Made them make out and touch each other. As though we’re there for a good time, as though I have any interest in getting hard with that pack of slavering animals.” 

He brushed his sweat slicked hair from his face and swore. She was so helplessly turned on by him even when he was hacked off, she couldn’t come up with any response. 

“Waste of my fucking time,” he growled, thrusting with emphasis. “When I have you alone in my bed. Waiting for me. Clenching on nothing. Dripping wet, just for me. Aren’t you, sweets?”

“Yes.”

He pulled out. 

She made a needy noise of objection. 

“On your knees or in your mouth?” 

She rolled over without hesitation. 

He chuckled. He ran his hands up her body, possessive and appreciative. He gently pushed her down onto all fours and pushed back in. His pace was more sedate now and his grip softer, having worked out some of his frustrations. 

Well, that just wouldn’t do. 

“Did you get hard at the club?” she asked. 

His pace stuttered. “What?”

She reached back to touch his thigh, a silent reassurance she was still in character. 

“Did it turn you on, surrounded by beautiful women making out with each other?”

The snap of his hips picked up. “Yes,” he conceded, arousal and shame and frustration in his voice. 

She looked back over her shoulder. Her hair was tousled, her skin flushed, and her lips swollen from where she bit them. 

“Were you thinking of me?”

“I–” The look he gave her was a little stunned, a little star struck. 

“There, in that red lingerie you bought me, draped over you?” If he wasn’t thinking it before, he was now. 

A whispered “yes,” passed his lips. The burning intensity rose in his eyes once more. 

“...touching myself?” 

He made a hungry noise in his throat. 

“Up on the stage, in front of everyone,” she said, as she looked forward again, flicking her hair aside and arching her back. “Putting on a show?”

He growled, then she was pinned to the bed. 

“I’d have to kill them all for looking at you,” he said into her ear, bending over her. “And I would–mm–before I’d take you right there.” 

He stood tall again, still holding her bent in half with a hand on the back of her neck. His other hand was on the meat of her ass, to drag her back to meet him. He put one leg up on the bed next to her for more power. A thick muscled thigh rippled against her side. Raging waves of need pulled her back down into the depths. 

“Trying to upset me, sweetheart?” he asked, back to ruthless and in full control. She was in paradise. “You know only I get to see you like this. That’s why you’re mine.”

She whimpered, so close to the edge. 

“Only I can hold you down and fuck you like you deserve. Only I get to watch you writhe… hear you beg.” 

“Hnng, please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Please! Jason, I–I– fuck, Jay, I don’t– I need..”

“That’s my girl,” he said, dark and appreciative. “You know you’re mine before anything else.” 

She sobbed a cry.

“You can cum,” he drawled, sneaking a hand around her hip to reach her clit.

Her climax rocked through her violently. Her vision blanked and her body seized up in great wracking jolts. Her mouth hung open, breathing hard against the blanket. 

She vaguely heard his voice encouraging her through it, before he followed after her into bliss. 

He curled over her back and held her fast against his hips. He growled her name in her ear. 

The last of her strength fled her limbs. It felt like her bones had simply melted.  

He collapsed on the bed behind her. With shaking, tired arms he gathered her to himself and nuzzled into her neck. He made a soft inquisitive noise. She sighed in contentment in reply. They tangled their legs together, and basked in the afterglow. 

Next>>

[burnthatbridge]

illicit affairs

buddie | E | chapter 6 of 10 | 8k (of 43k and counting) | just a boy helping his boy bestie figure out gay sex, with a side of infidelity In the end, Buck almost renders all Eddie's preparation for naught.

Chapter 6: you showed me colors you know i can't see with anyone else

He and Buck plan for– it to take place that week, in advance of Buck’s fourth date with Marcus. They schedule it for a day off, a weekday where they’ve been off shift for at least twelve hours, have managed a full night’s sleep in their own beds, well-rested. Theoretically, at least. Eddie takes a long time to drift off after getting home from the station and spending some time with Chris. He’d been relaxed on the couch watching cartoons with his son at his side, but as soon as he’s in bed alone all he can think of is being in Buck’s bed, and very much not alone.

In the morning, he takes Christopher to school and then drives over to Buck’s. He’d wanted Buck to come to his, to be at home with him while they did this, but he had no reason for the bizarre preference, so he hadn’t argued when they’d discussed it and Buck had said he should come to the loft.

He parks up outside and sits in his truck for an extra minute or two, obstinately debating taking in the backpack he brought, the one he shoved the tube of lube and box of condoms into. But Buck will no doubt have supplies of his own so, really, he’s taking a moment to breathe. Once he and Buck start, getting enough air is going to be as difficult as it is in a room full of smoke.

Leaving the bag behind, Eddie exits the car and heads up to Buck’s apartment. He hesitates outside the door. He’s got a key; has had one for years. Buck knows he’s coming and, even if he didn’t, Eddie doesn’t normally knock. This feels like it might call for knocking. But that would mean something is different here, when it’s not. This is just Eddie helping Buck out, no different from coming over to make sure he’s bothering to ice a black eye or to assist in setting up the Ikea couch he finally caved and ordered after the last one got blood and amniotic fluid all over it.

Eddie slides his key into the lock, turns it, and pushes the door open, steps through.

“Eddie?” Buck appears at the top of the stairs, practically trips down them, two at a time.

Hey, Eddie means to say, to greet him, but the word gets stuck. Buck looks– He’s clearly freshly showered, face flushed pink from the steamy heat and hair damp-darkened, starting to curl as it dries, loose and product-free. He’s wearing grey cut-off shorts, the little frayed strings at the end of each leg brushing against his kneecaps, and an old, threadbare white t-shirt, so worn thin it’s practically translucent. Eddie’s seen him like this before, has perhaps seen him in exactly this outfit, in this precise same state, so it shouldn’t leave him speechless, shouldn’t steal his words. But Buck looks– Buck looks like Eddie could reach out and touch, take. Eddie is going to do that.

read chapter 6 on ao3 or start at chapter 1

[changeishard]

Title: Live Together, Die Alone

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Elliott/Penny/Sam/Sebastian

Summary: [Chaptered; complete]

Every 108 minutes, the button must be pushed. From the moment the alarm sounds, you will have four minutes to enter the code into the microcomputer processor. When the alarm sounds, you or your partner must input the code. […] Congratulations! Until your replacements arrive, the future of the project is in your hands. On the behalf of the DeGroots, Alvar Hanso, and all of us at the DHARMA Initiative; thank you, namaste, and good luck. * Winter, 1998 For eight years, Sam and Sebastian’s lives have been waking up, pushing the button, eating, trying not to have an existential crisis, pushing the button, having sex and pushing the button. Unable to leave their post, the last exciting thing that’s happened to them was four years ago, when Elliott arrived and joined their daily routine. But when they find a woman washed up ashore on a broken boat, they fear what kind of change she could bring into their lives. * Or, a Lost AU where Sam, Sebastian, Elliott and Penny are stuck inside The Swan – pushing a button; saving the world.

Read on Ao3

[atlasshrugd]

↳ Chapter 8 of WHITE NIGHTS is up!

(Read on ao3)

“He has taken all my soul into his soul,” Porsche gasps, blind. “Until I have become a new man.” “Does this new man,” the priest asks, after a moment. “Have impure thoughts?” Porsche bites his tongue. “Yes,” he breathes. His eyes are hot and stinging. “But the trouble is, Father…when I am committing this sin, I feel the purest I have ever felt in my life.”

[berrryparfait]

sex pollen ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: zayne, xavier, sylus, caleb, rafayel x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: spring is here, and the "thorny" flower is in season. beware, unsuspecting farm visitor, lest you inhale the evil flower's pollen and fall victim to its whims... 「this urge... i can't resist it anymore—!」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, literal sex pollen; "spontaneous and urgent need to have sex", piv, creampie, intense orgasms, dubcon, characters are not dating nor have they ever f*cked before (frenemies)

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: pelican town (from stardew valley)

✧ a/n: was the stardew valley soundtrack too unhinged or... anywaysss sex pollen is one of my all-time favorite tropes ever so here's my take on it <3

Sure, he might not be your favorite person in the world, but just for today, you're content with being acquaintances. For what it’s worth, if there’s anything worse than spending a whole day with your begrudging frenemy, it’s losing.

The annual Spring Corn-Picking Festival has begun, and you’ve been paired up with him. Can you put your differences aside and put your skills to the test? Or is there something else—something sinister—lurking beneath the surface, waiting to strike?

The “thorny” flower is in bloom, and no one is safe…

“Follow my lead if you want to win. I did my research, so I know where all the best spots are.” He parts the thick maize, making way for the both of you to trudge through the field. You roll your eyes at his predictable arrogance. “Please. I used to live on a farm. I know my way around—” You trip on a small rock and stumble into his back. He barely even glances at you. “Be quiet if you don’t want to sabotage our mission.” Rude. “Hey, there’s some up there.” You both dart towards the bunch of ripe corn a few feet away, no longer weary and complacent. Placing his basket on the ground, he begins to expertly pluck the corn from their stalks, intense concentration written all over his face.

All of a sudden, a strange smell hijacks your nostrils. “Do you smell that?” He grimaces and looks around, apparently sensing it too. It’s…strange. Foreign. Not entirely unpleasant. The flesh between your legs throbs. Why do I feel…? Your eyes lock with Zayne’s, then travel down to his groin. He’s hard. It takes him two seconds to close the distance between you. “Zayne, what’s going on—” He yanks your overalls down and grasps at your breasts, the expression on his reddened face absolutely feral. “I-I don’t know—” he stammers, still smearing his hands all over your plump chest. “But I can’t stop…” He pulls your panties down in one fell swoop to find you already dripping wet. His pupils dilate at the sight, and his hands automatically move to undo his belt. It doesn’t take long for him to free his erection, which is so large by now you almost feel bad for him. “Wait, we’re in a corn field—” Your words are abruptly cut off by him spinning you around and plunging his cock between your folds, and you have to cling to the sturdy stalks to prevent yourself from falling over. A hand goes over your mouth to conceal your surprised moans. He has you bent over in front of him, back arching against his dick as he thrusts into you and curses under his breath. I don’t like you! You don’t like me! Why does this feel so good?! “Fuck— I can’t stop—” His groans are strangled and pained, his hips moving so fast the field around you blurs into a mess of pale green and yellow. Expletives escape his lips as he slams into you so hard you both come undone, his hot, thick cum filling you up and dripping down your legs as you spasm and shake under his grip. You’re panting. He looks like he can’t even breathe. “What the fuck was that, Zayne?!” you scream at him, flustered and so utterly confused. “It’s that damn flower… Fuck. I’m sorry.” You pull your overalls back up and shake your head, unsure how to feel about all of this. “Let me make it up to you— Dinner. Tonight.” Tiny butterflies drift into the field.

“Would you quit micromanaging?” He glares at you before turning back to the corn, both hands wrapped around its plush kernels. “I’m just saying, twisting it out might be faster.” Always pouting, always bickering. It’s the only thing you two ever do. You’ve never denied that it bothers you, the way he acts as if you’re beneath him. “If you’re so confident, you do it.” You take the bait and push past him, sandwiching yourself between him and the stubborn stalk of corn. A smug grin plays at his lips when you fail to pull—no, twist—it out, his arms crossed over his chest.

Xavier sneezes. He brushes it off as a one-time thing at first, but then he sneezes again. Hay fever? he thinks to himself. Suddenly, the image of you working your hands around the cob of corn—squeezing and pulling at its base—is too much for him to bear. He’s imagining his dick in its place. You don’t realize it at first, but you’re getting wet. You feel the abrupt, inexplicable need to grind against something. Anything. All at once, you push Xavier to the ground and sit down on top of him. “Do you feel that?” you whisper between gasps, the pool of need between your legs growing by the second. He nods breathlessly, uncertain, but wanting all the same. Your hips involuntarily roll against his, and you both suppress a moan. The next thing you know, you’re grinding against his rock-hard cock and relishing the sounds of his tortured groans. “I’m—so horny—right now—” His voice is fried, needy. You lift the skirt of your dress and pull your panties to the side, clearly sopping wet. His jeans are unzipped. In what seems like an unimaginable moment, you’re bouncing on his dick and screaming out in pleasure. Why does he…feel so good… Your thoughts are a mess, part confusion and part unbridled lust. The way he rubs against your walls, jerks upwards to meet your thrusts, whimpers like a man starved—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You roll your hips at just the right angle, and he gets impossibly bigger before shooting warm spurts of cum into your cervix, his thighs clenching underneath yours as the most intense orgasms the both of you have ever had crash over your joint bodies. You roll over to lie down beside him, still in shock. “W-What was that?!” He turns to look at you and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear—ironic, considering your entire head’s a complete mess. “I didn’t know you had that in you. You didn’t even kiss me.”

“Perhaps we’d get there more quickly if you stopped whining,” he jabs, already five feet ahead of you. His demeanor remains cool and composed, yet frustration simmers beneath the surface, visible only to those who know the enigma of a man well enough. Unfortunately, “those” includes you. “I just can’t believe I’m stuck here with you. Of all people.” Without looking back, he replies, “Are you sure this isn’t your desire for me speaking? Because judging by the way you were eyeing me just now…” You huff at his ridiculous statement. “Ha! You wish. Sleeping with you is the last thing I’d ever want, so keep dreaming, buckaroo.”

You don’t hear his reply. A sharp, almost sweet scent attacks your senses, conquering your mind almost instantly. You sway amongst the stalks of grass, trying to make sense of the sudden urge you’re feeling—the urge to bury Sylus’ dick between your legs. I hate him I hate him I hate him— Your hands reach out to grab him before you can stop them, and he spins around abruptly to gently push you away. “Having a change of mind?” He means the question as a joke, but the sound of his gravelly, seductive voice only intensifies the throbbing in your cunt. “Shut up and fuck me,” you spit, fully convinced you’ve gone insane. But he doesn’t object. The cocky grin vanishes from his face as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down, apparently devoted to the task. His underwear is still on by the time he’s lying on top of you, pupils dilated and erection rock solid. Overcome, he dry-humps your clit for a whole minute, the pressure so rewarding that he can’t bring himself to remove his boxers. “Fuck, baby— What are you doing to me?” He hisses when you yank them down yourself, eager to bury his cock deep inside you. No time is wasted. In a single thrust of his hips, he’s plunging all the way into you, so big you cry out in delicious pain. Your hips move in tandem with his, mud covering your back and seeping into your hair—but you couldn’t care less. His length is pumping in and out of you so hard your eyes roll to the back of your head, and distantly you wonder how long you’ve secretly needed—wanted—this. He grunts with each jerk, wet squelches filling the air as the strawberry-picking competition is forgotten, sweet release the only thing on his mind. A stutter—a falter, and he erupts, his thick seed coating your walls and seeping out of your pussy. You both fall silent as the pleasure consumes your bodies, so good your eyes squeeze shut and your throat goes completely dry. “I’m…a mess…” you mutter between pants, pushing him off of you. “Who wants to sleep with who now?” He shoves his pants back on and—blushes?! “It must’ve been that flower. Though… It’s worth mentioning that I’m immune.”

“Alright, let’s hurry up and get this over with.” He doesn’t seem thrilled to be wading through a cornfield with the likes of you, one of his childhood tormentors. Well, he’d tormented you back, of course—middle school turf wars were no joke. You both grew up and learned to tame your reactions a little, but some things never change. The fact that you’re still stuck in the same small town with him, for instance. “After all these years, Caleb is still a jackass,” you quip, already making your way towards a ripe bunch of corn. “You’re just jealous I never dated you.”

The wind blows, and you scrunch your nose at the scent it carries. “Shh— Do you smell that?” His eyes go wide as realization hits, and he rushes to cover your nose and mouth with his hands. “It’s that devil flower that spews aphrodisiacal pollen. Don’t. Breathe.” His expression is grim as he clamps his mouth shut, but he’s already starting to squirm. A small pit of arousal emerges in your core, but he’s clearly having a harder time than you are, the outline of his hard cock visible through his trousers. “Caleb…?” you ask tentatively as his hands slide away from your face, flexing indecisively before reaching towards you. “Caleb, wait a second—” He’s on his knees, pulling your shorts and panties down. Oh my god, this can’t be happening— You gasp as his tongue glides against your clit, the simple movement leaving you wanting more. Your hips grind against his face as you moan his name, lost in the lovely vibrations of his own groans of pleasure. “Get on the ground.” His tone leaves little room for debate. You lie flat on the soil, back towards the sky, and turn to look at him over your shoulder. His dick is out, precum coating the tip as it beelines straight for your inviting cunt. Pure bliss overcomes your system when he first glides in, your walls instantly slickening in response. He pounds into you from behind, his whimpers mingling with yours as you’re swept away by the feeling of finally having Caleb inside you. It’s surreal—ten years ago you would’ve laughed at the thought. Now your mouth hangs open for different reasons. “Faster, Caleb—” you squeak, desperate to reach your climax. He drives into you, clenching hard before he drenches your pussy, a steady stream of cum dripping down onto the soil below. “Holy fuck… I’m sorry…” he whispers, getting up to put his pants back on. An unexpected wave of laughter hits as you recover from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body sated and…comfortable. “Don’t you dare blame this on the pollen.” He sighs wearily and smiles. “I’m not.”

“If we don’t win, I’m blaming it on you.” Great. This detour was all your fault. You can’t believe this guy. First, he makes no effort to help with navigation. Next, he decides that if anything goes wrong, you’re to blame? Sweet crackers, he’s the most insufferable fool you’ve ever met. Sure, he’s charming—the old ladies back at the farm couldn’t have made it clearer—but you don’t get to have a competitive streak when you’re not the one doing the streaking. Seriously, he’s slow as hell. “Stop talking and walk.”

“There’s something in the air,” he remarks, squinting. It’s the first time he’s paid attention to anything today, so you hear him out and begin sniffing your surroundings. You detect nothing and call him a big baby, resuming your search for corn. “I’m being serious! I swear it’s doing something to me…” He turns away then, so hastily your suspicions are raised. “J-Just gimme a sec!” he calls over his shoulder, “Lemme take care of something real quick—” You turn back around, tired of his antics, but a barely concealed groan stops you dead in your tracks. He’s jerking off in broad daylight, his head thrown back in relief. “Rafayel, what the f—” You feel it then, the throbbing ache in your pussy, and suddenly his presence no longer annoys you. You inch towards him, eyeing his hard cock as he pumps it with his fist. At the sight of you staring up at him with a strange, unabashed lust, his thighs clench and he moans your name, the sound of it on his lips sending waves of arousal down to your core. You push him down by the shoulders so he’s sitting upright on the ground, dick so hard it looks miserable. “Bounce on it,” he orders. In the span of two seconds, your panties are pushed to the side and your cunt is enveloping his cock. You’re so full, so dirty with him between your legs—Does it feel better to fuck someone you pretend to hate? His thumbs bruise your hips as you keep your pace, bouncing on his lap like your life depends on it, his tip crushing against your cervix the only thing on your mind. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he breathes before pumping his fresh cum into your pussy, your combined cries of pleasure so loud a neighboring flock of birds takes flight. Defeated, you lean against him in his lap, still shaking with desire. His hand goes up to rest on your head, his touch surprisingly tender. “I’ve been waiting all year for that.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[kooktrash]

effortlessly yours ✧ jeon jungkook

summary: in an effort to catch a break from the people around him, jungkook stumbles into a bar on the other side of town and meets you—the one serving his drinks. things happen quite effortlessly between you and before you knew it, you’ve welcomed him to change your life for the better.

✧ genre/au: banker!jk x bartender!y/n [she/her. afab]. strangers to lovers. smut.

✧ 16.9k words

warnings: smut. heavy plot. oc is lowkey broke as helll and jk is lowkey a chaebol but humble fr 😩. princess treatment. beware oc’s ex is taehyung and he’s not great. slow burn. smut—riding. missionary. oral [both receiving]. heavy make outs. heavy petting. breast play. use of protection. needy af. — jk’s friends kinda rude but also not? rich boys. financial problems. mention of economic differences. damn near love at first sight. everyone’s an ex boyf hater. oc forced to live with ex bc of money. love at first sight? jk is whipped :(. for once he’s not a fighter, he’s just a pretty boy with money to spoil his gf <3

song inspo: wasn’t looking — eliza, love between — kali uchis, blue — billie eilish, salvatore— lana del rey, I wanna be yours — arctic monkeys

I forgot but god bless @vngelicc for putting up with my constant plot changes and helping me out 💀

Many of your nights have been spent at this small place serving drinks to the same people, engaging in the same conversation, going through the same thing. Without a fail you’ve lived in this cycle of mundaneness and it drive you insane.

Nothing ever happened to you and when it did, it was never for the better. That’s what you’ve always thought anyway.

“Any Macallan? I'll have a glass,” You stared at the stranger with a blank expression, he met you with an unwavering gaze looking every bit out of place here as you felt.

He’s asking if you carry an expensive bottle of Bourbon that a place like this could not afford keeping in stock. If you did, no one here would want to pay the price of a glass. Compared to the regulars around the bar he clearly stood out to everyone. The college guys who lived a couple blocks down looked at him just as strangely as the two office workers down the bar did.

“We’ve got Buchannan’s,” You said plainly, taking his attention away from the aged jukebox in the corner that now had a big screen attached to it. It was your typical bar with its dark countertops, pool tables, darts, et cetera. It was the first place he could find on this side of town—clearly not a place of luxury.

“I’ll take it,” He tried to sound happy about it, biting down at his bottom lip as his phone screen lit up with notifications. He had nearly a dozen texts from close friends asking him what his plans were for tonight but he didn’t want to talk right now and they’d want to know why.

Soon you had his glass of whiskey in front of him and he was opening a tab while you helped others. You didn’t think much about the man aside from how attractive he looked. Many stragglers found their way here but after one night they’d return to wherever they’re from and never look back.

“You drink that expensive whiskey because you like it or because you can afford it?”

An older man spoke up from across the bar, looking at the stranger with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He’s one of those guys that gets a few drinks in him and either wants to spark conversation or a fight. Part of you paid attention to the conversation, part of you looked at the line of messages on your phone.

“I’m sorry?” The guy from earlier asked seemingly unimpressed by the attempt to get to him. The older man was dressed in a dirty t-shirt and flannel while he wore some expensive suit like he’d just gotten off work.

“Or is it to impress?”

“Impress who?” A light scoff left his lips, looking around the bar, eyes hesitating on you for a moment. Aside from you there were a few others who might catch his eye but not enough for him to point out or feel the need to impress.

You weren’t even looking at anyone or him for that matter, your attention was solely on your cell phone and by the look on your face, whatever was on there was more important. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and your brows began to furrow with concentration as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing.

unknown: can we talk when ur done working?

unknown: it’s about us

What?

“Y/n maybe? I doubt any of us are your type—“

What? You looked up immediately at the call of your name, ready to make someone another cocktail or close someone’s tab. Instead you were called in the middle of a conversation that you wanted no part of.

“Another beer?” You tried to cut in and shut the regular up but it was a useless attempt because everyone around the bar was already staring at you—including the stranger. How did you miss whatever they were talking about? You were too focused on the texts from a certain someone that you had lost attention to people at the bar.

“What is your name anyway? I’ve never seen you here before,” The customer told him, ignoring you and trying to push for more talk. You just sighed and leaned back thinking back to your phone.

“Jeon Jungkook,” He said in his usual confident manner, gaze flickering to you for a moment but you were distracted once more, this time typing rapidly. You were pretty, too pretty to be serving these guys on a Tuesday night.

Another man appeared from behind a door holding more bottles of liquor. He looked indifferent to whatever was going on out here but when he looked at you, you said something. Jungkook was more interested to hear what that was than whatever the people around him had to say.

The two of you talked for a while and he distracted himself with his phone.

hobi: doubles tomorrow with jimin and jin? 🎾

jungkook: I couldn’t think of anything worse

jimin: watch urself

jin: and where’d u run off to tonight

Your coworker, Yoongi, looked at you with concerned eyes. You’ve known each other long enough to know when somethings wrong and Yoongi was able to tell so fast, “If you need to make a call just go, I’ll take over for now.”

His friend asked the question he’s been trying to ask himself all night. How’d he find himself here on the other side of the city with the only people to entertain him being drunks and… you?

“Is he always like this?” Jungkook found himself asking now that the man from earlier had moved on to someone else to bother. You looked ready to run out but stopped to look at him. Yoongi was giving you time to sort whatever problem you had at the moment but now a customer was talking to you.

You shrugged, “Yeah but he’s harmless, a little annoying but funny.”

jungkook: some bar but I’m leaving soon

Jungkook looked at you up close now. You wore all black, somewhere between casual but dressed up enough. From what he can tell you’re pretty, like an effortless kind of pretty. You barely cared to engage with him, completely unaware of how he looked you over.

“Can I close my tab?” He asked as he fished for his wallet.

“No problem, remind me the name,” Yoongi came up from behind you, hand on your back urging you to go and he’ll take care of it. Jungkook looked at him with disinterest as you ran off in a hurry and sighed, “Jeon Jungkook.”

jungkook: it’s boring

The place he called home was about thirty minutes away from the bar he visited a few nights ago. He lived on the upper side of the city where buildings towered sky high and rent was at high rates, lavish nightlife and lounge rooms he could spend all night in drinking with his friends. That’s why it baffled him to sit somewhere like the place he’d gone to and feel so comfortable. It felt secretive, a mutual understanding of where one goes when they want to be alone and have a drink—no matter how bad it is. He wouldn’t have been able to do that around here without running into someone.

“Have you decided who your date will be?”

No, he had not. In fact it was the last thing on his mind and something Jungkook would prefer to fully ignore. It’s all he’s heard about for the past month and he doesn’t think he can go any longer talking about it. A date to a charity event hosted by his parents was too overwhelming of a task. They have to be polite, well maintenanced, proper, et cetera. He’s sure he can call up whatever woman he’d taken on a date these last couple of years but not a single one did he find… good enough? Terrible phrasing but the truth.

“Have you?” Jungkook asked one of his close friends, Hoseok, as the two sat in his office wasting time before they could be done for the day. His office sat on one of the top floors of a national banking center just a few minutes from where he resided. He sat behind his black oak wood desk spinning a pointed leather opener against his notepad creating a small dent in it.

“Obviously,” Hobi rolled his eyes playfully, making Jungkook look at him seriously. “Will she be as embarrassing as the one last time?”

“I hope not, last year’s date was a total mess. I couldn't look your parents in the eye for three months,” He said back, sitting down on the black leather daybed just a few feet away from Jungkook. The office was big with tall bookshelves and floor to ceiling windows overlooking skyscrapers and the Han River not too far behind. There was a desktop with two monitors along with a laptop and television, a closet and storage room—even a few dumbbells and a treadmill in the corner. “Do you know how hard that is when your father’s the CFO of the company I work for?!”

“I couldn’t imagine the difficulty of that,” Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle knowing firsthand how his dad can be when he feels disrespected—especially in front of the press while hosting an important, annual event.

“I’ve got dinner with the girl tonight, she’s been telling me about this friend who’s been dying to meet you,” Hoseok said with raised brows, “She’s pretty hot.”

“Who? The girl or her friend?” Jungkook asked, typing away on his desktop, searching for the bar he’d visited the other night. There was very little overview about the place, but he didn’t expect much anyway. It looked like it brought a decent amount of business to get by but nothing more than that. You must’ve been local to the area or why would you be working there? Hell, for how little you seemed interested in him, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. What was it that got his attention?

“Both,” Hoseok said in response.

Jungkook let out a small sigh watching the time pass by, “I’ll think about it.”

It was unlikely he ever would, he thought, attempting to focus back on his friend and who he was talking about. As arrogant as it might sound, there’s always someone dying to meet him. Usually it never works out and instead it’s used as a bragging right that they were taken out by him. He would like to meet someone organically, nothing forced or ingenuine. Someone he runs into and charms them without his reputation involved. How could he meet someone like that?

There was moisture lingering in the air as you left the small cafe you worked at during the week. It was midday and you wouldn’t have to be at work again till later tonight so the only thing on your mind was a good sleep.

You barely made it onto the bus when your phone began to ring and you put on your headphones to answer, “Hello?”

��Great, you’re alive. I was getting paranoid after the third ring,” Your friend said immediately once the call connected, “Are you off!”

“Yeah, until tonight,” You told her, staring out the foggy window of the overcrowded midday bus.

“Is Taehyung home? You want to come to mine instead?” Yeaun asked, sounding concerned but you just shook your head no even if she couldn’t see it.

“It’s alright, he’s not home anyway,” You said to her with a sigh, “I live there too and if he’s going to make a problem or it then maybe he should move out sooner.”

Yeaun was quiet for a moment, not sure if you were being serious or not. Or course it’s not the first time you and your ‘boyfriend—ex boyfriend—boyfriend’ break it off suddenly but this is different. You live with each other now and have for a few months. Why would Taehyung ask you to find a place with him if he was going to end it a few months into the lease? What an asshole.

“Alright, well I’ll talk to you later, maybe I’ll stop by the bar and catch up,” Yeaun finally said to which you mumbled back your response and ended the call.

You arrived at an empty apartment with a stack of blankets and pillows on the couch and a large bed with one person claiming it now. You tucked yourself into bed hoping that you ex boyfriend won’t be home when you wake up.

By the time the sun set and the only plan Jungkook had was to go home, he began to think about the place he visited a few days ago. There was nothing special about it but it was somewhat comforting—even with some of the elderly regulars getting on his case, he kind of liked it. It was amusing and harmless banter that he could put up with for some time alone. When he was off and his friend asked him to go out for dinner, Jungkook turned him down to drive across town on his own.

Like last time, the same people sat around the bar but a few new faces took up some of the tables scattered around. You stood behind the counter indulging in conversation with the bartender next to you and Jungkook found himself sitting at the corner of the bar top and away from the loudness.

“I see they didn’t scare you off,” You said once you spotted him alone. There’s not many new people coming by, especially ones that looked like him so he was easy to remember. He looked at you with rounded, curious eyes and shook his head, “Not yet.”

You asked if he wanted the same as last time and once he said yes, you were turning your back to him. He’s going to be honest… he couldn’t help but stare a little longer this time. You wore a short black skirt with dark stockings and a fitted tee making you seem casual and comfortable but at the same time he thought you were pretty. He couldn’t tell if you were into makeup or not but he assumed you’d be attractive either way. Last time you seemed glum, but tonight you were smiling.

“Am I that forgettable?” Jungkook asked when you made your way back to his side, he nodded toward the old man who bothered him last time and how he barely acknowledged him today. He wonders if he asked because he cared or because he wanted to have something to say. There was nothing better going on and unlike before, tonight he's up for talking—to you.

“No, he’s just a Drunk,” You whispered jokingly, moving just a little closer his way. To be honest, he nearly forgot all about you. The two of you had such a small interaction days ago that his life just got in the way. It felt meaningless and like it was never going to happen again but here he is, finding comfort at the little bar you worked at. He couldn’t help but be entertained by it.

“I asked my boss about the bottle you wanted last time and he said we can’t afford it for just one person, so you’re out of luck if you start stopping by more often,” You said casually, looking indifferent but he caught a glimmer of curiosity in your gaze.

“I’ll have to bring you some then,” Jungkook sat up straighter, “Give you a little taste.”

“I’m not into whiskey,” You gave him a small shrug, “I prefer the drinks where I can’t taste the alcohol.”

That made him laugh a little harder than he needed to, “Y/n, right? I think I remember hearing one of them say it.”

Your only form of response was a nod of your head but he didn’t mind the lack of enthusiasm. There’s something about the way you seem reserved but not scared to talk back to him sort of draws him in. You looked at each other with the same intensity and he wanted to see how long it could go.

“Y/n.”

You rushed away from him finding whoever needed help and he thought of what to say.

“So how many nights do you spend working here?” He asked once you came by him again. So far both nights he stumbled into this place you’ve been behind the counter with a blasè look to your eyes. It was a shame considering how pretty you were for you to be stuck behind a counter getting stressed over who knows what.

“Practically all of them,” You sighed leaning against the counter.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t care for meaningless conversation ike this. It was such a waste of time and he always found himself struggling for what to say.

“So what happened the other night?” He blurted out before he could think clearly. He blames it on the whiskey for sounding so blunt as it rushed to his face. You couldn’t read him as easily as he thought and tried to figure out what he was asking about. The other night?

Oh.

“Nothing too concerning,” You brushed off your breakup with Taehyung hoping he knew nothing. The situation with Taehyung was not someone you wanted everyone to know about—especially not a stranger. It was embarrassing to admit you were still living with your cheating on and off ex boyfriend because it’s better than sleeping outside.

“And here I was hoping for a story time,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, checking his phone and the dozen messages and missed calls. Like earlier, you left him to help someone else and this time instead of him trying to find something to say it was you.

“If you start visiting more regularly maybe I’ll fill you in,” You said half-heartedly.

You’ve always thought—hoped—that home is where the heart would be. You should live in a place that doesn’t give you anxiety or depression. Living in this apartment with your ex boyfriends gives you both. When he was home you’d avoid leaving your bedroom at all and when he’s gone you’re worried about the time he’d get home.

You weren’t scared of him, but you hated him.

The two of you have broken up so many times at this point it’s embarrassing to admit how he has you now. After cheating on you and treating you like shit, you still moved in with him just those few months ago and now you’re paying for it.

“Are you going to work?” He asked curiously as you came out of your now solo bedroom. Taehyung was gentleman enough to sleep on the couch but apparently not enough to keep it in his pants.

“No,” You answered shortly as you slipped your shoes on. For some reason he thinks you’ll forgive him soon. He’s been trying to talk to you about it since the morning after he bothered you at work but you weren’t listening. How could he do something on impulse and expect you to let it go?

Are all men this stupid? Most? Oh, definitely, but surely not all? Who would want to be on good terms with a cheating ex so recent after the breakup?

“What are you gonna do then?”

What he really meant was, “Where were you going and who with?”

“Nothing,” you closed the door after yourself, choosing to shut him out rather than tell him anything. He didn’t need to know your whereabouts. For once you weren’t going to be at work and although you didn’t have big plans for your free night, you weren’t going to tell him or worse—spend it locked up in your room that still had his belongings.

You settled into place at your best friend’s place, filling her in on what’s been exciting or lack thereof.

“Not to feed the delusions but what if he’s stopping to see you?” Yeaun asked as you sat on her couch watching her look through her vinyls for something to play. After a while of telling her boringly endless tales of your life you came to the topic you were currently discussing.

Jeon Jungkook—the irregular-regular who’s begun to frequent the bar lately. Jungkook has been coming by for a few weeks now and although they’re always small interactions with him they leave an impression on you. He’s not like the usual guys who go there for a drink—or anything like the ones when you go out with your friends. Every now and then you wonder if he’s catching a flirty tone with you or not but then you think harder and tell yourself; not likely.

It’s too unbelievable,” You rejected the idea immediately even if it hurt you to do so, you had to be realistic, “He probably has a girlfriend or wife or someone, I don’t know.”

Call it a crush, whatever, nothing would ever come of it and you told your friends the same, “Either way I’m done with men, they’re all shitty.”

Yeaun shrugged, no longer pushing the idea of Jungkook. You haven’t told her anything that made it seem like Jungkook had any interest in you at all so really she was just wishfully thinking. You know very little about the man aside from what the two of you have gone over but it’s enough for you to know it would never happen.

You’re not crazy enough to believe otherwise.

Jungkook spent most of his day dreading for him to leave work and get ready for a dinner plan that was arranged for him. In all honesty, he practically disassociated himself from it the second he heard the tone the woman spoke in. Why did he let Hoseok talk him into doing this?

For nearly an hour he’s had to hear this woman compliment him on everything under the sun. Sure he was flattered but so? Did he really need to hear about himself from someone else? She didn’t seem like a bad girl but she knew too much about him that he never told her. She was too in his space and not understanding to slow down.

“I’m happy our schedules aligned to be able to meet like this,” She said as she picked at her salad, “I know you’re very busy.”

“I’m pleased too,” Jungkook raised his glass of wine to his lips, searching around the restaurant for a clock. Jiwon was a sweet girl but he wasn’t interested for some reason. She was attractive like Hoseok said but he’s not sure what is but there’s something that seems to draw him away from her.

By the time the bill came and she pretended to look through her mini bag for her wallet, Jungkook was ready to call it a night. He never expected someone with him to pay but something just drew him back… seriously what was it? She waited outside with him in hopes of knowing if their night would continue from here or not but Jungkook couldn’t wait to be done. He probably seemed rude with how he brushed her off and directed her into a cab, paying her fare with a lie that he’d see her again, but he couldn’t think of that right now.

It was taxing to meet new people and try to feel anything romantic toward them. Jimin is looking out for Jungkook and he’s well aware of that but Jungkook does not want something forced. He’s not asking for birds chirping and bells chiming but give him something that’ll make him feel things.

When he was alone in his car he found himself taking a familiar route in the opposite direction of his house. He’d left his date with Jiwon and for some reason was heading toward the bar he’s been going to lately. It took him a while to realize where he was going and about a block away he stopped to think.

What was he doing here? He could find any shitty bar where he knew his friends would never go and be just fine. He could be out with his friends or maybe getting to know Jiwon more in hopes of something blooming but instead he was going out alone. It was a bad idea to make this a regular thing. People he knows will begin to question where he goes and invade his privacy, he just knows it.

With a deep sigh he turned the engine off looking up at the brightly lit building in front of him. It was a small convenience store and deciding to not make his drive all the way over here pointless, he went inside.

He is starting to believe the universe in playing a trick on him. Whenever he’s gone to the bar you’ve been working at and tonight he decided not to go… bummed that he wouldn’t see you but clearly the universe had plans that couldn’t get changed. Instead of serving two drinks to customers, you’re walking down a refrigerated section of cheap flower bouquets. It’s like he was going to run into you tonight one way or the other. Just because he wasn’t going the bar after all didn’t mean he could escape you as easily. It was crazy.

You hadn’t yet spotted him as you opened the door to grab one of the cheapest bouquet of orchids you could find. It wasn’t until you were ready to walk back down that you saw him looking a little too interested in the small pints of ice cream. There were two options you could do, One: pretend you don’t know him and head to the counter or Two: acknowledge him? What if he was the kind of person that didn’t like being approached? It would be embarrassing for you.

“No work tonight?”

You stopped in your tracks, ready to walk past him when he spoke up. You looked around shyly, “Not tonight, Is that where you’re headed now?”

“Originally yeah, but good thing I changed my mind. You wouldn’t have been there,” Jungkook said, glancing down at the small shopping basket in your hands. He missed the way your face flushed at the comment, unsure if he meant it flirtatiously or not.

You had the small orchids, a couple ramens and drinks in the basket that made him smile just a little, “I’m assuming you live around here?”

“I wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t,” You say lightly, a smile playing on your face when you saw his, and glanced down at your basket with embarrassment. All Jungkook had in his hand was a single bottle of wine that he grabbed so he wouldn’t look strange approaching you, “Do you live around here too?”

“No, I uh, I’m kind of far actually,” He scratched the back of his head nervously, “But, I was doing some work over here.”

His face tensed at the way he must have sounded lying to you. It wouldn’t have been a good look for him if he said he went on a blind date with someone his best friend set him up with but raced here right after. It feels like the conversation shouldn’t end yet but he doesn’t know how to make it go on. Usually he’s able to tell what he should say to get someone’s attention on him for longer but he doesn’t know with you.

After a while, you began walking toward the register with Jungkook not far behind and you tried to act normal when you set your things down to be checked out.

Please, don’t decline, you thought as you tapped your card to pay. When you were done and hesitating to leave or not, Jungkook spoke up again, “When do you work next?”

“Why? So you’ll visit me?” You asked him with a little more enthusiasm. Maybe you were overthinking it but was there a chance that he wanted to talk to you too? It felt like he asked you something so you wouldn’t rush off before he was done paying.

He smiled, pleased to have you respond the way he wanted and he grabbed his things off the counter and turned to walk with you. You held your bag in one hand and your cellphone and wallet in the other and it was hard to miss the way your screen lit up with a phone call. You ignored the ringing but Jungkook was distracted now, “Do you need to take that?”

He held the door open for you wondering if it was your boyfriend or not and if he was just wasting his time. You shook your head, “It's no one important.”

“So you’re not seeing anyone?” Jungkook found himself asking, too impatient to beat around the bush any longer, “Or would you like to see me this weekend—or when you’re free— over drinks?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, staring up at the handsome man in front of you with a baited breath. Jungkook was attractive, very attractive but did you need to be seeing anyone right now? Sure, it’s been a couple weeks since you and Taehyung fell off but you still live together. If he found out he would lose his shit… but at the same time…

Jungkook was intriguing and charming and so attractive you couldn’t wrap your mind around anything else.

“I’m free this upcoming Sunday.”

Before you split ways, you made sure to exchange information and you were practically rushing to tell your best friend.

jungkook: next time we should have stuck around and talked longer

When Sunday evening rolled in, Jungkook wore one of his black Prada shirts and black jeans. He tried dressing casual but this was as casual as he could go for seeing you out on a night like this.

“I could meet you halfway,” Jungkook insisted on the phone as he stood outside your building. It was a rundown apartment complex just like all the others in the area and even he felt unsafe, he can’t imagine how you feel every night. Okay, maybe he’s not used to anything outside of the private, gated community he grew up with.

“It’s fine, I’ll be down in a second,” You practically whispered as you hurried to hang up. With a final spritz of perfume, you left your bedroom as quiet as possible but it was no use. Taehyung sat there watching you.

“I’ll be back late so don’t wait up,” You practically grumbled as you went to put on your heels.

“Since when do you dress like that?” Taehyung asked with a slight scoff. Unlike your usual attire of baggy pants, sweaters, tees and the occasional skirt, tonight you wore a short, satin pink dress with heels to match. You looked pretty and it annoyed him because he knew why.

“Since I stopped being with you,” You told him, fishing for your key before closing the door on him like last time.

It took a lot of convincing on Jungkook’s part to let you let him pick you up and you had many reasons why. One, you didn’t want him to run into Taehyung or feel awkward. Two, you didn’t want him to drive all the way here if you’d most likely be in the inner city which was on the other side of town. And three, you were slightly embarrassed at your housing complex. You’ve seen Jungkook’s dress attire and the expensive watches, chains, drinking preferences he wears. He’s got money while you’ve got two jobs still struggling to pay your half of the rent on top of all the debt tied to your name.

“Well don’t you look stunning,” Jungkook said with a nervous chuckle as you approached him, eyeing his all black Porsche and how perfectly it matched him. The silk of your dress felt soft against his touch when you hugged him politely in greeting. You were slightly flushed by his comment and let him lead you to the passenger’s side.

“Were you waiting long?” You asked when he got into the driver’s side, looking you over one more time before starting the car.

“A l-little,” Jungkook couldn’t help but feel flustered as you turned your body enough to look at him better. Your dress rode up on your thigh and he tried to focus on the road, “But it’s my fault for being impatient. Next time I’ll give you all the time in the world if I get to see this pretty view.”

To be clear Jungkook has always thought you were attractive but this was different. This wasn’t just him finding the bartender serving him drinks hot or the woman at the convenience store pretty. This was you dressing up for him in a pretty color while sitting pretty in his car and looking at him with your pretty eyes.

“Next time?” You laughed softly, sitting upright and trying not to seem affected, “Don’t make promises just yet. You might not be able to keep them.”

“I always keep my promises,” Jungkook said, diving over the small bridge that separated your neighborhood from the rest of the city.

You went quiet after that, looking out the window curiously. Usually you stick to your area, the bus fare to go shopping downtown or eat at a fancy restaurant wouldn’t be too bad but the time. On the bus it would be at least an hour long drive full of stops everywhere in between and you didn’t have the time to make it a round day trip. It was nice seeing all the city lights when most of your neighborhood is dark aside from the occasional street lamp.

You were pleasantly surprised when he pulled the car in front of a large building and a valet came to the doors, directing you both out of the car. Jungkook instructed the valet on something you didn’t care to hear as you looked around. It was obviously a hotel but with a large restaurant inside.

“Ready?” Jungkook asked, suddenly at your side with a soft hand on your waist and you let him lead you in.

You felt oddly out of place when you looked around at everyone else but Jungkook didn’t seem to care. He was significantly underdressed but that didn’t stop him from pulling attention without meaning to and it made you slightly more comfortable. The restaurant sat on the top floor of a large hotel with a beautiful view of the city and amazing interior as well, “Do you like this place?”

“I have never been here before,” Jungkook admitted as he helped pull your chair, “I’ll give you an answer after dinner.”

“You’ll decide once you’ve gotten food?” You asked playfully but he just shook his head. “I’ll decide when you do.”

You weren’t sure how to respond but something about the way he looked at you told you he was being serious. Has he always been this forward? You didn’t think so. Usually he asked you a couple things and that was it. Or maybe you didn’t think there was any more to it. Sure, sometimes you’d catch him looking from across the bar but you always assumed he just needed something. When he asked you out the other night you assumed it was on a whim but now you’re not so sure.

It was far from a problem but you weren’t sure how to take it. Something tells you Jungkook comes from a different world than you do. When the server came you ordered a drink and tried to focus on the menu. All the prices were high and you couldn’t find anything in your normal price range. There were a lot of good options but what were you willing to choose?

“So, when you think of an ideal type, who comes to mind?” Jungkook asked, picking around his plate. The two of you had talked about practically everything you could on a first date. He was a couple years older than you, worked at a banking firm, lived in the upper east luxury apartments, studied abroad, et cetera. He learned that you have two jobs and dropped out of school because it was too expensive and honestly…you thought you lost him then. You thought he was unimpressed and no longer interested judging by the look of disappointment in his face but then he asks you what your ideal type is?

“Hm, I don’t know,” You started awkwardly, feeling his gaze shift toward you and looked you in the eye waiting, “Well I would want someone honest… and loyal bu—“

You stopped yourself feeling embarrassment edge on, it was ironic of you to say that was your type when clearly the past men you’ve been with have been anything but. A light scoff left your lips as you laughed a little, “I don’t know.”

“That’s it? Shouldn’t that be expected?” Jungkook asked. He was very loyal to his partners in the past but those relationships have long since been over and hold no meaning to him. He didn’t even think he wanted to date—considering how bored he was when the Jimin set him on—but here he was having the time of life trying to get to know you.

“Alright, well what about you? Maybe I need an example answer,” You joked, trying to shift the attention off you but Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“I want someone I can relax around?” Jungkook was honest, “Someone I want to introduce to people close to me and someone that makes me think about them all day.”

“How do you decide who that person is?” You asked, moving your hair off your shoulder as you ate.

Jungkook smiled, “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

You talked about random things here and there. He explained what exactly he did at the banking firm and you told him your aspirations to be a hair stylist when you were younger. He asked why you never pursued it and you told him financial issues which made the conversation slightly awkward but it never ended.

By the time you finished and Jungkook footed the rather expensive bill, you rode down the elevator peacefully and walked out the building. Once the valet brought the car back around, you were less nervous to be riding in it than earlier and sat comfortably.

“I hope you don’t mind but I got you something,” Jungkook said once he was seated, “I wanted to wait till after dinner and then I forgot it.”

He reached under his seat where he had placed a small box earlier. You sat beside him watching him feel around for it, “Oh you didn’t have to—“

“I wanted to,” Jungkook said, placing a small box on your lap as he drove onto the street, “Think of it as a thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

“It’s nice but… isn’t it too much?” You swallowed dryly, looking at the simple Cartier bracelet, scared to even touch it, “I don't know what to say, thank you?”

“Don’t think about it, I just… I liked it and I wanted to gift you something,” Jungkook said honestly. He liked giving gifts and yesterday he was shopping for a new watch with Jin and he ended up finding the bracelet instead. For some reason he thought of you and before he could stop himself he bought it. It was one of the simple ones, not that expensive at all so he hopes you don’t think he’s stingy with money or anything. He’ll get you something better the next time you see each other. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Do you need help getting it on?”

You nodded shyly, unsure if you should take the gift but would it be rude to turn it down? What did he expect you to do after? You don’t mean to compare but Taehyung would never give you something like this. The most he spent on you is when he helped you get a new flatscreen but even then he only paid for half of it. When the car stopped at a red light, he quickly shifted in his seat to reach you better. With a hand around your wrist he pulled you forward as he helped you with the clasp. He was quite particular with how it looked on you and made sure the pearl motif sat at the center of your wrist.

It didn’t go unnoticed how he held your hand now as the light turned green. You didn’t pull back and let his thumb graze over your soft knuckles, “Pretty.”

Confusion rendered you silent on the ride back. It’s not that you were ungrateful but you were skeptical. You’ve never met let alone gone out with a man like him and you had no idea what to make of this gift. Was he seriously giving it to you or did you have to do something to earn it? Was he interested in you or just bored? Would a man like him just give someone a thousand dollar bracelet for no reason?

“You can just park right here,” You mumbled quietly as you pointed to a spot in front of your building. He opened your door for you and looked up at the building. Earlier he missed how the street lamp flickered giving everything a ghostly shadow. You let him walk you up feeling slightly embarrassed by the appearance of the staircase and hall but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks for everything, seriously,” You said as you stood at your front door. At some point his hand had found its way to yours again and was softly running his thumb against your knuckles, “Are you sure about the gift?”

“I don’t accept gifts back,” Jungkook laughed softly, “Besides, it looks better on you than it would me. I’m showing my gratitude for having you out tonight. I enjoy your company.”

“Good, I like talking to you too,” you smiled warmly and he couldn’t help but mirror it.

“So when can we go out again? What’s your schedule like this week?” Jungkook asked hopefully.

“So you’ll visit me or take me out?” You asked playfully, more forward than earlier and his smile grew.

“Both, perhaps?” He asked.

Now, you don’t usually do anything on the first date. There was a big ‘If’ about the possibly of going out with the person again but Jungkook has been better than you could’ve imagined. It doesn’t make sense why he’s single and interested in you of all people.

Before you could think of what to do, he was moving closer. His touch was soft but there was no denying the way his hand wandered up to your waist, pulling you into him gently. You wrapped an arm around his neck before you could overthink it and leaned onto your tiptoes. Jungkook smiled, his other hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up. His lips brushed against yours teasingly, taking a moment before pressing them together in a first kiss.

You both were nervous at first but it was like something inside you came to life and you kissed him with more intent. Jungkook welcomed it, smiling a little into the kiss as he pulled back to catch his breath.

“I should go inside,” You giggled softly, turning away feeling flustered.

A small sigh left his lips, holding you close to him, “I’ll call you.”

It took less than a week for Jungkook to reveal to his close friends who the mysterious person he’s been seeing was. He was not trying to keep you a secret at all but there was only so much he wanted to say to them all and it was the basics. You were a just nice girl he’s met and went on a date with, but even that was enough for all the interrogations to arise.

“So how far did you guys go?” Hoseok and his hyper sexual mind felt the need to ask, “Or were you a true gentleman and settled for a hug?”

“We kissed,” Jungkook said, licking his lips at the memory, dealing his own cards for their next round of poker, “I’m taking it slow as of now.”

“Why’s that? The gala is not too far, shouldn’t you be focused on who is attending with you?” Namjoon asked, ashing his cigarette in the tray to the left of him. Jungkook ignored half of what his friend said as he readied to play.

“Y/n seems very different from me and I just don’t want to scare her off just yet,” Jungkook said honestly, thinking back to your reaction when he gave you the bracelet. He, of course, never assumed you came from much money especially considering he knew where you worked and lived but it wasn’t a problem to him. He was more worried if you’d manage in his life with the people he’s close to. It’s something he often wonders when the possibility of a relationship comes to mind but usually this is weeks into dating. The two of you have barely gone on one date and for some reason he’s already envisioning the future and what it could look like.

“Holy shit, that’s like a thousand bucks,” Yeaun looked over the bracelet, “And he just gave it to you? Where can I find a guy like that?”

“I guess,” You said, shifting your eyes to Yoongi as if he had the answers. The two of you stood behind the bar while Yeaun sat at the counter. It was early in the evening and you’ve been since 2:00pm and ready for your shift to end. Your friend’s been here ‘studying’ for over an hour but she’s been too distracted listening to your date stories. The bar was empty aside from a couple stragglers who got off work early but nothing crazy and it put you at ease.

“Does he know about Taehyung?” Yoongi asked curiously.

“No, it was a first date. I didn't think I had to dish out all my problems so soon and scare him off,” You joked as you looked down at the bracelet, “Besides, who knows how long this will last.”

“Have you talked since then?” Yeaun asked, leaning against the counter with interest.

“A little, yeah. He works at a bank so he’s got long hours at the office so I don’t really expect him to reach out to me much,” You told them honestly, “And who knows, it might’ve just been a one time thing.”

You shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal but part of you wondered if he’d reach out for another date or not. He said he would but who knows. People make promises all the time.

“Ugh, but he sounds like a dream—a dream with money,” Yeaun pretended to swoon as she gathered her things and stuffed them into her book bag, “Alright, I’ve gotta go home and study, keep me updated though. Bye guys.”

You waved her off and turned to Yoongi as he polished some glasses. He gave you a small sigh, “I like the guy, he always tips well.”

As your shift came to an end and you left Yoongi to deal with the night people, you got on the bus to take your usual route home.

jungkook: will you be working tonight?

you: I just got off actually

jungkook: I wanted to see you :(

You read the message at least three times unable to think of a response.

jungkook: have you eaten? shall we get dinner?

Just as you hurried to type, your phone began to ring and a smile came to his face, “You really are impatient, giving me no time to answer.”

Jungkook smiled as he drove over the familiar bridge that closed the gap between you, “Sorry, I’m not used to waiting. What are you doing then?”

“I’m on the bus, a couple stops away from home,” You told him looking at the passing buildings and the way the sun had fully set now, “What time do you want to meet for dinner?”

“Now?” Jungkook asked, “I’m not too far from your place, I’ll wait—or better yet what’s the next stop and I’ll meet you.”

Jungkook’s Porsche looked strange parking at The bus stop waiting for you and you felt slightly embarrassed by your appearance. Compared to last time you were nowhere near as out together and it was clearly evident you’ve just gotten off work. Jungkook was in his office attire but he still managed to look good.

“If you had given me a little more time I would’ve gotten dressed up for you,” You said light heartedly as he greeted you with a hug and kiss on your cheek.

“But I like seeing you like this too, reminds me of that black skirt you wore the first night I met you,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, “So where’s the restaurant you were talking about?”

Something has begun to really sprout between the two of you. Part of it still feels superficial to an extent but that’s how it’s supposed to feel. You’re not supposed to jump into anything so fast…

Yes, you’ve been meeting up a lot more regularly but you still keep each other at a distance. When you meet it’s usually out and tonight Jungkook wanted to be somewhere comfortable with you. He understood you got off work at the bar late and the last thing you wanted to do was go out so he opted for another way he could see you.

“Can I come over instead?” He asked as he sat at the bar one night. It was late, Yoongi had shut the music off and the lights turned on giving everyone a hint that it was closing time. Jungkook had arrived a couple hours before midnight to keep you company. Now that you’re closing he knows there’s a chance the night would come to an end soon and it’s the last thing he wanted. He had a stressful day at work that involved a meeting with the CFO—his father, about some reports. It spiraled into a conversation about the gala and who he thinks Jungkook should go with.

He had wanted to tell his father then that he wasn’t interested in being set up on a date because he had you but he struggled saying it. He doesn’t know where the two of you stand but he wants to figure it out. Jungkook watched you wipe the counters as Yoongi counted registers and he even helped wipe down a few chairs for you as he waited for a response. If the people at the office or his friends saw him cleaning up after strangers they’d laugh in surprise. He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty and that’s exactly what he’s doing just to be with you.

Usually you always changed the subject when he asked, or hinted at him to go somewhere else instead but it was so late nothing would be open. Taehyung would be asleep if he was home but that was very unlikely. It was the weekend and he was most likely with his friends getting drunk somewhere and looking for an after party. There’s a chance he wouldn’t come home at all so what excuse did you have to turn Jungkook down?

In the end, you gave in and once the bar was closed, Jungkook drove straight to your apartment. He climbed up the familiar stairs, walked down the familiar aisle and stood behind you as you unlocked the door, warning him about a possible mess. Now, you weren’t cruel. Jungkook wasn’t walking in completely blindsided by the idea that you had a roommate but you weren’t totally up front with him. He knew your roommate was a guy but he wasn’t so sure about the relationship between you two.

Taehyung was half-asleep on the couch and Jungkook looked at him with furrowed brows as he followed into your room. You sighed, “Sorry, my roommate’s here.”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook said with a shrug as he began to unbutton the cuff of his shirt so he could roll the sleeves up, “How do you know him again?”

He wanted to ask more but he had to be patient.

“Do you want me to be honest?” You asked nervously but he nodded his head and waited.

“He’s my ex boyfriend. There’s still over six months on our lease but we’ve been broken up for… I think as long as I’ve known you now. We’re stuck living together until the lease is up,” You confessed in a single breath, “He sleeps on the couch now.”

“Your ex boyfriend?” Jungkook looked at the closed door, imagining the man who slept on the other side of it and his chest tightened. Why didn’t he just move out or why didn’t you? Was it a money issue, no one to let you crash out their place?

“Yeah but don’t worry, we don’t talk at all,” You tried to reassure him but you could tell he was too busy in his head, “What are you thinking?”

“Is this you?” He asked, holding up a picture frame in hands and staring at who appeared to be you but years younger. A small smile played on his lips that made you feel flustered as you took the frame from him, “Yes, don’t look at it. I was in a phase.”

“I can tell,” he joked playfully, looking around for something new to take his attention. Admittedly your place was small and it seemed like you had everything that expressed you shoved into your small bedroom. He understood you lived with someone else but is that what it’s like? What in this room belonged to Taehyung? You once shared it so there had to be something and that didn’t sit right with him. He had no need to get jealous but it made his throat dry to think about.

“What? You didn’t have something you were obsessed with growing up?” You asked, sitting against your row of pillows as he took a seat on your armchair. There was a vase of orchids on your vanity and books surrounding him as he stayed back.

“I was hyper fixated on water polo as a kid,” He confessed randomly, “But then there was an accident with my horse and I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Wait, that’s kind of sad,” You sat straighter, “But water polo?”

“Yeah, I switched to rowing and tennis when I was in college,” Jungkook said, and you looked at him curiously. Even in his business attire you can tell he had a lean, muscular body and you couldn’t help but stare. With an awkward clear of your throat you looked away, “Would you like a drink?”

“I can’t, I have to make it home tonight,” Jungkook said with a sigh as he stared out the window to his side. It was late and he wanted to spend more alone time with you but he probably couldn’t.

“Already?” You asked patting the left side of your bed as if calling for him. He looked between you and the spot, heart beating fast and he thought about it.

“Oh, if you insist,” He watched the way you rolled your eyes playfully, and laid back in your bed a little more, “You know, for some reason I’m comfortable around you even though we still don’t know each other that well. I think you did something to me.”

“Like?” You asked with a hint of amusement.

“You’re easy to talk to and I’m not used to that,” Jungkook said, noticing the distance between you getting smaller, shoulders nearly brushing against each other, legs angled in and your hand right in his reach. He took it shyly, looking over the bracelet he gave you last time.

Jungkook was being honest now. He doesn’t understand how or why but once he met you, he felt good.

“You like me that much?” You smiled teasingly and he couldn’t help but smile too. In the beginning he always took you to be indifferent. You didn’t pay more attention to him than you needed to and clearly you had things going on in your life that stressed you out.

When you began talking to him he finally got a hint of interest in your part but he found you hard to read—he still does. You smile more often now and joke around, go out with him, but want more. If you’re closed off because of the relationship with the guy who slept outside the bedroom then he really can’t stand him.

“I do,” Jungkook smiled harder, leaning into you, “And I’ve been thinking about kissing you again.”

Alone in your bedroom with a guy who’s nice and handsome and charming and… overall dreamy made things hard to resist. You kissed him shyly, lips pressed against his and he felt himself sink into your bed even further. His hands found the belt loops of your jeans and he hooked a finger using it to pull on top of him. You both were still dressed in your work clothes but neither of you seemed to care.

He hugged your hips, soft lips hungry for more of your touch and his mind went blank. Your hands cupped his face and you didn’t shy away from his wandering hands that snuck under your plain black tee and felt along your spine. With your body pressed to his, you rolled onto your back with him following after you, never wanting to break apart.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, kissing heavily and hands roaming but never straying too far. He didn’t push you for more even when you felt the way you affected him. Instead he kept the pace mutual, made you feel good and cared for.

By the time your lips were too swollen and sore, you had to pull back. His breathing was heavy and his hair was a mess of tousled black hair. He looked more of a wreck than you did and you couldn’t help but laugh softly trying to fix the collar of his white button up.

“I’ve got a meeting in a few hours,” Jungkook mumbled against your skin as he checked the time on his watch. It was way past midnight and he had to be ready by 7:00am. The drive home was nearly a half hour and he hadn’t prepared himself that well. As much as he wants to stay in your bed he knew he had to go.

You whined softly, hugging him closer before easing off. You let him stand up and he tucked the part of his shirt that had slipped out and attempted to fix his hair. There was an obvious bulge in his slacks that he tried to ignore even when you looked so inviting. It would be so easy for him to fall back into bed and keep going but he had to be responsible. Sadly, responsibility came in the form of having self control and remembering he’s got work tomorrow.

“I’ll walk you out,” You said with a small sigh. It was late and you had to be up early for the morning shift so it was right to end things. You needed to get out of your jeans and into bed. The two of you left your room quietly. His hand was on your waist, following you blindly out with his shoes in his hands and a calm smile.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” Jungkook whispered his promise as you unlocked the front door. He stood in the brightly lit hallway now. The goodbye was sweet and he found himself lingering behind when you shut the door. He couldn’t make out the full conversation but your ex didn’t seem to have been sleeping at all.

“Who was that?” Taehyung asked, sounding tired or irritated. He was laying down but with the light from the hall shining in you can make out the shape of his open eyes.

“A friend,” You said blandly.

“Can you do me a favor and keep your friends out of here?” Taehyung asked bitterly, “It’s my apartment too. I’ve already given you the room, the least you can do is respect me enough to not bring guys over on my bed.”

He stood alone in his office, trying to take a break from the busy day he’s had. Back to back meetings, lunch with his father, endless paperwork, hearing Hoseok scold him about not going further with you, etc., he needed a break. His phone sat on his desk and it was taking everything inside him not to call you. He’s tried distracting himself with the view outside his windows but it wasn’t working.

“I’m just saying, what’s taking you so long? If you actually liked this girl wouldn’t you have gone for it?” Hoseok asked with a shrug of his shoulders, “She’s got you whipped and you haven’t even done anything, that’s crazy.”

“It’s not even like that, Y/n’s just…” Jungkook looked nervous like when he had a school crush and would get teased about it, “I wanted to—she lives with her ex.”

“Red flag,” Jimin chimed in from his corner of Jungkook’s office, “Why?”

“Because she still lives with her ex, obviously. There’s still something there or else she would’ve moved out by now don’t you think?” Jimin explained making Jungkook run his fingers through his hair anxiously.

“Maybe money’s tight. Y/n said their lease still has another six months,” Jungkook bit his lip.

“Help her pay to end it then, duh,” Hoseok said with a shrug, knowing money wasn’t a problem for him or his friends, “Free her from the shackles of past relationships.”

This time Jungkook didn’t say anything because he was too busy thinking about it. He could help you pay it off, maybe even find you a new place but would you want him to? You always seem so tired after working both jobs and although he hasn’t made it official, he doesn’t like seeing the person he’s dating stressed all the time. He could easily take the weight off your shoulders if you let him.

“Isn’t Jungkook’s problem that he hates dating women after his money? Why are you volunteering him to pay for some random girl’s rent?” Hoseok asked with a scoff, “The girl I set you up with would never, FYI.”

He rolled his eyes, sinking back into his chair, “I don’t care about that girl. I care about Y/n.”

“So make it official, offer her help, and take her to the gala. Boom!” Jimin clapped like he solved world hunger.

He was going to, he planned to at least, he was just thinking of how to do it. It should be something simple but for some reason he’s nervous to do it. Everyone has already been nagging him about his personal life and as much as he’d like to keep you to himself, part of him also wants to show you off. You’re not what he expected

When he was alone in his office, he spent his time thinking about what you could be doing right now and how badly he wanted to see you. All you’ve done is make out and he wants to do more but he’s also happy about the pace you’re taking things. It seems right. He’s not jumping to get into your pants and you’re not running to his pockets. He respects you and finds you too stunning to let go even if you lead different lives.

After work, he headed right to where he’d find you and you were talking with some college guys who ordered shots at the bar. They were in some university jackets and seemed perfectly content taking up your time.

“Are those for me?” Yoongi asked, stepping out from the walk-in fridge of alcohol. He pointed at what Jungkook was holding and it seemed to catch your attention too, finally making you look over at him. Your eyes softened, standing up as he got to the bar.

He held a large bouquet of orchids, various types of the flower, some pink, some white, a little bit of both, a hint of yellow. They looked pretty and he held them out to you as he responded to Yoongi, “Sorry, hyung. Maybe next time.”

“I didn’t know you were stopping in tonight,” You said, taking the flowers graciously. Now that you’re sort of seeing each other he hasn’t been stopping regularly. Usually he sees you in your free time and occasionally if he goes to the bar but it’s usually at the end when not many people are left and you’re about to close.

“I meant to call but I forgot, forgive me?” He asked with a teasing smile, eyes glazed over as he watched you, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

You didn’t hesitate to step out with him, alone in front of your job, clutching the bouquet in your hands.

“So, I’ve been kind of pushing it off because I’m not sure what you’ll think, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and I can’t wait much longer to ask,” Jungkook started off with a nervous scoff, “And now that we’re out here and I’ve distracted you from work, it’s probably shitty timing but—“

“Jungkook,” You said, looking up at him, “What do you want to ask me?”

“Will you go out with me? I mean… I know we’ve gone on a few dates here and there but I don’t think to keep going with this without asking you for a relationship. I want to get to know you more and more and I don’t want to think about you possibly misreading my intentions and I just… really want to be your boyfriend,” Jungkook finished.

A smile spread on your lips as you leaned into him, one hand around his neck while the other held the bouquet from falling. His hands fell effortlessly on your waist, pulling you closer, feeling you nod your head against him, “Is this a yes?”

“Yes,” You kissed his cheek, “Orchids are my favorite also.”

“Really?” He asked feigning surprise, “I guess I was lucky picking them out.”

“Are you staying for a drink?” You asked pulling back despite his hold.

“I don’t think so, I’ve got another crazy day tomorrow and I’ve got some errands to run. Do you close tonight?” Jungkook asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You work too much?”

“I work too much?” You asked with a laugh, “You’re the one with back to back meetings.”

It was oddly endearing seeing the way he pouted despite his tough exterior. He wore a black suit and his hair was combed back, driving his usual Porsche but then pouting at you rather cutely and delivering you your favorite flowers.

“You’re right, I’ll take a few days off and spend all my time with you,” Jungkook said playfully, “If you think I’m clingy now just you wait.”

“Okay, okay,” You pushed against his chest lightly, “I have to get back inside before Yoongi kills me. Thank you for the flowers.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook bit his lip, keeping you close to him still as he refused to let go of your hand, “Can I get a kiss before you go?”

You sighed, pretending to find it bothersome but let him pull you back. You kissed him goodbye with a promise to call him when you get home and went inside as he drove off.

The flowers looked pretty in the clear cylinder vase you fit them into once you got home that night. You ignored it when Taehyung slammed the door and set the flowers on your vanity, smiling a little to yourself as you got ready for bed.

It took a week for him to officially ask you to be his date for the event of the year. He wanted to appreciate the tranquility he had with you at least a little before he brought you to everyone close to him. He didn’t want your opinion about him changing but he also wanted to show you off finally. In the end, he asked you over dinner and you had no reason to turn him down.

You didn’t fully understand what he was inviting you to and the gift he left for you one day only left you more confused.

“Just try it on, baby,” Jungkook urged you on as he busied himself in your bedroom while you stared at the box on your bed, “I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything better at the last minute but you’ll look beautiful either way.”

He already thought you looked pretty with how you styled your hair and makeup, you just needed a pretty bustier gown with orchids to match. It was a vintage Dolce & Gabbana dress that accentuates your figure nicely. Your neck looked plane but he fixed that with a few gold pieces and rushed you out the room. Taehyung wasn’t home—not that either of you cared if he was—but if you could avoid him the better. You didn’t need him looking at you some type of way and you’re sure Jungkook could go without it too.

“I could’ve found something to wear, you didn’t have to,” You tried to say but it was clear he wasn’t listening.

“I wanted to,” Jungkook fixed the cuffs of his suit, checking the time on his watch. “We’ll be late if we don’t get going now.”

When he first told you about the charity gala, you weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a few auctions, some guest speakers or small press but this was so much more than that. Hundreds of people filed into the large venue, chandeliers held high and disco balls spinning. Everyone wore suits and beautiful dresses who wore them more confidently than you did yours. There were performance acts happening all around you and a few people you’ve seen on television in attendance. Without meaning to, you leaned against Jungkook as he navigated through the seating and found your table.

“Look who’s finally decided to let us meet his girlfriend,” Someone said from the table as Jungkook searched around for his place card. Usually, he sat with his parents and his brother and his family but he started with his friends first. The others were busy speaking on stage and right now the guys seemed less intimidating.

“Y/n, this is Jimin, you’ll learn he never thinks before he speaks,” Jungkook joked, making you want to smile but unsure if you should.

“You clean up nicely for a waitress,” Someone else said and Jungkook looked up immediately. Hoseok was obviously joking—perhaps to impress the girl he’s been seeing and the one he set Jungkook up with for a date [who was surprisingly on Jin’s arm now]. One of the girls snickered, making your brows furrow.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Namjoon told him off, directing Jungkook to sit down, noticing how ready he was to speak up.

“You’re prettier than he said,” Namjoon told you with a polite smile. Jungkook’s hand rested on the back of your chair as he looked around for his parents before asking you, “Just ignore some of the stuff they say. I’ll handle it.”

“I’m not worried,” You admitted, sitting straighter as you looked at your name plaque on the dining set in front of you. He smiled down at you, “You are prettier than I first said.”

“So what’s it like busting tables, Y/n?” Some woman asked you and Jungkook turned, clearly annoyed. He couldn’t understand why Hoseok would bring the girl he went on a date with to the gala as Jin’s date instead. It didn’t make sense and once again his dear friend was bringing questionable guests.

“About as pleasant as your company,” You said with a smile, “Perhaps a bit more, I’d assume? I don’t know, I'm not a waitress.”

You were a bartender and a cashier, if this random woman is going to insult you could she at least be accurate? Either way, there’s nothing wrong with being in the service industry but judging by everyone around the table, they all look down it. You looked at Jungkook, in his designer suit, wearing the designer dress he bought you and feeling very obviously out of place.

“I’m gonna go to the washroom,” You whispered to him and concern flickered in his eyes. Your hand barely grazed his shoulder as you stood up and he placed his hand over it keeping you from leaving just yet.

“Everything okay?” He asked, not caring for anyone else at the table but you at the moment. You nodded with a gentle smile, “Yes, I’ll be right back.”

When you left the table it seemed like everyone was able to catch a proper breath, all looking at Jungkook as if he had something to say. He didn’t let you get too far out of his sight before he stood up too.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked with an amused expression, “I want Y/n back, she’s cute.”

“I’m gonna find us better company,” Jungkook said as he looked at the women and Hoseok, “Sober company.”

“Come on man, we’re just messing around,” he said turning to Jin hoping for some help but Jin chose to stay out of it, “She’s great, honestly. Not what I expected.”

“Hobi,” one of the girls complained but Jungkook was taking his drink and leaving.

You tried to fix your appearance in the mirror but there wasn’t anything specific you could point to. There was just something that felt wrong and maybe it was being here at all. Maybe you’re moving too fast? You’ve already agreed to go out with him and you have strong feelings for him but if those are his friends… and these are the parties he attends… maybe you’re not cut out for it.

The women were flooded in designer and a sort of elegance you’re sure you didn’t possess and the others seemed just as luxurious. You work two jobs to keep a shitty roof over your head while you’re attending a ball in a dress worth more than what you make in a month. You might act like you’re not nervous but you’re anxious. It feels like you’re pretending to be comfortable. Do you deserve this sort of treatment from him? All he’s done since you met him is keep you company, shower you in gifts, listen you every word you said, and… brought you around those close to him but were you right for him?

He seemed too good for you.

“I was beginning to think you ran out on me,” Jungkook said with a chuckle as he watched you jump in surprise. He stood near the entrance to the washrooms and waited for you to come out for what felt like forever.

“You really are impatient,” You teased as he pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, “Is everyone still at the table?”

“Probably,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his and walking through the crowds, “But I’m sick of them, let’s do our own thing for now.”

Jungkook was as attentive as ever. He introduced you to anyone who came up to him and he looked genuinely happy to have you there by his side. You haven’t been seeing each other for long at all, but it feels right. At one point you reunited with his friends, except Jimin was off somewhere with Jin and the two girls. The rest welcomed you just fine and asked you questions about yourself. Sometimes Jungkook would say something about you that you had no idea he knew. Hoseok found it adorable how he spoke for you with a sense of pride or excitement. It was obvious to anyone who paid attention that Jungkook felt strongly for you and you for him. Although hesitant to let you in, you seemed to charm your way with his friends and it made him happy to see how well you fit in.

“Leaving already?” Namjoon asked when Jungkook made his rounds of farewell to everyone he knew.

“Yeah, we’re… tired,” Jungkook said but the smile on his face said otherwise, “And it’s late.”

“Hm,” Namjoon seemed amused as he looked down at the arm Jungkook had around your waist and how it ran along your hip, holding you close. The two of you looked like proper lovers on their honeymoon and he couldn’t help but laugh, knowing neither of you were close to tired—just ready to leave.

He smirked, “Have fun.”

“What did that mean?” You asked as Jungkook led you out but he just shrugged. Valet brought his car and you got in with him.

“Don’t know,” Jungkook said leaning over the middle consoled to kiss you, “Will you spend the night at my place?”

“I don’t have clothes,” You said, smiling at the way he seemed to deject, worrying at his bottom lip.

“I mean… we won’t really need tha—“

“Jungkook!” You hit his arm playfully, making him laugh. He drove to his place with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He lived in a penthouse in the sky, at one of the most expensive apartments in the whole city. The entire ride up the elevator was filled with his rough hands holding you in his arms, telling you how beautiful you looked tonight.

“I can’t take too much credit,” You teased, arms around his neck as you went to the top floors, “You’re the one who picked out the dress.”

“It’s not about the dress,” Jungkook whispered, cupping your face in his hands, “It’s about the person wearing it.”

“And what about when I’m not wearing it?” You asked, stepping out of the elevator once it got to his floor. You walked ahead of him and he couldn’t help but look after you. Your hips swayed with each step, walking so effortlessly in a dress that accentuated your shape. It had his attention all night and he knew tonight was the night he’d have you. You were hard to resist but he was patient, he waited for the right timing to make sure what he felt was right and it was. He was so into you it was all he could think about.

“Y/n,” Jungkook called for you before you could skip too far from him. The two of you stood in the foyer now and he was taking your hand in his to keep you from wandering too far inside. His place was huge, the entrance alone had a level of class you didn’t expect. It was a two level penthouse with a grand staircase and pool on the balcony. Your heels created an echo that felt never endless and in the middle of the foyer was a rounded table with a small stack of mail and a large vase of orchids.

Now you feel bad always dragging him to your small bedroom in an apartment you shared with an ex boyfriend. It was something Jungkook never seemed bothered by—even when Taehyung would make a fuss about something—and that made you feel even more embarrassed.

You were too distracted to notice when he closed the space between you, hands on your waist as he pulled you against him.

“You’ve been handsy all night, y’know,” You teased him with a smile, turning in his arms to face him. He let his forehead lean against yours, and closed the space between your lips until you were kissing.

There was a hint of a smile into the kiss as he deepened it by dipping his head low, mouths moving in sync. Even with your heels, you couldn’t quite reach him and tried to lean upward.

Jungkook’s hands traced down your waist, falling to your hips and without pulling away, pulled you onto the table, sliding his mail to the floor. A light squeal left your lips, holding him tighter, “Jungkook.”

“I can’t help it,” He began to trail soft kisses down your neck, nibbling here and there to get a reaction out of you, “I’ve been good all the time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a cute and amused laugh that made him smile. One of the straps of your dress slipped down your shoulders and he hooked a finger into the thin fabric and pushed it back into spot. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to help you down from the table, not yet letting you go but walked toward the staircase “And I’ve got you all alone now. Nobody asking you for another round of drinks, or your… roommate, just you and I. I don’t think I can hold back any longer.”

With that being said, he guided you up the stairs taking you down a hallway toward the main bedroom. It was modern and dark with a wall of windows that overlooked the city lights. His bed was at the center with black sheets that he set you down and begins kissing you again.

Your hands ran down the front of his suit, pushed the jacket off and untucked it from his slacks. Every time you see him he’s dressed so nicely but you wanted to see what it looked like underneath. One time it had been late and last minute when he saw you and was dressed in a casual hoodie and sweats. You made out on your bed but never got far enough to take your clothes off. You know he’s muscular and lean but you needed to see it all.

Although your pace of undressing him was quick to your knowing, it wasn’t enough for him. He yanked at the buttons, pulling it off and your jaw nearly dropped.

"Tattoos?" You questioned with surprise, as he sat back on his haunches playing with the buckle of his belt. He unclipped the back of his silver watch, throwing it on the floor and pulled his belt fully out of the loops.

“Surprising?” He responded looking down at. Your dress was ruffled up around your waist and your legs looked smooth. You sat back on your hands to meet him halfway for another kiss and while his mouth was concentrated on yours and your tongues danced against each other, he slipped his hands down your back. Your dress had a lower back cut, barely held together by a ribbon that had been tempting him all night. How easy it would have been to undo it and kiss along your spine.

A soft gasp slipped past your lips and swallowed by his as he pushed the straps off your shoulder and let it pool around your breasts. He slipped it further down exposing more of yourself to him and he kissed down your neck. You were slowly fall back into his pillows with his mouth against your collarbone, guiding you to your back so he could take the dress off you.

He left wet kiss down your chest, hands tracing along your ribcage as you arched into him and your breasts fell and rose with each heavy breath you took. mouth left wet kisses down to your collarbone and between your breasts. You let out a sigh feeling his gentle touch and he cupped your soft mound, squeezing lightly before he brought his lips to your hardening bud.

“Is this good?” Jungkook asked almost shyly, tongue sneaking a touch on your nipple as his thumb swiped over it feeling it begin to stiffen. You could barely form words to respond when he repeated the actions a couple times.

"Jungko—ngh," you whined wriggling around a little for more. He looked up at you through a mess of hair and his teasing tongue flicked your nipple as his other hand groped the flesh of your left breast.

You touched along his back wanting to feel more of him pushing your breasts in his face and he drooled all over your boobs, sucking and licking your skin while you arched into him.

Once his tongue had grown sore, Jungkook moved along down your stomach pulling on it in hopes that he could get it off. With a small huff in annoyance, he sat back, looking down at your half naked body and tried to work out a way to take it off you. He raised your legs against his shoulders, sliding the flimsy fabric off and throwing it to the floor next to his shirt.

It didn’t go ignored the fact that you had been completely bare underneath, your pubic area exposed to him as you’ve gone all night with no panties and it was only now he realized.

“You had nothing under this entire time?” Jungkook asked, finally pulling his own pants down, not bothering to wait to get his briefs off and did them both at the same time. He barely gave you time to appreciate the veins leading down his V-line toward his hardened cock before he was leaning down to kiss you again, “If I would’ve known we would’ve never left your apartment.”

“Good thing I didn’t tell you then,” You said between gasps when he licked the shell of your ear, pressing his naked body against yours.

Tonight had been something he’s known for months and a yearly event that he needed to attend. If he had known and seriously kept you in bed you’re sure he would’ve heard an earful. You only chose to go bare so you wouldn’t get a panty line on the dress.

He must’ve liked your chest because he went back to your breasts hungrily latching onto a nipple again, choosing not to respond anymore as he got lost in your warmth.

Like earlier when he got the dress off, he hitched your right leg up until it was bent close to your stomach, exposing more of your wet pussy to his greedy eyes. Silky strings of arousal glazed over your folds making him run his tongue along his bottom lip. Jungkook was focused on your wet cunt, dragging a finger along the center where your juices puddled at your entrance. It was a wet, creamy sort of slick that coated his fingers and your clit.

You released a moan at stimulation, jaw going slack when Jungkook gripped your hips with his free hand and pressed you firmly to the bed. Making sure you wouldn’t squirm away, he dropped to his stomach, face between your lips as he went for a taste.

His lips were soft against your folds, eyes locked onto the sight of your puffy lips and let his tongue lick up the puddle of arousal. He practically sucked on it for a taste and left open mouth kisses on your cunt. You gripped the bed sheets tightly, legs threatening to shut but whenever you tried to squirm his head followed your movements.

Jungkook could barely breathe but it felt unnecessary as he nipped at your labia, sucking it into his mouth and letting your clit rut against the tip of his rounded nose. In all honesty, there was only one thing on his mind right now. He wanted to please you and make you feel good. He wanted to make you forget about any other guy and make you think of him and only him. His mouth closed over the stiffened clit suddenly and he began to lick and suck, feeling the outline of your slit get his chin wet like a dog lapping at water with thirst.

You had to be the sweetest thing to ever grace his tongue and it was making him lose his mind—aimlessly rutting his stiff cock against the bed.

Your head had fully tipped back, no longer paying attention to the pleasure he brought between your legs and sunk into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling moaning. Jungkook watched you succumb to what he gave you and he snaked a hand along your body, feeling the way your stomach caved in with deep breaths and settled a grip on your tits. His fingers were wet and he used the liquid to coat your nipples, rubbing them between fingers and quite literally tongue fucking you with your hips humping his face.

You were in ecstasy with his mouth slobbering all over your cunt. You couldn’t remember the last time you let someone touch you—pleasure you. It surely wasn’t with the ex you lived with. You stopped letting him in long before you broke up and even then he didn’t make you feel the way Jungkook did.

"Oh—" you moaned softly, hands in his

dark hair keeping him in place. He didn't say anything only guided you through an orgasm, feeling the way your legs shook and your breath hitched. Your clit twitched in his mouth and he tried to soothe the feeling with tender lips, tongue lapping at your release as you came down from your high.

Your eyes opened, looking right at the red tip of his cock, aching with need and pointing straight at you. He leaked with precum just from what he had done to you and he needed more. You tried to sit up on shaky legs, meeting him halfway for a messy tongue kiss, licking your arousal off his lips and some spit mixed into it. It was nasty but it made him grown with lust, especially when your hand snaked around his mushroom tip.

Jungkook dropped his forehead against your shoulder, staring down at your naked bodies and focusing on the hand you had on him. Your thumb was rubbing against the slit, smearing clear arousal around his head. His brows knitted together, a confused expression as you tried leaning back, managing to pull him into bed. It didn’t take long for him to get the hint and get on his back.

“Baby,” Jungkook tried to warn as you shifted to sit between his legs, leaning down to his stiff member. He was so close already and wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to handle before he had a chance to be inside you. A dry gasp left his lips as you went in without warning.

You flattened your tongue on the underside of his length, teasing a long lick from his base to the tip. Spit pooled in your mouth that you let drool out of your mouth and cover his tip, eyes on him the whole time. His eyes felt heavy but he refused to let them shut, wanting to see the way you took his cock into your mouth seductively.

A deep, throaty men left his lips as you swallowed as much of him as you could; never pulling your eyes off him and his head nearly tipped back with pleasure. Holding the base of his cock with one hand, you begin to bob your head setting a good pace, with your other hand on his muscular thigh.

Your eyes lock on the obvious muscles flexing under your touch, his abdomen more prominent than before and you eyed his tattoos curiously. Whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth was jerked off by your free hand that would occasionally run a little lower to massage his scrotum.

You can tell he was close which left you with a sense of pride. Your nose pressed into his pubic bone, taking steady breaths as you flattened your tongue and relaxed your throat to fit whatever more you can. Jungkook panted feeling the throb of his cock as his tip hit the back of your throat.

You roughly swallow around him, suppressing a gag and resume to deep throat him.

"Fucking hell," he groaned tossing his head back in bliss, hand hiding his face as it scrunched together in pleasure. Moans were pouring out of his mouth, sounds muffled into his hand, "I'm so—close."

It hit him at once, hips nearly licking from how hard his muscles tightened with pleasure. His cock twitched warning a gag from you before he couldn’t take anymore. You didn’t pull away, swallowing what you could of his release.

Jungkook slowly comes down from his high, hand petting your hair. His eyes were hazy and his mouth dry. It felt like he couldn't move a muscle but he needed to feel your mouth on his. He could taste himself on you and with your aftertaste on his he wished to kiss more, pulling you onto his lap.

It was the best head he’s ever received yet his cock ached for more.

“Condom?” You asked, nipping at his ear lobe making his eyes roll. He didn’t bother to shift you off his lap as he blindly felt around his nightstand for protection.

He let you slide it onto his member, watching it bounce back up, too stiff to budge and held placed a hand at the base as you moved to straddle him.

The expression you made as you sank onto his length was utterly beautiful and you radiated a confidence in taking him that he hadn’t seen before. Every time he’d seen you has led up to this moment where you could finally be as intimate as you please and he wasn’t the only one jumping for the chance. He didn't push to move even if he really wanted to and instead let you adjust. He wanted this to be pleasurable to you too.

"Jungkook," you whined, hands flat on his chest making your tits perk up and he carefully shifted his hips, rolling them up to dig just a little deeper.

“That’s it baby,” he muttered under his breath, watching your hair fall forward as you tried to concentrate on his thrusts. You ground your hips against him and he watched your body shudder with pleasure. It was hypnotic the way you pulled him and he couldn’t help but lean upward, kissing one of your breasts as you rode his dick for the first time.

He groped at your ass, spreading the soft cheeks apart and rammed into you when you threw your head back with a whimper, "Feels good."

You threw your arms around him, suffocating him against your chest as he bounced you on his dick, moaning against your nipples and drooling. Jungkook's nail dug into your soft flesh as he lifted your hips up and down on his cock.

He felt stuck, unable to move his hips as much as he wanted to and with a low grunt, he rolled you onto your back, knees digging into the mattress as your legs wrapped around his waist, “Fuck, I can’t.”

You didn’t pay much attention to his words as Jungkook began to quite literally drop dick inside you, grinding his pelvis into you with each deep thrust and it felt nasty to be fucked this way.

A familiar ring of nerves clenching around his member as it sucked him into your folds. He wasn't going to last much longer either.

He hasn't slept with someone in months and it definitely didn't feel like this. He didn’t give it up to just anyone despite what reputation he might have, and it took him time to sleep with you. He had to feel intimate in other ways before he let himself feel the pleasure you brought him.

“Gonna cum for me?” He asked softly, kissing your jaw and hugging your waist as he dug your pussy out, feeling your nails claw at his back.

“Please,” you begged, snuggling into his neck and his chest tightened with want. He put more purpose into his thrusts, bringing you and himself so close to the edge that you would tip over any moment. You sounded too pretty begging for him to just ignore.

A wave of pleasure washed over you, skin rising with bumps as a shiver ran down your body. He held you tightly as you moaned in euphoria, coming undone once again. Jungkook couldn’t hold on much longer and your legs around him gave him no choice but to fuck the rest of length in you until he came into the condom.

You laid together for a moment, both shaking and softly petty each other as you came down. Jungkook’s fingers combed your hair back and you straightened your sore legs as you let him pull out.

You don’t remember much aside from the drowsiness and he cleaned you up better than you could’ve.

He lied back in bed, pulling the covers over your naked body and fell asleep in your arms.

Once the sun rose into the sky, sneaking into the bedroom through the blinds and waking you from a heavy sleep, you found yourself feeling sore. You attempted to stretch but Jungkook’s arm trapped you against him.

“What time is it?” You mumbled to yourself, looking down at your naked body feeling self conscious as you rolled onto your side to find your phone. It was somewhere out in the foyer with the rest of your things you’d forgotten.

The time on Jungkook’s alarm clock read ten minutes past the bus. You should’ve been on it and on your way to the cafe.

“Y/n,” Jungkook mumbled sleepily, sitting up a little to see what was holding your attention, “Back to sleep.”

“I’m going to be late to the cafe,” You said, attempting to get up but failing miserably once he pulled you back down.

“Who cares about that one, let’s sleep a little longer,” He said and although your heart raced, you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Don’t you have work today? We’ll both be late,” You tried to reason but your now clingy boyfriend wasn’t hearing any of it.

“I’m in line to be CFO, I can do whatever I want and today I’m choosing to spend as much time with you as possible,” Jungkook said arrogantly but it was so easy to look past when he kissed your palm affectionately.

“Not all of us are as lucky,” You sighed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as you tried getting out of bed. Instead you just ended up underneath him.

His smile was mischievous, “So I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?”

“We already barely have time to see each other,” Jungkook said with a small pout, “And you live so far with someone who doesn’t deserve to see you as often as he does…”

“Well, maybe you should come stay with me. I know you said Yeaun doesn’t have the space to let you move in with her and I really don’t want you stressing about rent or living with someone you don’t want to live with,” Jungkook told you, slowly rolling off you once he felt he had your attention, “So what do you say?”

“You live far,” You tried to say, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your front. You weren’t completely opposed to it but shocked nevertheless.

“That’s why I think you should quit at the cafe,” Jungkook said eagerly, “That way you could focus on just one job and have so much more free time. I’ll take you or get you a driver—a car?, whatever you need to get to the bar. I know you like working there but at least you wouldn’t be running back and forth between jobs. I live far but I’m asking you, will you move in with me?”

“I have to think about it,” you sighed, sinking further into bed and the thought of getting up to answer missed calls from your job made you want to hide under the covers. You really did not like working there. It was early hours, shitty pay, and rude people. At least at the bar it was nighttime and the people knew you. And it would be nice to no longer live with Taehyung…

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, pulling you into his arms knowing you were seriously considering it, “… And if you ever decide you don’t want to be at the bar either… you’ll be with me and have all the time in the world to do what you want.”

“You’re offering too much,” You said playfully, hugging him lovingly, “I’ll really start to think about it.”

“Please, I could give you whatever you want if you just let me,” Jungkook says.

In some strange, unexplainable way, he fell for someone so unlike him. It was effortless and comforting to the point that nothing would bother him about it and all he wanted was to be with you. He could ignore everything else, or solve anything just to be with you.

It’s like you’re what he’s been looking for and he’s what you need—someone trusting, reliable and loving.

Ever since he saw you buying orchids at the convenience store, he can’t help but think of them when he thinks of you. You remind him of one.

Beautiful, charming, graceful. It didn’t matter if you had different upbringings or experiences, all he knows is you’re fit for him and he’s fit for you. He’ll show you things you’ve never seen, treat you to luxuries and care while you teach him more about yourself. Let him really get to know you and what makes you smile.

To do that, you have to let him in.

“So no work?” Jungkook asked hopefully making you roll your eyes, trying not to smile.

“I guess not,” You sighed, feeling him begin to smile against you and hurried to stop him, “But I should still go home.”

“To pack?”

“No, to shower and get dressed,” You corrected him, laughing at how he whined, “Well talk about it more later, last night was…”

“A lot?”

“You can say that”

::.

haven’t posted in forever and I needed to drop something for yall 😭I hope you enjoy it when it’s out and pls bear with me lol. idk if it’s good I’ve been working on it for too long to tell There’s definitely errors and questions yall might have so pls feel free to send it in inbox!

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[velvrei]

can you please do like enemies to lovers that ends in smut with logan???? the face riding one you posted was SO GOOD. 

a/n at the end

tell me more

pairing: logan howlett x reader

summary: you and logan HATE each other. you are stuck in the void for a few days, and when you get out, it’s too late to go anywhere so you stay at wade’s place with logan. in the spare bedroom. with one bed.

word count: 8k

warnings: smut, rough sex, enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, degradation, switch!logan, mentions of blood and death, dance fighting, wade & his sexual comments

a/n: beware this is not proofread i’m too lazy

nsfw below the cut!

you disliked logan from the moment you met him. the two of you met through wade, your best friend and partner.

meanwhile, wade had a new best friend and partner in logan howlett. normally, jealousy would arise in such a circumstance, but it only created mini-competitions between the two of you.

the three of you were in the void. you were sitting in a chair, painting your toe-nails as you watched logan and wade fight to get their anger out.

you giggled as logan stabbed wade repeatedly with his claws, just sitting back and watching the show.

as you added your clear coat, it went almost completely silent and you looked up to see logan laying on wade, both of them with multiple wounds and covered in blood.

“you guys done yet?”

both boys groaned, making you grin as you fanned your newly painted toes and returned the nail polish to your bag.

a few minutes later, both guys were awake and walking towards you. you three needed a somewhere to stay, and you knew exactly where.

"i know where we can stay. this isn't my first time in the void, and there's a house where some hero's hide from cassandra. we can go there." wade listens to your words while logan just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"and why are we listening to you?" logan's sassy remark made you roll your eyes.

"because i've been in the void before you dumb fuck. don't question me."

"what did you just call me?" logan growled, stepping toward you as you remained unbothered in your lawn chair.

"you heard me." your tone was sharp and sassy.

wade rolled his eyes before stepping in front of logan, stopping from getting any closer to you.

"guys. knock it off. we're gonna follow her, because she's been here before. got it, dog boy?" wade's nickname made you snicker, another nickname added to your dictionary.

“yeah dog boy.” you add on, earning a glare from wade.

“shut the fuck up, woman.” logan spat, his tone was bitter, and his eyes searched you up and down.

“you wish i would.” you spat right back, scoffing as you looking at your nails on your hand, acting completely unbothered by logan’s insults.

wade grabbed you out of the chair, and grabbed logan’s arm, practically dragging you both before shoving you forward.

before the three of you could even take another step, you saw a hidden figure standing on higher ground. he wore a hood over his head, and as he spoke, and revealed himself, it was johnny storm.

“there’s no time. they’re already almost here.” he points to the distance, physically pointing out the fact that cassandra’s army were already on their way to get you.

you swore under your breath as johnny jumped down, joining the three of you, it was now four against like, 100, and you knew you had no other way out of this but to face cassandra head on.

they all approached you fast, and quickly surrounded you. a man, with long hair and brown teeth, began to speak.

“ooo, she’s gonna love what i have for her.”

wade scoffed. “who is she, exactly?”

you smacked his shoulder earning a pathetic wince, causing logan to roll his eyes by the two of you.

the man ignored wade’s question, and before they even had a chance to fight, each of you were sucked by a magnet, and knocked unconscious.

when you woke up, you tried to move your body but it was restrained, looking up and seeing that you were tightly tied against logan. great.

you were in a moving ball, practically like a wired hamster house. your body was tightly maneuvered against his, breasts pressing against his chest, sighing in defeat as logan watched you struggle. “there’s no getting out of this.” his dark, husky voice made you look up, hating the fact that you couldn’t look anywhere but his eyes.

“i know where we’re going. i’ve been here before.”

johnny raised an eyebrow at that as he was tied up next to you, against wade. “you have? no one has ever escaped cassandra alive?”

you sighed. “well i have.”

logan rolled his eyes, hating that the attention was on you. “well aren’t you just the greatest. you escaped a bald bitch, boo fucking who.”

logan’s comment caused your knee to come up in between his legs and hit him in the dick, watching his face contort into pain, making you giggle.

after what felt like the longest ride ever, you arrived to cassandra’s lair, watching as she stepped out and observed the small group.

she untied everyone eventually, examining each person. when she walked up to you, she put her hands behind her back, giving you a smile.

“miss princess. lovely seeing you here again. you’ve escaped me once and it will take a lot for that to happen again.” her words made you swallow, a little frightened but not letting it show, so you held your ground against her.

“you don’t have to worry cass, it’ll happen again. i’m sure of it.” her eyes brighten at the nickname, giggling as she walked over to johnny storm.

it didn’t take long for her to release you as alioth slowly lowers from the sky, hungry for his next meal.

you quickly run over to a weird jet pack thing, watching as both boys follow you, johnny staying behind.

the three of you flew away on the magical item, you shouted quickly, “take us west! that’s where the house is!” she shouts to wade who is somehow controlling the thing from the bottom.

when you arrived at the house, you saw the others, as in the former x-men, which were all very familiar with you.

they greeted you, and you introduced them to the boys.

“this my friend wade! and this… is logan.” you say your excitement wandering off as you say logan’s name, wanting to purposely annoy him.

logan rolled his eyes and introduced himself to everybody sense you didn’t do it for him. the others noticed the frustrating tension between you and logan, most saw it as hatred, but gambit saw right through the both of you.

as everyone started to mingle, gambit approached you and introduced himself, his speed of speaking somehow easy for your brain to comprehend.

“you know, you and that logan guy would be one hot couple.” you almost choked on your spit, turning to him with your eyes wide.

“me… and logan…? like as in dog boy logan? like as in i fight people with claws like a furry, logan?” your comment made gambit chuckle, he nodded his head.

“yes, furry logan. it always startz as enemies, i tink you and him would really get along if you actully chose to.”

you rolled your eyes, “i’m gonna have to disagree with you on that one, mr gambit. i hate that man with a passion.”

he just shrugged his shoulders, looking around the room before looking over at you. “whatever you say, miss y/n. i may just see somefin you don’t.”

about an hour later, the group was all gathered around the table, trying to figure out a plan to capture and kill cassandra.

“okay. cassandra has her big army of dick-riders, so we have to find someway to distract/kill them without the others getting suspicious.” wade says, obviously opening the conversation for ideas.

“maybe we just go head first and attack them all?” electra suggests, which is a good idea, but someone would end up getting killed.

wade looks like he has a light bulb moment, and he turns to you. “remember that one time when we fought off those guys behind the bar in new york, and you did your little dance fighting thing, slowly killing them without the others knowing because you seduced them first,” wade said, sparking memory in your head. everyone else looked confused, while logan looked completely against the idea already.

“yes, how could i forget? that night started my tradition of dance fighting.”

wade smirks, “what if we use that in this? you seduce and fight the guards while we sneak in. i went by earlier and saw the army only comes out when it’s a group, so if it’s just you, seducing the guards, they won’t question a thing.”

wade’s idea makes your face lighten up, loving the idea of being the center of attention. “and how do we know this will work?” logan’s voice is obviously unamused.

“it’s never failed.” you spoke, shooting him a smirk before turning back to wade.

“yeah. let’s do it. i’ll walk up, distract the guard while you guys go through the back and sneak in, just give me a signal when you finally kill that bald bitch, because sway my hips for so long.”

your comment causes the other to laugh, except for logan, as usual. he just huffs, already not liking the idea.

you’re outside the house, everyone getting into the car, no seats for you and logan. “can you guys just sit in the trunk?”

you shoot him a look, knowing it won’t end well.

“out of all two people to out in the trunk, you should be smart enough to know him and i are the worst ones possible.”

logan scowled in agreement, if scowling in agreement was even possible.

wade just shrugged, telling you guys to suck it up and just get in the back, because we were only driving a few minutes.

you rolled your eyes, opening the back and getting in.

logan watched you with narrowed eyes, rolling his eyes before plopping in the trunk. he closed it behind him, and once it was closed, he scooted as far away as possible from you.

you scoffed and roll your eyes, “i don’t bite, ya know.” your words made him chuckle.

“you seem like you would with all those snarky comments you make.” his words make your mouth fall open, slightly offended.

“are you calling me a fucking ankle-biter?”

“yes.”

logan’s quick yes added to your loss for words, unable to form a sentence as you just sat there with your mouth open.

logan chuckled, but realized he was chuckling and stopped himself, quickly looking out the back window, trying to hide the fact he almost got comfortable around you.

when you guys finally arrived, wade got out and hit the button on the trunk.

logan got out abnormally fast, making wade laugh. you got out, grabbing your suit.

when you got you, wade closed the back and got back in the car, driving away and leaving you there.

you ran to the nearest room, changed into your suit, then stared walking toward cassandra's lair.

wade was parking on the side, his car hidden as he watched you slowly walk up to the group, boombox in hand.

wade pressed play on his phone, the song 'murder on the dancefloor' starting to blast on the boombox, drawing attention to you as you slowly walked up to the guards.

you set the boombox down onto the ground, walking up to the first guard, smiling at him as you placed both your hands on his shoulders, swaying your hips.

you slowly swayed down his body, hands roaming all over him. he was clearly into it, and that's what made it even better for you.

you slowly brought him to the side, pretending to kiss him, knocking him unconscious.

you slowly knocked down each guard with your moves and hands, seducing them then knocking them out.

you left them all in a pile, on top of each other, on the side of cassandra's lair.

when you were done, you walked over to the car, knocking on the window, as wade rolls it down.

"haven't seen you in your suit doing your thing for a few years! that was perfect!" wade exclaimed, getting out of the car.

you smiled, noticing how quite logan was from the trunk.

"you have about 30 minutes to get your asses in there before all the guards wake up." is all you say, earning a nod from wade and the rest of the group.

"yes ma'am." wade says, only half joking.

you nod as everyone gets out of the car, you push the button in the back so logan is able to do that.

logan huffs as he finally gets out. "i didn't need your help."

you could tell something was up. something different.

you roll your eyes, “oh, my bad mr. tough guy.” logan let out a scowl, and you watch his body shivered. you were unsure whether it was from anger or something else.

“you just love to push my buttons, don’t you.” his raspy, low voice caused you to turn your head, noticing the fact that he was actually pissed off by you. it made you want to annoy him more. you’d been grating on his nerves for this whole mission, and it barely even started.

“yes. that’s my job, dog boy, keep you on your toes.”

as much as you may despise logan, you have to grant it to him, he knows what he's doing, and he's admirable with it. this time, his voice is tired, not annoyed.

which makes you hold back a giggle. you’re tiring him. that’s something you find cute. “whatever woman, just shut up.”

and you do. you figure you can always annoy him more later, but right now there’s grater matters to deal with.

you hop back into the car, going into the front and making yourself comfortable as the others go to fight. your part was done and now you were more than happy to take the time you could to relax.

later that day, the mission was over with, and it didn't go as planned.

"i did all that ass shaking for nothing?" your words cause the group to have a collective laugh, except for logan, per usual.

"you'll live." his comment sends a shot through your heart, which you show, pretending to faint and holding your heart with your right hand.

"no.. i won't," you say, in stuttered breaths. wade just rolled his eyes at how dramatic you were, but the others seemed to love your jokes.

"will you quit that, you dramatic dingo?" wade's words snd nickname cause you to stop, bursting out into laughter with the rest of the team. except again for the usual exception, logan.

after everyone calms down it's settled that you, wade and logan were going to go through the portal, while the others stayed behind and you got them out later.

you arrived once again at cassandra's lair. yesterday you had captured her and she offered to let you guys to the real world, however, with a price. that woman never gave out things for free. there was some kind of catch and you knew that, but chose to ignore it for the time being, more ready to go back home to your regular universe.

it was just before dark, and as you walked into the lair, cassandra was sat in her chair, she turned to face you as you walked up the ramp. "hello boys, and y/n. welcome back. are you finally set for our trade?"

the three of you nodded, wade stepped forward. "yes we're ready miss death giver. please send us home." his words were so unserious, yet spoken in a serious tone and it almost made it seem serious. even logan almost chuckled.

cassandra opened the portal, watching carefully as the three of you walked through. you made it through, feeling as if you were falling to your death.

as you were falling from the sky, you turned to see logan, next to you, also falling, questionably close to you. he still managed to have his signature grumpiness as he was practically falling to his death, and he rolled his eyes and held a hand out to you, which caused your eyebrow to raise.

was he being... thoughtful toward you? that's a fucking first.

you accepted his hand, the two of you falling together onto a tree, groaning as the pain was still present. you heard some kind of click in the sky and slowly watched wade fall, landing on a poison ivy garden. you chuckled, then turned to logan, seeing his eyes still shut, his breath huffing and puffing. you then looked down, noticing that your hands were still holding each other.

you started to panic and let go, watching his eyes open slowly and his breathing start to slow down. "what, didn't want to hold my hand?" his snarky comment caused you to roll your eyes.

"no. you'll live." you say, using his comment from earlier.

he bares his teeth as a way of holding back another mean comment, watching as you slowly got up, starting to make your way over to wade, leaving his limp body there, by himself.

finally, the three of you make it back to wade's home. it was practically midnight and all the three of you were extremely drained after the day you had.

"you guys can stay here for the night with me, i have a spare bedroom and a couch." wade's words made you perk up, but logan beat you to it before you could say anything.

"you can take the couch. you're small enough to fit on it." you clench your jaw at logan's comment, sighing as wade shakes his head.

“not in my house, logan. as much as i love you mr. mutt, miss twerkalator over here gets the bed. unless you two want to share it."

logan looks at you, eyeing you up and down before shaking his head. "i'll take the couch."

you two walk into the room, and logan's eyes widen at the king sized bed.

he turns to you, his face obviously fighting back a decision. "we can share it. if that's okay with you. i propose a pillow wall."

you shook your head and giggled. "fine logan. only if there's a pillow wall. i want the right side though."

with a roll of his eyes, he sets his stuff down on the left side, you go out to say goodnight to wade, who must've changed into sweatpants and a hoodie cause he's no longer in his suit.

when you walk out, he's is wiggling his eyebrows at you. "you two have fun sharing that bed, okay? if you decide to fuck, let me know so i can come watch."

his words make you physically cringe, watching as his face is purely serious. this man was not joking. you roll your eyes, "there will be no fucking on your spare bed, wade. especially not with him." your cold words make wade shake his head.

"whatever you say, princess. if i hear moaning i'll assume it's the neighbors."

his final comment makes you flip him off as you walk back into the room, he blows you a kiss before you shut the door behind you.

logan is in the bathroom, then he walks out. "there's a shower in here. just letting you know. i'm gonna take one first, you can go after me if you need to." his tone seems calmer, but you assumed it was only because of his tiredness.

you nodded, just accepting the fact he was showering first and sitting yourself on the floor, grabbing your phone.

you didn't want to get the bed dirty, especially with your suit. so you just picked out your clothes, and waited for logan to be finished with his shower.

another quite twenty minutes and the bathroom door swung open.

he walks out, a plain white towel hanging low around his hips, his chest hair carrying small water droplets, a few dropping to the floor as he walked. his body is sculpted and wonderfully chiseled. his chest was defined, along with his abs, his veins evident, and his abs defined. there was a little trail of hair along his v-line, leading to below the towel. his beard had a few drops of water still left in it, assuming it was damp.

you swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that his body was perfect, setting your clothes onto the bed and rushing yourself into the shower.

you tried to push back the possible thoughts of him looking delicious, and decided to just brush them off in your shower. but as you stepped in, it got worse.

the warm water hit your cold skin, almost like a reverse burn, but a good burn. it felt nice on your timid skin, you used this as a way to try and ignore the feeling you just had when you saw logan shirtless.

as much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny it. he was fucking hot. and his body was even hotter.

you physically shook off the thoughts as you noticed a face wash in the shower. wade and his skincare. you grabbed it and used it, aggressively washing your face from all the dirty thoughts you just had and then washing your body, your hair, adding conditioner, then stepping out of the shower.

you dry of your body, deciding to do the same thing he did. you walked out, your breasts pushed up on the towel as you held it, grabbing your clothes off the bed, then walking back into the bathroom to change.

as you shut the door, you caught a glimpse of logan staring at your body and when he quickly looked away, you knew you had got him.

you got yourself changed, throwing your hair into one of wade’s bright pink towels and going to sit on the bed. you were sat awkwardly on one side, while logan was sat awkwardly on the other.

you grabbed your phone, trying to drown out the awkward silence through your instagram feed, but it wasn’t cutting it.

logan wasn’t even trying to deny the awkward silence, he just stood there, letting his thoughts overload his brain.

he huffed, before grabbing the towel by his bed, placing it onto his pillow and setting his head down. “i’m gonna go to sleep. don’t wake me up.”

his harsh words make you want to laugh, remembering the scared look he had on his face when you caught him staring form just minutes ago, but you decided to let him rest and leave him be for the night.

he quickly fell asleep, beginning to snore, which made you laugh, but you quickly got tired yourself and set the phone down, plugging it in and falling asleep yourself.

you slept for a few hours, before you woke up, your mouth incredibly dry and in need of some water.

you slowly got up, trying not to knock over the pillow wall as you did so, you slowly opened and shut the door behind you, trying to refrain from any noise. you walked out to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from wade’s cupboard and filling it up with his fancy filtered water from the fridge. you took a sip, the cold liquid instantly wetting your throat, easing your cotton mouth.

you started to look at the magnets on wade’s fridge, smiling as you saw multiple pictures, even one of you and him. it was a selfie he stopped to take in the middle of a mission. he was a fucking goofball.

you turned and jumped, seeing logan behind you. he was grabbing a glass for himself. “did i scare you?” he just chuckled at you and got some of the tap water, chugging it. he obviously knew the answer to that and was just asking to piss you off even more.

you rolled your eyes, ignoring his question and getting more to the water from the filter. he rolled his eyes. “filtered water? seriously? now i see why you and wade get along so well. you both are incredibly boujee.” his use of the word boujee practically makes you spit out your water into the sink.

“i never expected that word to be in your dictionary.” you said, honestly, watching as he chuckled, filling up his water and sipping it this time.

“there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” his voice was low and raspy, lower than usual. it was his sleepy voice, you were trying not to let it get it you. didn’t matter what he said. it was the voice that was the problem.

“yeah? like that you snore in your sleep? just found that out a few hours ago.”

logan scoffed, clenching then unclenching his jaw, holding back a roll of his eyes. “yes, i snore. i didn’t even know until my ex-wife told me.”

the mention of his ex-wife made the room go silent, with the exception of the faucet dropping a few times.

his comment just reminded you of how much older he was than you. you decided to not let it be awkward by keeping the conversation going.

“ex-wife huh? how many of those have you had?” your snark comment making his eyes actually roll this time.

he could hear the teasing nature in your voice and didn’t take it the wrong way, but was still acting annoyed, because he always tried to be with you.

“i’m not answering that question.” his response made you giggle. you just smiled to him, deciding to tease him a bit.

“you gonna make me guess?”

with a roll of his eyes he set his glass into the sink, and you didn’t realize his body was slowly getting closer to yours.

“don’t guess. cause i won’t tell you.”

you hid back a smile, looking up at him. “you know, i caught you staring earlier.” your blunt comment made all his attention go on you, eyes searching you up and down for any sign of discomfort at the thought of him staring at your body.

“i was not staring.” his voice was still low and husky, making your stomach get butterflies. you watched to stop them but you couldn’t help it. logan was towering over you and all you could do was look up at him.

he body moved closer to you as you said your next comment. “you definitely were. i saw it with my own two eyes.”

your comment must’ve struck a nerve in him, because his body was now fully pressed up against you, one hand on your hip while the other rested on the fridge above your head. you were unsure of what to do, he practically had you pinned to the fridge.

“i said, i wasn’t staring, doll. what part of that don’t you get?” he spoke slower this time, eyes daggering into yours, making your heart flutter.

“okay. you weren’t staring.” your words make him smile a bit.

“that’s right.” his voice was taunting almost, and it made you shiver. he stared down at you, and as he separated himself from you, you noticed, a bulge in his pants. you giggled to yourself as he walked back into the room. leaving you there, with your many ideas in your head of how the rest of the night could go.

you take a deep breath, composing yourself before walking back into the room. you laid down on your side of the pillow wall, staring at the ceiling. little did you know he was doing the same.

you took a deep breath before you said your next sentence. “you know, it’s okay to get a boner. it’s normal.”

your comforting yet embarrassing words caused his cheeks to flush. your words made him realize you noticed his bulge, and he huffed before throwing each of the four pillows in the pillow wall onto the floor.

“what did you just say?”

you tried to hide back your amused giggle. “you heard me and you know it.”

your eyes glared into his, watching his face as his jaw clenched. he knew he’d been caught.

“i said, it’s okay to have a boner. i know you’re hard because of our interaction. and because of seeing me in nothing but a towel. you don’t have to hide your attraction for me, logan. i’m not stupid. i know it’s there.”

your words cause a battle within him internally. there’s no denying that your words sent a shiver down his body. frankly, he wouldn't be surprised if a wet patch appeared in his pants.

he tries to think of something snarky to respond with, wanting to ignore the aroused feeling he had, not wanting you to have the slightest hint about how he was feeling.

you decided to speak again before he could, "in fact, i'm sure it's getting worse the more i speak-" you don't have time to finish your surly sentence before he's right there, his hot breath fanning your face from above, his forearms on either side of your head, trapping you in.

"you know what? yeah. you're the reason why i'm hard. doing your fucking dance fighting. i had to hide how hard i was. watching you kill those guys so effortlessly, and looking sexy while you did it. and, god you walking around here in nothing but a towel, last night where you worse the littlest shorts that barely even cover your ass. that's what made me hard. god, and i've been trying to hide it for so long but it just seems like i'm affecting you too."

he growls, his face falling to your neck, the intersection of your shoulder, his lips just brushing the flesh before inhaling deeply; almost animalistic.

you smile, looking up at him, getting another idea. you bat your eyelashes and take his hand, knocking him to his side as he's forced to lay next to you. “lo, you do affect me, so bad," you take his hand and lead it down to your core, pressing his hand to your clothed pussy. "right here. you feel that? feel how wet i am? it's all cause of you."

you watch as his mouth falls open and his pants tighten, seeing his dick twitch in his sweatpants. he's at a loss for words. he was expecting you to submit to him, but the way you didn't sent shivers down his spine.

"yeah? i did that?" his mouth now forms to a smirk, looking over at you, down to your lips and up to your eyes.

"yes you did. and i've been aching, waiting for you to come help me out." you watch as his head falls back, a puff of air falling from his mouth.

"fuck, stop talking." his command only eggs you on. you being the little menace you are, continue with your teasing.

"need you so bad logan. so bad right here. she's been aching. calling for you. god, she's so tight and needs something to stretch her out, think you can do that? i bet you’re so big, could stretch her out real good.”

you watch as his body shakes, and you notice a wet patch on his sweatpants, realizing the fact that he just came, just from the words you were saying and the slight touch of your clothed pussy.

"you must've been waiting for this huh? already came in your pants. naughty boy."

logan doesn't let you get another word, because his lips press to yours. after so much waiting, the tension was finally being released through a kiss.

the two of you continue your messy kiss, and it doesn't take long for his hands to stray, his palms skimming down your hot flesh, and leaving goose bumps in his wake.

“fucking hell, woman,” he whines, getting on top of you again, kissing your lips. "you're gonna look so much better when I mark you up, every inch of you. you already look like you’re mine."

his words made you moan, tugging at your shirt, signaling for you to take it off, which you do, you throw it over your head and across the room. leaving you in nothing but your soaked panties.

“god, so fucking pretty. you know how hard it was for me not to do this to you earlier on? you know how long i’ve been fucking waiting?” his harsh words make your body tremble. he slowly kissed your breasts.

his tongue swirled across your left nipple, sucking on it, eyes up on you, watching your face, watching it contort into pleasure because of him.

he kisses and gives love to the other breast, sucking on it as his hands slowly roam your body, overstimulating you with his touch.

he slowly descends while pulling at the waist of your panties. it appears like that's when he realizes it, pulling away from you, breathing heavily, his beard tingling your hip bones.

his desperate eyes look up at you, searching your face for any regret to which he found none.

he takes off your panties, shoving them in his pocket. "i'm gonna keep these."

his words make you moan again. you look down and he has a devilish grin on his face, both his arms wrapping around your legs, nibbling on your thighs before starting to devour as if he's starving and you're his last meal.

his tongue immediately fucks into your hole, eyes never leaving your face as he works his magic. his nose rubs against your clit, moaning the more he gets into it.

he was being so messy, and it was making you wetter, which then continued to make the situation even messier.

his facial hair caresses your swelling pearl as he eats you whole, without any hesitation—to him, you are a complete feast.

the most exquisite sight you have ever seen is his tongue in your pussy as he gives you sloppy kisses.

you can only watch, gripping his hair and running your fingers through his dark locks, yanking for some semblance of stability, something to keep you bound to this world because the pleasure you feel is unfathomable.

"fuck, logan that feels amazing?" your words only edge him on, watching as his silly smirk turns to a devilish grin.

"does it baby? tell me more." his voice is still low and husky, and he grips your thighs tighter, noticing your body shaking.

but you're so close, perched precariously on the brink of something amazing, something profound, something cosmic. you are crying as he gets closer and closer to you, enjoying every taste of his tongue in your cave and every nuzzle of his nose to your extremely sensitive spot.

"i'm so close." is all you are able to say, feeling a bit embarrassed at the fact the man you once despised was now between your legs, making you yell for him.

"yeah? come on doll, i'll take you there." his words mixed with his stimulations on your clit and fucking of your hole finally bring you to the edge.

your body trembles and shakes as he makes you cum for the first time of the night, you drench his face in your juices, loving how intimate he was with his way pleasuring you.

"good fucking girl." his words combined with his look turns you back on instantly, sending shivers down to your core as you finally come down from your high.

he comes up, you place both hands on either sides of his face, his soaked beard tickling your fingers. "you're gonna ruin me, aren't you?"

his smile only grows, as he begins to lower his sweatpants, "i'm gonna make it so no other man is able to top what i do to you tonight."

his words make you moan, he presses a kiss to your forehead before letting his dick free, you watched as the precum dripped onto your stomach, trying to ignore how hot it was. god, even his dick was hairy. but today was the day you finally decided to admit that you loved every fucking hair on his body.

he slowly aligned with your aching pussy, which is practically waiting just to suck him in. he slowly pushes in, earning a moan to fall from his soaked lips.

you hiss, but as he stretches you, the minor pain only makes you want to absorb him completely more. your ass reaches his thighs, causing you to realize that he's now balls deep in you.

he mutters, "fucking hell," letting out the most agonizing sigh yet.

his movements begin slowly as you becomes accustomed to his immense girth filling you up to the brim.

even the smallest movement causes your walls to become tense around the ridges of his dick, grinding against you so strongly. with each rock, his breathing gets deeper, his eager pants and short pleas filling the air as he picks up tempo.

he moves faster, eyes gazing into yours, he pulls his hand up and places it on your stomach, pressing down knowing it would increase the pleasure for you.

“tell me baby, talk to me. how does it feel?” he already knew the answer to that, but he absolutely loved the thought of you beneath him, trembling under of his manipulation.

“so fucking good.” your harsh words make his dick twitch.

“yeah? tell me more, hon.” your head falls back, hair sprawling onto the pillows as your body shook, feeling overstimulated by his words and thrusts, that were picking up speed, and the fact that you had already came once, and fast. you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

he looks down at you, letting his hand trail from your stomach to your mouth. “open.”

you watch carefully, eyes never leaving his as his fingers slowly slide into your mouth, moaning as he remains eye contact and watches you suck on them. seeing that makes him imagine how good your tight little mouth would feel around his dick.

“god, you’re gorgeous.” he says, finally admitting it.

all you can do it smile, realizing this is the first time he’s ever genuinely complimented you, and you decided to take it in, and tease him with it. per usual.

“think that’s the first time you’ve ever complimented me. you finally letting yourself see how fucking hot i am?”

your words apparently get to him because he winces. not a sad wince, a pathetic ‘i need to cum’ type wince.

“stop that.” his voice is harsh, a bit whiny, as he continues to thrust into you, both hand now on your hips as he hovers above you, his tip hitting your cervix, stretching you out just for him.

"stop what, logan? you don't like hearing about how we could've fucked so much earlier, if you just quit the fucking act and admitted how horny i made you?" your dirty talk was working on him and you were loving it.

the man was whimpering, his hips starting to stutter, as he pounded into you, wanting to make you cum before he did.

"if you keep talking like that i'm gonna cum, y/n." you smiled up at him, knowing you were close as well.

your tired eyes batted up at him, a small smile forming on your face.

"then cum. do it. fucking cum, i'll cum with you, yeah? filling me up so good, you feel her clenching? that's all from you baby, you got me this hot and bothered, now make me fucking cum." your words flipped a switch in him.

he started pounding into you, balls slapping repeatedly against your ass as he moved, keeping his same pace but now fucking you harder.

he moaned into your ear, "yeah? i'll make you fucking cum. gonna make you cum so hard the only thing you'll remember is my fucking name," his harsh words and the fact he could go from submissive to dominant so fast made you go over the edge for the final time that night.

you finally came, the continuous pressure in your bundle of nerves, the hot white wave of pleasure sends you hurtling through the sky and to heaven in an instant, leaving you in a state of unrestrained bliss that you cannot predict.

your body is electrified from head to toe. somewhere in the mix of your earth-shattering orgasm logan came as well, the sight of you in such state making him reach his peak, filling your walls with his hot sticky cum.

you both sat there for a second, catching your breath, and suddenly you looked down to see logan’s hot cum gushing out of you and onto the bedsheets, the sight becoming to hot to handle, as you both moaned in unison.

he got up and went to the bathroom, getting a rag from the cupboard and drowning it in hot sink water, ringing it out before walking over to you and cleaning you up.

his tongue licked up some of the mixed cum, and you watched with big eyes, feeling even more aroused at the sight.

he used the rag to get the rest and wipe off his beard from your juices.

he threw the rag into the hamper, climbing into bed next to you again, this time a lot closer and with no pillow wall.

instead, you rested in his arms, smiling up at him, as the two of you finally fell asleep.

the next morning, you and logan lay for a bit before you throw on one of his shirts and some of your shorts and walk out to the kitchen, seeing wade sitting at this dining table with his fake glasses on, drinking a cup of coffee in his ‘love yourself’ mug.

he eyes the both of you as you walk out, taking note of the outfit changes.

he smiled. “morning sunshine’s. how’d the night go? did you guys hear my neighbors downstairs at all? sounded like they were getting it on, the guy was moaning and groaning, must’ve been havin’ a grand ole’ time,” wade says, doing the thrust motion with his arms up causing logan’s face to turn a bit pink, making you laugh loudly.

he came up to you, hands around your waist and lips near your ear.

“try to walk in a straight line, sweetheart, then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

a/n: SURPRISEEEE hiii guys! this is what i have been working on all day! i wanted to spoil you with more then just a drabble while i had motivation. MWAH I HOPE U ENJOYED!

[sceletaflores]

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp. 

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you." 

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out." 

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat." 

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser. 

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties. 

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance. 

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea. 

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise. 

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question. 

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way. 

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run. 

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more. 

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece. 

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties. 

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide. 

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge. 

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you. 

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers. 

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed. 

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit. 

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. 

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his. 

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need. 

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out. 

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want. 

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control. 

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting. 

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls. 

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips. 

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes. 

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again. 

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch. 

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for. 

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust. 

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible. 

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought. 

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls. 

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him. 

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[tojisbbg]

pacify her

❝she's getting on my nerves, you don't love her... stop lying with those words!❞

♡ caleb ♡

sypnosis: you and caleb have been best friends for years, growing up and living together since childhood. nothing more and nothing less... so why did seeing him with that bitch hurt so much?

wc: 20k (i know, sorry, i got carried away but it's good i promise)

a/n: hai!! thank you so much for all the love and support on my first lads smutfic i posted for valentines day, i did not expect it to blow up like that (calebcore). as a token of my appreciation, please take this caleb smutfic as a gift. this is my longest written piece as of yet, so if this flops i'm gonna pull a caleb. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: fratboy!caleb x fem!reader, college au, reader is a little naive, heavy possessiveness on both sides (c'mon, it's caleb), heavy jealousy, mean caleb, reader's manipulative, lots of sappy feelings, pure filth, porn with plot, smut (lots of sex, beware!! and no details, find out lol), all acts are consensual, not edited.

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"what was that, pipsqueak? couldn't hear ya from up here." caleb smirked, violet eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned down a little.

"calebbb! give me back my phone, i'll be late for my nail appointment." you whined, once again trying to snatch your phone out of his grip. however, your attempts were futile and comical; as the obviously taller man kept extending his hand out of your reach purposely.

"ask me nicely and maybe, just maybe, i'll give it back." he teased, chocolate brown fringes falling over his eyes as he tilts his head to the side.

"stop being mean!" you huff out, annoyed as you kept tiptoeing and reaching up to grab your phone.

caleb continued to watch you helplessly struggle against his height with nothing but amusement. he was more focused on how your skirt hiked up with every small jump, revealing more of the soft skin of your thighs. or how your tits cutely jiggled a few inches right below his face as you wore a pink laced babydoll top.

it was wrong and downright perverted, but god did it make his cock throb.

"caleb-" your words were cut short as you lost your footing, the thick heel of your mary janes slipping on the wooden floor of your living room. you yelped, face planting on caleb's chest as he wrapped his free arm around your waist to ground you.

"woah, easy there, pipsqueak. if you wanted a hug from me so bad you could've just asked." caleb lightly joked, making you pout as you looked up at him with a gaze he could only describe as-

how to get caleb hard in under two seconds.

your eyes were probably his most favorite feature of you. they were so doey, how they'd disappear when you'd giggle over his jokes, how your pupils would dilate when he bought you those stupidly adorable bows you wear on your hair; or how you'd look at him like he's ripped your heart straight out of your chest when you didn't have things go your way.

lethal puppy eyes.

"please caleb?" such a sultry voice only you could produce that could make even the strongest man on earth crumble; and god, caleb was definitely not the strongest soldier on the battlefield when it came to you.

"okay, okay, here." he smiled, handing you back your phone as his eyes briefly glanced at the dangling apple phone charm—which he had one as well to match with you.

"yay, thanks. i'm gonna go then, my girl friends are waiting for me." your eyes lighten up, giving him a girly smile which nearly sent his soul flying.

"mhm, make sure you make it in time for your math lecture, y'know how strict that professor is. batting those cute lashes of yours won't work on him like it does on me." caleb reminded you, his tone became slightly stern, but you only giggled at the sudden shift of his demeanor.

"roger that, captain." you gave him a small salute, making his small facade break for a couple of seconds as he cracked a smile.

"cheeky brat." he shook his head as he watched you rush out the door, purse adorned on your shoulder. suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pockets.

ding!

your $100 transaction at nailsbytojisbbg is complete

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you walked out of your last lecture, chit-chatting with a classmate as you exited the building. you noticed the familiar figure of a tall, broad man in the distance, wearing a white tanktop and gray shorts.

your lips curled into a smile, quickly waving your classmate goodbye as you quickened your footsteps. but, your smile would drop as you observed that he was not alone.

a girl, whom you've never met before, emerged from behind him as they both conversed. your steps became less urgent, a weird feeling bubbling in your stomach and chest—making you nauseous.

before you could turn around and walk away, caleb already caught your eyes, smiling as he waved at you. now there was absolutely no way in avoiding him, so you tried your best to reciprocate a smile to him, using one of your freshly manicured hands to wave back.

the distance between you two, or rather three, soon closed as caleb now stood in front of you; backpack slung over his shoulder.

"finished your classes, pips?" caleb asked, eyeing you playfully as if to prevent you from lying to him.

"yes, why wouldn't i?" you scoffed, making him chuckle.

"just checking 'cause you have a bad habit of skipping that class and i don't want you to fail." he pinched your cheek and although he teases you with this all the time, for some reason it was irking you now specifically because that stupid random girl was standing beside him.

you didn't want her to think that caleb knew dumb girls like you!

"i'm not failing that class, caleb. also, i only skip that class when needed, you're making me sound like a bad student." you glared at him, swatting his hand away from your face.

caleb's eyes widened at the sudden ill reaction from you, holding his hands up to surrender.

"my bad, pipsqueak; didn't know you were all studious now." caleb lightheartedly chuckled, making you roll your eyes.

"whatever, i guess we're not going home together since you have company." you commented, your tone a bit vice as you glanced at the girl next to him who quietly took in the interaction. caleb noticed the heavy tension between you two, thinning his lips as he mentally slapped himself for not introducing you both to each other.

"oh, caleb, it's fine. you could go home with your sister, we could catch up on the project another time." she smiled, making you almost puke in your mouth.

your eyebrows pinched together at her words.

sister?

you weren't his damn sister, did he not talk about you to her? all of caleb's friends knew of your presence in his life as caleb always made sure to let the whole world know about the one and only person that mattered to him the most.

you.

although you and caleb aren't related by blood, you were just as close to him as real family, and likewise for you. your adoptive grandmother passed away a few years back when the two of you were still high schoolers.

josephine, your grandma or gran as you both would call her, was a pretty kind old lady. she always treated you two like her own, making sure that you and caleb were nothing short of living a normal childhood. the initial plan was to only adopt you, but after seeing how inseparable you and caleb were, she didn't have the heart to snatch you away from him.

it was odd because you both weren't related, but she never pried deep into why.

all because of an apple.

when caleb was first brought in, he was hostile and scared; like most kids would. no matter how much the nurses and caretakers tried, they couldn't get him to take a single bite of food.

so one night, you saved your apple from dinner by hiding it under your bed, waiting for the lights to go out. after deeming the coasts to be cleared, your small footsteps tiptoed to the boys room as you opened the door to find him crouched against the wall; head buried in his knees as he sniffled.

you approached him with a gentle aura, sitting on your knees in front of him as you softly tapped his arms; glossy amethyst eyes meeting yours before landing on your small hands that offered him an apple.

the rest was history.

gran's death hit you both hard, but she always thought two steps ahead; leaving her inheritance for both you and caleb to use towards your education and living expenses.

she knew how much caleb wanted to be a fighter pilot and work for the DAA one day. as for you, well, you're a bit... slower on the run. you didn't know what you wanted to be and to be honest, school really wasn't your thing. gran always assured you that you didn't need to have things figured out so early and that you'd eventually have things sorted out... but that was four years ago.

you're now a sophmore in college while caleb's in his senior year.

"ah, no, y/n isn't my sister. she's my best friend, actually." caleb corrected, rubbing the back of his nape as the girl's eyes widened at the revelation, quickly apologizing.

"it's fine, most people assume that anyways, so we're used to it. we grew up together, so in a way, it makes sense." you shrug, making caleb frown.

"trust me, i'd never wanna be related to this pipsqueak here, she's a handful." caleb poked fun at you, making you groan as you pinched his side, making him yelp.

"i'm not!" you defended, making him laugh.

"as you say. now, before i forget, y/n this is my classmate from my mechanics lecture, ___. we're both in the aviation program, so we're paired up for the final project." he explained with a bright smile, but the commonalities between them only made your skin crawl.

why did he smile around her like that?

was he that happy to have someone like her in his field of interest?

were you not enough for him?

all these questions assaulted your mind, giving you a rising migraine.

"hello, earth to pipsqueak, you with me?" his voice woke you up, making you sigh.

"i wanna go home, tired." you shortly said before walking off, not bothering to wait for him or glare at that bitch one last time.

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you were splayed on the couch, head rested against the soft apple cushion you forced caleb to purchase years back because it seemed like a perfect buy. too lazy and annoyed to go up to your room and change out of your clothes, you decided to cool off by listening to some music.

as you leisurely listened to your playlist, you observed your nails which you got done earlier. the music blared in your ears and you failed to notice the jingling sound of the door-lock, the knob twisting open before revealing a tired caleb with arms full of groceries.

you took a quick look at him before quickly gluing your eyes back on your nails. your best friend noticed, a small smile perking up as he realized that you were still a bit annoyed at him for earlier.

that was no biggie, he had no problem in apologizing to you hundreds of times until you forgave him.

that's how it always was for you two, even as kids. as adorable and cheeky you were, you were a damn klutz too. so, you'd end up tripping and bumping into tables, causing the beautiful antic vases gran thrifted to fall and shatter on the floor.

not wanting you to get into trouble, he'd take the blame for you, saying he knocked it over when playing basketball inside.

when you two argued, it was always short lived no matter who was in the wrong; because caleb would always end up being the first to apologize, not being able to stay mad or distant from you. if he was to describe your place in his life in just a few words, he'd say you're just as important as the air he needed to breathe.

it's natural for him to need you, to want you and to love you.

caleb kicked off his shoes after closing the front door, walking over to the couch where you were resting and ignoring his presence. with a small grunt, he placed the grocery bags down before hopping on the couch; plopping right on top of you without exerting his entire weight, not wanting to crush you.

you groaned in both annoyance and the sudden weight of his body, shooting him a glare from between your fingers, but he only grinned at you.

"still mad at me, pipsqueak?" caleb asked, placing his head on your stomach as peered up at you, giving you his stupid puppy eyes.

literally, he looked like a sad, wet puppy.

it took everything in your willpower to not throw away every ounce of anger and jealousy you had boiling inside of you to just wrap your arms around him.

so, you just closed your eyes and ignored him, turning up the volume on your phone.

caleb frowned at your actions, using a hand to tug on the wire as the earphone plugged in your right ear fell.

"hey, i'm talkin' to ya, pips." his voice was soft, but harbored a little bit of disappointment.

"don't wanna talk to you." a childish huff left your mouth as you glared down at him, but to caleb you looked like an angry kitten.

so, he took bait.

"really? so after paying for these cute nails, you won't even show me? no 'thank you, caleb! you're the best in the world!' ? i think i've spoiled you rotten." he lets out an exasperated sigh, but his expression is more fond than annoyed.

his gaze drifts back to your nails, his fingers briefly wrapping around your wrist to take a closer look.

"cute and expensive..." he tuts, but his thumb is gently stroking the softness of your wrist.

"what are you implying? that i get a job and work my cute ass off?" you murmured, your tone full of offense just at the thought.

he lifts his gaze back to your face, his playful smirk back in place.

"of course not. i don't mind providing for your cute ass until we both reach our graves and you know that, y/n." he laughs, shaking his head in mock annoyance. his grip on your wrist loosens, but his fingers continue the light stroking motion almost absentmindedly.

"but now that you mention it, maybe having a taste of the real world wouldn't be so bad after all. then you'd be more appreciative of all the things i do for you." his eyes dancing with amusement as he feigns indifference.

of course, caleb didn't mind whether or not you wanted to get a job. in fact, he liked being able to provide for you and spoil you rotten! seeing the joy in your eyes when he agreed to buy you those stupidly overpriced trinkets that now decorate both of your rooms, or shopping for clothes and shoes and of course your nails and makeup.

after everything you've done for him, which was simply existing in his lonely life, he felt like he owed you his whole life. he'll never forget that night, when the two of you had nothing, yet you gave him everything.

the kindness of your heart.

"tch, now you really do sound like my brother." you joked, knowing how much it irked him when you called him that.

a grimace flashes across his face, his grip on your wrist tightens momentarily. he always hated it when you called him your brother or when someone mistakenly addressed you as his sister.

"don't call me that." he mutters, his voice firm and possessive.

"then don't nag at me like one." you bit back.

his expression softens, his grip loosening back into a gentle touch. he sighs, a mixture of frustration and concern creeping into his expression.

"i just... i worry about you, alright? i try to give you everything you want, but you don't—" he cuts himself off, the words hanging in the air, as if choosing whether to continue or not.

"i don't what?" you cocked an eyebrow.

"nevermind." caleb mumbled under his breath, lifting himself off of you, only for you to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back.

"no, say it." you looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

he looks away, his gaze locking on a small crack in the wall, his voice low and gruff. he's struggling to articulate his feelings, not wanting to hurt you.

"you don't... apply yourself. you spend your time on things that don't matter. you have talents, but you don't use them. you're wasting your potential, pipsqueak. gran left behind so much for us, i'm sure she'd want you to take advantage of the path she built for us." caleb explained, violet eyes locked with your as his tone was stern but still embrace a gentleness to it—hoping that you could take his words to heart.

which you did, but not in the way he wanted you to.

"are you getting tired of me, caleb?" your voice wavered, coming out like a whisper.

his eyes widen in surprise, and he shakes his head vehemently.

"no, god no. it's not that at all. it's just—" he pauses, his gaze flitting away for a moment before returning to you, his expression a mix of frustration and conflict as he pursues his lips.

"we've known each other since we were kids. you're just as smart as i am, so why don't you want to be...more? pips, i don't mind devoting my whole life to feed you, spoil you endlessly and so much more—but i want you to seek out more in life. we both came a long way, from being unwanted to finding each other. i just want you to take everything that you can." a gentle calloused hand came up to stroke your cheek, his fingers lithe and a little cold.

caleb had a habit of getting clamy hands when he was nervous.

"smart? don't make me laugh. you and zayne were always ahead of me, it was so embarrassing to show gran all those red marks on my grades. i-i... i don't have a place in the world of academics. why do you think i spend so much time on caring about how i look? if i can't offer the world my brain then maybe i could make it up with my looks. and if all goes to hell, then i'll just marry some old, rich guy." you shrugged, your words coming out a bit jokingly as you chuckled at the end.

he falls silent, for once rendered speechless by the nonchalance in your tone. he doesn't know what's more infuriating—that you think so little of yourself, or that you could so easily imagine a life without him.

"is that what you think you're worth? that being a trophy wife is the best you can do?" he takes a deep breath, trying to keep his anger in check.

"at this rate, honestly yeah." you grumbled, looking away from him.

his eyes narrow, a mixture of anger and exasperation in his gaze. he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes which were full of hurt at how you downplayed yourself.

"bullshit! you're smart, talented, and goddamn beautiful, and you're just gonna waste it all by marrying some rich guy you don't even like?" caleb grits his teeth, cupping your cheek as his thumb rubbed across the apple of your soft mounds.

"there's no other choice! look, i get it, okay? you have a life too and i don't wanna be a pest leeching off of you forever." your lips quiver, heart pounding in your chest as it felt like someone just twisted the knife in your gut as the words left your lips.

only to be oblivious that your words cut caleb deeper than it did you.

"no choice? there's always a choice for you as long as i'm alive on this earth, y/n—me! i'll work my ass of in this program and get in the DAA to be a badass fighter pilot and make tons of money. i'll be the only man you'll ever need, don't you worry your pretty head over nothin', you hear me? don't ever think you're a liability. i need you, damn it." he poured his heart out, looking deep into your eyes as if he was trying to touch your soul; gently to caress it and help you mend those scars of insecurity that bled.

but you were scared and found it difficult to believe his words, not after seeing how happy he looked earlier with someone else that was not you.

"you don't have to lie, caleb. that girl from earlier... she seems like a better pick for you. she's smart enough to be in the aviation program with you, she's strong and she's pretty. she has beauty and brains while i merely have half." your throat squeeze tightly, a lump forming as it physically hurt to say the next set of words.

"she's perfect for you, caleb." your eyes welled with tears as you looked down to where your hands rested on your stomach.

"i don't care if she's smarter, or more talented. she's not you. she's not the one i grew up with, the one who's always been there for me. this is what she can't offer me. this connection we have. i don't want anyone else, I just want you in my life, pipsqueak." his jaw tightens, his eyes fierce as he speaks. he takes your hand, bringing it to his chest, his heart beating rapidly under your palm.

all the tears that you've been holding back finally slip out one by one, running down your flushed cheeks as streaks of black mascara taints your skin. caleb's eyes softened, sitting on his knees before pulling you up with him, cradling your head in his chest.

"shh... it's okay, i'm here. i'm not leaving you, i promise." he whispers in a honeyed voice, making your heart flutter as you sobbed.

"e-everyone's so mean to me! your friends whistle and laugh when i walk past them in my skirts or if the bow in my hair unties and falls—o-or when i trip on my pumps! they call me a bimbo or brainless s-slut!" you choked on your tears, clutching onto his shirt as your tears formed damp puddles on the white fabric.

caleb's eyes darkened at your words, blood boiling in fury. his embrace tightened, but a vein could be seen present on his forehead as he tried his best to keep his temper in check while calmly speaking to you.

"they said what now, y/n?" his tone was grave, making your breathing go a bit uneven.

"h-hey, it's okay. i don't see them much anyways." you tried to assure him, but caleb was no longer listening.

all the functions in his brain has gone haywired, loss of connection after hearing you. suddenly, he gently pushed you off his lap, grabbing his phone before shoving it in his pocket.

your eyes widened as you watched him get up from the couch. you reached out, grabbing his wrist.

"where are you going?" you asked, watching him only turn his head to the side but his eyes looked at you faintly. there was no light, just darkness and his face read a dangerous expression.

to kill.

"i'm gonna beat the absolute shit out of them and make them kneel in front of you to apologize." he bitterly spat out, words laced with venom before ripping his hand out of your grasp; not needing much force.

your heart rate quickened as you quickly followed his footsteps, not wanting him to make it out the door. you grabbed the back of his shirt, grounding your foot to hold him back.

"caleb, don't do this! you're in a high-stake program, if they find out about you doing this type of shit, you'll be kicked out! i swear i'm fine." you tried to convince him, but your words only made his anger rise.

he turned around, glaring at you.

"be quiet. you're not fine, i know you're not. so stop lying to me, 'cause i hate it when you do that. i know what's best for you and me, so don't stop me." caleb's tone dropped octaves lower, but you pushed aside your slight fear of him at this moment, caging him in your comparably smaller arms to hold him hostage.

"i won't let you go." you shake your head, holding him tight. you heard him let out a heavy sigh, as his shoulder slumped. you closed your eyes in relief, thinking that you were able to avoid the worst possible situation.

"you really don't like it when i'm a nice guy, huh?" caleb chuckled darkly, making your eyes widen. suddenly, he lifted you up in his arms and began walking upstairs.

fuck.

"wait, caleb!" you squirmed in his hold, but his grip around you remained stern.

"y'know i don't like it when you butt into things you shouldn't, pipsqueak." he walked up the second flight of stairs that led to the attic. after opening the door, he pushed you inside and quickly closed the door, locking it.

"caleb, what the hell?! let me out! you can't fuckin' do this to me, we're not kids anymore! ugh, let me out!" you banged and kicked on the door, but he wouldn't budge.

soon enough, his footsteps were getting distant.

"caleb? caleb!!"

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a week has passed since that incident. you were pretty pissed at him when he finally returned and unlocked you from your confinement, ready to pounce on him, yell and slap him.

but all that fury dissipated once you saw his bruised knuckles and disheveled state. caleb wasn't insensitive and to save you the trauma of witnessing three bloodied guys kneeling to you on the floor, he recorded their voices which dripped with pain and remorse as apologies flew out of their mouths like a mantra.

the smile plastered on his face was almost deranged and crazy, but yet without a fail it made your heart leap in your throat.

"so you wear skirts and smell like peaches. so what? that doesn't make you less than anyone else. if anything, it's one of the things i love about you. they can call you whatever they want. i know who you are, and that's all that matters."

his words rang loud and clear in your ears every time you remembered them. you can vividly imagine his eyes, the tenderness they held while his voice softly cured the aches in your heart.

"hey pips, gonna do laundry now. anything else you need for me to throw in?" caleb peeps in his head through the small crack of your door, chocolatey brown locks coming into view. you ushered him to come inside, to which he obeyed.

there you saw him, in all this handsome glory. you pondered quickly, how did he change so quickly?

in the back of your mind, you could still picture caleb to be a scrawny little kid with a high pitched voice; playing as the dragon while you were the princess trying to run away from him in the sandbox.

and then came high school when he got his first job as a restocker at the local grocery store, being required to lift heavy things, so he began to frequently workout at the gym and at home too; insisting that you could be of help by sitting on his back while he did push-ups.

the scrawny squeaky caleb would then transform into a tall, handsome and broad young man. he carried you in his big, beefy arms in the summer heat; one hand full with gorcery bags while the other held you as you sipped on the overpriced fake pink lemonade the girls scouts were selling—letting him take a few sips from your straw to compensate.

and now here he stood in your room, shirtless and only in a pair of calvin klein boxers; the tag necklace attached with the apple charm hanging on his neck.

"hm, nope. everything should be in my basket. thanks caleb." you smiled with gratitude, pointing to the lavander laundry basket by your door.

"mhm, don't mention it." he hummed before bending down to grab your basket.

caleb made his way down to the basement where the washing machine was. he remembered how you always nagged at him for throwing your clothes with his, how the rough material of his clothes ruined the cute lacey frills of yours.

he rolled his eyes as he could mentally hear your voice whining at him. so, to save him the trouble, he decided to wash his clothes last. caleb began to throw your clothes in, only to find the deep crimson pair of panties that he loved so much in the pile, peeking and tempting him.

the brunette groaned, fingers playing with the soft red laces that decorated the edge of your panties. his imagination ran wild, picturing you in nothing but the thin fabric of the panties that were now crumpled in his large hands.

it was sick and perverted... he knows that it was wrong to do so.

but he couldn't help himself—holding your panties to his nose, the part where your pussy would've been hugged with, taking a deep inhale. his eyes rolled back, whimpering as he could smell the musky scent of your cunt, his mouth salivating as he could only wish to be able to taste your sweet pussy.

blood rushed down to his cock, making him painfully hard. caleb groaned, tugging the waistband of his boxers down as his dick sprung back to hit his abs.

he grabbed another pair of your dirty panties, this one being a soft blue, and wrapped it around his cock. caleb's mouth gaped open, moaning as he began to stroke his dick, feeling the fabric of your panties rub against his sensitive skin.

"hnghh... fuck, you smell so good, princess." caleb quietly moaned, the hand gasping your panties tightening as he sniffed your panties while shamelessly jerking himself off.

he bit down on his lips, increasing the pace of his hands as beads of precum trickled down his swollen mushroom tip. the vein that ran on the underside of his cock throbbed with adrenaline, making his knees almost buck.

caleb could imagine how your soft pussy was hidden in these same pair of panties, your cute little clit peeking out of your sopping wet folds. did you ever touch yourself through these panties of yours? who do you think about when you touch yourself? was it him?

god, all these questions only made his balls twitch as he could feel himself grow closer to his orgasm.

"ahhh- shit, please, y/n. need to taste you so bad, h-hahh.." he whimpered, tongue lolling out as he began to suck on your panties desperately while trying to chase his high.

with a few more pumps, caleb's cock began to spurt out white, thick wads of hot, sticky cum onto your blue panties. his chest heaved, trying to catch his breath as post-nut clarity was hitting him.

his face rushed with a red tint, embarrassed but not enough to stop. after all, this wasn't his first time.

"hey caleb, have you seen my pink panties? i checked everywhere but couldn't find them. were they in the basket yesterday when you did the laundry? i could've sworn i placed them there."

"nope, didn't see them, pipsqueak. maybe you left them in your locker or somethin'. don't worry, if you need more i could always take you shopping."

caleb had all your bras and panties memorized just like how he memorized the different functions and buttons of aircrafts. he begrudgingly allowed you to pull him into victoria's secret to go shopping for new cute sets, wanting his opinions and of course, needing his card as well.

of course, he didn't mind buying them for you! after all, he'd pluck a pair from your weekly laundry every time and use it to fuck his fist or even keep for himself if he really liked that pair. so, it was only fair to buy you more to compensate.

"yeah, definitely keeping this one." caleb grunts before throwing the crimson red panties in his basket.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

the spring semester was coming to an end, meaning that caleb would soon graduate. you were so excited to attend his graduation, having your dress readily hung in your closet, noting down on your ipad what kind of flowers you wanted to include in the massive bouquet you were planning to welcome him with and of course—

his gift.

caleb always gave a dog kind of guy, so you were thinking of getting a puppy for him. but, of course, things change like always and you still had another few weeks to plan.

the only problem was that getting a hold of caleb nowadays became extremely hard, which might sound weird considering the fact that you two literally live together in the same house.

but it's true.

for the last few weeks, caleb's been buried in books and drowning himself in the strongest concoction of what you could only make out as coffee and redbull. he's been on his grind to study for the final exam, which would determine if he got in the DAA or not. of course, the semester long project, which he worked on with ___ was at its finishing polishes. everything in life was hitting him all at once, college, work and other shit; so catching a glimpse of him was like being able to catch a shooting star.

slim chance.

but of course, you didn't want to bother him and you were proud of him for working so hard towards his dreams. so, naturally, you expected him to crash into your bed and cuddle with you after taking the exam—newsflash: you were wrong.

though caleb was nerdy, he was very popular on campus. all the girls wanted a piece of him because he was everything a girl could ever dream of. he's smart, caring, domestic and he's sexy as fuck.

all the guys wanted to be his friends and naturally caleb ended up being invited to a bunch of senior frat parties as the soon-to-be graduates celebrated their achievements. so, you'd only see caleb in the mornings where he's drunk and passed out on the couch or you wouldn't see him at all because he crashed at his friend’s place.

it was late one evening, you stirred in your bed as you woke up from your nap. you tapped your phone screen and saw that it was almost eight. you sat up, the shoulder strap of your nightgown falling off your shoulder, making you groan in annoyance as you fixed it.

feeling parched, you got off your bed and slipped on your house slippers to head down to the kitchen and fix yourself an ice cold glass of water. your ears perked up upon the hearing of deep laughter echoing in the living room, well, multiple voices were voicing these laughs.

as you went down the the stairs, your eyes fell on caleb who was leisurely lounging on the couch with a game controller in his hand, surrounded by three other guys; who you assumed were his new friends or rather frat buddies since he beat his last ones to pulp for you.

"caleb?" you called out, making him stop mid-sentence as he looked up and noticed your familiar figure approaching him.

"oh, pipsqueak, you're home? i didn't even know." caleb chuckled, pausing his game, the sudden acknowledgment of your presence made the other three heads turn to look at you.

"uh, yeah... i was napping." you replied, feeling a little exposed as you didn't know he'd have his friends over and you were still in casual home-wear. you could feel his friends roaming their eyes all over your exposed arms and legs, making you shift uncomfortably.

"woah, didn't know you had such a hot sister, dude." one of them finally spoke up, letting out a low wolf-whistle.

caleb's jaw tightened at that, making him shoot the guy a glare.

"watch your mouth, don't say shit like that to her. and we're not related, we just grew up together." he clarified, nose flaring with irritation.

another one of his friends rolled his eyes, dismissing his words.

"yeah, yeah, same shit. so, sister-not-sister of caleb's, you got a boyfriend?" the guy asked, making your cheeks heat up at the question as you cleared your throat.

"n-no." you stammered, playing with the hem of your nightgown. he stood up, walking over to you with a grin as he took your phone.

"let me give you my number then. let's get to know each other and i'll take you on a nice date, darling." he purred, a hand coming up to touch your arm; only for a vice grip to stop the dirtying hand from laying a finger on you.

"i swear i'll kill you." caleb's violet orbs bored holes in his friend's skull, possessively pushing you behind him. his friend scoffed, ripping his hand away from the tight grip.

"chill, dude. you're acting like i was asking her to fuck me." he joked, but caleb's face contorted into a scowl.

"say one more fuckin' word and i swear on everything i'll beat the shit out of you. you're really pissing me off." caleb swore under his breath, his other friend that was calmly watching everything unfold decided to intervene.

"okay, okay, everyone relax. we should head home, it's getting late. uh, caleb, i'll text you the address for the party being held this weekend—don't miss it, man! oh, also, let me invite your... er, friend, in case she wants to attend." the other guy spoke up, glancing at you. but, before you could even get a word in—

"she won't be coming." caleb strictly answered for you, making your eyebrows furrow.

"caleb!" you frowned, only for him to shoot a glare down at you. his friend thinned his lips, deciding not to push further.

"alright then. see you later, man." caleb's friends finally packed their stuff and left.

you angrily shoved caleb onto the couch, towering over him to have some kind of intimidation factor towards you; but of course, you were nothing compared to a six-foot something muscle pig like him.

nonetheless, he let you.

you crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. however, caleb was more focused on how your tits were now squished because of your arms; granting him the sight of the beautiful soft curves of the supple flesh. he licked his dry lips, imagining how they'd feel in his hands. you failed to noticed his ogling from how pissed you were, preparing to lash out at him.

"why can't i go to the party? you're gonna be there, so i don't see what's the issue." you huffed out.

"it's a frat party, pipsqueak. they're not meant for you." he dismissed your frustration like it was nothing, but his answer only riled you up more.

"the hell you mean?! i'm an adult, you think i can't handle a fuckin' frat party? i'm gonna go, whether you like it or not." you stubbornly fought back with equal amounts of venom in your words.

"like hell you would, i'd like to see you try. those parties are full of drunk guys dancing on girls who shake ass for some temporary validation, the house reeks of alcohol and sex. you're none of that! you never even drank in your life or had your first kiss." caleb lectured, his eyes were stern and unwavering, not harboring any leeway to be convinced otherwise by you.

"t-that's not true!" you helplessly tried to lie, but of course, it didn't fly by him. he let out a heavy sigh before planting his hands on your hips, pulling you closer between his legs.

"listen, pips. y'know i care a lot about you, right? you saw how those guys were just a few minutes back. it took every inch of self-control i had to not just plummet my fist in his face. i don't want those sick perverts to look at you like you're a piece of meat. you're more safer home than anywhere else, if you wanna drink and party so bad, a two person party right here sounds like a pretty solid idea." he looks up at you with a gentle smile etched onto his lips, offering such a lame idea, making you scoff as you shove his hands away.

"it's always what you want, never what i want! ugh, you're so fucking annoying, caleb! i don't wanna stay as some boring loser forever and you're making it worse." you seethed with anger and fury, making his smile drop as his face darkened at your words.

"i know what's best for you, y/n. you are not going to that party and that's final. don't make me lock you up in the attic again, 'cause i will if i have to." caleb threatened, making you scoff in disbelief.

"unbelievable." you shook your head, your mouth opened once more to give him a piece of your mind; but the doorbell rang.

you groaned in annoyance, trudging to the front door as you wondered who the hell showed up to your place this late. you opened the door and you were shocked to see the girl in caleb's mechanics class.

"ah, sorry! is caleb home? i texted him earlier but it seems like he didn't see it." ___ nervously laughed, her sudden appearence made your eye twitch.

"why." you blurted out, no hint of welcome in your voice.

after noticing your longer-than-usual time away, caleb decided to check who was at the door. his eyes widened when he saw ___ outside.

"oh shit, i'm so sorry. i just saw your text, i had some friends over earlier, so i didn't get a chance to see it. i didn't know you wanted to do the finishing touches tonight." caleb rubbed the back of his neck, a guilty smile plastered on his face, but the girl quickly dismissed his apologies.

"no, no, don't worry! if you want, we could still finish it up tonight. it shouldn't take long." she offered him a smile, making your dig your nails in your palms to contain yourself from clawing at her.

"you sure? it's pretty late." his eyes were washed with concern, making you want to puke at how he... cared for her.

"yeah, totally! i'll wait for you here." she assured him, making caleb quickly nod as he ran up to his room to change.

the atmosphere suddenly became awkward, with you throwing discreet daggers at the girl while she played footsies with herself.

"so... i heard you both decided to make a 3D-solar airplane model. that's pretty complex." you chimed in a small conversation starter, your sudden voice made her jolt.

"yep, the idea was mine but caleb's the main head behind the mechanics. the guy is so damn smart, really! it's honestly been so fun working with him, he's so reliable." she gawked at him, making you clench your jaw.

"i see, you must really be fond of him, huh?" you shot her a fake smile, but your words made her let out a small giggle.

"we're just friends, he's a great guy though, which i'm sure you know." she smiles.

"uh-huh... so, you got a boyfriend?" you pried deeper, wanting to know what exactly her motives were.

"nope, single as a pringle." she answered, the cringey joke nearly made you vomit a bit in your mouth.

an awkward silence falls between you, and the girl seems to sense the tension. she fidgets, glancing back and forth between you and the staircase.

"you two seemed to have gotten pretty close over the course of this... project." you emphasized as your eyes darkened, making her clear her throat.

"oh, yeah, definitely! we do a bunch of things after working on our model. we've been working on the project, of course, but we also watch movies, cook together, and just chat about random stuff. it's been pretty fun!" the girl seems oblivious to the shift in your demeanor, and continues to chat cheerfully.

"c-cook together?!" you choked on your words, eyes going wide.

"yeah! he makes the best omurice, like it's seriously delicious. he's really talented in the kitchen." the girl nods, her expression enthusiastic.

your heart sinks at her words. cooking has always been your thing with caleb, something special and intimate between you two. hearing that he has cooked for someone else, and that she raves about his skills, feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

the girl chatters on, but her words fade into background noise as your mind races. the jealousy and insecurity welling up inside you is almost too much to bear.

"you seem very... doted on him. do you like him?" your throat went dry as you asked the big question, heart hammering against your chest.

the girl pauses, her expression softening as she smiles bashfully.

"well, i mean... yeah, i do kinda like him. i've had a bit of a crush on him for a while, to be honest. he's just so nice and handsome, plus he's really smart and talented, too." she continued to shower him in compliments, eyes dreamily glancing in the distance as she spewed out her thoughts.

before you could interrogate further, you could hear caleb's heavy footsteps descending down the stairs, making you zip your lips.

"okay, reporting for duty. let's go and finish that sucker real quick." caleb announced, making the girl laugh at his silly words; but for some odd reason his stupid joke now tasted bitter in your mouth.

you were quiet, too quiet; which was loud enough for him to notice. caleb walked towards you, ruffling your hair.

"gonna be back in a few, pips. don't miss me too much." he teases with a smile, yet you give nothing back to him; watching him leave with her before closing the door behind him.

later that night, out of pure spite, you decided that it was time for a change. you were angry at that stupid show-offing bitch, caleb, yourself and the whole world itself.

who the hell was praying on your downfall?

whatever, you were tired of all this bullshit, feeling your frontal lobe developing. you surfed the internet for a recipe to follow and began to cook.

it can't be that hard, can it?

god, were you so wrong.

caleb pauses in the kitchen doorway, taking in the sight of you in the kitchen, your phone on the counter next to a messy array of ingredients. concern etched across his face as he looks at the mess.

"hey... what are you doing, pips?" he asks.

"making myself food." you stated the obvious, rolling your eyes at his stupid question.

"and that involves making the kitchen look like a war zone?" he quirks an eyebrow, his eyes flickering from you to the ingredients strewn across the counter.

"shut up." you grumble, already overstimulated by your mess and the fact that what you were currently stirring in your pot looked like someone just took a massive shit in it.

you could fear your hunger slowly disappearing.

"wow, someone's feisty tonight." caleb takes a step closer, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. he can tell you're in a bad mood, and he's not surprised by your snappish response.

you ignore him, trying to focus on how you can fix your dinner.

he leans back against the counter, watching you with growing curiosity. something tells him that this is more than just a bad mood, that something else is bothering you.

"okay, spill it. what's going on? you've been ignoring me since i got home, and now you're trying to burn the kitchen down with whatever the hell you're making." his tone grew impatient, giving you a sharp look.

"you think my world revolves around you? well, newsflash, asshole—it doesn't! now shut the fuck up 'cause you're pissing me off and my food is gonna burn." you angrily spat back, crashing out completely as you just wanted him to leave you alone.

"excuse me? i'm literally just trying to talk to you, and this is the response i get? and what exactly is this 'food' you're trying to make anyway? it looks like a science experiment gone wrong." he's taken aback by your harsh tone, but he doesn't back down. his eyes darken, his own temper rising.

"it's the curry for omurice, it's just not done yet!" you defended your culinary work.

"puhlease, i doubt you'll make anything edible at this rate, that curry's been done. you barely know how to boil water, let alone make a proper omurice." caleb snickers, he knows all too well that you're not exactly a natural in the kitchen.

"i can boil water, you fucking jerk!" you snapped, spoon dropping out of your hand as you panicked and tried to grab it, only for your hand to hit the scorching hot metal of the pot.

"fuck." you yelped in pain.

"damn it, y/n. you just burned yourself! let me see your hand." his expression immediately shifts to alarm, and without a second thought he rushes to your side.

you shimmy away from him, as if he had infectious cooties or something, making him frown. caleb felt you push him away, seeing you wince in pain made his heart ache, but he was annoyed with how you were acting-

like a fucking child.

"i'm fine." you breathed out, turning on the sink to run your hand under some cold water, biting your lip to hold back a scream itching to rip out of your throat.

"for fucks sake, would you just let me see? you're being ridiculous." caleb grabbed your hand gently, lifting it to inspect the burn. it's not too serious, but it still looked painful.

"let go of me!" you grit your teeth, pulling away your hand.

"god, you're so damn stubborn. why won't you just let me help you? what is your problem?" he reluctantly lets go, but his irritation and concern continued to grow at your behavior.

"i don't need your help! i don't need your concern! i don't need your stupid cooking! i don't need your money! i don't need you, caleb!" you bellowed, eyes full of anguish as you watched his jaw drop at your outburst.

he's stunned by your words, his heart clenching at the venom in your voice. he'd been worried this was about him, but hearing the harsh words coming from your lips still feels like a punch to the gut.

"what the hell is that supposed to mean? you don't need me? after all this time?" he let's out a bitter laugh in disbelief, shaking his head.

"so, that's it? after everything we've been through, everything i've done for you... you don't need me, huh? is that what you're saying? am i just some useless piece of trash to you?" he paces the kitchen, his hands running through his hair in frustration. he's angry, hurt, and confused all at once.

"you know what, since you spelled it out so perfectly, yeah. after how you toyed around with me and threw me away like nothing, hell fucking yeah!" you yelled at him, balling your fists to the side to ground your feelings, to dig your nails in your palms for some kind of twisted comfort to prevent the tears in your eyes from pouring out.

"is that what you think? you think i discarded you like some toy? god, if anything, it's been the opposite. i've been doing everything i can to support you, to make you happy. and this is the thanks i get? you're acting like a prissy, spoiled, ungrateful brat!" he stops in his tracks, staring at you in disbelief.

"the fuck did you just call me?" you voice was shaky, but your eyes flickered with hurt and fury.

"you heard me. you're acting like a damn brat! you're throwing a tantrum because i'm trying to help you. because i care about you! because i love you!" caleb steps closer, his gaze hardening. he's sick of your attitude, sick of your ungratefulness.

"spare me the bullshit, caleb. now i know how you really feel about me, and i was really fucking dumb to believe you. tch, you're just like everyone else." you scoffed, heart cracking with every advancement of this pitiful and painful conversation that you'd never imagine would come to existence.

"like everyone else? what the hell is that supposed to mean? you think i'm some sort of heartless monster just because i'm busy with getting my life together? because i have responsibilities? do you have any idea the stress i've been under lately? you've been acting as if the world revolves around you!" he was beyond pissed at this point, tone rising with every word.

"oh yeah? but you're not busy enough to make that bitch omurice at her place? not busy enough to watch movies with her? not busy enough to spend time with her while i'm home alone waiting for you, fucking asshole?!" you screamed at his face, your head throbbing as a painful migraine brewed inside.

his eyes widen in surprise, and for a brief moment, he's speechless. it all makes sense now.

"is that what this is about? seriously, y/n, are you hearing yourself? after the countless amount of times i explicitly told you that me and her have nothing between us! that i don't give two fucks about her! are you that jealous?" he crosses his arms over his chest, unable to fathom the situation.

all because of something so stupid.

"jealous? don't be delusional. go fuck her for all i care. i'm not your girlfriend or wife." you snarled.

"you're trying to push me away because of some petty jealousy? are you seriously that insecure?" he's furious now, his eyes blazing with anger. he steps closer, crowding your personal space.

"yeah, i am. so fucking leave me alone, bitch." you swallowed harshly, emphasizing the last word before walking out of the kitchen.

you halted your steps, turning your head to the side.

"i'll clean the kitchen later, i'm gonna order takeout. don't worry, i removed your card from my phone, i work now." you cleared your throat.

you've been working for the past month actually, but you never had the chance to even tell him about it because he's barely home.

"you got a job? why didn't you tell me? and why did you need to delete my card? i don't mind taking care of you, y'know that." caleb feels his anger start to cool, replaced by disbelief and hurt.

you no longer felt like you could stay a minute more in the kitchen, already feeling the waterworks activate in your eyes, ignoring his words as you stormed out of the kitchen to head up to your room.

he stands there, staring after you, feeling helpless and frustrated. he wants to follow you, to talk some sense into you, but he knows you need time to cool off. he lets out a deep sigh, leaning back against the counter as a heavy weight settles in his chest.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

the week passes by slowly, the tension palpable between you two. caleb tried to talk to you, to bridge the gap, but you're still stubbornly ignoring him. his heart hurts with every failed attempt, the distance between you feeling greater than ever.

he's on the edge, his mind constantly wandering to you. caleb misses you, he misses just being able to look at you and talk to you.

it was a friday night and you just got back from your closing shift, exhuasted as you plopped down on the couch. you still had a few assignments left to do, which were unfortunately due tonight.

an hour later, caleb enters the house, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion as well. his eyes immediately fall on you, sitting on the couch, head bent over a book.

"hey... how was work?" caleb asked softly, approaching you cautiously.

you ignored him, continuing to scribble notes in your notebook.

"pipsqueak, come on. i'm trying here. can't you at least look at me?" he groaned, frowning at your lack of response, but doesn't give up.

however, you continue to mind your own business, not paying him any mind.

"y'know, this silent treatment is getting old real fast. we need to talk." he lets out a frustrated sigh, crossing his arms.

he takes a seat on the chair across from the couch. he can see the tension in your body, the way you refuse to acknowledge him. it's driving him crazy.

"how long are you going to keep acting like a petulant child? you can't just ignore me forever." caleb scoffed, glaring at you.

he watched you scribble something on a blank sheet of notebook paper before tearing it out, crumpling and throwing it right at his face; before it fell on his lap.

"thanks." he sarcastically grumbled, unraveling the crumpled ball before reading what you wrote.

i'll try to.

his jaw tightened at your stubbornness. you got up from your seat, heading to the staircase to go up to your room. he's stunned speechless for a moment, staring at the crumpled paper. a wave of anger and hurt washes over him. he stands up, following after you.

enough is enough.

"you can't be serious. you're just going to shut me out like i'm nothing to you? y/n!" he catches up to you, grabbing your arm lightly to stop you from entering your room.

"let go, caleb." you spoke through gritted teeth.

he hesitates for a moment, his grip on your arm loosen slightly. he can see the pain in your eyes, the wall you've put up between you. it hurts him more than any physical pain he's ever felt.

you snatched away your arm before opening the door to your bedroom, slamming it shut right in his face.

caleb's shoulders slump, a frustrated sigh leaving his chapped lips as his fist rests on your door, not having the strength to knock and fight any further. initially he was planning to cancel the invite to the frat party taking place tonight, but after the constant failures of trying to mend his friendship with you, he needed to blow off some steam.

so, with a resigned look, he left your door and headed into his room to shower and get ready. as you heard his footsteps slowly disappearing, you slid down the door as your knees gave out, burying your face in your hands as you cried.

you've never felt this distraught in your life and you couldn't help but blame yourself. of course, it was always you who created trouble and chaos.

caleb was never obligated to be yours, you had no rights to snap at him for choosing someone else over you.

he's not yours.

but, god did it hurt whenever you remembered that. you wanted him to be yours so bad, it was suffocating. you wanted him to only think about you, laugh with you, spend every moment of this fucked up life... just with you.

you know it was wrong to think of him like this, after all, caleb's your best friend; the closest person you have left to call family.

these feelings that you tried so hard to bury years ago keep haunting you and come back stronger. it scares you because even after ruining so many things, you don't want to say something stupid and destroy everything you've built up till now.

just by saying those three words that you always say to him... but now with different meanings.

after a while, you heard caleb's bedroom door open before closing as you could hear his heavy footstep descending down the stairs. you suddenly remembered that today was the night of the frat party, so he was leaving to attend.

you fished out your phone from your purse, ringing your friend's facetime as you patiently waited for her to pick up.

"hey girl, why the sad face?" your friend on the other line asked, face washed with concern, noticing your tear-streaked face and puffy eyes.

"caleb." was the only thing you could mutter out before your lips quivered, eyes welling with tears again.

"oh sweetie, him again? ya gotta be stronger than that, y/n. we can't let these stupid boys dictate our lives, y'know? did you hear about the big senior frat going on tonight?" she asked, making you sigh.

"yeah, caleb just left a few minutes ago to attend. i was invited too, but caleb strictly told me no." you frowned as you recalled the memory. your friend scoffed, rolling her eyes as she heard your words.

"girl, fuck that asshole. you're a grown ass woman, you can go to a damn frat if you wanna. tell you what, the party's just beginning and the night is still young. how about i pick you up and we both go?" she suggested, a playful grin dancing on her lips.

your eyes widened, the thought of rebelling against caleb's words struck a little nerve in you, but you couldn't ignore the rush of adrenaline weirdly surging in you.

this would be your first time going against his words.

this was the proof of your change that you didn't need him to make all the decisions for you.

he didn't know you better than yourself.

fuck caleb, you can handle a damn frat party!

"okay, give me an hour." you smiled, making your friend giggle as she nodded in agreement and you both hung up a few seconds later.

that being said, you hopped in the shower to wash off all of today's sweat and gunk from working hard; leaving the bathroom smelling sweet and peachy.

you dug into your closet, reaching for your usual style of clothes; a skirt and a simple blouse. but, your hand stopped midway from pulling them out.

you remembered how people called you a ditzy bimbo, making fun of your skirts and cute blouses. they poked fun at you for wearing bows in your hair.

and caleb thinks that you're not the type that's meant to attend these frat parties.

a wave of anger washed over you, angrily jumbling that skirt and blouse back into your closet.

instead, you decided to take a more... risque option.

you pulled out a pair of low-rise deniem shorts that were definitely too short, keeping them unbuttoned as the black lace of your panties peaked out. for your top, you opted for a cropped cheetah print backless halter top that had a deep v-neck; the matching tag necklace you and caleb had hung right above your sternum.

you skipped your usual soft makeup, opting for a more simple yet alluring look; accentuating your features. without a second thought, you threw the bow on your dresser behind your back as it landed on your bed, you didn't need it tonight. you sprayed on some perfume and then slipped on a pair of black heels.

shortly after some last minute finishing touches, your friend came to pick you up.

"is this... the same y/n i talked to an hour ago. sweetie, you look sexy." she gawked at you, watching you giggle as you hopped into the passanger seat next to her.

"frat approved?" you asked cheekily, making your friend smirk.

"without a doubt."

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

you pushed the unlocked front door open, immediately being welcomed with the deafening volume of music blaring into your ears. it was dark, flashes of neon lights were making your eyes trip as you walked inside. the foul scent of alcohol hit your nose, making your stomach churn as you could vividly remember begging caleb to change your route home when you both walked home from high school; just to avoid passing by the bar.

you lost sight of your friend, now being pushed amongst the crowd of drunk college graduates dancing and slurring the song lyrics. you swallowed harshly, trying to find a pocket to escape the dance floor; only to have your arm be pulled back.

your eyes widened as a gasp left your lips, turning around to see that it was one of caleb's friends; the guy who offered you his number.

"i see you didn't listen to your big bro caleb, huh? oooo~, he's gonna be mad when he finds out his sweet, innocent little girl is here, darling." obviously drunk, the guy snickered. you grimaced, shoving his hand away as you backed up, trying to create some distance.

"you think caleb's words are set in stone? i don't give two fucks about him, i'm my own person." you glared at the guy, words spitting out venom.

the guy's eyes glinted with amusement.

"oh? so the kitten finally found her voice. let me treat you to a drink to congratulate you." he smirked, pushing the red cup containing god knows what, towards you.

"i'm not drinkin' that shit, you could've spiked it." you scoffed, crossing your arms.

"guess you're not that brainless after all, darling. see ya around." the guy chuckled, shrugging before taking a sip of the drink instead, walking away.

you grumbled under your breath, already feeling like you stuck out like a sore thumb. you made your way to the table where all the liquor was spread out, deciding to make yourself one instead. you weren't dumb enough to accept a drink from just anyone.

after successfully (kinda) making a cup of some sort of concoction, your brought the rim of the red cup up to your glossy lips; the smell of the mixed liquor contents already making you wanna gag.

you took a deep breath, closing your eyes before taking a few big gulps of your drink. your throat burned, stomach threatening to retch as you could feel bile rush up your esophagus. your eyes screwed shut, trying to keep everything inside as you breathed heavily.

"eugh..." your body shivered.

you tried to take a few more sips, but you could see your body clearly rejecting it. so, you called quits, deciding to throw it away.

you walked towards the kitchen, sighing in defeat, concluding that maybe you really weren't meant for a life like this.

caleb was right.

your eyes were trained to the floor, not realizing who was in front of you as you bumped into someone's hard, muscular back.

"ow... sorry." you quickly apologized, but your eyes would soon widen in horror as your jaw dropped when the person turned around.

"the hell are you doin' here, y/n?" violet eyes pierced into you, caleb's taller frame towering over you as his voice was gravely.

"fuck.." you gulped, hand unknowingly squeezing at the plastic cup in your hand, making it creak.

his eyes dropped to your hands, eyebrows pinching in both irritation and concern. caleb snatched the cup out of your grasp, bringing it to his nose to take a few sniffs.

"are you fucking serious right now? who gave this to you? how much did you drink?" caleb bombarded you with questions, seething with anger, making your heart pound in your chest.

"none of your business, now give it back!" you used whatever remaining bits of courage you had in yourself to retort back to his interrogation; hands reaching for your cup, only to have him dodge your advances.

"god, are you that dumb, y/n? you never drank in your life and i'm asking you about what the hell you just put in your body! and the hell are you wearing?! i can see your fuckin' panties!" caleb's eyes darkened, speaking through gritted teeth as he stepped closer; amethyst eyes roamed all over your figure, making your knees turn into jelly.

"so? it's not like i'm walking around naked. also, i made that drink, so it's not spiked or somethin'." you huffed out, crossing your arms over your chest.

"yeah, no. we're going home." caleb scoffed, throwing your cup in the garbage before grabbing your wrist, about to drag you out of the kitchen; but you planted your heels firmly on the ground, tugging your hand back.

"no. if you wanna go home, then go by yourself. i came with my friend and i'm not leaving her, besides, the party just started." you shot him a sharp glare, your voice holding a slight tremble but you remained firm. caleb's face fell, looking at you with disbelief and exasperation.

"fuck your friend, we're going home. NOW." he sternly dismissed your words, bending down before wrapping his arm around your waist; swiftly lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

"caleb, put me down! you can't do this!" you kick your feet in the air, but he remains unfazed, walking through the sea of people and towards the door.

"oh yeah i can, watch me. you're in a shit ton of trouble, pipsqueak. just wait till we get home."

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

the ride home was silent and as soon as caleb's car stopped in front of your house, you angrily got out and unlocked the door; not wanting to spend a second more with him as he parked.

you kicked off your heels and ran upstairs to your room, slamming the door shut as you sat on your bed. not shortly after, caleb barged into your room, furious.

"the hell were you thinking?! you like pissing me off? i told you to stay home, didn't i?!" caleb yelled at you, making your blood boil.

"who the fuck do you think you are? we're not even actual family, stop trying act like you're my brother or somethin'! you don't get to tell me what to do!" you yelled back, grabbing your pillow before throwing it at him, trying to relieve your pent-up anger somehow.

however, caleb swiftly dodged your attack, walking closer to the edge of your bed where you were seated.

"repeat that, i dare you, fuckin' brat. who am i? i'm the one who's been dealing with your shit for all these years, giving you everything that you could possibly want; loving and caring for you. while you... while you drive me to the brink of insanity." his voice trembles, a shaky exhale leaving his throat as he reaches out to grab your chin; lifting your head up to force your eyes to meet his.

his gaze hardened when he saw the resentment in your eyes, but he knew that deep down you were trying to conceal yourself, to appear strong against him. caleb knew you like the back of his hand, you were throwing one of your tantrums again.

but, that's okay. if you wanted to be a brat, he has no other choice but to tame you.

caleb gently pushed your head backwards, making you fall back onto the bed. his larger frame hovered above your body, caging you between his arms as his necklace dangled above you. from this angle, you couldn't help but feel so... small and weak.

just like helpless prey.

you should be pushing him off, slapping him and cursing his entire existence. but, fuck... why did the familiar heat in your stomach begin to settle as your eyes shamelessly drank in the sight of his beefy bare biceps pining you below him. caleb's scent was surrounding you, the mix of apple cinnamon and cologne intoxicated your senses; making you wonder if it intensified because of the pheremones in the air.

whatever the fuck it was, you felt insanely horny.

"i was never like a brother to you, y/n. can't you see how badly i want you? how desperately my body craves for yours? are you that dense? i fuck my fist every night to the thought of you, how the fuck can i see you as family?" he speaks in a husky voice, body pressing down as you could feel the hard tent between his legs rub against the soft skin of your thighs.

"c-caleb.." you meekly call out to him, making him snap a look at you.

"what." he spat out, making the words die on your tongue as you zipped your lips.

caleb scoffed, leaning his head down to the crook of your neck, pressing soft kissing upwards to your jaw. you shuddered at the sudden feeling of his lips on your skin, making your breath hitch.

"since when did you wear shit like this, hm? you like flaunting this pretty ass of yours? showing off these cute tits?" caleb's voice was dire, his hand creeping under your shirt, caressing your sides.

"n-no.." you reply, feeling the bridge of his nose nuzzle in the crook of your neck; pressing open mouth kisses on your skin as you squirmed below him.

"then why'd you wear it? y'know i hate it when other guys look at you, when they go for what's mine." he sneered, tone possessive as he pulled away, looking at you with sharp eyes.

"wanted your attention... i-i wanted you to notice me." you stammered, hands reaching forwards to cup his face as you gazed into his violet eyes. he froze, admiring how beautiful you looked beneath him; it felt like he was dreaming.

"yeah? well, you got it." and without another word, he crashed his lips onto yours; pulling you into a searing kiss.

the kiss was needy, touch-starved and hungry. caleb moaned into your mouth, tongue licking at your bottom lip to beg for permission. a whimper flew out of your mouth as you felt his hips grind down between your legs, right on your clothed cunt as the friction of his hard cock felt so so good.

caleb took that as an opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, intertwining with your wet muscle as he suckled on it. he drank in your whimpers and moans, tasting every inch of your mouth. drool began to trickle down the corner of your mouth, the kiss being super messy as it was full of salive and teeth clashing. you never expected your first kiss to be this intense.

you used your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as you needed to feel him, smell him and just consume him whole.

it wasn't enough.

"please, caleb... i-i feel so h-hot. i need you now." you pleaded with a sultry voice and it took every single fiber of self-control within caleb's whole existence to just not blow his load in his pants.

"yeah? you need a lot of things from me, don't ya?" caleb snickers, pulling back as he now sat on your bed, shortly before tugging you towards him. now you were situated between his legs, back pressed against his warm chest.

"i-i'm sorry, caleb!" you breathed out an apology, but your futile attempt only amused him as he smirked.

"no, no, no. that's not gonna work on me tonight, pretty girl. you used up all your chances for forgiveness. and as for if you’ll get more… well that depends on how you behave." caleb whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss on the shell of your ear before giving it a playful bite.

"i'll behave, promise." you pouted, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked up at him with bambi eyes, long mascara lashes batting.

caleb looked down at you with a calculated gaze, searching your eyes for any sign of truthfulness. he hums, his fingers tracing over your skin, their path slow and steady. there's a hint of tension in his body as he speaks, his voice rough and quiet.

"after that little stunt you pulled on me, i have a hard time believing you, pips. i think i need to teach you how to be more... appreciative and obedient, no?" his long, thick fingers squished your soft cheeks together; firmly holding you in place before pressing a hard smooch on your pouted lips that were now swollen from the previous sucking and biting.

caleb's other hand wandered south, cupping one of your perky tits as he fondled the supple fat through your barely-covering top. you moaned into his mouth, feeling the pad of his thumb brush against your pebbled nipple.

you could feel his lips curl from how responsive and sensitive your body was from his simple actions. caleb decided to toy with you for just a bit more. taking the tip of his index finger, he circled the swollen bud, making you shudder as your eyebrows pinched together.

"hnghh... caleb.." you desperately moaned against his lips, feeling him pinch your nipple through your top; teeth sinking on your shoulder as your eyes screwed shut.

"wearing such skimpy clothes, havin' your panties showing and wearing no bra... you're bold; daring even, i'll give ya that." he spoke huskily, trailing kisses to the back of your shoulder, before guiding his lips to the expanse of your back.

a loud gasp left your lips as you felt the tip of his tongue drag up your spine. caleb continued to press open-mouth kisses afterwards, nibbling down on your shoulder blades.

his keen eyes fell on the small knot tied behind your neck, sneaky fingers coming up to pull the string as it unraveled. your eyes widened as you felt the top part of your blouse loosen, his hands grabbing it to pull it down, making your tits spill out.

"fuck... beautiful. so damn beautiful, god.." caleb groaned, whispering honeyed words in your ears as he kissed your temple. he ogled at the sight, wondering for years how your boobs looked cupped behind your bra.

he's been jerking off to the perverted thought ever since he learned how to masturbate.

his large palms wasted no time in pawing and groping at the swell of your tits, feeling the warm fatty mounds of flesh beneath his callouses. you squeezed your thighs shut, biting down on your bottom lip as you felt his index finger and thumb toy with your hardened nipples, tugging at them.

caleb craned his head forwards, hand full of tit before latching his lips on one of your nipples. a whiny mewl left your mouth, feeling his tongue circling the sensitive bud before the tip of his wet muscle flicked at it.

"ahh, caleb! feels so g-good, hmm.." you breathed out, your hand going behind his head to scratch at the bottom of his scalp.

you nuzzled your face in his neck, pressing gentle kisses at his skin and trailed them up to behind his ears; and he could hear your soft uneven breathing as he continued to suckle and bite at your tits. his chocolatey brown lock tickled your nose as he continued his ministrations.

with a lewd 'pop', he released your nipple as a string of saliva connected his lips to your bud.

"lift your hips for me, princess." caleb commanded, your brain no longer located in your head but now in your pussy as you obeyed. with a swift motion, he grabbed the waistband of your deniem shorts and pulled them off; throwing it somewhere on the floor.

he leans down and kisses the side of your neck, his teeth scraping over your skin, a small possessive noise escaping him. his fingers find the sensitive skin of your hip, his touch firm, but gentle as he cups your hip, thumb tracing over the bone there.

his hand caressed your plush thighs, making your heart beat faster as his fingers inched higher to your achy cunt. caleb noticed how you pressed your legs just a bit tighter, a murky chuckle echoed in your ear.

"ah, so the problem is here." caleb pried your legs open with ease, a hand reaching down in between to cup your needy cunt. you leaned back into him, whining as you felt him trace your slit with a lithe finger.

"stop teasin' me, caleb." you glared at him, but that only sparked a flash of amusement and irritation within him.

"think i'm gonna give you whatever you want, brat? quiet, i need to make sure my sweet girl hasn't been interested in other men except for me." his voice dropped an octave lower, now tracing the laces on your black panties before digging his hands inside.

your jaw dropped as a soft moan escaped your lips, feeling his middle and index finger spread your slick covered folds open.

"you're dripping, baby. all for me?" he asked with a teasing voice, making you nod.

"only for you." you replied, making him smile in satisfaction.

"good, you passed the first part." caleb ran his finger between your sopping lips, the tip of his finger catching your swollen clit each time. you sighed in bliss as you felt him rub your sensitive bundle of nerves as he stroked your clit at a leisurely pace.

"f-fuck, oh caleb!" you cried out his name, your hand dragging up and down his meaty bicep.

"what a cute little pussy ya got, pips. she's gotten ten times more wetter after i played with her for a bit." he whispered dirtily, but his words made you clench on nothing as it sent heat straight down south.

"you touch yourself?" caleb asked, his fingers continuing to rub your pussy while his other hand busied itself with massaging your tits.

you shamelessly nodded, but your response left him frowning as you felt a sharp impact on your wet cunt.

"c'mon, you're a big girl, no? use your words, y/n." he snarks, pinching your clit.

"y-yes!" you cried out in pleasure.

"good girl, wanna hear your voice, 'kay? who do you touch yourself to?" he continued to interrogate you, making your cheeks heat up as you felt like a mouse being caught by the big, scary cat.

"you.." you whispered.

"louder." he strictly barked, slapping your pussy again as you yelped from the pain mixed with pleasure.

"you! you, caleb!" you groaned, feeling his finger drag between your dripping folds in a painfully slow pace.

"oh? tell me more." caleb pressed on, making you huff in annoyance as you knew that this was his way of punishing you. to embarrass you after you ignored him for the whole week.

oh, he was gonna make you talk to him now.

"no, it's too embarrassing." you shook your head, making him scoff.

"you don't wanna talk? fine, i guess i'll just leave." he suddenly threatened, hands attempting to pull away from your pussy, but you were quick to grab his wrist and clamp your thighs shut; locking his hand in place.

"no! fine, fine, i'll tell you! ughhh.." you grumbled, bracing yourself to let go every bit of dignity you had inside you.

"mhm, go on. i'm listening." caleb smiled at your compliance, fingers resuming their work on rubbing circles on your clit to stimulate the bud.

"after you came back from the gym and took a shower, i-i went to your room to ask you for some help on my homework. your bathroom door was open and i saw your soaking wet body, a small towel wrapped around your waist. your back is so broad and muscular, i wouldn't help but wonder how it'd look with my nail marks." you admitted, making his eyes widen.

"you peeked in on me and touched yourself? what a naughty girl." he smirked, voice harboring a faux accusatory tone, when in reality his cock just throbbed at your confession.

you were just as perverted as him.

"h-hahh.. sorry, i d-didn't mean to!" you apologized innocently.

"lying to me won't help you, pips. ever had a finger in here?" his finger pressed against your hole, making your breath catch in your throat.

"yeah." you weakly answered, hearing him hum as he prodded at the tight opening, making you wince.

"yeah? she's so tight." caleb muttered, plunging in a thick digit as a choked moan ripped out of your throat from the sudden stretch. he grunted, feeling your wet, velvety walls clamp down on his finger.

you've fingered yourself a few times, but your fingers were so small and slim compared to caleb's long and thick ones. he began to slowly thrust his finger in and out of your hole to loosen you up, your eyes rolled back from the pleasure he was providing you with.

"ahhh~! need more, caleb." you heaved a sigh, face flushed as your lips were now glossy with spit from how much you licked them.

"eager are we?" caleb teased with a wicked grin, complying as he pushed in a second finger, making you gasp as your thighs instinctively closed.

"tch, don't be a brat." he growled, an almost bruising grip on your thighs as he peeled them back open.

in spite, he sped up the movement of his fingers that were now fucking into you. the thick digits scissored inside your hole at an unforgiving pace, grazing your cervix as you'd never even dream of your fingers caressing that sweet spot.

your juices gushed down your inner thighs, coating his fingers with a sheen layer as your folds were now sticky. his fingers continued to rub your walls deliciously, moans and whimpers flying out of your mouth mixed with whiny calls of his name; sounding like music to his ears.

suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, the tip of his middle finger drawing languid, purposeful circles on your twitching clit. your nose flared in frustration, pouting as you glared at him.

"caleb!" your voice was between a moan and a bellowed cry.

"good girls get what they want. c'mon, pips, ask nicely and maybe... just maybe i'll give you what you want." he egged further, making your pupils blow wide open.

he wanted you to beg?

"n-no! i'm not beggin' you." you argued stubbornly.

"is that so? then have fun finishing yourself off." he lightly pushed you off, making you groan in annoyance.

"okay, okay! sorry, please—god, please caleb. make me cum, please?" you begged, giving him the most nastiest and fuckable looking puppy eyes you could muster.

and it worked like a damn charm.

"see? that wasn't so hard, now was it?" he pressed a chaste kiss on your head before delving his fingers back into your achy cunt. you felt him sink his fingers deeper into you, making your mouth gape open as you used your hand to pull his face towards you—sloppily kissing him.

he's everywhere, his touch all-consuming, his body pressed against yours, his desire for you an almost tangible thing.

he swallowed your moans as you began to rock your hips forwards, fucking yourself on his hand; finger-fucking your dripping hole relentlessly. the obscene sounds your wet cunt produced was pornographic, the squelching noises of his slick covered fingers plunging in and out of your hole was nasty and hot.

caleb feels your walls pulsate around him, clenching as your thighs begin to quiver to indicate your incoming orgasm. your pussy drooling on his fingers made him eager to slip them out just to lick for a quick taste, but he wasn't that mean to ruin your orgasm for a second time.

the familiar warm, burning sensation now welcomed your lower stomach. you wriggled in his hold, feet digging into the sheets as your hand came down to grab at his wrist.

"w-wait! slow down, it's too much!" you breathed out, feeling like you were at the edge.

caleb rolled his eyes, not paying mind to your pleas as he continued to finger you through your orgasm. his free hand came down to press against your lower stomach, making your eyes widen as the pressure increased while his fingers plunged deeper in and out of your leaking hole, prodding at your cervix with each deep push.

"can't be too fast but can't be too slow. need to be rough but also need to be gentle. tch, you are sooo hard to please, princess." caleb draws out his words, thrusting his fingers inside your sloppy hole as your cunt sucked them in greedily.

"nghhh~ c-caleb i feel weird.. s-stop!" your words were empty, feeling your cunt gush all over his hand. a small stream of warm, clear liquid squirted out of your hole, making your eyes widen as you watched caleb press your lower stomach a little harder.

"that's it, pretty girl. give it to me." he talked you through your release, hand now drenched in your cum and juices. you tried to catch your breath, feeling like you just ran a marathon.

caleb slipped his fingers out of your ruined pussy, bringing them to his lips before his tongue lapped at his cum-covered digits. he hummed in satisfaction, enjoying your taste.

"so sweet." he praised, making you shudder.

you lifted yourself off of him, turning your body to face him with a scowl as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"you're such a jerk! you didn't let me cum the first time." you complained, making him cock an eyebrow.

"is that how you say thank you after i made you cum so hard? what an ungrateful mouth ya got, pips." caleb's eyes darkened, now settling to sit on his knees.

you gulped harshly, watching the slow yet calculated movements of his fingers working through his belt before unzipping his jeans; pulling the waistband of his pants and boxers down. his cock sprang to life, hitting against his clothed abs as your eyes widened at the sheer size and girth of his dick.

caleb was fucking hung, to say the least.

the dark pinkish mushroom tip of his hard cock angrily wept with beads of precum. he was long and thick, at least a good eight inches as his heavy cum-filled balls were settled on his waistband. a singular pulsating vein ran up the underside of his cock, a small peek of the dark happy trail leading to his huge cock graced your eyes.

"let's put that bratty mouth of yours to some good use, yeah?" caleb's hand reached out, thumb grazing your lower lip before pushing it a bit further, probing into your mouth. your tongue poked out as he pressed down on it, making you playfully bite down.

his body is trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. caleb's hands are everywhere, touching, grasping, holding you. he's desperate, every kiss, every touch filled with a raw, primal need.

caleb pulls you closer, his body hot against yours, his muscles coiled and tense. he's lost, drowning in you, his mind filled with nothing but the need to touch you, to be closer to you, to claim you as his own. he kisses down your neck, his mouth finding your collarbone, his teeth leaving marks, his hands leaving bruises.

you felt his bare cock rub against the smooth skin of your thighs, the tip smearing a trail of warm precum. you reached down to wrap your hand around his massive girth, making a ragged moan rip out of his throat, muffling the sound by biting down on your neck; leaving a purplish bruising mark to claim you as his.

"you're so big, caleb." you whispered, thumbing at his tip as you ran your finger along his wet slit.

caleb swallowed harshly, grunting as he felt you stroking his cock; noting how your small hands could barely hold him. it only made him wonder...

how much could your mouth take?

he kisses over the tender flesh of your boobs, his teeth grazing over your skin, his touch growing rougher, more demanding with each movement. he's desperate, craving you, his hand gripping your hip, his fingers.

he pulls away for a moment, trying to catch his breath as he looks down at you. his hand tenderly comes up to cup your face, tilting your head up to make you meet his eyes.

"you gonna be a good girl for me, princess?" he asks, thumb grazing over the apple of your cheek. you nodded, kissing the inside of his palm.

"mhm, promise." you gave him a girly smile, making his heart and cock jump at the same time.

you leaned down, pressing a teasing kiss on his tip, making caleb's jaw hang open from the contact. you gave small kitten-licks, tasting the slightly salty taste of his precum.

you grabbed a hold of his thick shaft before opening your mouth as wide as you could; feeding yourself his cock inch by inch until you felt the tip hit your uvula. the sudden warmth and wetness of your mouth welcoming caleb's hard dick made his muscles tense, hands unknowingly finding purchase in your hair as he pushed you towards his pelvis.

you gagged at the sudden movement, making caleb moan from the sudden tightness in your throat. you began to bob you head at a steady pace, sucking his cock with vigor as you pushed yourself to take as much of his massive length. whatever was left behind was tended by your hands.

you hollowed your cheeks, tongue circled around his tip before suckling on it like a lollipop, as caleb's head was thrown back from the intense pleasure you were giving him.

"fuuuuuckkk, just like that. good girl—h-hahhhh... such a good fuckin' girl." a ragged breath leaves his mouth, feeling the tip of your tongue trace the rigid line of the vein that ran up the side of his cock before swirling it around the sensitive head of his dick.

his hips buck slightly into your touch, seeking more of that delicious friction. caleb look down at you with lust-filled eyes, his gaze hazy and unfocused.

"where'd you learn how to do all of this, huh?" caleb groans, voice strained and tight with pleasure. he throws his head back with a low moan, eyes fluttering shut as the sensations overwhelm him. caleb's cock throbs and pulses in your warm mouth, growing even harder as you shove his cock deeper in your throat.

the feeling of your lips stretching around his girth while your tongue worked along the underside of his shaft felt like pure ecstasy. caleb grips your hair tighter, guiding your head as you bob up and down faster.

caleb begins to rock his hips slightly to meet your movements. he can feel the pleasure building rapidly, heart pounding in his ribs and breath growing ragged.

"fuck, fuck, fuuuckkkk.... gonna cum. shit, gonna cum so much down your throat, princess." caleb cries out, dick twitching in your throat as he bucks his hips into your mouth desperately to chase his high. the erotic sight of your hair framing your face while swallowing his massive hard cock sent pleasure waves all throughout his veins, adrenaline pumping as his balls ached for release.

suddenly you pull your mouth away, leaving his throbbing, aching cock exposed and pulsing in the cool air. a choked moan rips out of his throat, frustration warring with the lingering pleasure. caleb frowns slightly, brows knitting together.

before he could even put in a word of retaliation, you harshly tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him in for a nasty-cum coated open-mouthed kiss. caleb grunts from the sudden action that caught him off-guard, still recovering from the shocks of his denied orgasm.

the sounds of his moans and groans are muffled by your invading tongue. you kiss him with a fervor that steals his breath away, lips sloppy and wet against his. caleb can taste the lingering essence of his own precum on your tongue.

your tongue pushes deeper, stroking along his, sliding against the roof of his mouth. caleb can feel his cock throbbing almost painfully against your thigh, leaking and twitching with each roll and swirl of your sly tongue.

he grabs a hold of your jaw, forcing the two of your to part as he tries to catch his breath. clearly you were trying to distract him from what you did a few minutes ago, but he wasn't about to let that shit slide.

"you think you're funny, huh?" caleb pants harshly, reaching down to grip his spit-slicked cock, giving it a few slow, teasing strokes as he gazes at you with a mix of longing and bewilderment.

"you're gonna pay for that, brat." he glares darkly, shoving your head down towards his pelvis; rubbing the swollen, leaking head of his cock against your soft, plump lips, smearing them with his precum. you gasp at the sudden maneuvering, planting your hands on his thighs to ground yourself.

"open your fucking mouth." caleb commanded with a thick tone, and as soon as he felt your lips part, he thrusted his hips upward, driving his thick cock past your lips and deep into your warm, tight throat. he held your head in place, using your mouth like his personal fleshlight. caleb groaned at the sudden sensation of your throat clenching around his sensitive flesh.

caleb fucked your face with deep, rough strokes. the wet, obscene sounds of you choking and gagging filled the room as he used your mouth, heavy balls slapping against your chin with each brutal thrust.

"gonna fuck your pretty little throat until you're nothing but a sloppy, drooling mess." he promises darkly, voice strained with pleasure and a hint of cruelty.

your throat constricts around his pistoning cock as caleb's thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as he chased his rapidly approaching orgasm. the room fills with the wet, gagging sounds of your struggles followed by his guttural moans. drool and precum mix together, dripping down onto your heaving tits.

you weakly tap at his thighs, only for him to ignore your feeble attempts; too far gone and lost in his pleasure from the wet heat of your convulsing throat. he's determined to take what he needs and use you until he's satisfied.

"no tapping out, brat. you're gonna-hnghh... fuck, you're gonna take what i give. gonna blow my load and you're gonna swallow every last drop." caleb can barely form coherent thoughts, brain fogged by how good your mouth felt swallowing his aching cock.

with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls-deep in your mouth, swollen cock pulsing and throbbing. caleb throws his head back with a guttural, animalistic groan as he starts to cum; hot, thick and sticky webs erupting directly down your throat to paint it white.

caleb holds your head in place, forcing you to take every last drop as he fills your stomach with his seed. he can feel you swallowing desperately around his pulsing dick, trying to gulp down his load.

caleb releases his grip on your hair and pulls you off of his now softening cock. you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering, thick ropes of his cum and drool dripping from your fucked-out mouth.

"you don't like it when i play nice, huh." caleb taunts, reaching out to catch a stray drop of cum and drool on your cheek with his finger.

"y-you! i hate you!" you glared at him, face now flushed with embarrassment as your plan of getting payback completely flopped.

"don't glare at me like that. i just cummed down your pretty little throat, what do you say?" he asks, making you pout as you look to the side.

"don't ignore me." he scowls, squishing your cheeks to make you face him and you groaned.

"t-thank you, caleb!" your words were muffled, but he heard you. caleb scoffed, letting go of you before swiftly taking off his shirt. he pushed you down into the mattress, parting your thighs to slot himself between them. violet eyes gleamed with a newfound hunger as he drank in the sight of your glorious dishevelment.

"i should lock you up... put a bell around your neck to know where you're headed when you wanna act against my words." caleb snarls, making you gulp as you felt slightly intimidated by the shift in the atmosphere.

however, your eyes were now trained on his well-sculpted muscular body. there was a thin sheen layer of sweat glistening on his chest from the shocks of his intense orgasm.

he grinds his hips forward, rubbing his erection along your panty-covered slit. the damp patch on your underwear grows, the fabric clinging to your swollen folds. caleb can feel the heat radiating off your core, drawing him in as his slick covered cock smears a mix of his cum and spit on your panties.

"oh, caleb!" you squealed at how deliciously the hard ridge of his cock slid along your slit, grazing over your puffy clit. your panties were now soaked with a mix of your juices, his cum and spit all combined; making it easy for him to glide his dick over your clothed pussy.

"tell me, why do you insist on running away from me, huh? don't you know you're mine? that i'll always find you?" caleb murmurs, his voice low and possessive. 

he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and yanks them to the side, baring your dripping slit to his hungry gaze. caleb notches his bulbous cock head at your entrance, the swollen tip nudging against your slick folds. he doesn't push inside, not yet.

caleb's cock throbs against your bare folds, the thick shaft sliding along your sticky slit. the bulbous head nudging against your sensitive clit with each roll of his hips. he watches with dark satisfaction as your twitching little bud peeks out from beneath its hood, swollen and glistening with your juices.

"look at this greedy cunt, so hungry for my cock," caleb rasps, his voice heavy with lust. he circles his hips, grinding his hard dick against your aching clit. the motion sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, making your back arch off the mattress.

he feels your slick arousal coating his shaft, your juices dripping down to his heavy balls. the sensation only spurs him on, urges him to rut against her harder, faster.

he wants to fucking ruin you.

caleb leans down and captures your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and claiming it as his own. he swallows every whimper, every mewl of pleasure that escapes your lips. his cock jumps against your folds, the thick length pulsing with a mind of its own.

"gonna make this pussy sloppy with my cum. fuck, you need my cock so bad, don't you?" he breathes out, words failing to process in your head as you just nodded.

"yes, yes, yes! oh please, caleb... f-feel so so good. nghhh~ love your cock..!" you cried out, seeing stars as you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft as it drags between your wet folds; the tip of his weeping slit kissing your clit each time he snaps his hips forward.

your fingers claw at caleb's shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you cling to him. the heat building inside you coils tighter and tighter, inner walls starting to flutter on nothing as you could feel your incoming orgasm.

it takes everything in him to not slam his cock in you and fuck you to an oblivion.

"s-shit, gonna cum." caleb lets out a strangled moan, his cock pulses and jerks against your folds, the tip flaring angrily and leaking a thick spurt of cum. the hot, sticky liquid coats your folds, as caleb continued to grind his hips against yours; the lewd shlick shlick sounds of your wet cunt rubbing against his cum-coated cock nearly made you cum again undone.

"you're having too much fun." you cleared your throat, looking at him with a serious look.

"am i, now?" he innocently responds, making your irritation grow. using whatever bits of strength you had left, you pushed yourself up to sit before shoving him to the side; making him fall onto the bed.

he let you, of course.

hunger-filled amethyst eyes trailed your every move like a predator, licking his lips to revive some moisture.

"you never shut up, do you? always fuckin' nagging at me like i'm some dumb little kid. like you know everything! i'm sick of your shit, i can't stand you!" you yelled through gritted teeth, making him cock an eyebrow at your sudden change in attitude.

"yeah? can't stand me? then fucking sit, princess." caleb snarls back with equal bite.

your eyes darken, a twisted smirk ghosting on your lips.

"you know what, i will." you barked out a small chuckle, grabbing a hold of the waistband of your panties to shove them down; completely discarding them to the side.

you draped your leg over to the other side of his head, your dripping pussy hovering right above his face. caleb's eyes were trained on your cunt, engraving how your folds glistened with slick, puffy little clit cutely peeking out of your lips.

"no more talking. be a good boy and eat." you sternly directly, before putting your weight on him, mashing your dripping slit against his eager mouth.

caleb grips your hips hard, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass.

"i could eat this pretty pussy all fucking day." caleb groans against your folds, his voice muffled but dripping with desire. he leans in and takes a long, slow lick up your slit, his tongue delving between your swollen pussy lips to lap at your juices.

"aahhh, yes... oh caleb, mhmmm..." you drawled out, eyes rolling back at you grinding your needy cunt against his tongue.

caleb's tongue swirls around your sensitive clit, flicking and circling the swollen bud as he sucks it between his lips. he presses open-mouthed wet smooches; the smacking and slurping sounds rang loud and clear in your head.

"thaaatsss what i wanna hear. fuck, so good." you giggle, drunk in pleasure as your head was thrown back in ecstasy. your fingers tighten in his hair, manicured nails peeking through his dark brown locks.

caleb's eyes were closed, relishing in your taste and the feel of your soft, wet pussy that was now making out with his tongue. it was perfect, everything he could possibly dream of when he used to desperately suck on the gausset of your soiled stolen panties.

you tasted so sweet, he's becoming addicted.

"so tired of hearing you. always so fuckin' mean to me... so b-bossy—hnghhh... always a fuckin' bitch when you don't get your damn way." you spoke through broken sentences, biting down on your lips, tasting the metallic taste of blood as soft whimpers were drawn from your throat.

as you grind your hips against caleb's face, his nose nudges against your clit with each desperate roll. the little bud, swollen and throbbing from his relentless assault, catches on the bridge of his nose with each downward thrust. 

he takes advantage of the sensation, tilting his chin to rub his nose against her clit. his tongue darted out to tease your aching hole, jaw gaped open as you feel him plunge his tongue inside. he drives his muscle in and out, lips sealed around your entrance to catch every drop of your sweet juices. the lewd sound of wet, sloppy sucking fills the room as he eats you out with vigor.

his tongue pokes and curls inside your wet walls, making wanton moans escape your lips as you tugged on his hair. your eyes screwed shut, short, sharp gasps itched your throat.

"yes, yes, yes! h-hahhh, so good. fuck, gonna cum!" you cried out, pressing your leaking cunt down on his face, smoothering him completely. caleb was completely pussy drunk, his brain short-circuited. you body tensed, thighs trembling as you could feel your lower stomach tighten; reaching your high.

"caleb!" you moaned out his name in the most pornographic tone ever, body jerking from the after shock as your pussy gushed all over his face; coating his chin and lips with your cum. he lapped at your wet, overstimulated cunt to clean you up, not wanting to waste a single drop.

you hastily grabbed at the headboard, trying to escape but his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips to yank you back down, locking you in place as he sucked you dry.

"s-stop, it's too much." you breathed out, pushing his head away. with one final slow and long drag of his tongue between your sticky folds followed by a wet kiss on your clit; he finally pulls away, licking his lips.

you watch his face peek out from between your thighs, a lazy wet smirk dancing on his lips. violet eyes staring up at your flushed face, watching the small beads of sweat trickle down the side of your face. caleb presses soft kisses on your inner thighs, making goosebumps form all over your body; still recovering from the sensitivity your previous orgasm gave you.

"you've been holding all of that inside you for a while, huh? that nobody of a girl made your panties twist so hard that you've been acting so harsh with me. i'm hurt." caleb's words were soft spoken, tone lace with an undertone of sadness, lips grazing against the skin of your thighs.

"you're hurt? what about me? i watched you smile and laugh with her like she told you the world's funniest joke ever. you seen her these past few months more than you've been home. and... a-and-" you could feel the familiar lump form in your throat, eyes pricking with tears as you silently cursed at yourself for still being so weak.

caleb's gaze softened, heart clenching at the sight of seeing you hold back tears. nonetheless, he remained quiet, wanting to hear you out and speak to him after your unforgiving silent treatment.

deep down, he knew that neither of you wanted things to head down south. you wanted to fix things and so did he, and this was the only way.

the only chance the both of you will have to be so vulnerable to each other, so weak and soft.

"you cooked for her caleb. i thought... i thought that was something you only did for me. i feel special when you care for me, knowing that there's still someone left on this planet that'll put up with me. that... that i still have you to find home in." with that being said, all your walls came crashing down as warm tears ran down your cheek, bottom lip quivering. each droplet landed on his cheek, making his gut twist in guilt for hurting you so much unknowingly.

"pips... i never cooked for her with any intention. i showed her a picture of the omurice i made for you and she wanted the recipe. i just showed her the technique i used to fold the egg." caleb explained, lithe fingers softly caressing the softness of your hips, tracing the small faint lines of your stretch marks that he adored so much.

"r-really? so you don't hate me?" you sniffled, making him let out a small laugh.

"of course not, silly girl. where'd you get that from? you know i love you more than life itself, y/n. you're my whole world, everything in my life revolves around you, pips. without you... i'm nothing." he sincerely confessed, his voice raw with emotion as if every last word was ripped straight out of the depths of his heart that bled for you and only you.

he looked at you like you hung the stars for him, like your gentle arms cradled the moon in the night sky to shine light in his dark life; like you were the warmth of the sun that embraced him.

you moved down, now sitting on his stomach before leaning down; releasing your weight to lay on him.

"oh, my sweet girl." instinctively, caleb wrapped his arms around you. he pressed a tender kiss on the top of your hair, gently stroking your back to soothe you as you cried.

"i'm sorry, caleb." you choked out, making him shake his head.

"you have nothin' to be sorry for, baby. i'm sorry for not realizing how much i was hurting you." caleb apologized, making you tighten your embrace.

"why do you put up with me?" you genuinely asked.

was it pity?

emotional attachment?

"because i love you." he answered without any hesitation, making your heart flutter.

"you're stupid." you laugh, making him chuckle. you pulled away, face hovering above his as you looked down at his handsome face, his features already memorized and engraved within the deep crevices of your brain.

"you think i'm kidding? i'll prove it to you then." caleb wipes away the stray tear on your cheek before bringing his hand behind your head, pulling you in for a kiss.

it wasn't rough or messy like the previous ones. no, this one was different, felt different. his lips were molding with yours, just like how his soul molded with yours whenever you were in his arms; safe and sound. he felt warm, smelled like home and felt like heaven on earth.

with a firm arm wrapped around you, holding your body in place with his, he manhandled you; now having you under him as his broad stature hovered above you.

after giving him your whole heart essentially and having that sappy conversation, you suddenly felt shy under his gaze. with a swift motion, you rolled onto your stomach, hiding your face in the sheets. a warm smile was painted on his lips, finding your actions adorable.

"hiding that pretty face of yours from me? how selfish of you." he teased, his words held no malice. caleb moved your hair to the side, exposing more of your skin as he pressed soft kisses all over your back; trailing down your spine.

suddenly, his eyes fall on the inked words on your lower back.

kiss here 💋

his eyes widened, never noticing the tattoo because your panties probably hid it from him or something.

it must've been recent.

"when did you get this?" he questions, tracing the words with the tip of his finger.

"a month ago." you blurted out, words slightly muffled due to your face being buried in the mattress.

"and you didn't tell me? who did it? was it a guy?" caleb bombarded you with questions, voice sounding a little on edge.

"relax, it was one of my girl friends. she recently opened up her own tattoo shop and i offered to be her first client." you defended, but the situation didn't switch directions regardless.

"could've been an animal for all i care. only i can see you like this." he presses wet smooches on your tattoo repeatedly, making you sigh in bliss.

you could feel his hard cock rubbing against the swell of your ass, his hips rutting against you to gain some kind of friction. caleb grunted, licking and kissing your flesh.

"tell me you want it, y/n. please, i-i... i need to hear you say that you want me as bad as i want you." caleb begged, making your breath hitch as you felt his arm dig under your stomach, lifting your waist.

you turned your head a little, eyes locking with him.

"please caleb, i want you so bad. i need you, only you. please, fuck me." your voice was broken with desire, feeling yourself getting wet as you clenched your thighs tightly together.

as you lay face down on the bed, legs slightly spread hips tilted up, caleb kneels behind you, taking in the tantalizing view of your ass and the glistening, swollen folds of your pussy peeking out from between your thighs. he can see the way your body trembled with anticipation, heat radiating off your skin.

"gonna make you feel so good, sweet girl. i'll take care of you." caleb leans down, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your spine, his hands kneading the soft globes of your ass before kissing it.

he parts your thighs further with his knees as he positions himself behind you, hard, thick cock hovering over your entrance. he takes a moment to rub the leaking tip up and down your sticky slit, coating himself in your slick arousal as the head of his cock swipes at your clit a few times.

the fat, mushroom tip of his dick prods at your tight hole, making you gasp as you feel him push it in.

"breathe, baby. i got you, i promise." caleb softly whispered, his free hand rubbing up and down the sides of your thigh.

slowly, he begins to push in further, feeding your wet cunt more inches of his massive cock. a yelp escaped your lips from the pain of being stretched, the sensation foreign. your arms gave out, body now slumped on the bed as you shoved your face in the bed, muffling your painful winces as you gripped the sheets.

"i know, honey... i'm sorry, i promise it'll feel better." caleb groaned, feeling your walls fluttering around his cock. he takes his time, letting you adjust to his size.

he was barely halfway in, but you already felt so full of him, like you were one.

caleb's hand reached down to rub your clit, trying to provide some kind of pleasurable stimulation to distract you from the pain. after some time, he pushed his hips further in, making you take more of his cock until you were stretched to the brim, a small bulge forming in your lower stomach.

caleb pants, cock enclosed by your soft, wet, gummy walls. he suddenly pulled back until the tip of his cock threatened to slip out. confused, you raised your head to look back at him, only for the wind to be knocked out of your lungs as he snapped his hips forward with a sharp thrust, making your eyes blow wide open as a squeal ripped out of your throat.

"you're doing so well, y/n. taking me so beautifully, like you were made for this, made to be mine. i love you so fucking much, baby. i want this to be everything you've ever dreamed of." caleb moaned, fucking into you at a leisure pace, making you whimper as the pain subsided to a delicious pleasureable feeling.

he leans down, pressing a tender kiss on your nape, his flushed chest pressed against your back. caleb grinds his pelvis against your hips, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as you were filled to the brim.

"caleb! hnghhh... s-so full.." you mewled, your body hot and trembling as he continued to thrust in and out of your sloppy hole that was now leaking on his cock.

you shuddered, feeling his hips pistoning into you, dick driving into you deeper and deeper as your walls clamped down on it. the single vein on his cock rubbed your velvety walls, making your eyes roll back at you could feel his dick pulsate inside you.

caleb's eyes land on the pink bow discarded on the side of your bed, arm reaching out to grab the clip. he clips the bow onto your hair, before kissing the back of your head.

"beautiful, so damn beautiful." he praised, breathless.

his thrusts are still slow and deliberate but growing steadily harder, deeper, more purposeful. he takes his time, savoring each slide of his thick cock through your tight, virgin cunt, each clench and flutter of your walls around him, each breathless little sound that escapes your lips.

caleb's hand snakes around your hip, slipping down to the juncture of your thighs. he finds your swollen, aching clit and starts to circle it with the pad of his thumb, his touch maddeningly slow and teasing at first before growing more insistent, more demanding.

"f-fuck, you're perfect. been dreaming of this moment my whole life, baby. i love you, god, i love you so much! h-ahhh... please, please, please. oh sweet girl, tell me you love me. please? oh, i'll do anything for you. anything!" he desperately ruts against you, thrusts becoming more needy as he grunts in your ears.

caleb was was balls deep in you, each stroke was sharp but it hit all the right spots. his balls heavily slapped against your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. he licks and bites down on your shoulder, intoxicated by your smell and taste.

your hand reaches behind him, fingers finding his dog-tag necklace as you tugged it; pulling his face closer. you turned your head to the side, lifting it before locking your lips with his. with the sloppiness of his thrusts, you chased the movements of his lips.

"i love you, caleb. fu-nghh~ i've always loved you, always! there's no man for me unless it's you. god, i love you so bad, my body craves you... only you." you moaned against his lips, eyes gazing into his violets with nothing but pure adoration.

caleb's heart pounds against his ribs, blood rushing to his cock as adrenaline pumps into his veins. his hips never faltered, a steady pace as he continues to bruise your cervix with each deep thrust.

"you're mine, only mine. i'm the only one who can see you like this, make you fall apart like this. god, you were made to be loved by me." and suddenly, his eyes prick with tears as the fat drops trickle down his cheek.

you could feel the familiar coil tightening in your lower stomach, making your thighs tremble as your toes curled in pleasure.

"fuck, fuck... oh, caleb! i'll study hard, so fuckin' hard. i'll become a nurse in the DAA, so that i can be with you all the time. everyone will know that your mine, only mine!" your eyes screwed shut, brain fogged with nothing but the feeling of being so cock drunk.

caleb's pupils dilated, the possessive undertone of your words, how you claimed him and wanted to be with him; it's all that it took for him to blow his load.

"cumming, fuck, gonna breed this sweet pussy." caleb groaned, arm circling around your hips to deeply nestle his cock in you; thick, sticky webs of cum painting your walls white. he continued to thrust his dick inside, feeling your walls twitch before gushing all over him, drenching his balls as a white ring of cum formed at the base of his shaft.

caleb rests his body on top of yours, careful to not crush you with his entire weight. the two of you are completely breathless, bodies covered in sweat.

he pulls out his now soft cock, watching your hole gape open from the loss of contact of being stretched with his massive girth. his cum spilled out of your messy cunt, trickling down and onto the bed.

caleb laid on the side, scooting closer to pull you against him. you wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging to his body heat as you nuzzled your face against his chest. he stroked your hair, brushing the baby hairs that stuck to your sweaty forehead.

your eyelids fluttered open, a hazy look as you looked up at him. he gave you a soft smile, leaning down to press a kiss on the tip of your nose before pressing a long, tender kiss on your lips.

"tired." you mumbled, making him laugh.

"yeah? get some sleep, pips. i'll clean you up." he offers, making you giggle.

"wow, ten out of ten aftercare. no wonder why every girl wants you." you grin, but he could sense a small undertone of sadness in your voice.

"aftercare that they'll never get to experience because they're not you, y/n. this was my first time too, y'know." caleb shyly admitted as the tips of his ears turned red, making your eyes widen in suprise.

"seriously?" you asked, a bit baffled.

"yeah, it felt wrong to be with any other girl that wasn't you." he sheepishly smiled, making your heart skip a beat.

he saved himself for you all this time.

caleb grabbed the matching necklace that sat gracefully on your tits, brushing his thumb over the cold metal.

"i love you and only you. y/n, you're the woman of my dreams, the only one who can make my heart beat with purpose." caleb's tone was sincere, words pure with love.

your fingers wrapped around his chain, bringing the tag pendant closer to you.

"and you're the only one my heart is set to love, caleb." you smiled warmly, eyes lovingly gazing at him.

the two of you kissed each other's pendant, sealing the heartfelt confession.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

it was finally the day that caleb would graduate from university and the DAA program. you were excited to attend his graduation, your heart swelling with pride as you knew how hard he worked for all his achievements.

he passed his exams and necessary coursework, graduating with honors and securing a full-time job at the DAA. god, just how much more perfect could he get?

you entered the huge stadium, holding a bouquet of colorful lilies and orchids. you took a seat in the sea of parents that came to see their children walk on the stage, fixing your white sundress.

the ceremony began as the faculty members began to give their boring speeches. soon after, it was time to hand the degrees and certificates as each graduate began to walk across the stage.

your heart leaped into your throat as you watched caleb step up the stairs of the stage, his name being called and a loud scream of his name erupted from your throat as you cheered for him proudly.

"i love you baby!!" you yelled from the back, but your voice caught his ear as he turned to the audience, immediately finding your face. he shot you a charming smile, waving before walking off the stage.

you felt like a fan who's celebrity crush finally noticed them.

after the ceremony was over, all the students scrambled in different directions to congratulate friends and hug their family. you finally made it past the swarming crowd of parents, watching caleb walk towards your direction as he was deeply immersed in his conversation. however, from the corner of your eyes you could make out the familiar face of the one person you wished to not see.

it was the girl in his program, ___. you smirked to yourself, halting your steps as you let her approach him first. you watch caleb freeze, body tensing as an awkward smile replaced his previous expression.

poor baby.

saving him from the misery, you tightly grip onto the pretty bouquet of flowers in your arms, running towards him. the click-clack sounds of your heels echoed, and yeah, your toes did hurt.

but it didn't matter.

"caleb!!" you chirped with a bright smile, catching his attention as caleb's lips automatically curled into a grin.

he opened his arms as you jumped into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck as your legs locked around his waist. you giggled, pressing kisses all over his face; staining his flawless skin with red kiss marks.

"congrats, caleb. oh, you look soooo handsome in your uniform." you cooed, smooching his lips shamelessly as you smiled against his lips.

"yeah? you got a thing for guys in uniform now, pips?" caleb teased, making you smirk.

"only if it's you... but i think i'd prefer if your uniform was off." you playfully bite his bottom lip, making him chuckle.

"naughty girl." he whispered, making you giggle.

suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat. you turned your head and looked at ___ shift from one foot to the other, face tainted with embarrassment.

"uh, i think i'll go, my parents are probably looking for me. congrats again, caleb." she forced a tight smile, waving at you two before turning around to leave. your eyes fell on the small letter in her hands, now gripping it tight to crumple it as she walked away.

"confessing on graduation day? how lame. well, not like she had a chance anyways." you huffed, shrugging with indifference.

"you're real mean, pips. i like this side of you." caleb grinned, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"now can we go home? i still have to give your gift!" you pouted impatiently.

"oh really? or is that an excuse to trap me and strip me out of my uniform?" he poked at you with a sly expression, making you smirk. you gasp playfully.

"how did you know?" you winked, before the the both of you broke into a fit of laugh.

"okay, okay. let's go home, my sweet girl." with that being said, caleb walked out of the stadium with you still in his arms and his face full of your kiss marks.

and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

---

a/n: if you made it to the end, here's a fat smooch for you :3 hope you guys enjoyed this caleb piece, it took me a few weeks to work on it lol. idk why but it's something about this man that just makes something clench iykyk. sigh, wtf did infold lace into him when making him. anyways, let me know if you guys prefer longer smutfics or if you like them short! if you couldn't tell, i get carried away very easily lolol.

[buckysm]

2:15 am (and i miss you)

ᯓ★ part one, part two

ᯓ★ Bucky Barnes x fem ex hydra AVENGER reader

ᯓ★ word count 8.4k+ (this was going to be 5k but then i ended up writing about 2.5k worth of smut... so!! beware)

ᯓ★a/n: this is weeks late, life happens, shit happens we get back up to write bucky barnes faniction. {para @dove4444 te amo, perdon por la espera <33333} (minor grammar edits on mar 11)

ᯓ★ summary: Tensions rise when a ‘friendship’ builds that leave both of you wanting more. Everyone can see how his eyes never leave you. If only you could get your head out of your ass and see for yourself.

ᯓ★ series warnings/ tags/ tropes: canon? what canon?, haters to lovers -- except you never hated him and he just resented you-- midnight rendezvous, friends to lovers, separation, Anxiety, angst and fluff and smut,  Bucky Needs a Hug, Protective Bucky Barnes Bucky Barnes issues related to past trauma, not so platonic cuddling, slow burn, jealous Bucky Barnes Miscommunication  Soft Bucky Barnes, Mentions of torture off screen ------[PART TWO WARNINGS: unhealthy coping strategies, miscommunication, smut, dry humping, cursing in other languages (Spanish and Russian), dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, p in v unprotected sex]

You needed time to heal after— two days of bed rest, stitches, and recovery from a heavily sprained ankle. And unfortunately for Bucky, that meant no clandestine meetings at quarter past two in the morning. 

He tried his best to keep away. After the initial reunion, he handed you into the infirmary and avoided everyone like the plague. They avoided him right back; he couldn’t blame them. He felt as if a storm cloud enveloped him without you, knew he had murder in his eyes. It cost him to hand you up to the doctors, a pang in his heart at having you taken from him once again. He told himself it wasn’t like that, and you would be back in his line of sight before he knew it. His subconscious disagreed, so he trained for hours until he passed out on a mat, warring voices in his head quieting down with exhaustion that pulled at his body and made gravity stronger. Phantom hands yanking him down into oblivion mid-workout. He toed the line of danger training without a spotter, but once the black started to spot his vision and his dry throat burned with rage —he was a super soldier, neglecting hydration helped him pass out faster— he knew to go to the mat so when he did pass out, at least he wouldn’t injure himself.

One of those days, he came to the Black Widow frowning from above him.

He grumbled an intentionally incoherent sentence, not feeling like interacting. The redhead’s brows furrowed further. Unimpressed with his antics.

“Get a grip, Barnes, this self-pity schtick has to go. Here.” 

He felt more than saw the weight of a water bottle against his stomach. Almost snarled before remembering himself. It was a bit embarrassing. He sat up and grabbed at the water with resentment in what was meant to be one fluid movement but came out clumsy and sluggish. His head pounded, his vision clouded. Embarrassing. Begrudgingly, he unscrewed the water bottle and finished it in slow, measured drinks under Black Widow’s judging gaze.

Said redhead dropped to a crouch, eye level with him, frown unfurling, and even he could see the concern in her eyes and the unpleased twist of her lips.

“Barnes, look. I long ago forgave you for the scar you gave me, and I know that you hold yourself guilty for— don’t give me that look. You know you do. Anyway, the others wanted to stage an intervention— No, before you start, let me finish! They care about you. —No. I know that face. I’m going to ignore all your passive-aggressive expressions now, you petulant child— I know you don’t like to think much about what happened during— well, yes, I know you remember. Haven’t you ever stopped to think why the fifty-sixth floor stayed destroyed? Huh? Yeah! Thought you didn’t. I know you pay close attention to Tony, so I know you know he is prideful and a perfectionist. He wouldn’t leave a floor wrecked just because. And before you get angry. No, he didn’t tell anyone why he let it be. And I know for a fact that he turned off the cameras. I couldn’t find any trace of the feed for the floor, and I am Black Widow — it didn’t take me long to figure out he had forgiven you no matter how much he teases you. Yes, he was hurt, but he ultimately understood that it wasn’t a choice, and he cares in his own asshole way. He— We care about you, Barnes. And I know things have been awkward with Steve— since you tried to kill him and all--, but if you don’t see that he cherishes you, then you have been lying to yourself. And she cares, too! Did you know she has been accepting visitors? She’s about to be discharged to her own room tomorrow morning. She didn’t need to stay in the infirmary, but Tony worries, and I know you do too. So there is no reason to stay away from your friend— no rational reason. And it pains me to see hope bloom in her eyes once the door opens and how she tries to cover up its shatter when it’s not you. You two understand each other. You are best friends. Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. We live together. She wears her heart on her sleeve. You just have to learn to read her tells. She will never outright say what she means to say. She will veil her true feelings with insults and sarcasm. Now take a shower and go to her, you big fucking idiot. You reek.” She sprang up in one smooth motion, leaving him with a fond stern look and scolded, all of which reminded him of his sister.

That was the longest she had ever spoken in front of him, even putting every interaction together. He didn’t have time to unpack everything, though. Bucky was left reeling, jaw clenched to prevent it from slacking open in shock. His breaths came in faster and faster. He missed you so much. He couldn’t stop thinking about having you in his arms, wanting you back there forever. But Black Widow was right. He reeked. 

His thoughts ran a mile a second, his body going through the motions without instruction. He went to his bathroom, showered, and did his night routine on autopilot. 

 It was late… you were most definitely sleeping. His every thought is hyper-focused on you. On the fact that you weren’t there, your absence was a heavy and loud presence in his heart.

Bucky stared at his bed, bones weary and freshly showered. He would lie to himself if he said he contemplated sleeping there and visiting you tomorrow. He needed you now— needed you always— But his need for you felt more pronounced at that moment. His body was tired, but it yearned to hold you more than it did sleep. He needed his nightly dose of you. And even then, that wouldn’t be enough; he needed you close, needed you in ways that had him blushing and running himself a cold shower. He shook his head, trying to lose memories of him jerking himself off at breakneck speed, to find some sort of release of the lustful torture he found himself in just by thinking about you— never mind breathing in your scent.

He threw himself on his bed. He tried to keep away, but truly, he did. But between the lands of consciousness and unconsciousness, he saw you. Screaming for him, crying out as you were tortured. He couldn’t take it. His heart pounded as he ran his fingers aggressively through his hair. 

He knew you deserved all that was good in the world, and that excluded him — but that didn’t calm down the tension in his body palpable through his teeth. Bucky tried to breathe in and think rationally, but his limbs moved on their own accord as if deciding for him. 

His mind was a passenger to his body as he was pulled by an invisible string holding his heart hostage, tethered to you, throughout the building to your door.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You couldn’t sleep, or rather, you had been knocked out for a while, sleeping on and off, drifting between the blurred line of realistic nightmare and nonsensical reality, dozed in a wide array of medicine, and found yourself squirming at two a.m. in the morning. 

You were unable to move much. Your leg was elevated to aid your heavy sprain.

Your eyes were heavy, blinking slowly in the darkness. You were so uncomfortable and had to sit with one big fact. Squirmed with it. You wanted to see him. You distracted yourself from any other thoughts, from processing whatever the fuck happened in the warehouse, the new drops in the bucket of blood and death, with memories of his arms around yours. You had relished in life-giving away beneath your hands, just as they had relished in breaking your bones. You glared at your palms as if they would give you an answer to why you didn’t feel guilty. You had to kill your way out. No one was coming to save you. He would’ve. You could see it in his eyes. He was about to fight Captain America to get to you. You shivered, not knowing how to take it. He had been so relieved, and so had you.

Your inhale was shaky. You tried to think of him, but— your greatest fears had come true those long hours before you escaped. Half unconscious with pain, you thought you were back in Hydra. When you screamed in pain from the torture, you thought those nights with him had all been a nice dream. That the beautiful man with the sad blue eyes had been a hallucination. The cruel eyes from not too long ago blurred into those of your past, of older memories from Hydra. A variety of eyes, twin flames, mirrored each other with sadistic pleasure and glee. There was a twist in your gut that didn’t let you give up and told you there was a man with soulful eyes and a gorgeous smile waiting for you. Pure grit brought you back online, moving your body in ways you hadn’t since your Hydra days. Killed so many. You were scared that you didn’t care. Bucky was real, had hugged you so tight—

But an anxious, paranoid part of you still thought so.  You hadn’t seen him in days, and the rational part of you knew he was real, but a dark and needy side of you needed him here to believe it. A heavy sensation of being trapped grew in your body; your limbs, heavy and achy, impeded you from moving much. Frustration built in your chest, rising and rising. Your breaths came out fast and shallow. You didn’t know how to manage it, needed to move, needed him. 

A knock at the door dragged you from your haze. Hope failed to bloom in your chest. Too often, it had grown only for someone who wasn’t Jamie to enter the hospital room.

You couldn’t see through your distress. It was late, and you didn’t want to be bothered— not by anyone who wasn’t him. You slid a hand under your pillow, fingers curling around the grip of your knife. 

You knew those soft footsteps, familiar with them even in their uncertainty— you were dreaming. “Doll?” Oh, how you missed him.

You placed the knife on the bedside. “Jamie?” You weren’t able to keep the excitement and relief from your voice.

“I had a nightmare. I had to check for myself. I’ll let you sleep.” His voice was gruff, worried. Worried.

Yes, you were, in fact, dreaming a pain medication-induced nice dream. Your Jamie was proud. He would never— this was your dream where you could do whatever you wanted, and you wanted him around you. “Come here. There’s enough room for the both of us.”

Dream Jamie didn’t hesitate. The bed shifted with his weight. You flinched when you felt cold metal against you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I can move—”

You giggled softly.  The dark haze dissipates from your mind by his presence. “It’s alright, Jamie. You’re so cold. Get under the covers with me.” You yawned. Now that you weren’t in distress, your subconscious pulled you towards sleep—deeper sleep since you were already in the sandman’s territory.

There was an awkward shuffle as he got inside the covers.

You curled around the cold metal arm as best as you could with restricted movement. You yawned again. “G’night, Jamie. Try to get some sleep. We’re safe here; nothing can hurt us in my dream. I’m so glad to have you in my arms. I missed you so much. So happy you’re real and here, even if it is a dream, Jamie.” Your words murmured. You rubbed your face into his cotton shirt. The pounding of his heart lulled you to sleep.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You thought you were dreaming! Did you dream of him often? It didn’t matter. He would ponder this new revelation later; now, he would focus on your soft, pliant body against him and tiredness overtaking him.

Bucky’s consciousness came to him in phases, each more forceful than the last, crashing into him in waves. The first sensation he became aware of was warmth. His body relaxed against it. It was familiar, as he had dreamt of it. The next thing he noticed was that the warmth was tangible, had a soft give to it— he could feel it. He rolled his neck against foreign pillows… His eyes flew open, muscles tensing slightly with alarm. 

Your soft sleeping body cocooned his left side. It enveloped his usually cold metal arm— which was at that moment the same temperature as your body. He so badly wanted to give in again. Burrow into your warm, soft skin. He barely had time to overthink it. His groggy mind almost reached consciousness before a soft murmur from your lips brought his thoughts to heel.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, s’early Jamie, sleep.” You didn’t seem to care about him not being a product of REM. You curled up tighter around him. Your smile bigger than last night, cheek pressed against his metal arm. And never had he felt any semblance of gratefulness toward Stark. But the new arm sent feedback to his brain. A weapon of destruction cradled and enveloped softly by your body. Somehow, you trusted him. He felt less like a weapon with no agency and more like a person. He liked touching you with his metal arm. He knew that it was tainted, but your touch made it pure. Bucky acknowledged that he would’ve never gotten you here with him without that still-wrecked floor. Unwanted tears prickled in his eyes. Would he ever live up to this forgiveness?

He didn’t want to think anymore, so he followed the laced command in your sweet, sleepy voice, urging him back to dreamland and succumbing to his dreams.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The air around the two of you shifted after the one-person intervention. And yes, of course, the team noticed, but they chose to say nothing. They were glad that Natasha had gone in to talk to him by herself. Although she never did retell what happened, it seemed to work. And while they liked to tease Bucky— some billionaire philanthropists more than others— they were happy for him; he seemed a little calmer than before. Settled into himself. 

While he never directly came out and touched you in front of them. He started orbiting you blatantly. Taking a seat next to you during the rare shared meals. Glaring at anyone who dared take his spot next to you on the couch. Walking into a room and making his way to you. 

Two particular instances engraved themselves into the team members' minds who were lucky enough to behold it. 

The first event took place in the morning. It started like any other. You chit-chatted with Steve and Nat as you made two breakfast bagels. They might’ve thought you had woken up hungry that day were it not for the two cups of coffee you set in front of the plate holding the two halved bagels.

Tony tinkered with a toaster in the background, his eyes looking up slowly when Bucky walked in, fingers not stopping their ministrations on the machinery. 

And the team had been so wrong. Yes, Bucky had a strong disposition, but the way he always stared at you so intently was. It should have been obvious. It was like their eyes opened after the mission had gone wrong.  The man was so obviously besotted with you. 

It couldn’t be clearer as the usual dark storm cloud over him dissolved when his eyes found you. He strode toward you with one track mind. 

You spoke to him before your gaze found his as if sensing his presence. “Hey there, I just made you my favorite breakfast. Grab our plate. Here’s your coffee. Dark and joyless like you.” You turned to look at him with barely veiled glee.

Steve’s brows furrowed slightly, concerned. He used to make those kinds of jokes with his Bucky, but he didn’t know how this Bucky would react.

Tony’s eyes furrowed with concern—

Bucky huffed and pursed his lips. But his eyes. They were accustomed to his eyes being perpetually set in a glare. 

His gaze was soft, voice softer, “Doll… You know me so well.”

Your grin was dazzling, and you were the only one who missed the way his stare lingered a bit too long on your lips.

DOLL??? Oh, you guys were clearly fucking. Natasha smiled, amused, and raised an eyebrow at Steve. 

Steve gaped at Bucky, lost and forlorn. He had spent so long tiptoeing around the man who used to be his best friend. 

Bucky didn’t seem to care that there were other people in the kitchen; the man who didn’t show up for breakfast was long gone. You curled your fingers around the handle of the two coffee cups, concluding the chit-chat. He grabbed the plate with his metal fingers. Then, so slyly as if with half a mind, he reached out his right arm toward you, near your hips. His fingers slid inside the loop of your jeans and yanked you toward him.

You let out a surprised yelp and laughed. “Jamie! Careful. The coffee will spill!” You didn’t seem the least put off by his actions. 

They had no clue when it started, but somehow, in a few months, you had gotten through the broken and hurting Winter Soldier and got to Jamie. 

Jamie. Bucky never let Steve call him that. It was bittersweet. Your chattering voice faded as he dragged you out of the kitchen. It was then that he came to a conclusion. Bucky was a different man, and he wanted to get to know this version of him.

And they felt guilty. They had given a half-ass try to get to him, put off by his glower. You weren’t perturbed by his grumpiness or his mood swings. Letting him be silent whenever he got too in his head. Chatting to him about whatever until you eventually drew out a small smile perceptible in his usually clouded expression.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You had found yourself in the proud position of Bucky’s friend, closest and best — you did sleep in the same bed—yet you still felt like screaming in frustration. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t unhappy per se. You had him in your arms every night…Your cheek pressed against his warm, sturdy chest. The only thing between keeping your skin from his was a thin, flimsy shirt. And maybe it was wrong for you to, but you longed for more, to touch without restraint. Had feelings with more-than-friends connotations. Not that you had many real friends before you were recruited here. So, while you knew there was a difference between platonic and romantic love. You tried fooling yourself into thinking it was platonic. But you wouldn’t go and kill around 15 people for just about anyone, and it hurt. You wanted him to see you the same way you did him. Rare nights were you holding him instead of the more common inverse. 

You’d scrape your fingernails softly through his scalp. Hope would make your heart full, inflating it with every hum of pleasure he let out in his sleep. But then he’d wake up shy and closed off, cheeks red with what you perceived as embarrassment and your heart would collapse once again, hope seeping out and leaving acid in its wake.

But he’d do certain things that would make your heart race, exhilarated and frustrated, leaving you reeling and confused.

Your feelings grew despite your protests, so you kept them locked in nice and tight, hidden even from yourself, for as long as possible. 

You were full to the brim with tension, and one particular instance made you lose it, the container breaking with pressure and spilling all over the place. 

It went like so. It was early afternoon, and sunlight spilled from the high windows of the tower, casting a warm glow on the room. 

Natasha was telling you about these two guys; they invited her and you to a double date. You were certain in your decision not to go. The man you’d be paired up with was the same one who frequented the bar with the team; he had brown eyes and a sleazy smile. Nothing like your Jamie.

You were doubling down on your decision when he walked in.

“Hello, Doll, Nat.” His greeting was gruff, but a few months ago, you would’ve thought him possessed.

Natasha’s eyes glinted with mischief and calculation. She gave you a feral grin before turning around, her expression slipping easily into neutrality. “Bucky, it’s so good that you’re here. You can help me convince her to go out with me.”

Jamie cocked his head, expression unreadable. “Sounds fun, Doll; you need a girl’s night.”

This was it! The perfect opportunity to gauge his reaction to you going out with someone else! “It’s a double date with the guys from communication.” You deliberately omitted the part where you didn’t want to go, wanting to push a grand reaction. —It never came.

You saw his full body tense for a moment, and for a second, your heart soared… only to crash instantly when he gave you a terse smile. His voice was disappointingly steady, “Why don’t you want to go?”

You knew your body was overreacting, knew you were blowing it out of proportion, but your heart shriveled nonetheless. You tried still, but you couldn’t swallow down the frustration. Try as you did. “I like my men a little bit older…” Your mouth answered for you, giving him a cheeky grin. 

He turned his full attention toward you, and your body viscerally recoiled from the look in his eyes. An angry and resentful glint in his eyes. So familiar—how he used to stare at you before the first meeting at two a.m.

“You should go.” His words were final, a command. 

You didn’t understand, and you almost sobbed then. You prided yourself in being able to count the number of times you had cried on one hand. A chasm was growing between you, distance expanding with every word. He didn’t want you that way. Pinche ilusa! How could he ever want you that way? You snarled instead of crying, “Alright, I will, but don’t expect me here at two in the morning.”

His smile was bitter and mean. “I won’t.” 

Your returning smile was filled with spite. Anger bubbling in your throat, you saw red. “Pinche pendejo, deveras.”  (Such a fucking prick) It hurt to smile. You didn’t even want to think about the last time you used your Spanish. But his hardened eyes and clenched jaw brought out your most impulsive sides. 

Beside you, Nat and Bucky tensed. You lifted your downward gaze toward them. Their heads were cocked to the side, assessing… You’d never slipped into your native tongue.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “I’m going to get ready, Nat! See you at eight!” Smiled at them both before prancing to the elevator, assuming a mask of joy, heart sunken in.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The elevator doors closed in front of you, taking you from him. The Winter Soldier’s gaze lingered on the spot where you’d disappeared, his eyes burning with a mix of longing and frustration before snapping toward his adversary.

The soldier was full of rage. Flowers had bloomed through the cracks in his stone heart only to wilt because of her.

The redheaded sensed the obvious danger and spoke in a language the soldier didn’t understand. He understood her disappointment with him, which displeased the soldier.

“говорить демон.” The soldier growled, beckoning the demon to speak, try to save herself. 

She had been a friend…The redheaded demon responded in his language. “You were taking too long, and I couldn’t take any more of her sulking… So speak up or forever hold your peace, soldier. You don’t get to wallow in self-pity and watch life passing you by, cursing time for moving on and not standing still. You can’t unwind the clock, soldier. You can only go forward… So decide carefully before it’s too late.”

Bucky couldn’t breathe, bereft of oxygen. What had he done? Had the soldier really come back because of you? The threat of losing you?

He somehow found himself in his room. He didn’t quite remember how he got there. His brain was a haze of frustration and defeat.

His room felt wrong, empty, and cold. He didn’t even approach his bed, knowing how that whole schtick would go. So Bucky paced and paced, his mind running around in circles. 

And what was that whole thing about liking older men? How was he supposed to take it? 

He knew he had fucked up. But he wasn’t about to go crash your date… So he went to his training room. Came back to the land of the living hours later, an unknown familiar face framed by gold hair staring down at him. Warmth pressed against his mouth, and he drank greedily.

“… can’t keep hurting yourself like this, Buck.”

Bucky groaned in response and in acknowledgment. Looked at his friend’s concerned eyes. His chest ached with nostalgia, love, regret… everything. “That’s my line, punk.” His voice came out unsteady.

The ground moved underneath him, yanked by his metal arm toward Steve into a tight hug. Bucky’s arms hovered uncertainly for a moment, and he could feel Steve’s large body shake against him. So he hugged his friend back. He had been neglecting Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, Stevie, it’s alright.” His voice was fond. He was yanked once again. Twin grips on his shoulders shook him with more force than merited. 

“No, you stupid idiot! It’s not alright…” Steve looked like he wanted to say more for a moment, but he knew how Bucky was, so he kept in his spiel and sighed dramatically. “Come on, get some food in your poor body.”

Steve tried to help Bucky walk, which ended up with Captain America being whacked upside down. The blonde turned to Bucky with a fake offense, instead deciding to drag him to the kitchen by force. Oh, how things changed…

Steve had changed…he managed to beat Bucky in a stare-down. Even in his forties after the serum,   that only happened once in a blue moon. So Bucky found himself eating a sandwich and a big glass of electrolytes with resentment. His leg bounced with vigor. 

He kept his eyes on his plate, avoiding Steve’s too-observant eyes, eyes that had known him since childhood.

As soon as the last bite had been swallowed, Bucky looked up. Only to regret it instantly. Steve had a resolved expression. A glint in his eyes that told him to run. So he did. He was not ready for whatever conversation he wanted to have.

“Where’s Banner?” He pushed off the table in a harsh, sudden movement.

Steve’s face fell, confused and hurt. “Huh?”

“I need a cigarette.”

He got furrowed brows and a cocked head in response.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

A few blocks away, your leg bounced anxiously. Unbeknownst to you, mirroring the person who caused your stress.

You sat across from Nat, your date an uncomfortable breath away.  The tension between you was palpable as you struggled to make small talk with him. Thigh pressed to bouncing thigh. You wanted to turn pleading eyes to Nat. And for what? You had come here out of your own volition. Fuck. You needed a smoke. You tried to convince yourself you wanted to be here. If he didn’t want you, you deserved someone who did.

A meaty hand slid against your bare skin. Ala mierda… Yeah, no… Abort.

“Calm down, baby… you are all… amped up… how about we go outside and—”

“That’s a good idea.” 

You got a sleazy grin and a flash of eerily perfect teeth. His were charmingly imperfect; he wouldn’t call you baby. He would call you doll….

“I am going outside by myself. I need a smoke. Besides— I left my lighter at home.”

“I-”

“No, thank you. Sorry, Nat.” You flashed your not-so-sorry gaze toward her. 

She was amused. “Go! by all means. I’ll get the check.” She moved her hand, shooing you off.

A grip on your arm stopped you. “Don’t tell me it’s because of that creepy guy with murder in his eyes.”

You shivered, giddy with pleasure. It was too obvious of a response for it to fly over your date’s head.

“It is! He stares at you like you hurt him. Like he wants to tie you up in his bed and never let you leave!”

Your wicked grin was enough for him to let you go with a huff of disgust. You didn’t care, kissing Nat’s cheek. “Goodbye, you evil woman.” 

She spanked your ass, sending you off. You turned one last time toward her, grinning. Your smiles reflect glee and mirth.

You walked around the city for a while. Savoring being able to do so without recrimination. 

You weren’t delusional; you should’ve known better. Yet you were so blinded by self-doubt that you closed your eyes.

Bucky wasn’t loud with his emotions, ever. He swallowed them whole, drowned in them. He was too prideful and scared of being hurt, even if he wanted you. Countless sleepless nights and nights where it was avoided deliberately to see each other told of a man who was interested in you in some capacity.

You weren’t dumb. You just chose to ignore the evidence. Turning a blind eye to the staggering difference in how he spoke to you versus anyone else. He gave you preferential treatment. You cuddled every night for fucks sake! And you doubted that he cared for you? He couldn’t sleep without you, and vice versa! 

You checked your phone. 2:03 A.M. What were you stalling for? 

You smiled all the way back to the tower.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The third time the elevator doors pinged, Bucky’s hope had worn out. Expecting Steve or Natasha. The latter had come from the double date alone. “I told you to leave me alone to— what had you called it?— wallow in self-pity and the consequences of my actions or whatever.” He raised a shaking hand, knuckles cracked and bleeding— he was embarrassed to admit he had succumbed to his baser needs and punched a wall out of frustration— taking a drag of a cigarette. It tasted radioactive… but it smelled like you. He coughed softly.

An achingly familiar laugh startled him from his stupor. He swerved around with wide eyes. A kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar… “What are you doing here? If you’re here to tell me about — I don’t want to hear it.” He grumbled. Yes, you were friends, but he really, really didn’t want to hear about you sleeping or even breathing in near another man. He took another drag of your cigarette. Filled his lungs with smoke, his blood with chemicals. Okay, yes. He got it now.

“You big, stupid man.” The candor of your voice dripped with irritation. You stomped toward him, heels clacking against the floor, and snatched the smoke from him in harsh movements.

He grunted in response, out of his depth, and turned his gaze toward the skyline. He was aware of your every movement. You took two drags and stomped a perfectly good half of a cigarette with your heel.

He turned to glare at you, giving you a once-over. Fucking helllll….. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Bucky needed to dump cold water on himself ASAP. He was reminded of the many, many long showers he had jerked off in before joining you in bed. They were always futile, super soldier refractory period, and your soft skin, and— you were wearing a mini skirt and a top that accentuated your tits. Bucky mentally clutched his 100-year-old pearls. His breath hitched. Eyes catching on thighs— THIGHS. And boobs—BOOBS!Before meeting your pleased predatory gaze. 

You took one step toward him. He took one step back.

“I’m going to ask you something. Please answer me honestly— Why don’t you want to hear about my date?”

“Why are you here and not with your date?” he ground out his non-answer.

“Why are your knuckles bleeding? Why are you smoking my cigarette?”

“Why are you here and not with your date?” He repeated, body tense, ready to pounce, touch, taste. You looked so beautiful. The soft night lights illuminate your tinted lips and glittery eyelids, bringing the color out of your iris.

“Well, I found myself seated next to him and thinking: Jamie wouldn’t say that— but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t you.”

When you advanced toward him this time, his feet stayed planted. You took your time advancing toward him. And you were taller now, easier to reach with those long heels. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed up against him.

His arousal grew to unavoidable levels. Pushing against your hip. “Fuck, doll. You can’t— I’m wrong for you, all messed up and angry. And from the forties…” His fingers clenched and unclenched on his sides. He was lacking in excuses to touch you. His limbs itched to hold you. Dig into you.

“Well, I hate to repeat myself, but I see I have to. I’ve told you I like my men a little bit older… And maybe I’m a bit messed up, too. Because seeing you all fucked up and angry…. Well, I wasn’t upset.”

“I can’t sleep without you. I dream of you, I—”

You smiled with glee, “I know; Natasha was all too pleased to explain to me the mechanics of ‘morning wood.’”

Bucky groaned in response. Letting his hands, metal and otherwise, slide against your hips. It was nothing like cuddling; his intentions were impure. They had always been, but he had not felt any past guilt over his arousal. Unashamed in his guilt, he felt no need to neglect his urges — unless you told him otherwise.

He could tell you had some snarky response in the makings. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that cocky grin off your face. You were gravely mistaken if you thought he would be taking the subservient route. At least right now, he needed to be in control, and you needed to trust him. Needed you. 

Your eyes glinted with snark, your mouth opening to tease. His hand coasted up your back to your nape, his fingers gliding into your hair to pull you toward him. Your eyes widened in surprise, pupils blown out. Good, you thought too much; he needed to make your brain shut up.

He held his breath as he leaned in, humming with satisfaction once your lips pressed against his. Your lips, so soft against his. He needed more. He gripped your hip, conscious of the strength in his metal arm. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, but he did want to leave a mark. You gasped in pleasure. Your hands yanked on his hair, and he groaned against your lips.

He set his sights on a wall three paces away, pushing against you. So malleable under him, succumbing so easily to his ministrations, like putty under his hands. His blood sang with the escalating volume of your noises. With each step he took forward, you met with a step back. You gasped as your back met the wall.

“Jamie... please,” your voice was so whiny, so desperate, it made his cock hurt with arousal. Blood rushed in his ears; he needed more, needed you begging. Undone.

He yanked on the base of your hair with one hand, exposing your neck for him. He was oh so happy to kiss and lick your skin. You whined and shifted against him... sensitive. His other hand slid down your skirt until it met your skin. Groaning against your neck, he slid his hand up, finally reaching your perfect ass. He couldn’t feel any underwear... Fuck... he might’ve been from the forties, but he had internet access, and he could call a spade a spade, or in this case, a thong a thong. He yanked on the flimsy thing so it snapped back against your skin.

You whimpered and panted, eyes closed in bliss. He could feel your hips shift as if chasing after stimulation. And who was he to deny you?

He placed both hands just below your ass, lifting you up and pulling them apart, a silent command you gladly followed with a whine and a curse word in Spanish.

You locked your legs around his waist; his erection pressed against your warmth, and his soft cotton pants were doing nothing to help his desperation. He gave up on holding himself back when your lips met his once again, your hips jerking against him.

It was the best thing he had ever felt since... ever. His fingers spread on either side of your ass, your back supported by the wall. He was beyond words, and so were you.

His cotton pants were soaked with your arousal, hiding nothing. He could feel everything: your pussy open for his cock to grind on, and your underwear had twisted to the side. He lost all ability to think, his conscious motor skills deciding to go offline, the only movement he could do was jerking his hips. His lips opened to pant like a dog. It was your turn to kiss him, sloppy and uncoordinated, as he ground against you.

He had half a mind to be aware of his strength, but each time he tested the waters, pressing harder against you, you moaned louder. So it wasn’t long before he realized you could take all of him.

His body trembled with built-up tension. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced. His hands flexed and tightened on your ass, pressing you harder against him, making the friction so much sweeter. He chased the pleasure with a one-track mind, couldn’t think of anything but your scent, skin, taste – for years, he had felt numb, and you brought him back to life. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to feel such exquisite pleasure; it was you who had his hips jerking, dry humping like teenagers. He didn’t care.

Your fingers clawed at his back, nails scratching his skin; you had long ago stopped kissing him, opting instead for panting against his neck.

Pleasure built and built, mind-numbing. You were saying something... begging for him... He threw his head back and groaned as his pleasure crested, stars exploding behind his eyes; he couldn’t see...

His hips jerked with aftershocks, breaths harsh against your neck; his pants were soiled with his come and your arousal. Your legs slackened, dropping to the floor. Most of your body weight rested on the wall, the rest supported by his hands. He had two functioning brain cells, both reminding him of his selfishness.

You didn’t look displeased with him; your skirt was bunched up at the hips, and your top in disarray. Your eye makeup was a mess, and he loved that. Your panties were slid to the far side, showing off your glistening cunt.

His knees hit the floor before he even realized what he was doing. He felt your thighs shake against his skin as he leaned in to look closer. Your clit was swollen and dark. He leaned in to kiss, to suck. Fingers pressed against his face, pushing him away.

“S’ too sensitive,” your voice wavered.

Bucky furrowed his brows, looking up inquisitively at you.

“Came. Twice,” you clarified, tone shaky with satisfaction.  Your gaze followed his movements as he stood up to cradle your face, tilting your head to kiss you softly. He sucked on your teeth before stopping the kiss.

“Huh, didn’t notice. You felt too good. I went crazy. Too bad, though, I want to feel you come on my face and on my cock.”

You smiled, satisfied, a cat who finally got the cream. “Sure, later,” you muttered against him.

“Whenever you want, doll face,” he smiled down at you. You looked fucked all the way to next week, and he hadn’t even dicked you down yet. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

You hummed, wrapping your arms around him in a silent request; he obliged happily, carrying you bridal-style to his room.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jamie was so soft, so careful with you. Your head was hazy with the aftermath of pleasure. No orgasm in your past could hold a flame to the explosive bliss from the earlier encounter.

Your head was hazy as he led you to his bathroom, your mind too fucked out for processing his room. You complied with whichever way he tugged your limbs, sliding off your rumpled clothes until the only thing on your body were your high heels.

He knelt in front of you, his touch tender as if apologizing for moments ago when he ground on you without thought. His cool metal fingers skated up your calf, reaching up to support your knee as his other hand worked on the latch of your heels. He pressed a kiss to each ankle before standing up in front of you.

You blinked slowly, your eyes trained on him. He was still clothed. Why was he still clothed? Your gaze caught on the wet patch on his pants, outlining his half-hard dick. Praise super-soldier metabolism.

You planted your feet on the white marble floor, your arms stretching toward him, fingers curling into his shirt and yanking. “Off.”

He grinned softly – you would never, ever get enough of his smiles – before sliding his shirt off in one swift movement.

Your breath caught in your throat—fuck, he was beautiful.

“Beautiful Jamie,” you said, taking a step closer. You slid one hand up his chest, using the other to trace fingers along scar tissue. He was so… captivating, so utterly himself, that you felt like you were the only person in the world who got to see him like this. “Only for me, only I get to see you like this.” You turned to throw him a challenging glare.

“Doll, I wouldn’t have it any other way, and I don’t share either. Call me old-fashioned –”

“If I see you with another woman, James, I swear to God, I will break my killing streak. And all three of us will end up in a –” Rage had barely simmered from the image before he had yanked on your hips to pull you into another kiss.

“Easy there, Doll, there’s no one else,” his voice was so satisfied, an assured tinge to his candor, in a way you knew it only got for you. You were so fucking stupid for not noticing.

“Good,” you yanked on his pants. “So... super-soldier dick... how long can you go? I bet we can get Jamie Junior tired.”

He laughed loudly, the sound enough for you to shiver with pleasure. “Doll, I don’t think you could keep up with me; you’d pass out. You don’t understand how long I can go if it’s with you.”

“Well, surely you can keep count if I’m passed out... set a record.”

His laugh was disbelieving. “I don’t want to fuck you when you’re unconscious; I want you awake and making those sweet, delicious sounds.”

“Another time, then – take off your pants.”

“As you wish.”

You tried, you really did, to focus on cleaning yourself once you’d gotten inside the shower. But you didn’t fight the urge to slide your fingers into his scalp and help him wash his hair. Forcing him into a crouch to aid your reach and resting his face on your shoulder.

His touch was gentle, a silent decision to wash each other. He went first. You pressed your fingers, massaging the soap against his skin, fingers traveling lower, your eyes fixed on his cock. He was beautiful. Your fingers reached his hips; he was fully hard at that point, leaking. You couldn’t stop yourself; you had planned on teasing him, but his cock was too pretty, red and wet with pre-come. Your soap-slicked hands circled his cock... and damn, the groan that fell from his lips was unlike anything – the groans before had been rough, taking. This one was desperate, needing.

You took him in both hands, dragging your thumb against his leaking tip. He threw his head back and groaned, fingers digging into the skating over your waist.

You dragged your touch up and down his length, your eyes studying his every movement: his clenched jaw and tightened face. He was holding his sounds back; that wouldn’t do. You tightened your grip and fastened your pace – only to have his tight grip on your wrist halt your movements. His gaze was heavy on yours. “The next time I’m coming, I’m doing it inside you.”

Tension filled the air as he had his turn and took his time cleaning you. He was so clinical it was driving you insane. But you could tell he was restraining himself. His movements rushed; he had an end goal in mind.

You dried off quickly, and showering would prove futile with what you had in mind. The night was young; it was barely 3 A.M.

The anticipation was thick in each deep breath you took. As soon as you had crossed the doorway to his bedroom, you couldn’t restrain yourself. You turned toward him, but he beat you to the first move, yanking on your arm and throwing you over his shoulder; you laughed as he spanked your ass.

Your body was airborne the next moment before your back bounced softly on his bed.

You leaned on your shoulders, breasts heaving with each breath, thighs open.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted you, how long... I thought I was going to go crazy with how much I needed you,” he said, crawling on top of you. Kissing you once chastely, your breath hitching. You were out of your depth; this was a completely new situation, and you loved every second. His featherlight kisses peppered over your jaw, below your ear, along your neck – your body twisted and turned – over your collarbone, down... “You’re so beautiful, doll— I had to restrain myself. You deserve worship.” His gruff voice was all the warning you got before he latched on to a nipple and sucked, cool metal fingers rolling your neglected nipple between his fingers, awakening erogenous zones that made their debut with a bang.

“Ala puta, mierda..." This bliss was unlike anything. Your hips jerked, your cunt pounded with need. Warm fingers slid your pussy open, circling your clit. You could feel every nerve sing with pleasure. Your toes curled, the balls of your feet pressing down against the bed.

He slid one finger into your cunt, and your whole body jerked in response. “Ala madre – ala madreeee!" Your head lolled, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn’t form coherent thought; your brain decided to go offline.

Pleasure built and built, still sensitive from the past two orgasms. Just when you found yourself at the precipice, you were left bereft of pleasure, cut off from his touch. You looked at him with betrayal.

“No need for that, Dollface— you’ll come soon. I want it to be on my cock— give me a second I’m going to get a condo –”

“NO!” You wanted to feel him, and you wanted him inside you now.

“All right, Doll, and while I would love to put a baby inside you, I’m not sure I’m ready to share you yet –”

“I’m on birth control! I’m clean; I haven’t – in years.” Your voice was desperate. He smiled slowly at the neediness in your tone.

He shut you up with a kiss, fingers digging into the soft of your thighs, holding you open for him.

You felt yourself lose clarity, tears streaming down your face. You needed his cock inside you now.

You didn’t have to wait long; soon enough, he pressed his tip inside you. He was big... You babbled and pleaded for more to no avail. His fingers traced your skin, grounding you, as he slid in inch by delicious inch until he was fully sheathed. Your body writhed under him with pleasure. It was a tight fit, bordering on a little bit painful. The slight pinch only made the feelings more heightened as your cunt pulsed around him.

You tried to beg him to “move,” but none of the languages in your repertoire seemed to be available. So you were left a whining mess. He got the message. Felt his cock slide out of you only to slam into you so hard you saw stars. You could feel the exact moment he lost control and went feral and pussy-drunk. His thrusts were severe and hard, thrusting himself until your pelvises slammed together, the sound of your skin meeting his echoing through the room.

You were crying out, nails searching for pleasure on his back.

It didn’t take long for your pleasure to peak; it ebbed and rose in waves. You weren’t sure where your orgasm ended, and another one began. Had started to come down only to have him pinch your clit and –

It was so good; you took everything he gave you greedily, you had been fulfilled a while ago, and your needs were met ages ago. You were there for him to fuck however many times he wanted—  drenched with your arousal and his come. His hips would stutter, and you’d feel a rush of his come, warm and drenching you. He’d slow down for a few moments, making you think it was over, hips sputtering softly inside you. He’d kiss your skin softly in apology and harden inside you again.

He made good on his promise. Once you were close to passing out, he stopped.

Your full body shook as he cleaned you with warm towels, your mind unresponsive as he moved your limbs softly to slide on one of his hoodies and boxer briefs.

You were halfway to dreamland when he wrapped his arms around you, the room reeking of sex.

“… doll... Mine... Love... Love you...” His voice was soft and barely processed as you fell asleep in his arms.

Did process enough for you to reply a sleepy, “Love you more.”

Please remember to leave your kind thoughts in the comments (they fuel me), and if you enjoyed support with reblogs, ok thanks for reading love ya hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻!!!!

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: it's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

Guys I lied it will have three parts actually

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

~~

Y/N sighed deeply, holding Tommy's hand as he carefully stepped over the threshold to Polly's house.

”He better not find out that we're here,” She warned, glancing around the house to make sure they were alone.

”He won't” The older woman replied, as her eyes remained on the toddlers who reminded her so much of her nephew around that age. Keeping her mouth shut on the matter, Polly opened the curtains in the living room, offering Y/N some tea.

”No, thank you, but do you have maybe some…”

“Juice!” Nick cheered, causing Tommy to immediately do the same, despite not knowing what for. Seeing it, Polly couldn't help but chuckle, scooping up the boy into his arms.

“What juice would you like, little man?” She offered, smiling brightly. Nick mumbled something to himself, looking back at his mum instead.

“I believe Nick would appreciate apple juice” Y/N answered, already knowing what he meant.

“Apple juice it is then” Polly replied, nodding to the maid with a light smile. It took no longer than a couple minutes before she returned, holding the glass. “So…” The older woman started out, her eyes finally meeting Y/N’s “He doesn't know, does he?”

“About what?” Y/N responded, her voice immediately changing into one of defensive undertones subconsciously which didn't go unnoticed by Polly.

“About them”

“Who says they're his?” She asks, keeping her cool, despite heart thumping in her chest faster than usual. Hearing it, Polly just chuckled, rolling her eyes as she turned Nick on her lap, making him face his mum.

“Their faces give it away, darling. I'm not stupid.” Her voice became sharper, as she didn't like being lied to, and Y/N was fully aware of it.

The younger woman sighed deeply, sitting Tommy on the couch as she began pacing back and forth.

“He can't find out” She insisted, clearly stressed out by the circumstances. “I've spent almost three years doing everything so he wouldn't find out, Polly. You can't tell on me.” Her gaze was fierce but clearly scared, which made Polly's heart squeeze in her chest. She wondered how Thomas must have been treating her to cause such a strong reaction.

“He turned all of England upside down looking for you.” She confessed, shaking her head lightly. “It's been a bloody nightmare. As soon as we got him off the opium, everything… changed.”

“I don't care” Y/N hissed back, pointing towards the woman she was once so close with. “These are my kids, and I won't let him get near them. He lost the privilege the moment he chose her over us… over me.” Her hands were shaking and only then did she look to the side, hearing Tommy scooting closer to her on the couch which made her let out a deep breath as she sat back down. Taking him in her lap and rubbing his back. “I just can't.” She added in a calmer tone.

Polly nodded along, lighting a cigarette and inhaling the smoke then slowly letting it out.

“Y/N, all I can promise is that I won't say anything, but… you know how he is. You haven't seen him after the… change. He's stubborn, and even if it takes walking to hell and back, he will eventually find out.” She warned in a gentle tone, wanting to give Y/N some reassurance but also keeping it real.

“Tommy stubborn? Doesn’t sound like much of a change to me” Y/N snorted, helping Tommy take a sip out of the glass. Polly watched closely at how she interacted with her son.

“He's the quieter one, isn't he?” Y/N immediately understood, smiling down at Tommy and nodding.

“He has a more sensitive spirit. He’s never too far from my side” She pointed out.

“A mummy's boy.” The older woman giggled, her eyes shining at the lively memories in her head. “He was exactly the same at that age. Arthur couldn't force him to go play, all he wanted to do was sit in his mum's lap, no matter whether she was cooking or knitting.” Her voice was lighthearted, causing Y/N to subconsciously smile looking at her baby.

“Let’s agree on something” Polly suggested, setting Nick on his feet, and the boy immediately started exploring the house, assisted by one of the maids. “I won't say a word about this to anyone, but you will let me see them once a week, and accept financial help from me. After all, I know how it is to be a single mother. “ She offered, but the tone of her voice showed that… she already decided.

“I can't take money from you” Y/N insisted but Polly stopped her with her hand.

“It's that, or I will have to tell him. You can't survive off on scraps raising little Shelby's.”

…and with that, she shut Y/N’s mouth. Sighing deeply, she agreed. “...and one last thing. Does.. anyone know that they're his?” Her tone turned serious as she looked into Y/N's eyes to make sure she wasn't lying.

“No, nobody knows.” She replied, shaking her head.

Polly exhaled with relief.

“Good”

***

A couple weeks went by and Y/N really felt her living situation improving. She could stay home with the children, getting to stop working every night which made her heart much lighter. Mrs. Wilson kept coming over every now and then after being told she would no longer have to babysit boys at night. The routine quickly set into their life, and the day of seeing Polly became Y/N's favourite.

Back in Birmingham Thomas was sitting in his office, leaning back in the armchair as his brows furrowed in confusion. Recently the figures in the accounting documents and the cheques and cash balance didn't quite match which got him paying attention throughout the weeks. Seeing the pattern and being sure. Going through the company documentation, the first file that fell out of the shelf was surprisingly Polly's.

After grabbing it, Thomas displayed every page on the desk and put on his glasses. Going over dates, another pattern caught his eye. Before, she was working five to six times a week, depending on the amount of work and circumstances but recently her schedule was limited to four days a week, every Thursday off.

His eyes narrowed as the nagging feeling on the back of his head told him something wasn't right. Glancing on the calendar, he decided what to do before getting up, and picking up the phone.

Later that day, Y/N found herself sitting on Polly's couch while boys played on the carpet with their wooden toys as the women spoke about their whereabouts.

In the meantime a black car parked by the building, turning off the engine before it made too much noise or got too much attention. Pulling the cap lower on his forehead, he glanced towards the right window, noticing the smoke coming out of it. Polly was home.

Climbing the stairs, he reached into the pocket, pulling out a spare key to her house. As Tommy was fitting the key in the lock, he heard the sound of a squealing child inside.

Did Ada visit with Karl? Thomas wondered, furrowing his eyebrows in suspicion. Why would Polly hide that from him?

Thomas opened the door and stepped into the entryway. He could hear Polly and the voice of another woman - a familiar voice, but cloudy enough to not be able to recognize. Thomas followed the sounds leading to the sitting room. As soon as he stood in the doorway, his eyes widened in disbelief, fixated on the woman he saw for the first time in three years.

There sitting on the couch facing the doorway was Y/N. She met his eyes and Thomas could see the blood drain from her face, causing her to go completely pale as the words died on her tongue.

Polly must have noticed the shift as she turned to where Y/N was staring and an audible gasp left her lips.

“Thomas” Polly said as she straightened in her seat. “I knew this would happen eventually. I noticed you were double counting. You’ve always been too inquisitive to keep secrets from.”

Tommy stared at Polly, unable to comprehend the situation as his heart pounded in his chest for the first time in years.

Polly stood and slowly approached him, stretching out her hand.

“I think it would be best if you and I had a word first.” She said, looking at him and silently pleading to listen this time. His expression was completely blank, but internally he was going through every possible emotion from happiness through grief all the way to anger.

“Not now.” He responded in a husky voice, and when she tried to interject again, he raised his hand slightly, completely silencing her. “I said not now,”

Hearing it Polly looked back at Y/N, giving her a sign to stay calm, before walking to the bedroom to check on the boys.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as her whole body tensed, raising to her feet.

“Where have you been?” He immediately demanded to know, taking a step forward. As in instinctively, Y/N responded with a step back causing his brows to furrow in confusion, seeing this reaction. “Y/N?” He added, but she cut him off.

“I don't owe you any explanations.” She put all her strength into keeping up the façade of being unfazed by his presence. Her facial expression hardened, and her voice kept completely steady.

“Three years. I spent three fucking years looking for you!” He said, slightly raising his voice as he pointed towards her, yet not daring to close the distance between them.

“What for? Are the maids and prostitutes not doing enough? Why would you need me for?” She hissed with anger, the old pain she used to carry around with her everywhere slowly seeping back.

Right when Thomas was about to open his mouth to respond, they heard small footsteps quickly entering the room. Small arms wrapped around Y/N’s legs, little face snuggling into her thigh, immediately catching Y/N's attention. Once her gaze dropped, Thomas’ followed and his eyes widened, mouth fell slightly open.

“It's okay, baby” She cooed quietly, lightly caressing the boy’s head. Before Thomas could react in any way, another kid ran in, standing mere inches from his lookalike.

“Come on, Tommy!” The little boy whined, causing the other one to shake his head. “We play!” He squealed, shoving the wooden car into his brother's face.

The tension in the room immediately grew, Thomas’ face turning completely white as he connected the dots.

“We need to talk,” He said in a breathless voice.

“It's enough” Polly suddenly interjected, quickly coming up. “Don't you see he's scared?” She scolded the man standing by her side as she picked up the boy. Walking towards the kitchen, she grabbed Nick’s chubby little hand, leaving the adults in the living room.

Thomas couldn't stop himself from looking back, unexpectedly looking into the same eyes he sees every day in the mirror.

Not a minute passed by before the older woman returned.

“It’s time for you to leave. I'll see you in the office in fifteen minutes.” She decided, standing between him and Y/N as she pointed towards the entrance.

Tommy felt his mind going into overdrive with the amount of new, unexpected information that caused his temperature to significantly increase. Feeling the need to get a breath of fresh air, he steals the last glance of Y/N before walking out of the house. The documents he held in his hand, long forgotten, left on the shelf in his aunt's house.

***

“How dare you.” He said calmly at first, slowly raising from his armchair as the door fell shut behind his aunt. The calm tone was a signal of the coming storm. “How fucking dare you hide her from me when you saw what I was going through!” His voice boomed through the office, echoing off the walls.

Polly wasn't easily intimidated, taking a step forward as her jaw tensed.

“After all she's done for you, you discarded her like bloody garbage!” She screamed, pointing at him, as she tossed her purse on the chair. “Every single ounce of pity I held for you left my body the second I saw her empty eyes.” She added, taking another step forward. “I told you that you'd regret it, and that I wouldn't forgive you. I won't be yelled at for the foolish choices you made.”

Standing eye to eye with him, she saw the unwinded storm of emotions he felt. His right eye twitched just like his jaw, before he turned around running a hand through his hair. Huffing with rage he turned to face her again.

“Have you considered what kind of danger you could have put her in?” He hissed with barely contained anger. “or were you too dedicated to go against me to think about the consequences?” He turned around, grabbing the white envelope from his desk and tossing it into her hands.”The Changretta’s just declared vendetta on the Shelby family, and you took her into your bloody house!” He paced back and forth through the office, nervously grasping his jaw as the thought settled. “...and the kids. My bloody kids that you intentionally kept away from me.”

Polly's heart stopped for a second and her eyes widened as the realisation dawned on her.

“We need to protect them” She whispered, looking at him.

Wordlessly Thomas turned around, grabbing a phone and dialling the right number.

***

Over the next couple days, Y/N felt completely scattered. Fear soaked into her body, sticking tight like a second skin and restricting her movement. She felt stuck. How could he possibly find a way to walk back into her life?

Y/N was scared, not just for herself but for the perfect little humans she raised on her own. She kept them away from the violence and destruction that Thomas was the embodiment of.

They were good. They were kind.

Spending time with her babies and taking care of the house, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of… being watched. Once an empty street seemed to never be fully silent, always at least two men standing around. She kept her cool, watching out for signs of being followed and on the third day she noticed a familiar car, one too expensive to be driven by normal people. Y/N knew exactly who those shiny black Bentleys must belong to - the Peaky Blinders. Her blood boiled as she realised her instincts were right - she and her sons were being watched.

How dare he interfere in her affairs after everything she went through because of him. The audacity was so great that only a man with the surname Shelby could be involved. His words swirled around her mind, mixing with the memories she held in her broken heart creating an absolute chaos.

Y/N didn't know what made her hate him more, the mistreatment in the past or the sudden forceful entering her life with the lively gaze, one that used to make her feel so beautiful many years ago.

Holding tightly onto her boys at night, she allowed herself to sink into the pain just one last time; drowning in the sorrow of being replaced by the man she saw the world in. She lived in the shadow of a ghost, walking through the corridors of a house that once was a sign of their undying love, only to be turned into a graveyard for all her dreams and future that would never come. Day by day she felt as if she was never enough. Her dying soul only recovered after giving birth to two perfect little boys that looked at her with those blue eyes and undying love she so desperately needed.

Opening her eyes, Y/N let the tears flow freely as she delicately caressed her son's cheek. Smiling lightly she noticed how soundly they both slept, and one thought came to her mind.

Since she managed to raise and take care of such wonderful boys, it must have meant that she wasn't worthless, after all.

Neither life or Thomas Shelby managed to break her.

***

The next day, Y/N made sure that Mrs. Wilson would babysit the boys while she went to Birmingham. Allowing herself only one night of weakness, she woke up with newly found fierceness and a will to fight for her peace and children.

As soon as she got out of the train, the familiar smell of smoke and mud came to her nostrils, making her a little dizzy. Huffing she walked through the street, feeling frustration growing as the distance between her and his office decreased.

The last thing Tommy expected to hear at eight in the morning on Monday was screaming coming from outside of his office. Cocking an eyebrow he got up, going to see what was causing the commotion. Standing in the doorway he saw Lizzie explaining to Y/N that she couldn't go into his office to no success, as the fire in Y/N’s eyes told him loud and clear that her patience wore thin. Moving quickly before the situation would escalate, he intervened.

“Enough!” He said, causing both of them to look at him. Glancing at Lizzie, he told her to sit down and take care of the documents while inviting Y/N to his office.

Y/N rolled her eyes, walking past him as adrenaline thumped in her veins.

As soon as Thomas closed the doors of his office, she started her attack.

“Why in God’s name are there men on the street and in your fancy cars following me and my sons around day and night? Why are you spying on me?” she shouted at him, anger growing even further as he calmly walked past her. Without another thought Y/N shoved him to the side. “Don't ignore me, you bastard!”

Only then did he stop and turn around with a sigh.

“Our sons” He corrected her, “I'm just trying to keep you all safe” Tommy added, finally looking at her.

Y/N felt like she was about to explode, but then an idea came to her mind. Her lips stretched into a subtle grin.

“Who said they were yours?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow with a mocking smile. Thomas looked at her for a couple moments with a serious expression before snorting loudly as he took a step forward.

“Do you think I'm a fool, Y/N?” He asked, mirroring her grin. “Everyone who has eyes can clearly fucking tell who the father is.” His voice was confident, not a hint of doubt, taking another step forward. Y/N narrowed her eyes seeing the proximity. “I'm the father.” Thomas couldn't help but add. He didn't want to make her even angrier, but the temptation to be even remotely closer was too strong, and if pissing her off was distracting her enough to allow it, so be it.

“‘Father’ is the last thing you should ever call yourself. You don't deserve to be around them, because they're everything you're not. They're good, kind and… have tender hearts.” She hissed, each word cutting deep into his skin and Y/N clearly saw it, because the pain was reflected in his eyes like in a mirror. Seeing it felt… good. Too good even, like finally gaining back control. Taking a step forward, the distance between them was barely there, as she bravely looked into his eyes. “He's nothing like you, and never will be.” She finished, the lump in her throat suddenly forming as his jaw twitched, any possible response dying on his tongue as she mentioned one of the boys, one with eyes exactly his own.

Tilting her chin up, she let out a shaky breath, turning around to leave when he spoke up in a low, quiet voice.

“If you hated me so much, why did you name him after me?” he asked but in a voice that did not expect an answer. Holding onto the small scrap of hope in his heart.

Without another word, she left the office slamming the door behind her.

***

“Y/N! Thank God you're back!” Mrs Wilson called out in a shaky voice, looking around the corridor to make sure she was alone before shutting the door. “You can't go to your flat! It's not safe, we need to call the police!” She whispered, fear in her voice so prominent she could barely speak.

“What? What happened? Where are the boys?!” She immediately demanded to know, walking into the living room.

“They're–They’re okay, thank God we were here! These men… they barged into your home, destroyed everything! We hid in the closet and now they're sleeping, but… Oh God, I was so scared that you'd come back and they’d done something to you!” She squeezed her hand tightly.

“A–Are they gone?” Y/N whispered glancing towards her apartment but the older woman just shrugged, tugging on her hand.

“Don't go there! We can't be sure!” She pleaded, but Y/N knew she had to look around before anyone else would. At least grab the necessities.

“Please, wait here. I'll be back in a second.” She quietly made her way to her flat, not expecting to see the degree to which her home was destroyed. She quietly made her way to her flat, not expecting to see the degree to which her home was destroyed. Tears appeared in her eyes at the sight of all the demolished furniture she worked so hard to buy, all the items absolutely ruined. But tears spilled on her cheeks only when she found an envelope.

One with her name on it, and as she opened it, her heart stopped for a moment at the sight of the black hand.

“Oh God” she whispered. Loud footsteps echoed behind her, making her freeze in fear before familiar arms wrapped around her arms.

“We were so scared. Where are the boys?” Polly asked in a weak voice, her face covered in tears.

“They're… they're safe. My neighbour took care of them.” She replied, closing her eyes until she felt the familiar heavy scent. Looking behind her she noticed Thomas pacing back and forth, kneeling down as he found a photo in a broken frame, plucking it out as he breathed deeply. A couple moments later he found the black hand, and the frustration on his face was clear as a day.

“Fuck!” He yelled, leaning forward as his legs almost gave out under the weight of issues he was facing now.

Y/N couldn't help but feel relief seeing him, which made her even more angry. She hated every positive emotion that she held towards him.

“It's your fault!” She said, quickly walking up as she punched him in the chest. “Your fucking fault! How dare you walk back into my life and bring danger to my children!” She cried, terrified tears streaming down her face as she tried to unload it on him. “I hate you! You bring nothing but pain and bloody destruction! I wish I never met you!” Thomas closed his eyes, not defending himself even once. She was kicking and screaming like a wounded animal. Only when she felt like her body was giving out, he grabbed her, pulling her closer and making sure she wouldn't fall.

“Let me go!” She yelled in complete frenzy, and the only thing he could think of was pulling her into a hug. One so tight she couldn't get away. “I hate you so much” she eventually mumbled out as the last bits of strength wore out, and she simply fainted in his arms.

Seeing them, Polly just shook her head and wiped her tears away as she looked around the apartment.

“Pack their things. The ones that survived. I'll go get the boys” She commanded one of the Blinders, before speaking up again. “Don't forget the wooden horse.”

~~

Taggin my people: @iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @garrison-girl-08 @chaimaarouaine11 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta

[syluses]

landlocked

siren! rafayel x female reader

cw ▻ 18+, noncon, nsfw, smut, yandere and unhealthy behaviors, monster(?) on human, merman rafayel, minor violence, dark content beware

wc ▻ 11k, longform oneshot, buckle up

an ▻ HAPPY BIRTDAY RAF 🐬🐳🩵🎉🎂 i busted my ass on this one and its a day late but here we are :,) please heed the tags and do enjoy raf girlies :] eee his characterization is quite tricky but im getting there </3 (also please do forgive typos 🥲)

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

Waves crash against the rocks.

Sea salt shoots up and stings your cornea, your knuckles going white around the wooden ledge they grip onto for dear life. And to be perfectly accurate, that is what this is- life or death- something you’re not entirely certain you’ll make it to the other end of. With a frantic prayer, you plant your heels under the thwarts and try to find balance as the little canoe rocks violently.

Froth builds up around it; towering waves cresting over and leaving behind liquid dust, the air thick with it like a mist.

You squint your eyes to blot out the pelting rain; keeping them open for too long is a near impossible task anyway, what with the burn.

This was stupid, you know that. Whether or not it was a wise decision was never the question in your head.

No, the only one present- overarching all other thought, making it physically impossible to function in your day to day life- was if your fiancé was still alive. Or if what all the townsfolk gossiped about in whispering peels during brushes with them on the cobbled path was true—

If the waves got to him. If he was really lost at sea.

Stupid or naive or plain crazy (as one onlooker labeled you without so much as a care to just how worn-out this whole ordeal’s made you)- you don’t care. Truthfully, you think you’re a little beyond the point of it, of self doubt or second guessing.

The only room left is for action: the strong men at the tavern and the local fisherman you clumsily rallied together were helpful in some ways, but their help only lasted so long until exasperation kicked in and they called it quits.

The choice to do something is yours and only yours.

Look, girl. We combed the port front to back. Turned over the barrels and crates and all, found nothin’. And we’ve been hauling out them nets for weeks now— wouldn’t you be surprised-? nothin’ there, either. Your fiancé's gone. I’m sorry, but—

You didn’t stay to hear the rest, embittered by it.

They’d done you a kindness, carving time out of their strict schedules and afternoon, beer-induced naps. And you’ll always be thankful for that, that despite knowing deep in their hearts that you were a lost cause, they stepped up to bat regardless, but—

There’s no returning home for you. Wiping your brow of its sweat then throwing a towel over your shoulder, heading in for the night.

The spot beside you in bed is eerily empty and cold; you wake from nightmares in sheer darkness and swat a hand to feel him but you’re met with wrinkled sheets and a silence that sneers. Without him, this place is empty.

The town is beautiful- small- but beautiful- with its glittering fairy lights strung from shop to shop, worn paths branching off into pebbled ones that lead to the shore and the peer, the more developed side of it farther down the sand— and it used to feel comforting. Like home.

Now, there’s no lantern aglow on the porch banister to point you in the direction of home. You’re aimless and sad. Like a ship without a sail.

The first week afterward (the news that his crew never returned from their trip), you hid away in your room crying all day, the better part of you half expecting his footfalls to echo down the hall. Though, they never did. It’s fine, you’d reasoned with eyes clamped shut, splayed over his half of the mattress, he’ll be back tomorrow.

Tomorrow came. It went, too.

And he—

He’s still gone—

Worried neighbors flitted by and left steaming pastries by the door. You hardly had an appetite for them, though, delightful as they were sat outside your cracked window, the smell of pecan pie drifting under billowing, sheer curtains.

It’s encroaching on around a month now. A month of loneliness and denial and the cruel, pitying stares the locals level you in the times you seldom leave home.

Your fiancé's absence, as unexpected as it was devastating, has stretched on long enough to kindle a sort of determination in you. You pile your bones off the bed and set out for the shore with a small, leather bag at your waist and sandals that hang off your feet, nervous but hellbent.

That bag, now: floating off in the distance, whisked away by whirling winds and swallowed up by the sea. One valiant flipflop remains hanging off your big toe, but you question, albeit with little concern for it, for just how much longer it will last.

Your fingers shake as they peel hair from your temple. You can’t see, can’t see anything— the boat shakes and croaks as the bottom steadily fills, and you have the dreadful realization that you are slowly sinking and cannot stop it.

Through bleared eyes, you watch several, ringlet-like waves form on the horizon and disappear behind rolling, closer ones. You brace endlessly for impact, but another wave bulges and effortlessly lifts your canoe- a temporary respite from the others that come crashing over.

When it lets you down, you quickly squint to see what’s coming for you next and immediately pale.

It’s massive. Dark, cobalt, scraping the underbelly of the black sky. Another tall wave (but a small fish in comparison) interlopes into it and is swallowed within a blink. It only worsens it, feeds it.

You have no chance. None at all. It’s over. It’s over and despite it all- the pointed meddling of your neighbors and all the chatter meant to maim the stubborn belief you held that your to-be husband was still alive- a small hope flares to life in your chest.

It says maybe dying here wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe, if all of them were right after all, you’d be able to see him again.

As that unbeatable wave draws nigh, seemingly moving at a snail’s pace- casual in its approach but so terrifyingly powerful- it droops at the top and paints you in an opaque shadow.

You can’t see, can’t hear. The deafening roar of thunder and the foamy tide clapping against itself is tuned out. Your eyes see nothing but darting smears of lightning and the hurt of heartbreak and sea salt.

It’s happening. It’s over.

You give your fingers one last twitch to remind yourself that, for the moment, remarkably, you’re still alive. They feel fat with the cold, hardly budging.

Your last flip flop gusts over your shoulder and your ribcage rattles with a chill.

Your teeth chatter out one final prayer and perhaps a choked sob- although you can’t tell if it’s the brine gathering at your feet, rising with a gurgle- And you watch with wide, teary eyes as that tsunami finally descends—

A flash of color, indigo and bright, bobs above the slanted tide.

‘You. You shouldn’t be out here.’

Your eyes widen. Milliseconds before the boat is hit, a slosh from the side tips it and you’re catapulted into the open water.

It feels like an open flame.

Arctic temperatures freeze you to the bone. You’re reminded of hellfire as the cold licks away at your skin, limbs warping around you in violent currents.

You let out a scream of despair and watch as it turns to suds.

You know it was stupid, you know it was stupid, you know it was stupid— But you were hurting. And that life back at town- now devoid of the man you thought to be your veritable soulmate, who you were convinced you’d spend your final breaths with- is not the one you want to continue on with.

(But… you don’t wanna die.)

You dig to the surface with a sputter.

You manage to keep yourself afloat for all of two seconds before the ocean— or something that feels oddly like a fist— latches onto your ankle and pulls.

Consciousness is a slightly longer affair… but that, too, fades.

Teal blips across your spasming eyes. A vivid, long tail flicks along your arm, almost curiously, before curling behind you and disappearing.

Bubbles erupt from your jaw and shoot up, up, up.

Maybe, you think vaguely as the world blackens, quietens, you’ll find your missing fiancé lying at the seabed. The thought, surprisingly, isn’t as comforting as it is disturbing, but you suppose a reunion only in death would be better than none at all.

‘Silly human. Don’t worry, I got you.’

⊹⊹⊹

A voice breaks the quiet of night. Dulcet, lamenting.

The ocean whirs in his ears endlessly, his tail gliding below him in a dull swish. A school of fish passes by, and then another. A curious, blue one swims at his side and he biffs it dismissively.

“Not now, fishie.”

Rafayel isn’t concerned about the life swirling around him in colorful dots of assorted sizes, floating above the seabed, no- that’s all ubiquituous to him. It’s that song— that smooth sound drifting like a dirge from somewhere on the surface— that stirs something deep in his chest.

It was like that last night, too, and then a few nights before.

After over two decades of swimming in unbroken boredom- with each day bringing about the expectation of nothing more than waking up to see another- the siren feels a shift.

Something is breaking the monotony.

An excitement, existing deep in his chest but incipient, is invoked within him like an ancient god brought to wakefulness. Rafayel feels his bones rouse with the phantom aches of a slumber he never fell into- but the feeling is all the same. He rubs the disbelief from his eyes and pushes aside waving reeds before rocketing upwards.

When the waves kiss the morning foam,

From beneath the surface, the crescent moon is lopsided and shakes as Rafayel gets closer to breaching it.

The dainty shadow of a hand cuts in front of the white orb, as if wanting to capture it, before falling back to her side.

A gentle splash.

From up here, he can hear the things of land- the crickets and cicadas of summertime- purr from afar. That’s not what he came here for, though, what’s been stringing him in from the depths like fish in a trawl or moth to a flame.

And still, in the span of the last week, Rafayel has yet to get her name... (Something that definitely has to be remedied sooner or later, he quietly decides- despite the other half of him still holding onto the pride of coasting solo, the embarrassment at being led off by a mere voice. A land creature’s, at that.)

He latches onto the long, thick leg of the peer and props himself just under the overhang of it, laying his nose flat in the water but opening his eyes above it. It’s amplified now, that pretty noise, and the only thing separating the two- him and the human- is the planks of wood overhead.

Her feet rest on it. He hears her sandals squelch before she toes them off, sits down, and loops her legs over the edge.

Rafayel, with fluttering lashes and an interest so unexpected but strong it’s paralyzing- watches her heels make ripples just beside him, his heart thumping wildly. It could be out of the thrill of doing something this unusual, or the silent anticipation of maybe getting caught (although, he doubts he will, for the main reason that his kin don’t lack in cunning).

Maybe it’s just out of delight- the fibers of his being tingling with invisible sparks of… something. It makes him feel a little clumsy, innocent and fumbling like when he was a young merfolk just learning how to evade a rip current.

Similarly, she pulls him under. Drags him far out. Her voice is the tide and he’s all too willing to drown.

It’s… certainly not the first time he’s seen them- human legs- and he’ll be the first to admit that he wasn’t so sure about them initially- but he thinks he likes hers the best. It’s starting to grow on him, but just a little.

She’s soft. Smooth. At least, that’s how she appears- though he can’t say for certain because he’s never tested that theory, yet.

He’s extra careful to keep his hands to himself, intrigued as he is, lest his nails pierce through and break her. It’s a more common notion underwater, shared between much of the fishfolk, that humans are meant to be broken. Pieced apart in hungry hands or brought to the depths for a more extended, decadent death.

To be fair, he’s not a firm denier of that...

But this human, this girl who’s collided into his infinitely bleak life with all the grace of a ship wrecked hours off from shore, and whatever the hell she’s singing about— Rafayel’s not quite stupid enough to break her, no… He’s not quite willing to, either.

When the scent of roses pierces the lungs, The fish stranded at your fingertips…

For the rest of the moonlit evening, Rafayel floats beneath the peer at her (unwitting) side and listens to her languishing until she stands to her feet and retreats down the beach, disappearing into a cluster of warm, tiny lights in the distance.

Blood,

Blood,

Blood covers the sea.

Rafayel, with an inexplicable pang of sorrow- unable to fight the influence of her songs- can’t help but wonder what has made the girl so sad.

It’s not in their baser nature, the sirens, to commiserate, least of all with the humans. It’s a weakness, to cry, an open wound that his kind is all too susceptible to deepening- so they avoid it entirely. Call it preservation. But for as much as Rafayel loves the ocean- and yes, to an extent, his people- he was never all that interested in their society, and if showing a little bit of heart for the landfolk means escaping the bland shadows of the sea, then maybe right now is a good time to start.

…Before she swims away, anyway.

⊹⊹⊹

Silence sours the balmy air of your home, but you swear you hear something singing to you.

It was real.

It had to be, what happened just a number of days ago.

When you’d been retrieved from a bed of seaweed on the shore with little memory of what happened, you had retained just enough to know that something was… off.

That something having to do with the violent storm at sea and your lack of succumbing to it- the darting shadow that appeared by the boat and was there when you went under— wasn’t adding up.

You… shouldn’t be alive.

That thought was present even in the thick mist of early morning as boats began unmooring from the docks— stark epiphany, realer than the concerned hands of the fishermen as they helped you into town, your legs hardly capable of carrying you there on their own. Much less your frazzled mind; you didn’t quite miss the way they’d stared at you during the trek off shore, throwing frantic looks over your shoulder even as the sand gave to the reedy path leading into the village.

The rolling waves got flatter as you drew off from it, but something in you- like some inexplicable base instinct- was telling you to run. Away or back to it, you don’t know, but you feel the frigidity of the sea still in your chest, lapping away at your sanity as days pass.

The burn is surreal. Nothing makes sense.

You should be dead- scraping there at the bottom of the sea, drifting with your supposedly dead fiancé in a place where the light doesn’t dare reach—

But you’re not.

The earth feels shapeless beneath your feet. A perpetual dizziness in your skull that makes you feel like you’re swaying on a dock- but your toes are planted in dry land.

You’re alive. The scale tipped against you but it didn’t matter. The sea spat you out, didn’t want you.

Surprisingly, you take the whole ordeal in stride. The first days after being plucked from the shore are rocky and dreamy, but you find your footing and with it comes an unexpected hope.

If you survived, your fiancé must’ve as well. He’d always been the stronger of you two, anyway, more stout and determined.

The waves did not drag him under. Couldn’t have.

The canoe you took out to sea is gone, not to your surprise. It was more or less reduced to splinters. But you wonder if it was even real to begin with, if the canoe ever existed that day when you unroped it from its notch and embarked on the perilous journey. Down to the very point where you pattered off your porch steps and made the choice to look for your fiancé yourself- the whole sequence of events is wrapped in a forgetful fog.

But deep down, despite the whispers of doubt surrounding you and your own mental haze, you know it happened. All of it.

It was real, and something

Is singing to you—

(Wet hands descend the span of your belly. Sand feels like gravel beneath you, soaked and cold beneath a yellowed moon as night fades. Reverent, curious. Long nails carefully unravel algae from your fingers and thighs. The debris is tossed away, thrown down the shore without thought.

-…. in good shape, cutie. Is there anyone on land who’d sing for you if you disappeared? A gentle laugh- but even in your state of unconsciousness, you pick up on the note of disdain there. I guess if there was, you wouldn’t turn to the sea so much.)

Hands. Curious hands kneading into you like wet clay on a spinning wheel. Reshaping. Admiring. There’s painterly intent in every touch, every brush. Something between the cove of your legs gives a wanting throb and your tongue feels like cotton. Fire licks from your belly to your brain and makes it benumbed, pleasantly heavy as the gentle, rhythmic lull of the tide cools the tips of your toes.

Salt burns your throat.

You wake with it sore.

Rubbing it groggily, you come to before dawn fully does, the horizon flickering with a diluted, white-orange beneath a starry sky.

It gets to be too much. The emptiness of your bed, the suffocating drivel of the townsfolk and the lack of certainty in what happened to you.

Dubbed crazy or not by all around you, you’re past the point of caring. You have to leave. Worried neighbors advised you against it, adamant that you ward off on visiting the peer at least until your mind fog lessened; preferably, you’d wait an extra few months so the wound of heartbreak would seal over, but it seems they know better than to ask that of you.

He’s still out there, your to-be husband. He’s got to be.

You think something else might be, too. The thing that saved you. Although, the reasons it has for doing so are beyond you.

Go back, a lilting voice sings somewhere in the back of your head, a dull throb like a separate, beating heart. It thumps in your skull and sends a thrill through you. It speaks in urgency, like it’s warning you not to disobey— but all the sharpness of it is masked in dulcet chords.

Go back, back to the sea.

Crazy or not, you think it’s calling for you.

The lyrics lead you to the front door. Maybe you ought to think this over more, sleep on it (God knows you’re failing at that seemingly simple task). But something is driving you, picking up and physically moving your limbs for you as if your settings have been switched to autopilot.

You shrug on a thin cardigan to stave off the crisp air of early morning, not bothering to lock your door behind you.

A weird, eerie voice in your subconscious- hardly sounding like yours- says you won’t be coming back anyway.

Thankfully, you have half the mind to shoo it away and steel your nerves. Of course you’ll be coming back home. You’ll find your errant fiancé and burst through the little blue-painted door with celebration. All the village will cough up their sheepish apologies for the things they’d said- the faithless assumptions they made- and raise a mug to his return.

The key to finding him is finding that other thing, first. The thing with a watery fist and roaming nails, the glinting coral-red eyes that blurred beneath coiling waves and the tail that you’re sure swam you back to safety.

The locals can say all they want about you: The ruddy, fading ring of scratches wrapping around the bone of your ankle—

That’s all the proof you need to spur you onward.

Onward is the ocean.

⊹⊹⊹

Water gushes against the rocks at the seaside.

Dark and slate-grey, they dry up under the sun immediately. Seagulls caw overhead. The sand is warm- not cool as it was in your last visit- near scalding as you head towards the shore.

You hiss and don’t make it halfway until you start leaping, bare feet burning. You hurry into the water, standing only ankle-deep, and mentally scold yourself for forgoing shoes— but to your defense, your sandals had been lost to the abyss that was the sea just barely seven days ago.

The horizon is blinding. Sunlight bounces off the plane of the sea and glistens, just as bedazzled as a wealthy woman’s neck. It’s a far cry from what it was last week- all whorling ridges and roaring waters- and for that you’re thankful.

That storm, and being launched into the hellish currents of it, will remain in your dreams for a long time coming.

Even now, just looking at it from far out takes your breath a little.

It’s horrifying. It’s… beautiful.

…And it’s singing to you—

“I know you’re there,” you whisper.

Your voice is just a breath at first, hushed as you toss a squirrely look down the beach- where the fishermen drudge around as little specks- and straighten your spine.

You’re alone here, though. You’re allowed to be as crazy as you want.

You speak louder, forcing down the lump of embarrassment in your throat that says your voice is falling on deaf ears. And you know the ocean doesn’t have ears, or eyes; it hardly had the heart to spit you back out of it.

But that thing that snatched you into its arms and left you boneless on the sand does.

With hands bunched, shaking, you declare, “I know, you’re there.”

Nothing.

A short whitecap curls over the tips of your toes and stretches a few feet behind you before receding.

It melds seamlessly into the blue.

Nothing, and then-

Yards off, a colorful blur warbles. As it swims closer, you hold your ground, squint to assure it’s not a sea turtle or other creature (albeit, no typical marine animal is that shape or size), and let out a little gasp. Its head pops above the surface gracefully, and it’s full of hair, a vibrant shade of indigo that strikes a familiar chord in you instantly.

“It’s you,” you startle, almost out of breath. The fingers clutched tightly at your sides unfurl. Your heart picks up its speed, an abrupt surge of emotions- shock, relief, and confusion- leaving no different an effect than a stungun would.

“You’re real, I- I knew it—!”

“Shhh,” is his first word, coral-blue eyes narrowing with apathy as he palms himself closer, about knee-deep in the water now. And yet you step away, applying some distance as you stagger because for whatever reason, the knowledge that his creature- or fish-man- saved you doesn’t take the cake when it comes to self-preservation.

You don’t even have a name to put to his face (or tail), and up until now, you were certain mermaids and unicorns and fairies only existed between the pages of whimsical books or the imaginations of children.

Right then, you think, they also existed in the sage warnings of the Greeks before they sailed off to sea.

The quiet epiphany plays with your nerves.

“You don’t have to be so loud, you know. I can hear you just fine, thanks.”

Ear-length, wavy hair bobs with the movement as he tilts his head. You can’t help but feel estranged from the idea of caution, though, as he drifts a bit closer and gives you a petulant pout.

He gets as close as the sandbar will allow before pausing, broad shoulders jutting above the ripples.

And he’s childish still, the picture of harmlessness as he looks up at you, squinting in the sun, and murmurs, “buuuut, I admire your enthusiasm, cutie... Were you looking forward to our reunion that bad?”

You blink, lashes fluttering. A breath you’d been holding finally escapes you, a whit of that unease ebbing out just like the cool tide underfoot.

You’re… hardly a sailor, anyway. You’ve no ship to be wrecked; no, the man that served as the anchoring element in your life is missing. The boat in your life has gone AWOL. With it your warmth and love. It’s why you’ve even come out here in the first place, the flights of fancy belonging to a grieving woman or not.

The reminder of your lost fiancé steels you.

You lift a shaky hand to use as a visor against the sun, blotting it out so you can peruse the man-fish without obstruction.

“You saved me,” is all you really know to say. You’d had all sorts of lofty plans coming back out here, but you’d never fully considered what you’d do if your new friend (he is a friend, right?) did show.

He lets out an amused, dry sound. The ghost of a smile curls at his pink lips, though. He can’t quite hide that one from you.

“I did. Have you come to show me your gratitude?” He lowers his gaze then, glancing at your shins momentarily before peering behind you, at the grassland stopped just after the shore and right before the village.

He grumbles, “Or will humans with pitchforks show up any minute, intent on slaughtering me and my kind?”

For some reason, the most you take from that statement is the very end of it, quickly saying, “T-There’s more of you?”

He looks up at you. Makes a scoffing sound but it only holds half its bite.

“Well, of course there is. Silly girl,” he comments, that little grin returning with a vengeance as behind him, something teal shoots up from the water and pelts a small flurry of droplets your way. You close your eyes and turn, the gentle sound of his laughs ringing out.

When you look back at him, a long tail- gorgeous and as pigmented as turquoise paint- flicks under the sun and glitters no different than rhinestones.

“It was only me that was generous enough to save you, though. That’s the most important part.”

⊹⊹⊹

Trust is a big word, it is.

But there is no doubt in your mind that you would’ve succumbed to a watery death if not for the merman- Rafayel, he’d informed with a coy flap of his tail- intervening, and you’re grateful to him for that. His saving you— it means something. And you owe him.

You head for the shore each morning with a silent debt hanging over your head, but he never demands anything of you in return. During lazy afternoons by the cove trading pretty, swirled shells and at first tentatively getting in the water with him to swim at nightfall, you wait for the catch to come, for him to name his price.

You think it’s only fair. Rescuing something as valuable as a life is nothing to scoff at: you’d cough up the change.

He never holds out his hand.

If anything, Rafayel seems wholly uninterested in that.

You’re not entirely sure why you formulated your ideas of merfolk around blood-thirst and thievery (perhaps because of the myths), but the one you’re befriending is nothing like that. He’s playful and sassy and a little bit flirtatious but you suppose- if the legends of sirens luring sailors to the depths are really true- then it adds up. It’s only natural he’d be a whit on the provocative side, right?

Rafayel is friendly, clingy even when you convince him that you have no intentions of alerting the village any time soon of his presence. You tell him with a wry laugh that they’d hardly believe you anyway because everyone thinks you’ve lost it.

You see it in his pleasant face- the blip of interest that passes by- that he wants to ask why, but he holds off on it when you pour him with questions about what goes on in the deep blue and if his kind really eats fishermen.

He huffs, propping his elbow on the half-submerged rock he’d helped you onto, still in sight of the shore but more intimate a setting.

“What kind of question is that? Do you really think I could do something like that? Look at me,” he balloons out his cheeks and puffs. “I’m an innocent little fishie.”

You laugh, and drop the interrogation in favor of a more lighthearted one. You ask Rafayel what life off land is like.

With a mischevious twinkle in his marbled, red-blue eye, he tells you about what lurks in ocean trenches first, painting vivid imagery in your head of glowing bulbs in the dark and rows of jagged teeth that peer out of deep crevices.

You blanche and he can’t help but chuckle softly, a dash of something in his gaze that resembles ardor as it flits appreciatively along the curve of your face.

It’s not all horrifying, though, he eventually concedes.

He scoops shiny things up from the sand lining the ocean floor and gifts them to you in your following meetings. He tells you that the fish- sleek and chromatic- dance around him in schools where everything is crystalline. They sleep on beds of coral under-tail and stick close to the fins of whales, apparently having nothing better to do. Sometimes they get a little clingy, he admits, and he has to shoo them away, but the little creatures are friendly- and his underwater world is nothing short of beautiful.

Rafayel loves the sea. It’s his home.

“And what about you, cutie? What’s your home like?”

That gives you pause, but just for a moment.

You know what home is like; you’d only dwelled there, in the tiny village off the shoal, since you were a little girl.

And home is nice…. Or, it was. Now, it’s a husk of the warmth you once knew. Days drag by in drab monotony and the added, very much unwanted reminder that your fiancé has yet to return. Seagulls squawk outside and tricycle bells ring. Concerned neighbors knock on your door but this place feels dull. No more face to put to this snuggly seaside village.

With a small smile- one that Rafayal thinks is more wistfully sad than anything- you tell the merman about the things you cherish here, deliberately omitting what you desperately miss.

Memories of childhood circle back to you in fuzzy fragments: Despite the present, you can still at least cherish the past, right…?

Listening to you recount gems of your youth with a smile, it’s evident to Rafayel that you love it here.

Just… he understands that maybe it’s not as much as you used to.

His face takes on more of a sober look then, his cheeks, dappled with teal scales that break the surface in some spots, dusting a soft pink. You don’t really understand why- perhaps a mild case of sun burn- but he asks,

“And what about in it? Is there… Someone who’s special to you, who brings it warmth? Even underwater, in order to survive, we merfolk need a suitable temperature, you know.”

Ah. That.

You offer a hum of acknowledgment before glancing off, far out to where the flat whitecaps stretch into nothingness. Lounging around by the coast with your new, unlikely friend, the scenery is idyllic here.

You almost will yourself into forgetting what you’re really here for, what hurled you face-first into this predicament.

Sorrow hangs in your heart. The visage of your fiancé passes in your head rapidly, kaleidoscopic, his smiles and the tender moments spent with him, the sound of his laugh.

You are less and less certain of yourself. You are not sure if the gossipping townsfolk are correct or not to assume the worst, but what you do know is that it’s creeping up on two months and not one shiphand has returned. Not even an errant oar has washed ashore.

“Yes. But…” A pause. You swallow thickly and give your head a belated, uncertain shake. Tears form in the back of your throat and you pile them down, frustrated they’d showed up uninvited.

Perhaps you’re more weak to all the bleak murmurs than you’ve let on.

You laugh, but the sound lacks humor. “Everyone thinks he’s dead, all the people at the village.”

“…You wanna share?”

You shrug and draw one knee to your chest, the other still bent over the rocky ledge, dangling in the cool water. They’re still today, the waters, relatively level— but inwardly, you warn yourself against being so easily deceived by them: they looked more or less the same the day you rowed out.

The storm was nothing short of terrifying, yes, but you think the lack of expecting it somehow made it more devastating.

“Well, there’s not much to,” you respond, tongue in cheek. You don’t mean to sound uninterested in this conversation all of a sudden, but you suppose it’s a defense mechanism. Rafayel props his elbows on the rock and listens intently, giving his brow a little quirk at your tone.

“But my… fiancé,” why the words are suddenly hard to get out, you don’t know, “he went off to sea. Hasn’t come back yet.”

At your knees, Rafayel is noticeably quiet, but you get the inexplicable sense that he’s invested.

“I guess he’ll come back with lots of fish whenever he does,” you sigh. Your attempts to remain lighthearted just barely working.

Quickly, you try to breeze past the topic, but the merman chimes- “A fisherman? You were courting a fisherman?”

Courting. The word sounds a little funny, medieval almost, but you hum.

It’s his turn to make a tongue-in-cheek comment, lifting his scaly fist to support his chin. “He must’ve been a real prize to deserve all that singing... What do I get for saving you?” He says playfully, almost pettily, but you get the weird idea that this is more serious to him than he lets on.

You want to heave a laugh at his pouting words, but confusion stops you. You snap your head to him.

“You-?”

Quickly, Rafayel quips, “Yes, just about the whole sea can hear you at night. Why is that surprising?”

For some reason, a whit of hope warms your chest throughout. If Rafayel is cognizant of something as trivial as songs from above the surface, surely he must’ve been privy to a shipwreck or the hurried shouts of sailors as their boat went down.

Not that you believe it did, just—

You scramble upright, planting your palms on the rock in a kneel as you say- in a voice you’re not keen on sounding as desperate as it comes out-

“Have you ever heard anything else? A- A boat sinking? People drowning or- or—“ You stuff out an anxious breath, all the worries and doubts you’d been housing for weeks now bubbling to the surface. You suppose if anybody has garnered your confidence, though, it’s the merman that saved your veritable life.

Still, a lump of unease burns in your throat. Thick and acidic. It makes your voice shake but you ignore it, leaning over the edge. If you fall in, he’ll save you again anyway. If not a friendship (but you definitely treat it as such), there is still a mutual fondness between you two- a silent trust- and you’re sure, beside the marks on your ankle he left by accident in the heat of the moment, he would not let harm befall you.

“Because they say he’s gone— my lover— they say his crew got hit by something- like a plague or a storm- and succumbed out there. But maybe- maybe you heard something? Rafayel- did you hear or see any group of fishermen out there?” You bluster, before adding on like an afterthought, “two months ago?”

The longer your mouth moves, the wider Rafayel’s eyes get.

And then, you think it’s something like… recognition that skips across multihued eyes.

He’s quiet for a moment, mouth ajar. His bright turquoise tail, the tip jutting out from the tide as it sways idly, stops midway in the air and floats awkwardly.

Your brow furrows. You fear the worst. Your nails dig into the gritty surface, fingerpads whiting as you shake your head.

“Rafayel-? W-What’s wrong?”

Curtly, he shuts his mouth. An easy smile replaces his momentary surprise.

When he speaks, it’s in a familiar, somewhat sarcastic but harmless tone, and his tail sparks to life behind him, albeit quite unsteadily.

“Nothin’, cutie,” he lifts an arm to adjust his perch on the rock but it slips. His face dusts pink, his brows twitching together; all of it, the clearly disturbed signs of his composure, he ignores. Your heart thrums.

“I was just thinking how brave you were to venture off to sea after him. He’s lucky to have someone like you still waiting at home for him.” His compliment is overlooked. You’re too caught up in the rush of unease that sweeps through you- the niggling feeling that says there’s something more to this you’re not seeing- that you can hardly utter a bashful thanks.

“But- did you happen to hear anything, or-?”

Rafayel adds casually, “I’m sure the guy is fine wherever he is, though. And no, cutie. But I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Something like hesitance grips you as you watch, with silence, the friendly merman lose the better part of his mirth. You wonder if you’ve said something wrong as his exterior hardens cooly, if you’ve divulged too much of your emotions and quite possibly lost your final companion. Maybe you’re overthinking it- but if that’s the case, if even a fish-man from the sea has taken the same opinion as the land-living locals, then some drama seems warranted.

You don’t want to be alone again. And Rafayel- Rafayel was starting to really grow on you despite all your differences—

He strums his fingers against his jaw, painting the picture of boredom, and puffs out his lips, eyes drifting away almost flippantly as if he’s dead to the wounded look you send him.

A yawn. He unfolds his lean arms and ducks under the water.

“Wait- Rafayel-?”

“Sorry, princess, the fishies are calling me. They said it’s getting late now, and that I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But—“

“Hop on my back, let me take you back to shore. Your little legs can only doggy paddle you so far,” he lets out a light laugh but you don’t miss the dash of mockery there, as if you’re some unfortunate soul cursed with four limbs and warm blood. Still, you bite your tongue- and the unbidden pang of unease in your chest- and slip off the rock.

You loop your arms around his middle, his muscles flexing in response, lean and tight, and keep your chin above the tide as he floats towards the sand bar.

“Rafayel, are you okay?”

“Of course, cutie. Why, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah. It’s just-“ you poorly stifle a sigh, still a bit taken aback by his sudden desire to truncate your meeting. That, and his odd behavior when you asked about any possible shipwreck.

You eventually settle on, “Please just keep it on your radar. If you hear or see any ships, call me, okay?”

“We don’t have shellphones under the water, you know. How am I supposed to alert you?” You can’t see the face he’s making, saddled on his back as his long tail gusts through the gentle currents, but you realize he’s teasing.

“I- I don’t know,” you admit clumsily. “Maybe I’ll just know if you say my name.”

I mean, it’s not too crazy an idea, is it? You felt a stirring towards the ocean- real and audible- would a creature living in it really be so different?

Perhaps the townsfolk are right in their claims made against you, that you’ve lost it.

There’s nothing left in you that cares, though.

Rafayel lets out a small chuckle but sounds oddly endeared. “How romantic.”

“Rafayel—“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you know if anything’s up. Don’t worry!”

⊹⊹⊹

From the shipdeck, the water is beautiful, even as it takes you down under, swallowing up the thick hull in a lazy gulp.

A white moon pours down. The waves sparkle like sequins. It’s… hypnotizing, in a way. Your fist flies to your collar when the sails tear, the harsh rip of it reminding you of the breath still in your lungs, and you hold the locket there like it’s a lifering.

The crewhands scramble for them- and for the tiny boat hanging off the side. Another powerful slosh to the boat sends slippery hands in a fray; you hear the vague sound of wood cracking, planks you thought to be sturdy splintering. You’re no more than a raft drifting, victim to the elements.

The emergency lifeboat whistles as it drops, freefalling from the ropes and into the coiling sea.

It has no heart for mercy, the sea, but you’ve still one for home, a deep-seated urge within to return that has your nails digging bluntly into your palms, blood drawing in the paths of them.

…H-Home.

Sailors scream around you.

Someone, you realize with a flash of confusion, in the chaos- in the maelstrom of wind and shooting rain- is even singing.

The sound of it chills you to the bone.

Dazedly, you think they must’ve lost it. To be fair, there’s no blame there— men have drowned in waters far flatter: your crew is miles from the nearest chunk of land and the vessel can’t withstand this weather— you’re all gonna die and the crewmate must know. He knows and he’s singing.

Crashing waves silence heavy thunder. The sky glows endless white, one last fissure of lightning darting down before the deck lights bright gold.

Fire surges. It dances in your eyes and you swallow a scream.

She’s waiting at home, still. It can’t be over, it can’t be, it can’t be—

Fiery yellow, and then everything spins, your world going lopsided as the ship groans and you tip.

And then, it’s all blue.

Dark, vast cerulean interpolated only by flotsam that drifts away the moment you reach for it, fingers desperately clawing for the surface.

Up, or down— you’re not sure which way you’re swimming.

You do know, though, that you never find your buoyancy.

Hands. Hands on you and dragging you down, down, down, and then it’s clear the wrecked pieces of the ship are getting further away, not closer. A deepness surrounds you. Cold, quiet. The storm’s effects are mitigated the lower you sink— it’s counterintuitive, you think, because surely you’ll drown regardless, but a strange sense of calm washes over you as the air peters from your lungs. They spasm as you choke.

But you got to get home, you must get home to her—

The tips of your boots touch the sandy floor.

It’s tranquil, under the sea. The reefs are vivid, swaying with bubbling marine life. Navy blue swirls around you and is limned with muted fire light, displacing itself with every wild movement of your limbs. You flail them helplessly but something—

Something is holding you down and it’s singing—

From afar, and through bleared eyes, the coral looks like upright rods of colorful bone, yellow and blushing-orange. An opaque red smears over them— curling and wavering into smoke-like trails. It’s reminiscent of black and white marble. Beautiful, in a way.

A long, glittering tail scrapes across your leg.

You realize it’s blood- your blood- and then in a heartbeat, a pair of talons pierce through the veil and—

A gasp.

You come to wakefulness with a frightened noise.

That dream- you’d been having it for days now, each more fragmented and blurry than the last… But this time, it’s strikingly clear.

Horror frosts your eyes over, glossy and wide as you undo the covers bound tightly around you, standing to shaking feet.

That awful, awful dream— it’s not in your point of view, you realize, it’s in your fiancé’s, and that same claw that had been gracious enough to scoop you up and save you from stormful, roaring swells—

Dragged your lover down to the depths, burying him in liquid oblivion.

As you shrug on a thin cardigan and hurry outside, dashing under moonlit lawns with the single-minded focus to reach the beach, you vaguely wonder if you’re being unreasonable, if all these little dreams and visions and songs you’ve been experiencing are nothing short of delirium. But this is too coincidental— Rafayel had smoothly shirked all your questions days ago, and you realize now that the dull look in his eye wasn’t boredom but jealously, ugly and sudden, masquerading under disinterest.

Knowledge of that- and your naivety- comes to you in piecemeal.

You’ve been stupid. You’d been holding onto the feeble hope that your soon-to-be husband was somewhere out there, scraping together shellfish on an uncharted islet or lost at sea with his crew-mates but alive. Deep down, you always knew it was the dreams of a fool.

But damn it all if you’d just… stopped yourself for one fucking second to nudge aside your denial and take a good look at your marine friend, you’d have seen the lack of common sense in it. Your lover’s met no different and no more painless, as much as it horrifies you- a fate than the sailors depicted in all those whimsical tales of old.

You sing out to the sea. Anger warms your chest like a fleece, cardigan be damned, fists clenched so tight your palms swell as you cry out.

Panic, subtle but niggling, speaks to you from underneath thick layers of hate and pain, but you’re beyond the point of reason. No, you need to hear it from the siren himself just what the fuck happened to your other half— if he can hear your lamenting after dark without issue, surely he would’ve at least caught wind of some devastation off the coast or spotted the debris in his own waters—

But he’s been keeping something from you.

“Rafayel!” You cry again. It’s impossible to swallow the lump in your throat; it seeks to climb to the surface but for now, with a remnant of control that surprises yourself, you manage to keep from spitting it up.

Nausea turns in your belly, but you keep it at bay. Just barely.

Unshed tears burn your cornea. “Rafayel!” You don’t scream, no, your lungs are too wounded and overwhelmed by the simple task of drawing air to, but it’s a near thing.

Furious, beginning to think he’ll conveniently not show or he’s merely ignoring you, your feet splash into the water until you’re shin-deep.

You hiccup. “R-Rafayel! I know you’re there!”

Eventually, a head bobs above the tide, infuriatingly nonchalant, and a turqoise fluke appears not long after it, twinkling just barely under a clouded, night sky.

He doesn’t look as tired as you’re sure you do- and not by a long shot quite as disturbed. If anything, he looks a little pleased with himself.

Wet indigo waves give a little bounce as he lazily approaches, watchful eyes glimmering with something you’re both too enraged and emotional to name. Something like betrayal courses through you— distracting you from the very real fact that the siren is drawing closer.

He says nothing as you shake your hands emphatically, eyeballs practically bulging out your head. They might pop out and roll. “You-! You knew!” You accuse, momentarily stunned at the broken sound of your voice. “You knew all along b-because you did it, didn’t you? You’ve been lying to my face this whole time— You killed him! Y-You ripped him apart I fucking saw it—“

Your tirade is clipped short with a hiccuping gasp as you fully erupt into tears. You don’t bother to wipe them or even hang your head, brows furrowed as Rafayel regards you with a contemplative, almost curious look.

An undercurrent of desire, dark and intense, exists under it, though, and you can’t will yourself for any longer to view him as the same harmless, aquatic humanoid who’d rescued you.

You find yourself for both a lack of coherency and also gratitude; he could’ve left you to decay at the bottom of the ocean for all you care, or thrown you to the hands of Neptune or the feeding pit of sharks— it’s almost preferable to this.

Rafayel’s face, admittedly handsome, in a pretty way (albeit, you’ve no idea why your brain is suddenly forming opinions on his appearance, especially now of all times), is relaxed, devoid of emotion. You recognize the impatience there, though… like there’s been a string that you’ve pulled taut.

The silent truth that has been overarching your life for the past couple months- you don’t want to come to terms with it or you might break otherwise.

For the life of you, you can’t even understand what his goals were in all of this—

You hurl your anger at him and flail your arms and shout until your trachea feels like aggregate when you swallow, and he waits it all out with an ease that gets you impossibly riled up.

You suck in a sharp breath and shudder when you open your eyes again, color seeming to reenter your periphery, and measure the distance Rafayel has bridged.

Gasping, you go to take a step back, knees knocking together like newborn foal as a distinct sense of panic rips through you- not right, it screams, and, you messed up, you messed up, you stupid, stupid—

“Silly girl,”

A loud splash. A resistance.

Rafayel lurches his arm, belly almost brushing against the sandbar, and takes ahold of your ankle.

You let out a yelp, instantly reaching down to try to unlatch him from you, dismay robbing you of oxygen, but it’s too late for that. Each of your clumsy attempts is precluded. Faded scars line the knob of your ankle and Rafayel presses into them with the smooth pads of his fingers- forcefully, but he’s mindful not to use his nails. He’s learned since the last time.

He gives one good tug and you stand no chance, falling with a slosh.

Pulling you towards him, he’s fully confident now that you’re in his liquid domain, slowly dragging you away from the shallow end, from home- or at least, the shriveled, sad remains of it.

Mortified, and still very much resisting him— the merman surprisingly gentle, cognizant of your frailty despite the iron grasp he subdues you with— you throw a frantic glance up and watch as the shore shrinks.

“No!” He’s very careful to keep your head above the tide, but you’re choking still.

This is not the first time he’s helped you into the ocean and swam recreationally with you, usually with the addition of little trinkets and pretty shells you bring to swap, but it’s definitely the first time he’s trapped you in his arms, lean and impossible to swat away, and ignored your asks to return to land.

You remember your front door then, funnily enough, how you left in a tizzy and far too shaken to lock it, and burst into another sob.

You’ll not be returning, will you?

“Please!” You blubber with all the grace of a fish out of water. You squirm like one, too. “Please, don’t kill me, Rafayel, don’t- don’t eat me—!”

A laugh, breathy but humored- cruel in its softness- rings at your ear. Gorgeous tail folded in front of you, brushing against your rear and the underside of your thighs as they fruitlessly kick out, Rafayel uses it to propel you both backwards, treating your kidnapping like a pleasant stroll.

“Of course I won’t eat you, princess,” he coos, placing a painless but clearly posessive- like he’s marking his territory- nip to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. It makes you shiver. “Don’t you understand by now?” He frowns, “You’re mine. The ocean’d sooner dry up then watch me lay a fin on you.”

There’s exactly zero things funny about this situation, so with a pang of wrath, you don’t know why he’s laughing. Maybe at the irony, because in any case, he most certainly has laid a fin on you—

You feel angry at yourself next in the seconds that follow, managing to bite into the flesh of his scale-dotted forearm and slip out of his grip— thrashing away without ceremony before he hisses and curtly regathers you.

“You’re a slippery fishie, huh, cutie? You can’t seriously think I’ll just let you swim away though, right?” His tone darkens then, deepening with a quiet warning you can’t help but feel is incongruous to the generally mild, sassy but otherwise friendly merman you’d grown to know.

When you try to break free again, the exertion summoning a state of near dry-drowning, Rafayel drops all efforts at patience and seizes you by the throat.

His hand curling around your neck, almost playing at the idea of testing just how tragic your power dynamic really is, he lets out a frustrated noise behind you. He knocks his nose into the side of your face, tealy lamella spotting the surface of his cheek and scratching against yours.

Unfamiliarly low, he grumbles out, “You’d better stop fightin’, girl, because if you spin out of control, there’s no guarantee what’ll happen to you. You’re hurting yourself. Stop it, now, I said.”

That fully frightens you. The scream buried within your throat dies, withers into nothing.

Attenuated, pointed nails graze the soft flesh of your jugular, reminding you of all the horrific, brutal ways he could sunder you in two, but they don’t draw so much as a drop of blood.

“P-Please—“ You sputter, desperately digging at his forearms that make an X over your midriff and collarbone, your toes launching out of the water. Your fight, for as valiant as it is, is sapping you of an impressive amount of energy and at an alarmingly fast rate.

But you can’t stop. You refuse to buckle to him- because to bow your head and agree to give in would be like finally surrendering to the cold reality that has, as of a number of weeks ago, completely shrouded your life.

Y-You can’t admit he’s dead— that you’re entirely crazy, widowed, and in the strictest definition alone—

“Ah-ah, princess,” he murmurs as you heave wildly, “don’t you think that’s enough running away? It’s not fair if I can’t come on land at all, you know. Come and swim with me for a while.” Rafayel coaxes, resuming his more mild demeanor within a blink.

He releases a somewhat exasperated, yet thrilled sigh. It shakes as it leaves his damp lips, blue and fuschia-red eyes glittering with barely repressed delight as he lifts his chin from your shoulderblade.

Then, he leans in towards your ear, and he sings.

⊹⊹⊹

Everything is dream-like.

Birds soar overhead in a breezy circle. They offer a few, occasional squawks that help you to the conclusion of seagulls: paired with the rhythmic, wet purr enveloping you- and the warmth flushing your cheeks- you’d wager you’re at the ocean.

Perhaps a relaxing beach day with your fiancé. He’s laid out the cloth (albeit, it feels oddly… hard, smooth as if the sand beneath is without lumps), and you’ve just stirred from a long nap set to the backdrop of light, gusting sand and crashing whitecaps.

Something in your core throbs.

A particularly tall wave in comparison to the other relatively flat ones smacks against the black rock and cools your skin. Sweat beads at your forehead, the center of your thighs offering a sequence of dull aches that have you feeling weak, wanting nothing more than to let your eyes roll back and stay that way.

You make an incoherent noise as the metaphorical fog clears, buttery, white light warming you. Dawn, you realize hazily, lashes fluttering open gradually, it’s dawn.

…But when you’d last blinked, it was late into the night.

Memories pour back in, a potpourri of muddled events tracing back to this moment- uncertainty startling you upright as—

A hand, firm and a little slimy, presses your belly down.

It bars you from most movement, strong but gentle. A tongue- long and flat and fucking mind-numbing as it laps at your pussy- swirls experimentally against your clit and vibrates with a low, satisfied moan.

Not yours; but the next one that rings out, high and aroused and very, very afraid, is.

You can hardly recognize the sound of it. A thick beat of silence passes before you finally do, brain struggling to reconcile with this startling, admittedly idyllic panorama laid out before you.

A disoriented glance tossed down tells you all you need to know to confirm your fears, a sickness churning so deep in your gut you think it’s plausible you could puke up yesterday’s supper. What spills out from your slack jaw is another helpless, pleasured mewl instead.

Rafayel, mostly submerged in the water but with his upper half braced against the flat rock’s ledge, drapes your legs (trembling, you confusedly note, as if they’ve been positioned that way for a while now) over his broad shoulders to better present his prize and feasts on it like a man starved. One large hand serves as like an anchor on your abdomen, keeping you moored as you positively lose your mind, the other carefully thumbing apart your slick folds.

Somewhere between the span of late last night and very early this morning, he’s gotten them puffy and unbelievably wet, your tight hole clenching around absolutely nothing as his lips- just as swollen and needy- suckle on your tiny bump of nerves.

You rest your head back against the smooth surface of the rock, lukewarm but not quite scorching yet- the sun still moseying its way up the sky, clouds parting to reveal a diluted yellow canvas behind them. Resignation weighs you down better than any hand ever could.

You bite down another moan mixed with a sob and leave dents in the tender tissue of your bottom lip.

He parts with your pussy for just a moment, hesitating like he’s sad to step out from its warmth, knuckling over your labia with a reverence you feel is misplaced considering the circumstances.

He’s cruel when he lifts his eyes to yours, heavy-lidded and utterly transfixed.

The sincere, amorous glint in them is like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head, something you couldn’t prepare for or adapt to in time, his head dipping down briefly to pepper a lingering kiss to the gooey seam of you. Mine, everything about the way he gazes up at you says, and, if you don’t believe me then let me prove it.

“You’re gorgeous,” he groans, the dark sphere of his pupils spilling out like ink onto a multicolored canvas. He’s worshipful in nature, but curious- tentative to every little twitch your fatigued face gives, wondering how to push your buttons just right- perhaps above all, just desperate to know if your slick cunt will keep supplying him with that sweet, hot nectar- but it’s been so generous to him thus far, so he figures he’ll just keep on taking.

“It looks just like a seaflower,” he murmurs, breath ragged over the placid lull of the tide as he strokes your flesh, “Like the ones I’d grab from the ocean floor to give you, but so much prettier... Sweeter.”

Rafayel is careful not to hurt you- you can tell, somehow, that he’s fighting tooth and nail with his inner animal, his baser instincts, to keep the last modicum of his control. Hurting you, no matter how accidental or quick, would be detrimental. He knows that. He’s felt it. And to be perfectly honest, he’s quite enjoyed it— but you don’t fall under the category of food or paltry entertainment, no, you’re so much more than that to him.

The pretty, kind girl who kept the brainless town out of your unlikely relationship, who sang her way into his heart and stole it despite himself. His best friend, his sweet little playmate and—

…Mate. Yes, his mate.

“Have you been feeling me?” He asks suddenly. “At home, in bed? I’ve been trying to call out for you,” he relays in an affected pant you wish to unhear as he resumes suckling at your shamefully wet pussy.

You hate this, how worked up he’s managed to get you, how pliant your own body has become as it all but sells itself to him- guilt and confusion swelling in your chest. “I’ve been trying to get you to see how much I like you, princess. B-But it’s like you’ve been shooing me away or something—“

You hardly give any mind to what he’s muttering about, the point of his nose nudging against your sensitive nerves and expediting your release as he licks eagerly at your folds, your whole body trembling with delight. You don’t think you really want to know, anyway.

Sea salt shoots up against the rock, licking your limbs with a cool spritz. He muffles a low breath of amusement into you. “But you’re here now, I guess. Mngh- and you’re so delicious. You’re… fragile though,” he pants, prodding his long, hot tongue against your tiny clenching hole before delving inside it with a violent shudder, his cheeks bright red. “You might have to help me inside, cutie. I don’t exactly wanna break you.”

That stuns you. His words, single-minded and husky, remind you of just how fucked up this all is— and a panic crosses the involuntary fog of your head as you snap it down to get a good look at him.

You were sure merfolk had their own means of reproduction, but it’d never been more than a passing curiosity until now, your heart in your throat as you squint to make out just what he’s working with beneath the water.

Lazily, he looks up to you and smiles when he discovers what you’re doing. It’s a hungered, smitten one, sharp teeth peeking out and all. All your squirming is nothing more than an attempt at self-preservation, unsure of just what he’s endowed with but vaguely knowing- by the size of his tail and difference of species- you sure as hell won’t be compatible with it.

The need to escape is puissant and your limbs begin to move— but they feel oddly leaden, less like flesh and more like stone.

“You wanna see me, pretty girl, yeah? What’re you planning to do?” He coos, swilling away at your watering cunt, nursing from the endless stream of juices like a man possessed. Your fiancé's face flashes before your mind and you make a choked sound.

As if sensing your thoughts, Rafayel lets out a little contented noise and nuzzles against the soft inner portion of your shaking thighs.

“He screamed, just so you know,” a low chuckle rumbles from his chest and warps into a pretty moan. It’s too light and dulcet for comfort, and it feels disproportionate to the general sting of it all. You loathe the unbidden current of arousal that gushes through you at it, wetting his slender fingers as it trickles down the thigh he cuffs.

One final shlick of your throbbing pussy and the merman maneuvers with relative ease onto the rock, his thick tail flopping off at the edge and disappearing into the crystal water. And there’s nothing exactly large about Rafayel’s stature, but he feels heavy as he hovers over you, elbows flanking either side of your head, and the appendage that seems to summon itself between you, drooping with engorged need over your stuttering belly—

You don’t want to look. Too afraid to.

You suppose you don’t have to, anyway: Rafayel grabs your face and cradles your jaw in his smooth palm, hot, labored breaths warming your slack lips. The sun is lifting higher, now, a clementine-gold sky burning like blood low on the horizon. Soon, the temperatures- and his touch as it charts out the most intimate parts of you- will begin to bake your skin.

“He was all bubbly under the water,” he groans with a trace of humor, “but I saw the worry written all over his face. Back then, I’d always wondered why he looked so concerned... not afraid, concerned. But I guess… it was ‘cause he had you to get back home to, huh, cutie?”

Saccharine sweet, he dotes before wrenching your chin up in a desperate, heedless kiss- the action all too cathartic too him but world-stopping for you- and you feel the fat head of something foreign bob between your folds.

“Poor guy,” he moans, voice absolutely ruined as you lurch helplessly beneath him, back arching to accommodate the impossible stretch. You expect it to hurt- to be a searing pain as his massive, inhuman cock spears you apart- but a near blinding delight racks through your body instead as he worms his way inside your walls, wet and primed, your eyes fluttering back.

“But at least his death served a purpose. You’d never have sung for me otherwise. Would never have- went out looking,” he shudders, hanging his head against the sweaty column of your neck, his brilliant-blue tail sloshing in the water on its own accord.

“It’s all thanks to him,” he growls out, tone oozing possession- the innocent little merman you befriended dematerializing before your very eyes. “You’re mine now. Mine.”

And when it’s all said and done, strong, toned arms gathering you up with a low splash as the docks rupture with gradual life, the boots of fisherman croaking over waterlogged wood, and Rafayel takes you under the water- giving you breath with a deep, intimate kiss-

You’ve the feeling that your dreams of reuniting with your lover will fulfill themselves in their own roundabout, warped way.

But you know Rafayel’s not ever letting you go as he undresses your finger of its sparkling ring and tucks you away in his underwater cove— placing you in his nest with reverence before prying apart your numbed legs with rekindled hunger.

Curling across your face, a soaked lock of your hair drifts absently in the still waters and Rafayel thumbs it aside, clipping it back with a little clamshell fashioned as jewelry. He leans over you contentedly, whole body and fluke swallowing you up without difficulty or protest, and happily feeds you oxygen from his lips.

You cling to him helplessly and have no choice— several hundred feet below land level— but to hungrily nurse from him every few hours and pray he won’t make the sudden decision to deprive you of it.

Something in his rippling eyes tells you he won’t, though.

He dips down to paste a lingering peck into your temple, the pad of his thumb roving appreciatively under your eye.

“Don’t you think you’ve seen enough of the land, princess? The brainless humans up there don’t want you anymore, and that’s okay,” he whispers, tiny bubbles floating like balloons before popping. “You belong down here, with me. Who says you need a tail or fins to be one of us?” Mistily, you wonder just what exactly he’s trying to say and who he’s trying to convince of its veracity, a blip of frustration marring his pretty face before it retreats.

“I’ll give you life for as long as I live,” he vows, mouth brushing tenderly against yours as his cheeks puff out and he blows.

“See? Just like this, princess. Just keep holding onto me.”