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rcvcgers · 23 hours ago

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Loathe To Paint You, part four

acc. masterlist | series masterlist | ao3

playlist

previous part | next part coming soon!

pairing ; rafayel x painter!reader

synopsis ; after rafayel ghosts you for a week, he takes you on a surprise double date. things get spicy.

word count ; 11.6k words

author's note ; hi everyone! i am so sorry for the BIG GAP between updates! i kind of got stuck with the story and wanted to write other things but...we're back to our regular scheduled programming! hopefully! i hope you enjoy the chapter <3 all songs featured in this chapter are in the playlist linked above if you want to listen along!

content warning ; vulgar language, raf n reader makeout, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT AND STAY SAFE), p in v sex, missionary & cowgirl positions, reader touches herself, alcohol use, let me know if i missed anything!

my painters ✐ᝰ. ; @zeskyzed , @drowsyapple , @llamabois , @romils , @debrahhhhhhh , @kebarney , @mentaltrouble2201 , @itsmeaudrieee , @flamedancer13 , @lolightrealm , @ghoulishnero , @leeniverse , @justpassingdontworry , @yumesagashite , @m0ss-gremlin , @yunozumi , @azlyneamie099 , @m00nchildwrites , @mxkvlio , @nautismgremlin , @jexireads , @rafshottestgf , @blcknebula , @eve-ishu , @namjoons-toenails , @kaiii07 , @imhere2dosomething , @vyntheria , @queenkymmie , @animegamerfox , @achilleas-dream , @beaconsxd , @butterbiscuit444 , @eolivy , @shypotatoes013-blog , @cayrelyra , @curryexpress , @needsumcomfypillowstosleep , @plzdonutpercieveme

want to be a part of the taglist? click here!

Your eyes widen at the sight of Abigail, the empty tub of ice cream dropping from her hands and onto the ground. Some of the slightly melted ice cream that pooled in the bottom of the tub rolls onto the ground. It’s a standstill filled with nothing but silence and the occasional blink to try and dissolve the awkwardness that settles into your bones. She points her finger at you, trembling as the shock runs throughout her body. You point back at her and cautiously approach the front door of your very humble abode.

“You didn’t–”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Abigail!”

“You kissed him!” she gasps, her hands flying over her mouth.

“I think you’re seeing things,” you try to lightly gaslight her, a formidable attempt to sway the conversation elsewhere, “you did eat an entire tub of ice cream. The sugar can–”

“Nope! Nuh-uh! We are not doing this right now!” Abigail turns and follows you inside the house, abandoning the emptied tub of ice cream on the loose gravel walkway. “You are not going to sit there and tell me that you didn’t just kiss your mortal enemy!”

“You’re right,” you pause, turning to look at her from over your shoulder, “I’m going to stand and tell you that.”

Abigail scoffs and rolls her eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest and follows you into the kitchen. She watches you with close eyes, memorizing the way you oh so casually grab a soda from the fridge, cracking it open. She circles around the counter and swipes the can from your hands, tossing it into the sink.

“Okay now that was uncalled for,” you pout, frowning at the fizzing drink in the sink.

“Admit it, you slut,” Abigail leans in, her nose almost pressed against yours. “You liked kissing him, didn’t you? You had a big ol’ fat smile on your face when you two were done.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” you roll your eyes and push past her, heading in the direction of your bedroom. Waving over your shoulder, you call out, “Goodnight Abigail!”

“Goodnight, slut!” she calls back, waving back at you. “When you don’t wake up tomorrow absolutely hating Rafayel Qi, I’ll take that as a sign that your body has been taken over by something and I’ll put you out of your misery!”

“Have fun with that!” you call back, shaking your head with a small chuckle.

As soon as you reach the end of the hallway, taking the right hand turn towards your bedroom, a smile blossoms across your lips. You push inside your bedroom and close the door behind you, making sure to lock it so Abigail doesn’t come running in, and kick off your shoes. You strip yourself of your clothes and put on comfortable pajamas, humming along to a love song you listened to in a romantic comedy from the other night.

You plop down onto the bed, arms and air sprayed out with a big smile on your face. Your lips still feel tingly from the kiss with Rafayel. Your stomach is aflutter and your heart skips a beat as you replay the memory in your head, swooning for the Lemurian man all over again. You honestly feel like you are laying upon the clouds, your body feeling so light and airy as happiness courses throughout your body.

Sure, you absolutely hated Rafayel that morning when he accused you of needing a whole harem to keep you happy in life, but Rafayel sure did make up for it with that sweet and tender kiss. That’s what matters at the end of the day, right? Your hatred for him seemed to evaporate in that moment, taking a backseat as your secret and hidden crush on him came out. Admittedly, you always loved his purple locks, the way his face always crunched up whenever you annoyed him or accused him of being a man whore or tilapia — which according to him, is a bottom feeder fish who only eats shit — so the insult was appropriate in that moment. You have always loved the way his voice gets high pitched whenever he gets embarrassed and you really like the way the two of you are able to play pretend so well with one another. It sounds like a match made in heaven, right?

Well, that is exactly what you keep telling yourself through the night as you wait for him to send a text or to call you.

But…it never comes.

You stare at your phone screen, waiting for it to light up with a message from him. You expect to see the photo-less ID with his name besides a poop emoji but your eyes have yet to be graced with the sweet sound of the notification ding. Thinking that throwing your phone face down and across the bed would somehow help, that Rafayel will sense your fake indifference and get down on his knees in front of you in the virtual world of texting, but it never comes, just a notification from a language learning app that threatens to kill you and your descendants if you don’t do your daily lesson of the day or from a spam caller that’s here to talk to you about your car’s extended warranty.

It’s very, very disappointing to say the least.

But that’s okay! You won’t let it spoil your night! That is, until you feel the one thought that you would never expect to haunt you to arrive.

You should text him first.

It sends chills down your spine, shuddering at the thought. The idea of texting or calling Rafayel is so foreign to you. Why should it be you who reaches out first? He’s the one that kissed you! It was Rafayel who thrust the two of you into murky waters! You should be in bed planning out his inevitable demise, not the outfit you’re going to wear to see him next! The whole reason you are now laying in bed contemplating every single thing in your life is because Rafayel thought that playing mind games while you were ovulating — it’s quite unfortunate that your ovaries are working against you — was a good idea.

You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at the ceiling. The fuzzy ducks on your pajamas are not enough to save you now. The back of your mind is running a mile a minute while going over all of the possible outcomes that could have happened.

Is he dead? Did he crash his car and die after he dropped you off? Maybe if you go outside and inspect the beach roads, you can find his decapitated head beside his mangled body! The flames from his destroyed car would be a good backdrop for some light photography! He would appreciate you finding art out of his untimely death, right?

Or maybe he’s asleep! He had a big day, especially when he tried to out-macho a man who looks like he eats steel and drinks children’s tears for breakfast. The poor painter must feel so tired after carrying that heavy panda plushie and the small bag with Reddie in it.

You close your eyes, shaking your head. You pull the sheets of your bed all the way up to your chin, remaining hidden beneath the blanket. You refuse to think about Rafayel and the way he has left you hanging. He probably has a good excuse lined up that you’re a little too eager to accept if it means that you can feel the warmth of his lips on yours again and —

Okay wow! You are getting way out of hand here! It was one kiss, not a marriage pact! You need to pull your shit together and show that purple haired, beautiful lipped, gorgeous eyes of a man that you are an unbothered queen who doesn’t need his affection and attention to feel fulfilled in life! Yeah…yeah that sounds like a plan!

Okay, so your plan crumbled in a matter of twenty four hours.

When you didn’t wake up to a text from him — hell, even a missed call would have been acceptable — all hell broke loose. You told yourself to not think about it, to not make up excuses for him. You decided to wait another day. Thomas is a good agent who takes his phone away from him so he can paint his next big masterpiece.

But then a week passed. After that, you stopped looking at your cracked phone screen and trying to make things better inside your mind.

You were a mess leaving your bedroom at five in the afternoon, your hair knotted and sticking up, frizz overtaking the strands. Your pajamas’ fuzz has flattened and matted from constantly wearing them throughout the week. You didn’t shower, remaining inside the depths of your room, hidden from within the darkness.

It was only when Abigail saw you walking down the hallway looking like a zombie did she interfere in your nonexistent love life by taking your phone away from you.

She did what she knows how to do best and placed you in front of a large canvas with a fresh set of paints and brushes. She put on your rage playlist filled with the sweet sounds of Alanis Morrissette and Fiona Apple, their voices echoing off of the walls, and closed the door behind her so you can have some much needed privacy. You dip your hands into the paint, not bothering with the brushes as your rage over Rafayel not calling or texting you after your kiss takes over your body.

Reds and oranges and yellows scatter across the canvas, taking the form of a ginormous flame, the matchstick being created from black and grays as you drag your fingers down the bottom of the canvas. In the middle, you create the image of an anatomically correct heart — at least your version of one in your style — that is engulfed by the flames of your anger and rage.

How could he do this to you?! And to think that you let him get anywhere near —

Your phone rings. It sounds like a melody that is played by a sixth grade band; it sounds as good as it is going to get with some really pitchy clarinets. The sound echoes down the hallway and it comes from Abigail’s office. Your body stiffens. Your feet carry you across the art studio’s floor, poking your head out of the doorway to inspect it.

Abigail leaves her office, your phone resting in her hand. Her eyes meet yours, a sigh leaving her lips. You raise your eyebrows, gaze dropping to the phone before moving back up to her, your silent question reaching her ears as soon as your eyes meet once again.

“Yes,” she nods her head, shifting her weight to one side of her body, “it is him. I sent him to voicemail though—”

Without wasting another second, you bolt out of the art studio, trails of paint following in your wake, staining the hardwood floor as you snatch the phone from her hand, looking staring at Rafayel’s name on the screen, now hidden beneath smeared paint on the phone screen. You let out a sigh, unsure if you should call back or not.

That’s when it happens. The screen turns black for a brief moment before it lights up all over again, Rafayel’s name and face popping up on the screen.

You let out a shriek, tossing your phone into the air. Abigail catches it before yelling and throwing it right back to you. The two of you continue this game of hot potato, your cell phone now a poor victim in its constant flight back and forth between your bodies.

“I don’t want it!” you yell at her.

“He’s not my problem! He’s yours!” Abigail retorts, tossing the phone back. You catch it and stare at the screen, eyes narrowed, before you turn back up at her. “Wait — you wanted him to call! Why are you avoiding it?”

“You’re so right,” your body relaxes, voice turning back to normal for a split second before it returns to its high pitched shriek, “but it’s been a week! He shouldn’t talk to me!”

The phone stops ringing, the missed call notification appearing on the screen. You gasp and snatch the phone back from Abigail just for Rafayel to call for a third time. Your thumb slips on the screen, covered in paint as it fails to pick up on your touch. A panicked yell leaves your mouth and your friend has to step in with a wet wipe, something that she always has on her for situations like these, and frantically wipes your fingers and screen. Finally, you’re able to swipe the green bar across and accept the call, casually bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hello,” you say with a flip of your hair, “who is this?”

“That’s what you decided to open up with?” Rafayel’s voice is unimpressed, a light chuckle leaving his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, watching as Abigail walks away to give you much needed ‘privacy’ aka her hiding in her office with the door cracked open for her to listen. “I still don’t know you who you. Maybe if you give me a name or a clue as to who you are, then I’ll remember you.”

“Oh, okay,” you can hear Rafayel’s eye roll from the other end of the line, “I see what you’re doing. Very funny.”

“I know,” you muse with a deadpan tone, “I’m hilarious.”

You walk down the hallway, closing the door to the art studio room behind you. You stare at the canvas, wondering if Abigail will choose to sell it or display it in a gallery nearby. Rafayel’s breathing is prominent over the phone and he keeps making sounds that sounds like he is going to speak but is shutting himself up.

“A week, Rafayel,” you break the silence, “it’s been a week.”

“I know. I am the scum of the earth and deserve to eat shit,” he breathes out.

“Okay, well, your words, not mine,” you mumble into the phone, trying to hold back a laugh from his dramatics.

“I meant to call you, I promise,” he continues, “but Thomas had me shipped away to another city because he booked me a last minute showing or whatever and I didn’t have wifi—”

“There’s cellular,” you interpret him, “but that’s besides the point.”

“Fucking cellular — you know what? I’m not even going to start with that fish hole,” Rafayel stops himself. He lets out a sigh and you can just imagine the way his brows are knitted from frustration, the way have to nitpick every single one of his excuses and reasonings. It’s the smallest form of revenge after he ghosted you for a week straight. You are enemies, after all, what did he expect? “I wanted to see if you would like to accompany me tonight on am adventure.”

“An adventure?” you question, slight annoyance in your voice.

He ignores you for a week then invites you on an adventure? Oh yeah. He’s killing you. He’s going to lure you in with the prospect of a date — a night where the two of you can live out your wildest fantasies with no remorse. That is, until the fantasies turn dark and he slices you up like a sushi roll ready to be eaten. You can smell the way you’re wrapped in the white rice and seaweed. Perhaps he has a nice, expensive can of caviar he can top you off with. It’s the least he can do.

“Well, more like a chore on my end, but it will sure to be a fun time for you, cutie!” Rafayel laughs to himself.

Wow. He really is trying to sell this on you. What a slick, slippery Lemurian man. The deplorable actions of this fish stick. He really is going to kill you. You’re so fucked.

“How long will this adventure take?” you sit down in a chair, spinning around as if you don’t have the time to leave. You’re doing important stuff, after all. This canvas won’t paint itself! “I have sooo much to do.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Rafayel immediately retorts.

“Bitch,” your voice sharpens. You open your mouth to yell at him, to scream that he has no right to demand that you leave your oh so important life just because he needs someone to carry his bags at the mall!

There’s a knock on the window. Your body freezes, eye widening. Slowly, you swivel around in your chair, facing the large window that overlooks the sea. Rafayel stands on the other side with a raised eyebrow and his lips are pressed into a thin line. You narrow your eyes. Purse your lips. He straightens his posture, crossing one arm over his chest. He cocks his head to the side, a triumphant smile spreading across his lips.

“I hate you,” you state, “I hate you so fucking much.”

“And I am thoroughly disgusted by you. Get changed, I’ll wait for you outside.”

You took a nice and long shower, standing underneath the hot water doing nothing just to spite the man. He’s impatient and irritable, everything that you plan to exploit. You want to make him wish that he immediately texted you back instead of leaving you on read for a week. That bitch. You’re still salty about it and rightfully so.

You changed into a casual outfit, trying to match his black shirt, jeans, and sneakers. You put on dark jeans with a red top that’s cropped with a white undershirt. Your hair is back in a braid, unable to contain the frizz and knots that formed because, well, you’re an idiot who let Abigail use your hair products. That bitch. A silver necklace sits on your chest as you quickly leave your house. Your friend follows behind, spraying your perfume on your body as you shove your wallet and phone into your purse, fighting a pack of gum that stops your phone from fully fitting it.

Rafayel turns around the corner of your house. His curiosity got the best of him and he inspected the walls, already putting in a call for Thomas to hire someone to touch up the paint and fix the cracks. He even hired a gardener to stop by and fix the greenery of your yard, the weeds growing out of control while your flowers look like they’re about to die. It looks like a nightmare to him, one that he must remedy.

“If you need me to come get you,” Abigail begins, already out of breath, “remember that our code word is ‘aquamarine’ and I will come running,”

“Yes, yes,” you nod, barely able to pay attention as Rafayel turns back into view. He smiles at you and the ice around your heart begins to melt. Fuck. You should’ve fortified it with steel instead of frozen water.

“Aquamarine? Really?” Rafayel snorts. He takes his place at your side, fighting the temptation to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close.

His eyes flit to the ocean backdrop, the sun beginning to set. When he turns back to look at you and Abigail, his face drops. The two of you scowl at him, hands on your hips. Abigail steps forward, poking a finger into his chest. Fear settles into his bones. He’s unsure what’s going to happen with him, the wrath of your best friend prominent in the flame of her eyes, a look that will kill him.

“Aquamarine is a fantastic coming of age movie where a mermaid and her two friend teach her life lessons and the importance of friendship and love. I suppose a man like you,” she narrows her eyes, “wouldn’t understand the complexities of female friendship.”

“You’re right,” Rafayel immediately surrenders, glancing at you for some kind of relief. You don’t give him it. “You are very correct. I am a dumb man who knows nothing about female friendship and should remain silent.”

“Yeah, you should,” Abigail looks him up and down once, “if you hurt my friend: I will kill you.”

“Duly noted,” Rafayel nods. Just when he thinks he’s safe, your friend pretends to lunge at him, quickly pulling away at the last second. A fake out that causes Rafayel to flinch back, hand attaching to your arm as he pulls you in front of him.

“Bitch,” Abigail mutters. She gives you one last look, one last out to not leave with Rafayel, but you simply nod and watch as she disappears into your humble home.

“Shall we?” Rafayel asks. You turn and nod, feeling his hand rest on your lower back as he walks you to his car, opening up the door for you. You get in and place your hands on your lap, watching as he quickly jogs around to get into the drivers seat. “So, how do you feel about karaoke?”

Rafayel stands beside you, looking up at the karaoke sign. It was a new place in Linkon, one that you never thought that you would even be at the grand opening for. You glance at him and notice the look of disapproval on his face, the judgement that settled into his muscles. He has his hands on his hips, looking at the flashing lights of the bar. When eh finally notices you looking, he turns to full face you, giving you his full attention.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“This is your so-called ‘adventure’? Karaoke?” you point at the building. People filter in and out through the doors, a few groups drunk despite the sun barely setting mere minutes ago. “How is this considered a chore, exactly? Is singing Funky Town too strenuous for you? Wait, let me guess,” you look him up and down with pursed lips, your mind slowly working through a collection of songs in your head, “you’re more of a Cry Me A River by that Timberlake guy.”

Rafayel wears the most unamused look on his face. While you’re giggling, continuing to make fun of him for his song choices — which are actually scarily accurate, he’s quite terrified — he just rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Are you done?”

“No,” you shake your head, covering your mouth as more laughs spill from your lips, “I can imagine you having a whole dance too while you sing. It’s a performance—”

“Okay, okay,” Rafayel rolls his eyes. H reaches out and flicks your forehead.

It’s like a manual reset. Your laughter immediately dies and you blink at him, unable to form a coherent thought of your brain reboots. Damn you and your fish-like brain. Once your thoughts come back to you, you turn and glare at him, shoving his chest. He’s the one to laugh this time, throwing his head back as his beautiful purple locks fall out of his face. And man, oh man, is it a sight to behold.

“I’ll leave,” you threaten him, “I’ll leave you to do the chore of singing fuck boy songs by yourself—”

“MC invited me,” Rafayel’s words stop you in your tracks. You stare at him, tiling your head to the side. His ex? Why would she invite him here? Rafayel huffs and looks away, a slight scowl resting on his face. “I guess that boyfriend of hers, Chauncey or whatever—”

“It’s Sylus. You weren’t even close to getting it right,” you’re dumbfounded but Rafayel keeps talking.

“—really liked your ‘spunk’ and wanted to hang out with us again so…now we’re here!”

“Ha!” you clap your hands together, feeling a wave of triumph crash over your body, “they like me more than you!”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far,” he rolls his eyes once again. He watches you with a close eye, though, admiring the cute expression on your face. Your face scrunches up as you pump your fist into the air, your victory taking over your body. His expression softens, heart slowly unwinding. Oh, how he could paint a plethora of paintings of your beautiful face. You are his new muse, the person that pushes him to create better pieces of art with his heart muddled into the paints and colorful pigments.

“I would,” you smile, tilting your chin to look up at him, a sparkle of mischief in your eyes, “because they clearly wanted to invite just me but had to settle for you and your horrible voice.”

“My aunt is literally an opera singer,” Rafayel’s offended by your comment, as usual. He puts his hands on his hips and leans down as annoyance filters through his body. “And you know that I’m a si—”

“Rafayel!” MC’s voice comes form behind.

The two of you immediately stand up straight, backs stiff as you turn in unison. Just down the sidewalk, MC and Sylus walk hand in hand. Her smile is bright and beautiful while his is more casual, his red eyes scanning the immediate surroundings. You bite your lip at the sight of him. Six feet and five inches of pure muscle, his little waist looking even more slutty. Rafayel’s cheeks that up from jealousy, watching as you salivate over the silver haired fox that walks towards you.

“I bet his voice is fantastic,” you smirk, knowing that your comment will send Rafayel over the deep end. It does, but he refused to verbalize it and instead ignores you, giving MC a wave as they approach you.

“It’s so good to see you again!” she drops Sylus’ hand and walks towards you. You open your arms and the two of you hug, a ball of excited giggles and chuckles before you pull away. She looks you up and down and gives you a subtle wink, her approval for your outfit making you feel even more confident. “Sylus got us a VIP room! Unlimited food and drinks and no time limit on singing!”

“Sylus, you’re a god,” you comment. MC wraps an arm around your waist and you do the same.

You ditch your boyfriends — one real and the other very much fake — and saunter inside of the tall building.

The employee hands you the key to the VIP room, one that sits at the very top of the building. The group enters inside, the view of Linkon on full display. Just in the distance, you can see the edge of Whitesand Bay, a small smile spreading across your face. You turn to look at Rafayel. You wiggle your eyebrows and give him a little shoulder shimmy, nudging into him as Sylus and MC walk to the bar to order drinks.

“He’s so much better than you,” you innocently smile, a quiet chuckle leaving your lips as Rafayel glares at you. Was your comment meant to annoy him? Absolutely. Was it meant to make him lose his cool and prove to MC and her god of a boyfriend to choose you when you and Rafayel meet your contractual end? Why yes, of course.

“How?” Rafayel asks, annoyance prominent in his voice. “He wears leather in the summer heat! He drives a motorcycle while I have sports cars! Four of them! If he were to crash, he’d basically die or get, like, really bad road burn, meanwhile my cars give you more protection! Also, he wears too much cologne—”

“Oh my god,” you point up at him, leaning in, closing the distance between your faces, “you’re totally jealous of him!”

“I feel like this whole time I’ve been trying to prove to you that I’m not jealous and yet here you are being stupid and—”

“MC! He just called me stupid!” you step away from him. You hide your laugh and point at him, feigning a look of sadness. MC immediately turns around and gasps, eyes fixed on the Lemurian.

“Rafayel! You have to be nice to your girlfriend! You can’t bully her!” she yells. She crosses the room as Sylus carries the four drinks in his hands placing them on the table in the middle of the room. MC pulls you into a hug, glaring at Rafayel.

“I didn’t call her stupid,” he tries to reason, “I said she was being stupid!”

“Oh, the horror!” you whine into MC’s shoulder. She shakes her head at the purple haired man and pulls you away from him, taking you over to the seating area in front of the large karaoke screen. “MC, will you start us off tonight? Please, do the honors!”

“Of course! Sy and I were taking about songs on the way over here and I have the perfect song to start with!” MC smiles.

You sit down on the leather couch beside Sylus. He’s just so big compared to you. If you were a dainty flower then he was the unmovable rock that protected the garden. Rafayel sits down beside you, arms still crossed over his chest, as he looks down at you.

“Why don’t you sing with her Sylus?” Rafayel suggests.

The silver man looks over and a small smile spreads across his face, one that makes your kitty purr. With one nod, he stands up and moves to MC’s side, wrapping an arm around her waist as they look in the electric song book. You squint and look up at Rafayel, who places his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him.

“You smell,” you comment, trying to push him away just for him to pull you right back in.

“And you smell amazing. Wipe some of your perfume on me,” he snorts, taking his hand and wiping it across your face. You gasp and shove him away, ready to fight when you notice MC and Sylus watching.

They look like a pair of proud parents, ones that are watching their son — damn you Rafayel for claiming them first — finally fall in love with the woman of his dreams. Not that you’re the woman of his dreams, though, could you even imagine? He kissed you, then ghosted you, just to drag you to karaoke with his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. This feels like something out of a movie and you, my friend, have just fallen victim to whatever scheme it is that he’s brewed.

“Why are you the worst?” you quietly groan once MC and Sylus turn away. You glare at him, huffing. “You kiss me then ignore me for a whole week—”

“I have a reason for that,” Rafayel fully turns to face you, grabbing your hands into his, squeezing them. Your heart skips a beat. You look down at your hands, noticing a few specks of paint on his fingers. You suck in a breath and look up at him, heartbeat loud in your ears. “I swear I do! It’s a good one, too. It’s such a stupid story, really—”

“Tell me then!” you gush, leaning forward, your face dangerously close to his. His shoulders slump. Lips pushed to the side of his face. His bright blue eyes look away from you, a slight amount of shame flickering across his face.

“It’s stupid,” he sighs.

“I bet it is,” you match his frown, “but I deserve to know the truth, right? You did leave me hanging…I really wanted to hear back from you.”

“You did?” Rafayel asks, his demeanor becoming instantly brighter. You nod, trying to hold back the sadness form the week that wants to pour out of your mouth. You hold back your anger and the need to yell and scream at him for playing with your heart, for putting you under an immense amount of stress. “I’m so sorry—”

“This song goes out to my lovely girlfriend,” Sylus’ voice interrupts Rafayel before he can finish.

The two of you turn to watch Sylus. MC quickly leaves his side, taking her spot on the couch beside you. You’re sandwiched between her and Rafayel, all eyes of the room trained on the muscular man. MC reaches for the drinks, all alcoholic in nature, and passes them to you and Rafayel.

“You’re going to need this,” she murmurs, leaning into the couch.

You raise an eyebrow and look at Rafayel. He shrugs and puts his arm around your shoulder again, pulling you close to him like a good boyfriend would. Even though he is definitely not your boyfriend. Nuh uh. No way. He leans down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. You shiver and lean into him, goosebumps littering your skin as his warm breath envelops the side of your neck.

“Ten dollars says he’s horrible and sings a Backstreet Boys song,” he whispers, amused.

“Twenty says that he sings Elton John…and that he has the voice of an angel,” you whisper back. The corners of his lips perk up and he nods, holding out his pinky. You twist yours around it, the deal now sealed. You glance at MC and notice that her drink has been emptied and she moves on to Sylus’ drowning that as well. Your jaw drops, slight dread washing over you as you realize that you’re about to lose your best to Rafayel.

The song begins to play. The light strum of a guitar plays and Sylus sings a quiet “yeah,” into the microphone. You reach for Rafayel’s hand, an immense amount of shock and awe solidifying in your body. The sight of Sylus clutching the microphone partnered with the serious look on his face as he stares at MC, the music blaring through the speakers as the colorful party lights coloring the room in bright colors, a rainbow flashing on the wall. The lyrics to the Backstreet Boys’ song I Want It That Way is displayed on the screen behind Sylus. Your jaw drops, looking up at Rafayel.

“I fucking told you,” he smugly says. He reaches and gently closes your mouth, hand pushing your chin up.

“You are,” Sylus sings, voice out of tune and cracking, “my fire. The one desire. Beeeelieve when I say…I want it that way!”

Your hand moves to cover your mouth. You choke back a laugh. Rafayel’s grip on your tightens, face turning red as he tries to keep his serious expression on his face. MC shakes her head from beside you, murmuring an apology about just how bad he is, explaining that he loves singing so much. It only makes you and Rafayel hold onto each other tighter than before. A laugh vibrates your throat, having to close your eyes as Sylus’ out of tune and unnecessary vibratros leaves the speakers.

“I never wanna hear you say! I want it that way!” Sylus belts out. You choke on your drink, hoping that it would keep you from laughing. Oh, how you were wrong.

“Oh my god,” you sputter, trying to catch your breath as your face turns hot, “oh my god I got the ick—”

You shudder as Sylus travels towards MC. He is still completely serious. Your throat feels raw as you hold back laughter, tears falling from your eyes. You bury your face into Rafayel’s side, trying to steady your breathing as Sylus lets out a loud and long note — one that he holds into for a little too long.

“Don’t want to hear you — SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” Sylus belts out.

“Cutie,” Rafayel gasps, “I can’t breathe!”

Sylus walks back to the stage to finish the last minute of the song. You and Rafayel turn to MC, who wears a grimace on her face. She awkwardly smiles, her own laughter coming through.

“I’ll go get us tequila shots,” she says with a nod, standing up to leave for the bar just as the song ends.

Sylus sets down the microphone, a smug look on his face. He walks back to the group, settling on the couch as MC comes back with a tray of shots and a new round of drinks. You had to finish your cocktail to get the raw feeling out of your throat. Rafayel gently rubbed your back, his nails gently scratching the itch you didn’t even know you had until it disappears, pulling his hand away. He stands from the couch and takes your hands, pulling you up.

“MY beautiful girlfriend and I will be next! A duet to start the night off!” Rafayel proclaims. Your eyes widen but you play along, forcing a smile onto your face. While singing isn’t really your forte, you assume that you’ll be better than the sounds that Sylus made because, well, they were sounds. You’re not really sure if it was singing or not…

“Wait! Take a shot!” MC stands with two glasses in her hand. She passes them to you two and Sylus stands behind her, slipping a glass into her hand. She raises the glass in the middle of the group, a bright smile spreading across her face. “To friendship and singing!” She toasts. The four clink their glasses in the middle before drowning the shots.

“Oh, fuck,” you grimace. Rafayel shoves a lime into your mouth to silence you. Your eyes look over to Sylus and MC, watching as he reaches out to wipe away a droplet of tequila that spills from the corner of her mouth. He brings the pad of his thumb to his lips and licks it off, smirking down at her.

Rafayel notices you watching. He lets out a ‘hmph’ and mimics Sylus’ action, dragging the tips of his fingers across your mouth. Your face scrunches up and you push him away, the two of you launching into a war of slapping hands and grunts. It’s only when Rafayel lands another fucking flick to your forehead that you stop your childish fight. You reboot, again, and let him guide your body to the microphones and songbook.

“How do you do that?” you ask, taking one of the black microphones from him. “It’s like a superpower.”

“Well, my Evol is fire,” Rafayel shrugs in a matter of fact way while clicking through the songs. His hip bumps into yours, pointing to a song that you nod your head at, agreeing with his choice. “But I suppose an Evol in taming you comes in handy.”

“Taming me? Bitch please,” you turn around with an eye roll, smiling at the two on the couch. MC gives you a reassuring thumbs up, one that helps dispel the slight nervousness in your heart — okay, maybe it’s the tequila talking — as the opening notes of the song play.

The upbeat piano and string instruments fill your ears, the beginning of a guitar riff playing as Rafayel takes his place at your side. He gives you a look, one that silently asks if the two of you are gonna do a little routine even though you just made fun of him for having one ready for his solo songs, and you nod because, well, fuck it!

“Don’t go breaking my heart,” Rafayel sings into the microphone, standing behind you. He leans to the side, looking down at you. You pop your hip out, hand resting on it, as you bring the microphone to your face.

“I couldn’t if I tried!”

“Oh honey if I get restless,” Rafayel steps around you, taking your hand into his. He spins you into his chest, your eyes meeting once again as your line comes up.

“Baby, you’re not that kind,” you smile, a quiet giggle leaving your lips. You shimmy your shoulders to the beat of the song and step away from the Lemurian, the man quickly following behind as you play a fun, pretend game of cat and mouse on the karaoke stage.

“Don’t go breaking my heart!”

“You take the weight off of me!” you laugh as MC and Sylus clap, cheering you on from the couch.

“Oh, honey, when you knocked on my door,” Rafayel smiles down at you, unable to contain the happy look that is now etched onto his face.

“Ooh, I gave you my key!” you turn towards the couch and make a side comment into the microphone, “he actually broke into my house—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafayel rolls his eyes as the chorus begins, “she’s lying!”

You sing in unison, perfectly hitting the notes…unlike Sylus. He stands in front of you, swaying to the beat of the song while you shimmy your shoulders. You move in sync, sharing the same brain cells as he drops to his knees in front of you.

“When I was down!”

“I was your clown!” you leaned down and pretend to give him a kiss on the lips, pulling away at the last moment, teasing him.

The song continues and he pushes up to his feet, walking around you as you sing the long note of the chorus. Your voices are perfectly intwined as the melody plays on. Rafayel’s inner siren comes out while your voice harmonizes with his with ease. He moves behind you, a hand on your hip, pulling you close to him.

“So don’t go breaking my heart,” he sings the words a little too truthfully, wishing to mend the mistakes that he made between the two of you.

“I won’t go breaking your heart,” you sing back, connecting your hands as you sing in unison: “Don’t go breaking my heart!”

The night is filled with music and laughter mixed in with plenty of cocktails and drinks. Between songs, MC and Sylus share stories about their own adventures while you and Rafayel listen in awe. Turns out, Slylus is NOT a fruit vendor but is basically the mafia daddy of the N109 Zone, a place you have yet to visit. It made him even more impressive, swaying back and forth in your seat while Rafayel’s hand lazily rested on your waist.

The two of you didn’t really have many stories to share in return, just the times you fought and argued in art exhibitions over your different interpretation of pieces. While you very eagerly expressed your disdain for Rafael’s take on your friend’s piece titled Death of a Bee, his fingers trailed up to your exposed skin, tips of his fingers painting invisible swirls and portraits into your skin. It sent chills down your spine, your drunken eyes meeting his half-lidded ones.

“Hey,” MC calls out your name. Her cheeks are light pink in color, her smile still bright but definitely more on the tipsy side of things than sober. She leans forward and takes your hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You haven’t given us a solo yet! You did Kiss From A Rose with Sylus and we did Espresso while the boys got us food! It’s your turn to show off!”

You begin to shake your head, wanting nothing more than to disappear behind the silver screen instead and pretend you got bubble guts or that you’re too drunk to do it. You and MC did consume an ungodly amount of alcohol. Rafayel tried to keep up but he’s gone non-verbal on the couch while his hands remained attached to you. Sylus looked unaffected, though, which is honestly just impressive on its own. Your eyes meet Rafayel’s and he offers you a small smile and nod, shooing you off of the couch and towards the stage.

“You’re going to do great, cutie!” he proclaimed, words slightly slurred. You swallow the lump in your throat and look down at the song book, swiping through as you try and find a song. Rafayel turns to MC and Sylus, snapping his fingers to get their attention. “She’s probably going to do some Alanis Morissette song that depicts her angst as a female artist—”

The electronic beat catches the room off guard. Rafayel’s eyes widen, tilting his face to look at you on the stage. The supplied background vocals fill in the room as you take center stage, a determined look on your face as you hold the microphone for dear life. His jaw drops when you rap the first line of the song…

“I used to be scared of the dick, now I just don’t give a shit, libido like Magneto—”

Rafayel’s jaw is on the floor. You recite each and every word with precision, your tone aggressive yet still somehow sweet on his ears. He turns to look at MC and Sylus. MC’s eyes have brightened up, hands clapping as she cheers you on. Stylus’s eyes simply widened, the man unable to believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. He turns to look at you and meets your gaze while you perform the song, the next lyrics specifically for him and him alone.

“Dick ain’t long, it’s wrong! Can’t fuck till dawn? Yawn!”

Rafayel gasps. How vulgar! How crass! Have some decorum, why don’t you?! Out of the corner of his eye, MC jumps up from her spot on the couch, belting the next line with you—

“Don’t be mad that I fucked your dad!”

“My dad?!” Rafayel screeches. He stands from the couch, shaking his head, unable to comprehend what the fuck is going on. “Why the fuck did you bring my dad into this?! He’s dead!”

What happened to his sweet girl? The one that has a fire in her whenever she talks about art or the ocean? The girl that rips him to shred every chance she gets but always remains PG-13? Since when did the two of you get into the rated R portion of your relationship?!

Rafayel’s heartbeats out of his chest, unable to contain his shock while the bass from the song shocks his bones back to life. Every nerve is on fire, his cheeks and ears a bright pink color as you sing about his cock being sad and that you’re never going to go near it — which, really, makes his cock even more confused on if it should harden or not while he watches you rap about sex and fucking.

Oh, how he would have preferred you to sing an Alanis Morissette song.

“Prove your self worth,” your eyes meet again as you rap, “make the pussy hurt—”

“Oh. My. God,” Rafayel’s jaw drops again. MC and Sylus laugh from the scene, unable to control their amusement over just how riled up Rafayel is getting.

That’s when you turn your attention to Sylus. Rafayel gasps, unable to handle the new competition he has with Sylus, ready to fight the brick wall of a man, when you point to him, singing—

“I know you’re pushing thirty!”

Sylus’s face drops. Shock written all over his face. Rafayel claps his hands with a laugh, pointing at him as you smile proudly, clocking him. Rafayel looks at you and you hold up a finger at him, curling it as a silent sign for him to come to you.

It’s your siren song, this so called…Miracle Grow by the Buttress. A rather controversial choice but your choice at the end of the day.

“Yeah it’s true I’m a slut, don’t give a fuck,” you rap as Rafayel gathers your purse and belongings. He takes the last shot of tequila on the table, cursing the agave gods as it burns his throat.

“Hell yeah you are, queen!” MC chants from the couch, her laughter filling the room as the song comes to an end. She claps and cheers while you give a room a bow, your body staggering back and forth as you try to regain your balance.

Rafayel shakes his head, purple locks moving back and forth on his forehead. As soon as he’s close enough, he snatches the microphone from your hand, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. He turns to the other couple and brings the microphone to his mouth, making an announcement.

“I think we’re done for tonight. Thank you so much for having us but we need to leave,” he shakes his head, snorting at your inner slut that came out. It’s a side that he’s never seen to you before, one that he wants to see more of, quite frankly. He sets the microphone done and picks you up with ease, tossing you over his shoulder. You squeal and giggle, hands smacking his butt as he grumbles to himself. You wave to MC and Sylus, your giggles disappearing from the karaoke room.

“I can’t believe she called me thirty,” Sylus mumbles to himself. MC rolls her eyes, patting his shoulder.

“Everyone knows, babe. It’s not a secret.”

Rafayel keeps you over his shoulder in the elevator. You pat his butt, humming along to a song that plays inside of your head. He rolls his eyes, using your purse to over the tent in his pants. He quickly walks out of the building once the elevators door open, wasting no time into walking into the night air, the breeze cold enough to chill your warm skin.

But Rafayel’s? His skin feels like it’s on fire.

He approaches his parked car. He sits you down on the edge of the car, the convertible’s top open. You yelp when you’re about to fall back, arms wrapping around Rafayel’s neck. He immediately grabs your waist, pulling you back towards him, stabilizing your body. You cover your mouth with one hand, laughing as he lets out a shaky breath. he stands between your legs, chests close to one another. You look up at him through half lidded eyes, shaking your head. He rests his forehead against yours, lips dangerously close.

“You’re trouble, cutie,” he murmurs, his breath hot on your face. You shake your head, biting your lip. He simply nods and pulls away, cupping the side of your face with his hand. He looks down at you, a smile growing on his face as you lean into his hand with an innocent look on your face. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, carefree. You tilt backwards, feeling Rafayel’s long and slender fingers dig into the exposed skin of your back. It sends chills down your spine, a warmth forming between your legs. You lick your lips while staring at his own, unable to hide the way your body craves his, the way his blue and pink eyes burn into you. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to kiss you,” Rafayel’s eyes are stuck on your lips. The way they’re perfectly painted. The shade matches your skin tone and it drives him crazy. He wants to taste the flavor of your lipstick, having melted the fruity scent from being so close to you. He lets out a quiet grunt, unable to hold back as he leans in. You press a hand to his chest, though, and push him away, shaking your head. “Did I do something wrong?” You shake your head. “Is everything okay?”

“What if you kiss me and ditch me for another week,” your voice is quiet, small. Vulnerable. It makes his heart ache. “I don’t think I can handle that again.”

“I won’t,” Rafayel shakes his head, voice low and husky. He pushes into you, the tent in his pants pushing into the pool of warmth between your legs. You quietly gasp. He grabs your chin and tilts your head up, eyes meeting his. “I’m going to kiss you and never leave you again.”

“Do it,” you wrap your arms around his neck, “and if you do leave, I’m going to cut your dick off and turn it into fish food. Deal?”

“Deal,” Rafayel whispers, chuckling. He leans in, closing the distance.

“You know I hate you, right?” you whisper against his lips, a shiver running down your spine.

“And I am thoroughly disgusted by you,” Rafayel finishes the small amount of banter, lips pushing into yours.

It’s slow…sweet. Your bodies ignite with flames, sparks flying between you. His fingers dig into your body, pulling you closer. Your knees ride up his sides, squeezing him as he pushes his hips into yours, your clothed heats aching for more. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss. His heart pounds inside of his chest, scared that you’re able to hear it. His tongue slips into your mouth. A quiet moan leaves your lips. Your fingers slip into his purple hair, gently playing with the loose strands. Rafayel shudders at your touch, eyes rolling into the back of his head. One hand moves to his chest, feeling the hardened muscles from beneath his black and white shirts.

His swollen lips move away from yours. He trails kisses from your lips to your jawline, taking his time in worshipping your body. He takes note of every breath you give him, memorizing the way your breath hitches when he bites into the skin on your neck, leaving behind a mark for all to see. Your skin is his canvas and his kisses are the paint, marking up the sides of your neck with ease. You grab a fistful of his loose shirt, holding the back of his head to keep him trapped against your neck. He slowly inhales the scent of your perfume, the scent intoxicating as he moves to your collarbone.

“Rafayel,” you breathe his name out. His dick twitches in his pants, brain fried at the sound. He pulls away, looking down at you. Your chests rapidly rise and fall, breathing ragged and heavy. His eyes move to the bites on your neck, the sight pornographic. A groan vibrates in his throat. “I want you.”

Something in the back of his mind snaps. The breathiness of your voice. The quiet plea as the world moves all around you. In one motion, Rafayel picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He opens the car door and places you on the backseat, lips detaching from one another. You’re breathless, a vision from the heavens. A car honks. He looks to the side with a glare. He turns back to look at you, letting out a huff of air.

“Not here,” Rafayel declares. He settles into the driver’s seat, car engine roaring to life. He stares at the road ahead, blinking. He’s had one too many drinks but the adrenaline that pumps through his veins clears the fogginess of his brain. He doesn’t need to drive too far, just to a place where he can get the two of you alone. He doesn’t even bother with his seat belt, the tires spin on the asphalt, leaving dark tire marks in its wake as the car speeds out of the parking lot.

You are a troublemaker. You stay in the backseat, sitting up as you take your place in the middle. You stare at Rafayel through the rear view mirror, heart thumping inside of your chest. Your core aches for him, desperate for any kind of attention. A touch to alleviate the way you clench around nothing. To fill and stretch you out. You slowly kick off your pants, tossing the fabric into the passenger seat. Rafayel’s body goes stiff at the sight. You remove your panties — comfy cotton ones because, well, you weren’t really expecting this to happen — and toss them into Rafayel’s lap. The man’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, eyes flickering between you and the road.

A moan leaves your lips as your fingers attach themselves to your clit. A fluttering feeling spreads across your stomach, pulsating and eager for more. You open your eyes to see Rafayel watching you, a dark look in his eyes as he drives away from the city and to the beach, to his house that is just a few miles away despite it feeling like it’s across the world in this moment.

“Slow,” he clears his throat over the loud wind, “go slow.”

You follow his command, rubbing slow circles into your sensitive bud. Your legs are spread open and on full display for him to see. Your back arches, your breathy moan filling the backseat. It’s like music to Rafayel’s ears, the way you slowly please yourself, running your finger along your entrance before it attaches to your clit again. You moan out his name, wishing that it is his hand attached to your pussy instead of your own. He jerks the steering wheel, the car on two wheels as he pulls into his home’s drive way. The car skids along the gravel driveway, coming to a stop in front of the white doors.

The moon hangs low in the night sky. It’s bright and yellow, the color reflected on the dark waves in the distance. As soon as the car is parked, Rafayel gets out, swinging open the backseat. You look at him, turning to the side. He looks down at you, eyes darkened and full of desire and lust. He grabs your ankles, pulling you to him. You gasp, feeling as he picks you up with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist, his hardened cock pressing into your wet core. You groan at the touch, desperate for more friction.

His lips attach to yours as he walks inside of his home, navigating the route to his bedroom. Your tongue slips into his mouth, finding his as your combined moans fill the room. He carries you up the stairs, making sure to not fall like you did at the Dreamscape before this whole fake-dating scheme came about. How bed is just up ahead, a small distance before he can devour you whole, claiming your body as his own. He tosses you onto the bed, towering over you.

His hand reaches for his belt, slowly unbuckling. Your jaw drops at the sight, salivating. He smirks loving the way your eyes attach to his hands, watching his every move. He removes it and tosses it to the the side, not caring where it lands on his slightly messy floor. You sit up, fingers trembling as you unbutton your shirt, watching as his pale skin and abs are revealed to you from under the moonlight. He removes his pants next, cock hard and ready as you toss your own shirt to the side, nipples pebbled from the cool air.

Rafayel settles above you, his body blocking the moonlight. Your hand attached to his cock, slowly pumping him, using the pre-cum that spills out as lube. He’s stiff beneath your touch, twitching as his breath hitches. You lean in and connect your lips with his, tongues immediately finding each other. Rafayel moans against your lips, one hand guiding your legs to open up for him. You remove your hand from his cock, hands settling on his chest as he lines up with your aching core.

“Do you want this?” Rafayel asks.

Your eyes meet his. You bite your lip and nod, heart skipping a beat. You cup his cheeks, his purple hair capturing the moonlight. He looks like a painting you saw in a dream, one that you’ve desperately been chasing ever since it slipped from your consciousness. Something that you’ve been craving to see again, to feel in your real life instead of it being a helpless scenario your mind used to keep you happy.

He pushes inside of you. You gasp, back arching, chest pushing into his. Your skin is so soft against his. It drives him crazy as he pushes all the way into you, filling you whole. Your legs tremble, eyes closed as he stretches you out. It feels so good, the way he reaches the sweet spot that makes you see stars. He pulls out, leaving you feel so empty before he thrusts into you again, the man needy and starved. You hook your hand to rest between his shoulder blades, nails digging into his flesh. He moans into your neck, fingers gripping the silk sheets of his bed like his life depends on it. He pulls his hips back just to roll them back into you again, his cock filling your pussy. He picks up the pace, unable to contain himself from hearing your sweet moans in his ears.

“You’re a dream,” Rafayel whispers into your ear. He kisses your cheek, biting the sensitive patch of skin just below your jaw. Your breath hitches, hips slapping into yours just as he bites down into your flesh, the combination making you see stars. “You drive me fucking crazy…”

“Ah — fuck,” you breathe out. His sweet praises make your heart skip a beat while his dick makes you feel even more drunk.

Rafayel’s hips snap into yours. He pounds into you, his whines and cries filling your ears like a melody. He moves one hand to your waist, feeling the goosebumps that formed against your skin, the tension in your stomach slowly building up. His thrusts are relentless, hungry, needy. You drag your nails down his back, leaving bright red lines in their wake. He gasps from the stinging sensation. The tip of his cock presses into your sweet spot, making you cry out for him even louder than before. He pulls his face from your neck, lips swollen. The sound of his dick moving in and out of you is orgasmic, pushing him even further to the release you both crave.

You’re a vision. Hair fanned out around your head like a halo. An angel that falls apart from beneath him. A beautiful woman that cries out his name, that allows him to fuck so hard that his toes curl. You open your eyes, half lidded and drunk from the pleasure that crashes through your body. God, it makes him want to go like his for hours, to listen to you breathy moans and cries. You let out a giggle, reaching up to push his hair out of his face.

Fuck, even your laughs are addictive.

Rafayel feels himself ready to release inside of you, ready to claim you as his own. He leans down to bite the skin of your shoulder when he feels your hands attach to his chest, pushing into him. He falls onto his back, eyes widening as you sit on top of him. Your pussy swallows his dick whole, clenching around him as your hands rest of his chest. Nails bury into his skin, dragging down his chest. He cries out your name, unable to handle the way he’s buried inside of you mixed with the burning feeling of your scratches. His hips jerk up into you.

You sit up straight, eyes closing. You roll your head back, the moonlight capturing your body. The light is gentle against your skin. It shows off the perfect curves of your body, the dark marks from his bites and kisses on full display. You roll your hips against Rafayel’s, guiding his hands to your chest. His hands envelop your breasts, squeezing them. His fingers capture your nipples, rolling the buds between the tips.

One hand leaves your breasts, traveling up your chest. Your hand moves on top of it, guiding him further upward, his slender fingers dragging up to your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, simply dragging his finger along the sensitive bite marks, small gasps leaving your lips as your pussy squeezes around him.

“Fuck, Raf,” you cry out.

You look down at him, a pathetic look on your face, one that’s desperate for release just as much as he is. To fall into the pure and fiery feeling of ecstasy, the euphoric ending to your night together. He nods, breathing your name out.

“That’s it,” he licks his lips at the sight, watching as you bounce up and down on his cock, needy for more, “come undone on my dick. Use me.”

He moves his hands from your chest. Your breasts bounce up and down. He sits up and claims one of your boobs in his mouth, unable to stop himself. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, sucking on it. He catches it between his teeth, tugging on it. You cry out, grabbing his shoulders to steady himself. You see stars, his dick hitting your sweet spot every time, filling you so well. Your head rolls back, your cries and moans replacing the silence of the night.

Rafayel worships your body, hands traveling up and down your back, his mouth moving to your other breast. His hands drop to your ass when he senses your body coming undone, slowing as your orgasm makes you go stiff, unable to control yourself as your eyes roll into the back of your head. He squeezes your plush skin, moving your hips up and down for you as you clench around his dick, slowly milking him as he release into you, your orgasms hitting at the same time.

“Fuck!” the two of you cry out in union, a desperate cry just for the two of you to hear, your cunt being filled to the brim with his seed.

Aunt Talia exists her car. Thomas stands in front of Rafayel’s studio door, knocking, unable to get inside. She removes her designer sunglasses from her face, slowly approaching the man. She smiles at him, much to the evident stress on his face. She places her hand on his shoulder, steadying him as he desperately jiggles the door handle, ready to kick the door in.

“Good morning, Thomas,” Talia greets him with a quiet chuckle, “did you lose your key again?”

“Lose it?” Thomas rolls his eyes. He releases the doorknob, out of breath, and turns to Talia. “Rafayel ‘revoked’ it. Said that he needed the week to figure things out and that I wasn’t apart of it.”

“Oh?” Talia muses with a smile. She reaches into her bag, fishing through to find the silver key to her nephew’s art studio.

“Do you think he’s going to fire me? Did I push him too far with his art? Tell me,” Thomas takes Talia’s hand, the one that has the key in it, “did I push him too far by dating his rival?” Talia raises an eyebrow at him. He sounds absolutely crazy.

Rafayel? Fake dating his rival? Bitch, please. Rafayel wouldn’t do anything as crazy as that, let alone date the one woman in the world he supposedly hates. Oh yes, Aunt Talia knows all about you. Whenever she sees her nephew, the purple haired Lemurian fills her ear with all of the annoying things that you do, the way you went back to college just to get a degree in marine biology to have better insults for him. Talia always smiled at him and the passion he felt towards you. He called it hate while Talia called it love, the bond between the two of you going beyond that of a petty rivalry.

“No, Thomas, he isn’t firing you,” she rolls her eyes. “He was with me that week. I needed his help.”

“Oh,” Thomas stands up, shoulders pushed back, “well, then, that’s good.”

“Mhm,” Talia hums. She gently moves her nephew’s agent out of the way, unlocking the door for them to walk inside.

The art studio looks as it normally does. Unfinished canvases sit discarded along the walls, paint supplies scattered across the floor. There’s even half-melted candles along the floor and walls. Ambience, as Rafayel liked to call it. Talia steps through the studio with Thomas hot on her tail, the two looking around for any sign of life. She shrugs and looks at the agent, signaling that she’s going to check for him upstairs. Ebb day was coming soon and, well, she thought she’d spare Thomas the horror of seeing a naked Rafayel after the first time it happened.

She slowly ascends the stairs, her warm smile on her face. She wears a patterned silk dress with the matching scarf over her head. A pearl necklace sits around her neck with a matching pair of earrings hanging from her lobes. Talia reaches the top step and turns the corner, Rafayel’s bed coming into sight.

“He’s still asleep isn’t he—oh,” Talia pauses when she nears the bed.

Rafayel lays behind you, the silk sheets covering your bodies, tangled legs and feet exposed to the room. His arms are draped across your body, forehead resting on the back of your neck. The two of you peacefully sleep, quiet snores coming from your mouths. She would have thought that this was a normal…date night for the two of you—something fake, of course—but the scent of tequila and alcohol in the air tells her a different story. She shakes her head, quieting her laughs as she turns on her heel, quickly moving back down the staircase.

“Well?” Thomas asks, offering Talia his hand once she reaches the bottom steps. “Is he alive?”

“He is, yes,” she nods, chuckling, “that rival of his stayed the night.”

“Stayed the night?” Thomas narrows his eyes at Talia. She raises an eyebrow, allowing him to process the information. He swipes his tongue over his teeth before he connects the dots, eyes widening. “Oh! Oh! Stayed the night! Okay! That’s a…that’s a development.”

“They’ll be hungover when they wake up,” Talia’s maternal instinct kicks in. She walks towards the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the shelf.

“Hungover? No! They have their modeling class with Rhys in a few hours! They can’t be hungover!” Thomas whines, feeling his blood pressure rise.

“That is why you are going to go get them two hearty portions of seaweed soup—extra salty!” Talia points at him. She fills the glasses with ice water, grabbing Rafayel’s salt shaker, pouring a healthy amount of salt into both glasses. Thomas raises one eyebrow.

He knows about Rafayel’s Lemurian background, one of the few to know this. But you? Why do you need the salt of the sea to come back to life? Wouldn’t it hurt you instead of helping you.

“Maybe I should get something greasy for her,” Thomas reasons, grabbing his keys to his car from his pocket. “That salt will kill her—” Talia snorts. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh Thomas,” Aunt Talia laughs. She grabs the cups after stirring in the salt. She walks up to him, ready to pass him to go up the stairs. “She’s Atlantean!”

as always ; likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated! remember to show your fav writers some love! <3

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braisedhoney · 2 months ago

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NOT ALONE.

bonus:

he gets really clingy when the power cuts out. needs to hold hands for a bit while you go adventuring… sigh. someone invest in some solar panels, please?

#UTDR #deltarune #deltarune fanart #wd gaster #utdr soul #utdr player #ney's art #wowie it’s been… a while!!#i’m not really back. but this is smth from 2023 that i wanted to share before the chapter drop #y’know before we inevitably find out the goofy guy is even goofier and impossible to take seriously ahdjfksjkfkf #i hope you enjoy and that everyone has stayed safe.#i don’t have a queue tag but hopefully this is posting at a good time for everybody.#i have oooone more? lighter in tone. may set to post in a few days and then be off again.#if it’s not up by the time the new chapter drops then i’ve scrapped it!! or am saving it for later. or the queue messed up #hahaaa… lol o7 #gaster fanart #ney’s comics

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cno-inbminor · 28 days ago

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zayne x non-mc!fem reader -- married, but you worry it's only because mc (emcee) had left and was never sure on when she'd return. six years later, emcee moves back to linkon, and you feel your worst nightmares start to fester. self-indulgent angst (tw: miscommunication), mentions of alcohol and getting drunk , use of Y/N wc: 5.4k | part 1

a/n: thank you to everyone who has interacted with and enjoyed part 1! i sincerely hope that this final part does not disappoint. stay safe and hydrated, and i hope you all are well <3

You can do this for as long as you need to, no matter how draining it may be.

When you wake in the morning, you find yourself tucked into your blanket the way that Zayne would often do if he felt the material wasn’t doing enough to keep you warm. A pang of guilt makes itself known when you come to the realization, and it’s clear that Zayne had to leave early again. The side of his bed is cool beneath your fingers, but after a single grip of the cotton, you fling the blanket off your figure and get up to start your morning routine.

It’s a tiny hassle to make your own coffee and figure out a quick breakfast without Zayne – tiny in the sense that you had done it yourself before having moved in with him, and you shouldn’t be so reliant on a partner whose schedule is as crazy as his. There had been a time when things were more consistent and regular, but ever since Emcee returned…

Like clockwork, you step on the scale in your shared closet, letting the device gather all the numbers it needs. It gives you a chance to observe the sorry state of your feet. The bandaids that you slapped on are worn at the edges, your toenails looking a little rough, wrinkles and blisters decorating other parts of your toes. You feel the roughness on the balls and arches underneath. When you step off the scale, you move towards the counter and lean back against it so you can lift a foot up and get a better look at the backs of your heels.

The sight of them makes you wince internally, bloodied and skin peeling. Once pristine, the cotton pads of the bandaids are splotched with crimson, paint from yours truly. You take little care in replacing the bandages and dolloping some antibiotic ointment on them to make you feel like you’re doing something at least. After getting dressed, brushing your teeth, and deciding to buy coffee on the way instead, you’re out the door in your most comfortable pair of work flats.

As you walk towards the nearest bus station, your phone vibrates, and the music in your earbuds softens before returning to its original volume. The notification tone sends a spike of anxiety through your system, your fingers shaking as they push things around and fish your phone out from your bag.

Husband 💙: Have you left for work yet? I can come back and drop you off.

It’d be rude not to reply.

You: I have, so no need. Thank you though.

An immediate reply.

Husband 💙: Don’t walk around too much today, and replace those bandaids when you’re on your lunch break.

You: Okay, I’ll try.

Needless to say, you don’t – more like, you can’t. No one in your office has bandaids for some reason, nor can they remember where the first-aid kit is. To be fair, you hadn’t planned on changing them had Zayne not said anything.

The hours tick by, and your boss stops by your desk to ask if everything was okay yesterday. You thought you could fake it, but your voice is telling when you reply, “Oh yeah, everything’s just fine. We’re fine.” Your boss cocks an eyebrow at your tone, and you assume a facial expression that screams, “Really, we’re not fine but there’s nothing you can do about it, so thank you for even asking.”

Just as you’re putting your stuff away to leave work for the day, your phone buzzes.

Husband 💙: Don’t forget to eat dinner. I have a late surgery. Also, kettle corn is not a meal.

You can’t help but quirk a smile at his words, as they rarely fail to elicit a reaction from you. But you’re tired, still feeling the effects of everything that happened yesterday, and you type out a quick response.

You: Okay. Good luck.

In another part of the city, a man with hazel eyes reads his phone for a little too long, his eyes squinting slightly as they circle around those three words. Your bland, unfeeling response is highly unusual and unsettles him. But he has to toss it aside somewhere in his mind so that he can focus wholeheartedly on saving this upcoming patient.

You, on the other hand, have decided to camp out at the bookstore again until late. Unable to hide forever, you slip back outside and are greeted by a slight chill in the air. It seeps through your thin blouse, and it isn’t until your head hits your pillow that it is, in fact, the middle of a hot summer.

Zayne has texted you more this week than he has in the last month.

At first, you thought things may be returning to a sense of normalcy, and that whatever you heard come out of his mouth that fateful day was just a fluke. But when he mentioned offhandedly that Emcee was gone for a week or two because of a mission a few hours away, you deflated and berated yourself for even hoping.

The second choice, weren’t you?

Every day, there is something. A reminder to change your bandaids, dry humor, some slightly snarky comment about the highly incompetent doctor in the neurology department that he swears must’ve bought his way to become board-certified, the occasional picture of his makeshift meals, general questions about your day – you don’t know how to feel about all of it. Because what happens when Emcee comes back?

What happens when you can no longer be the priority again?

The very question makes you throw a shot of soju back at this company dinner to celebrate someone’s promotion. You had taken it as a chance to, once again, stay away from your actual sanctuary, while also getting a free meal. A win in your books, right?

Even in your drunken haze, when your phone, face down, vibrates on your table by your chopsticks, you know immediately who it is. When you flip your phone over, your husband’s face greets you, and you have a slight moment of panic. Did you ever get around to telling him you were at a work dinner tonight?

“Fuck,” you murmur before nonchalantly swiping up the green circle.

“Hello?” you quietly answer, your voice already a little heavy.

Zayne seems to pick up on it almost immediately. “Is everything okay?”

Before you can answer, a crowd roars at some drinking game happening two tables down, and your phone cannot be bothered to filter it out.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“Work dinner,” you reply while trying to step away from your table and towards somewhere quieter.

“Was it an impromptu dinner?”

“No,” you say, tone sheepish and sluggish, much like your steps towards the bathroom. “I think I forgot to tell you about it.”

“Do you need me to pick you up? I’m about to leave the hospital.”

You pull your phone back and search for the time. Was it already 10:30PM?

“You don’t have to, it’s late. You should go home and get some sleep.”

Several miles away, a tiny layer of ice decorates Zayne’s right hand.

“I can’t imagine you need to be there any longer. Surely your boss would understand. Where are you?”

For the life of you, you could not recall the name of the restaurant. Looking around, you hum, almost lackadaisical, until you catch sight of a flashy sign. “I think it’s called Chodang? Korean barbeque.”

“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

“No,” you nearly whine, “it’s okayyy.”

There are the jingling of keys and two quick beeps in the background. “Y/N.”

His voice is final, stern, and sobers you just a tiny bit.

“Thank you,” you surrender with the cadence of an apology, your tone sheepish.

“Wait inside. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t forget to gather all your things.”

“Yessir,” and fingers mock salute to no one before hanging up. Well, at least you can finally be done with this event. If you’re lucky, you won’t have a hangover in the morning.

When you start grabbing your jacket and bag, your coworkers ask if you’re leaving, and you have to pretend that you don’t want to. “My husband’s picking me up.”

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about that then. See you tomorrow!”

You wave goodbye to everyone and do your best to remain as steady as possible. The warm summer night is a nice contrast to the aircon that had no business blasting as hard as it did. Your mind drifts off into another world as you stare off at nothing, eyes unfocused and slightly glazed over. Without any warning, you find yourself thrown back to the day you walked aimlessly around the park.

“Perhaps, but there’s no point in dwelling on the what-ifs.”

That was not a “what-if” you could ignore. How could you, you think to yourself, a half-sob sitting lodged in your throat. Would you even be here in this position now, waiting for Zayne, your husband, to pick you up late at night out of love and concern? Would you have been a spectator at their wedding instead of his bride? Everything that you had built with him would be nonexistent – a life devoid of love, hazel eyes, tender care, and icy hands that could be so warm.

A sleek car pulls up in front of you with a gentle purr of its engine, causing you to blink and remove yourself from your stupor. How interesting, that’s the same color as Zayne’s car. And make. What are the odds?

Oh, the person even looks like your husband, too. What a coincidence.

Are you forgetting something important?

“Y/N,” the person says as they approach you. How do they know your name?

Cold hands hold you by your upper arms in an attempt to steady you. But your vision blurs, and you feel the desperate need to hide. You drop down to a crouch which is not wise in your dress, but there’s very little else you can do at the moment.

“I have a husband, and he’s coming to pick me up,” you announce with false bravado, voice barely loud enough for the person to hear because you have your head tucked against and your arms wrapped around your knees. To further bolster your argument, you throw up your left hand and turn it so your ring is visible. “See?”

The person in front of you lets out a deep sigh as if they’ve been dealt with the most cumbersome inconvenience possible, which makes you frown because how dare they display exasperation when they, themselves, of their own volition, approached a drunk person. A rustle of clothes, a shadow overcast, and against better judgment, you peek over your crossed limbs. The person is now crouched in front of you to meet you at eye level, which must be painful for someone so tall. However, it is not the time to feel sorry.

“I do see. In fact, I gave you that ring.”

You splutter and fail to scoff. “No, you didn’t. My husband gave me that ring, and I don’t even know who you are!” you argue and whine, failing to pull back when a cold hand rests against your head to pat down stray hairs.

“You’re telling me I don’t look familiar?”

With a pout, you shake your head, petulant and stubborn. “Nobody can really look like Zayne. He’s suuuper handsome, and no one,” you emphasize before wagging a finger in front of you, “can compare.”

Zayne’s eyes sparkle with mirth and affection, and he can’t help but indulge himself just a little bit more.

“Is that so? Anything else I should know about this…Zayne?”

Your eyes remain closed as you turn to the side, resting a cheek against your forearms. “He’s really, really sweet, which is funny because he’s – hiccup – like, obsessed with sweets. Annddd, he’s the best car–, cardi–, cardia–, heart doctor in the whooolleee world. Zayne saves lots and lots of lives all the time.”

“And what if I told you I was a cardiologist as well?”

“Doesn’t matter, because Zayne is the best. No one is better than Zayne. He’s really funny, and he makes me laugh a lot. He’s…he’s the best person I know.”

And he is. He really, truly is. The fondness brings you back to the earlier existential dread that you had been spiraling down before this man appeared in front of you. It’s the alcohol, you tell yourself as your eyes begin to water, and you can’t help the sniffle that ensues.

The sound sends Zayne into a world of panic. He has long been able to differentiate between your crying sniffles and runny-nose-flu sniffles, and he knows you’re not usually an emotional drunk.

“I don’t know what I would do without him,” – sniff – “and if he…if he ever left me, I know exactly who he’d leave me for.” Your voice warbles and shakes more and more with each word before you’re thrown into a fit of sobs. “And I wouldn’t blame him be – hic – because,” you try to elaborate before pausing, “because..”

Oh god, you can’t even get yourself to say it. The thought plagues you as the cries plague your chest, leaving you defenseless with no other option but to let it all out. It’s the last thing you do before you proceed to pass out from exhaustion.

Zayne catches you just in time and brings your barely conscious body home with a heavy heart. Any other day, he would’ve found your groggy voice and minor complaints on the way home to be endearing. But now? He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to do besides taking off your shoes, changing you into your pajamas, and tucking you into bed. He doesn’t know what to do besides feeding you honey water by the mouthful because you refuse to drink from a cup like a sober person. He doesn’t know what to do when you so readily accept his kisses and the soothing liquid in your sleepy state.

When he finally lays beside you, all he does know is that you two urgently need to talk.

(He hears the last few grains of sand start to trickle through the neck of his glass timer.)

And soon.

Your eyes shoot open the next morning, and after recalling everything you word-vomited last night, you want nothing more than to plant yourself six feet under and turn into a tree. That way, you would never have to see Zayne again without being riddled with guilt, stress, and disbelief in your boorish behaviors. You two can never talk about this.

Zayne is this close to stabbing a cadaver from the nearby medical school’s anatomy lab with a scalpel in a manner that would laugh maniacally in the name of science. What does a man need to do to have just one – one, whole, uninterrupted – day to spend with his wife?

It has to be karma, at this point. He must’ve done something horrific to have emergencies land in his lap at the most inconvenient times possible. After all, it seemed that at every available opportunity, something unavoidable called for his attention. Whether it be an urgent consult, some patient code, nurses knocking urgently at his door, covering for someone at the last minute, Yvonne paging him, literally anything –

At this very moment, one could find Zayne leaning down in surrender at his desk – back hunched over, elbows on the glass, forehead resting against intertwined hands, thumbs rubbing circles into his temples, glasses cast aside atop a messy pile of folders in a haphazard fashion – all while muttering to himself, “I just need to talk to my wife, for the love of Astra.” After a long sigh, he rubs his eyes and looks up, his fingertips now meeting over the bridge of his nose. In his peripheral vision, a glass sand timer sits. To anyone else, it is an innocent decoration – but to him, its very existence now mocks him.

A cherished gift from you, despite its simplicity. But as he reaches over in a daze to turn it on its axel, he cannot help but wonder if it meant anything deeper. When you gifted this to him two years ago, was it supposed to remind him that time with you was finite?

“It’s a three-minute sand timer,” you had said, bouncing in excitement on your feet as you stood in front of his desk and watched him open the box. “I know you’re endlessly busy, but you should at least be able to have a few minutes to yourself when you want or need it.”

Zayne’s vision focuses on the grains of sand trickling through the neck and into the bottom bulb. As usual, he is mildly fascinated by its unique frosty blue hue, its looks more akin to snow gently piling up in a pristine tundra. He remembers the cheeky smile spread across your lips, the adoration in your eyes, the way your hands were crossed behind your back. He remembers holding out his hand, gently gripping yours when it had found its home in his, and pressing his lips against your knuckles as a gesture of gratitude, love, and respect.

“Do you think anything would’ve happened between you and her had she stayed six years ago?”

Grayson’s words had unnerved him more than one could realize.

Zayne had never questioned his marriage before. Though there had been some hesitancy in moving on from Emcee and acknowledging that he felt some type of affection for you, the one he hadn’t been enamored with for many years, he learned to love you. It was easy, in hindsight, and it still is. Even when Emcee had come to the wedding, Zayne had felt nothing but appreciation that she had made it all the way out there despite her busy and chaotic schedule.

But what if she had stayed? What if she never moved across the country?

He groans and leans back in his chair, his head slightly hanging over the top edge. His shoulders protest, and the muscles in his neck and shoulders ache. If there was anything he could wish for at this very moment, it would be your presence behind him, your fingers kneading methodically to relieve him of his discomfort. “You’re too good to me,” he would say, and you would chuckle. “Nonsense,” you’d reply quietly. “If anyone is too good to me, it’s you.”

“See, that’s nonsense,” he’d argue and look over his shoulder, a hand reaching back to cover yours. And you would laugh before placing a tender kiss on his forehead, almost Spiderman style. He would relish in the tiny gesture, so wonderful and full of pure bliss, and know that he could make it through the rest of the day.

The pride in his gait as he has you on his arm during awards ceremonies, the peace in his eyes as he watches you snore in deep sleep, the reverence in his touch when he keeps a hand on the back of your neck as he kisses you with all abandon, the trained ear to hear your voice in a noisy crowd – every moment, every memory, every bit of life that he has lived with you, he would never trade it for the world. It doesn’t matter what would’ve happened if Emcee had stayed put six years ago.

And he really, really, wishes he had told Grayson that.

Zayne wakes his computer screen and pulls up his calendar to see what his schedule looks like for the afternoon and tomorrow. It’s relatively light compared to the last few months, and he feels like he can finally breathe. Reaching into his whitecoat pocket for his phone, and without looking, he uses your speed dial – 2, and only because 1 is occupied by his voicemail inbox. Each dial tone causes his anxiety to spike, but somebody must be answering his prayers because you answer right before it’s forwarded to your voicemail.

“Yes, Zayne?”

“Do you have any meetings tomorrow?”

“Oh, umm,” you hum, and he can hear the faint mouse clicks in the back, “there’s nothing urgent. What is it?”

“Take the day off tomorrow,” he suggests in a gentle tone. “Call in sick, and spend the day with me.”

Zayne receives a few moments of silence, and he can practically hear the gears grinding in your brain, even miles away.

“I miss you,” he adds, his voice like a confession, and you cannot mistake his tone for anything but pure, genuine longing.

“...I miss you, too,” you reply, your own tone just as yearning as his. “I’ll do it.”

Zayne’s absolutely thrilled, already logging into his employee portal to submit his sick day absence. “We’ll sleep in, cook something together. Is there anywhere you want to go or do?”

“Not that I can think of right now.”

Good. That’s what he was hoping for.

“Then I’ll see you tonight. Let me know if you want me to pick you up from work.”

“Will do. I’ll see you later.”

“One more thing, Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“...I love you, too.”

“Goodbye, dear.”

“Bye, A-Shen.” Call ended chime.

Despite the selfish desire to keep you on the phone until it’s time to leave work, he cannot help but smile at the use of his Chinese nickname. You’ve always said it so affectionately, so full of care and tenderness. His heart rate never fails to spike and simultaneously melt at the sound of it, even after all these years.

Who knew that, to get one free day with his wife, it takes one drunken rant, the impatience of a toddler, and two individuals playing hooky?

Part of you wishes you never have to wake up. You have a very, very bad feeling about this day off, seeing as Zayne, of all people, was the one to propose such a day. For the first time in months, you feel his presence as soon as you awaken. You stir, and lithe fingers brush away a few baby hairs with precision and care. Your eyes stay shut. You desperately beg yourself to fall back asleep, to deny reality for just a few more hours.

But Zayne has other plans – he kisses you on the cheek before moving slightly to murmur in your ear, “Good morning, dear.”

Fuck.

“G’morning,” you mutter. At the very words, your eyes flutter open. His smile is incredibly gentle and so rife with adoration that you find it almost…blinding.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

God, even the thought of eating makes you nauseous. “It’s okay, I’m not hungry.”

Zayne frowns. “But–”

You take an abrupt turn and roll out of bed. “Let me start the coffee and whip up something for you.” Anything to get you away from him, or you might just combust.

A few minutes later, you definitely are.

Zayne has caught up to you now, arms wrapped around your middle as you poke some eggs frying in a pan. His chin rests on your left shoulder, and you’re panicking. It has been so long that your body barely has the muscle memory to act at this moment. Do you remain slightly stiff? Do you relax in his hold? Do you nuzzle your cheek against his? Do you turn to kiss him on the cheek? Do you start light conversation and exchange sweet nothings?

“When was the last time we had a day like this?” Zayne asks, his voice soft against your ear.

“It‘s been a while,” you reply and attempt to mask the bitterness in your tone.

“I know,” he sighs and squeezes you a little tighter. “The hospital has been occupying too much of my time.”

Amongst other things…and people.

Your hands tremble slightly as one lifts the pan and the other uses the spatula to push the eggs onto the empty plate next to the stove. Right on time, two pieces of wheat toast pop out from the toaster, and you place them with the eggs. Zayne reluctantly unlatches himself as you grab the plate without a word and walk them to the round dining table. You place it at his usual seat, a silent gesture for him to sit and wait as you grab a knife, fork, and cup of coffee with a little too much sugar and cream. The best you can do is send him a half-smile before retreating to the sink and busying yourself with the dirty dishes. Washing a frying pan should not take long, but your motions never stray from slow, thoughtful, and methodical.

There’s a part of you that never wants this day to end – but the other part wants it to end now. You’re not ready for this conversation that you bet he’s trying to have.

Usually, Zayne would give you some time to settle before sitting down and having serious talks. But today? He’s restless, abuzz.

The two of you are cuddling on the couch with a random documentary on, his fingers tracing patterns across the length of your arm. They leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and Zayne takes it as a sign to drape the blanket from the back of the couch over both of you, but mainly your legs and lower torso. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Better?” he murmurs in question.

You hum and nod, allowing yourself to snuggle just a bit further.

Several minutes pass before Zayne bites the bullet.

“Do you…remember that work dinner you had last week?”

You gulp, and it’s not exactly subtle.

“Mhmm.”

“Do you remember what happened when I picked you up from the restaurant?”

Well shit. “Umm…it’s a bit fuzzy…”

Zayne hums, his fingers now running through your hair. “You said something to me.”

“Did I?”

He stays silent before grabbing the remote, pausing the show, and turning to look you in the eye.

“I think you’ve been avoiding me,” he lets out, his gaze sweeping over every inch of your face and studying every little reaction of yours, “and I think it has something to do with what you said that night.

“Well first, there’s the situation where you couldn’t even recognize me, but I also understand that inebriation can greatly affect one’s vision. What concerned me the most was,” he pauses before continuing, “this idea you had in your head that I would leave you for someone else.”

Zayne lifts his free hand to softly grasp your chin between his thumb and index finger – not too harshly, but not soft enough that you could escape him.

You watch all pretenses fall from his face, and something in his eyes breaks.

“Why,” Zayne starts, his voice gravelly and raspy with disbelief now, “would you ever think that?”

Is he serious?

“Have I done something, Y/N? To make you doubt me?”

You snap, “Think for maybe five seconds about that before you ask me again. You know I wouldn’t be irrational enough to be upset with you over nothing.”

Zayne’s eyebrows furrow, the crease between them becoming more and more pronounced. “I…”

Perhaps there was no use to beating around the bush. Your voice trembles as you confess, “I heard what you told Grayson in your office a couple weeks ago.” Even as Zayne’s eyes seem to widen, you push through, “I was going to drop off lunch, but then I heard him ask about Emcee, and if anything would’ve happened between you two had she stayed all those years ago.

“And you said, ‘Perhaps’, Zayne.”

Even in the most harrowing surgeries, his hands could remain stable. But now they shake as they move to cradle your face, and you push yourself completely off the couch. “Tell me, Zayne Li. Tell me what things would be like if Emcee never took that job six years ago. Would we still be here today?”

“Of course we would–”

“Then why?!” you yelled, whirling on him with fresh tears tracking down your cheeks. “Why would you say that to Grayson if it weren’t true?! Obviously, there’s some truth to it!”

“Please, listen to me–” he begs, but you cut him off once more.

“How can you sit there and lie to me? You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it, Zayne. You are rarely, if ever, unintentional in your words. So, the fact that ‘perhaps’ even slipped out of your mouth means something.”

“I,” he starts then pauses, his brain fighting for the right words. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

His words trigger a sharp pain in your chest, and your cries begin to worsen. The feeling like you’re on the verge of hyperventilating draws closer and closer. “You still love her, don’t you?”

“No!” Zayne immediately fires back. “Not in the way you’re thinking, and not in the way that I love you.”

“She was your first love, Zayne, and it wasn’t the kind of first love that anyone can easily brush off. You,” your lungs scream for air in between your words, “you only went out with me because she left. Had she not…”

Zayne shakes his head with vigor. “No, I would still be here. With you.”

“Then why–”

“Even if she had stayed, if anything had happened between me and her,” Zayne interjects, looking straight at you. It takes everything in him not to crack at the sight of your grief-ridden gaze. “I firmly believe that I’d still end up here with you. I meant what I said to Grayson when I said there was no use in dwelling on the what-ifs. The words didn’t come to me at the time, but I said it because I knew that no matter what, I would still be married to you.

Always encased in subtle pride and unwavering willpower, Zayne slides off the couch and plants his weight on buckled knees. He takes hold of your hands and is beyond relieved when you don’t pull away. There is no way to count the number of times he has held your hands with love and reverence – but he hopes, he prays, that this is the only time he will ever need to hold them in repentance, a sinner seeking divine forgiveness.

“Please believe me,” he implores, and you’d have to be deaf and blind to miss the desperation in his grip, tone, and eyes. “I love you, Y/N,” Zayne professes. “I told you on our wedding night that there isn’t a single moment when I’m not thinking of you, and that hasn’t changed at all. Astra permit, that will never change.”

Your silence terrifies him, but at least he hasn’t been greeted by an onslaught of fresh tears from you. “You were promised the world from me, and I have failed you,” he said softly, almost drowning in self-disappointment. “I’ve neglected you these past few months, and I am so, so sorry.”

Zayne can’t bear to look at you and drops his head in your hands. He presses venerating kisses on your fingertips and palms as he waits for your answer.

You can’t look at him either, begging on his knees like he would be nothing without you. It’s hard to imagine that of someone as established and renowned as him, but…

The sunlight that pierces through the blinds catches just right on a sliver of your diamond ring that hasn’t been covered by his hands.

You take a quivering breath, another, and then another.

“If you ever,” and Zayne lifts his head with the speed of light, “give me reason to seriously doubt what we have ever again…”

His heart pounds, and he waits with bated breath. God, is this what they feel like in all those romance movies?

“...I’m dragging you to marriage counseling, and if you refuse to cooperate with even one of those sessions, I will leave.”

A torrential wave of relief passes over, causing him to release all the tension in his bones. “Thank you,” he whispers against your hands, “and I understand. You will never be taken for granted – never in this life or the next.”

And when your fingers are running through his sweaty strands, his face pressed against your stomach, his arms wrapped around you, his hands grasping firmly onto your shirt – really it’s his, but everything of his belongs to you and you only – you allow yourself to forget the insecurity that has laid dormant within you for all these years.

Zayne did not settle for you.

#lads zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x non mc #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lnds zayne #zayne lads #doctor zayne #zayne angst #zayne li #tw: miscommunication #tw: alcohol #zayne x you

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shortnspidey · 1 month ago

Text

PERILOUS SKIES

Bob Floyd X Fem!Seresin!reader || WC: 6.9K

SUMMARY: Dating Bob Floyd had been nothing short of perfect. The sweet, ever-attentive WSO felt like he’d walked straight out of a rom-com. That’s why, when your scheduled date night arrives and he doesn’t show, your mind immediately begins to spiral. It’s so unlike him, so out of character, that you can’t stop replaying every possible reason in your head. As the hours stretch on, worry takes hold, deep down, you can feel something’s wrong.

WARNINGS: Established relationship, cursing, talks of minor injuries, minor talks of violence, overall fluff, steamy kiss, slight angst, typical Hangman behavior, incorrect military details (sorry)!

A/N: Ugh! I need a man like Bob! 😫 I have been sucked back into my 2022 Top Gun era and Lewis Pullman has me in such a chokehold which is why this was written. Hope y’all enjoy! Divider by @thecutestgrotto <3

➩ main masterlist

➩ bob floyd masterlist

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d fall for a military man. Not because you didn’t respect them, you did. You’d seen what that kind of life demanded: the discipline, the bravery, the sacrifices. But you'd also seen the ego, the recklessness, and the emotional walls that seemed to come with the uniform. You knew their type, inside and out. Especially because you were raised right alongside one.

Jake “Hangman” Seresin wasn’t just your older brother. He was a force of nature, sharp smile, sharper jawline, and enough swagger to make heads turn before he even stepped foot in a room. He’d always been that way. The golden boy. The daredevil. The protector. And as his little sister, you were someone he guarded with his life. Especially, when it came to men.

Every birthday party, every school dance, every casual dinner date you attempted growing up had been intercepted by Jake. Sometimes he scared them off with a pointed glare. Sometimes it was a not-so-subtle, “I’m watching you.” And sometimes it was just his mere presence, standing a little too close, arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for an excuse to break someone’s nose.

At first, it had almost been sweet, he was simply looking out for you. But as the years passed, it became suffocating. You weren’t fragile. You didn’t need saving. And yet, he treated you like some porcelain doll that might crack if someone so much as looked at you the wrong way. God forbid it was someone in the Navy. It was safe to say that you had grown so tired of flight suits.

That’s why you built a life as far away from that world as you could. Your work meant everything to you. You were a licensed therapist, specializing in trauma and stress-related disorders, an emotionally demanding job, but one that gave you purpose. You spent your days helping others unpack the things they carried, offering a safe space for people to speak their truth, even when it broke your heart.

You had your own small private practice just off base, tucked into a converted bungalow with soft lighting and calming artwork on the walls. It smelled faintly of lavender and worn paperbacks, and your bookshelf overflowed with psychology texts, handwritten notes, and dog-eared poetry collections. Your life was rooted in listening. In feeling. In forming connections.

And if, some nights, the weight of everyone else’s pain lingered in your chest, well, you’d made peace with that. You had your quiet apartment, your plants, your routines. You knew how to breathe through the noise. You were proud of what you’d built. Which made what happened next was all the more unexpected. You weren’t planning to go out that night.

It had been a long, exhausting week, three new clients, a crisis session, and a war veteran who hadn’t said a single word until your fifth session together. You were mentally and physically drained, emotionally raw. You had planned to stay in, maybe order Thai food and watch something mindless just to silence your thoughts. But your phone lit up with a message from Penny.

Swing by the Hard Deck tonight. First drink’s on me! 🍹

You almost said no.

But, surprisingly, something pushed you to say yes. So without thinking too much, you slipped into an orange sundress, threw on your favorite sandals, and drove the familiar road to the beach. As always, the Hard Deck buzzed with music, laughter, and the sound of boots hitting the wooden floors. The scent of sea salt and beer filled the air, and the jukebox was already playing something classic, probably something from Maverick’s rotation.

You knew half the faces there. A few pilots you’d grown up around. Some you had met through Jake. Speaking of Jake, of course he was already there, was holding court by the pool table, cue stick in hand, that ever-confident grin on his face. Same old scene. Same old bar. Penny spotted your first, waving you over as she started making your go-to drink. You smiled, walking over and giving her a hug behind the bar.

“Here, looks like you need it.” You smiled, accepting the fruity cocktail from her hands. As she attended to the other bar patrons, you sat in a nearby stool, fully intending to linger just long enough to be polite before heading back out so that you could crawl into bed by 10PM. Only, the universe seemed to have different plans, because that's when you saw him. He was tucked away in the corner of the bar, half-shadowed by the low glow of the neon beer signs above.

He sat with a bottle of beer in hand, long fingers loosely curled around the neck of it, his posture slightly hunched like he was doing his best not to take up too much space. His glasses were a little fogged from the humidity, slipping just slightly down the bridge of his nose. He reached up now and then to adjust them, eyes flicking around the bar like he was trying to blend into the furniture.

Not hiding, exactly, just keeping to himself. He wasn’t laughing with the others, wasn’t showing off at the dartboard, and he definitely wasn’t trying to flirt with anyone. In a room full of men with too much confidence and not enough subtlety, he was different. You couldn’t look away. There was something almost disarming about how awkward he looked. Like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands or where to rest his gaze.

But even in all that quiet discomfort, there was something gentle about him. You were too far in your head when he looked up, and caught you staring. Your breath hitched, just slightly. But instead of looking away like most people would, he offered a sheepish, crooked smile. And you smiled back, because how could you not? He dropped his gaze immediately, taking a sip of his beer like maybe he was embarrassed by the brief moment of eye contact.

It only made him even more endearing.

You turned back toward Penny behind the bar, trying to play it cool, but your voice betrayed your interest. “Hey Penny, who’s the guy in the corner?” Penny followed your gaze, then gave you a knowing little smile. “That’s Bob.” You hummed, faking interest, taking a sip of your drink. “Lieutenant Robert Floyd. WSO. Flies backseat for Phoenix.” She added casually, wiping down a glass. “One of the good ones. Real quiet, but sweet as hell. Kind of Jake’s opposite.”

That earned a short laugh out of you. “So, he's not a pilot?” You smiled behind the rim of your glass. “He is, technically. But he’s the kind that listens more than he talks.” Penny raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you interested?” Instead of responding, you glance over your shoulder again. Bob was staring down at the condensation on his bottle, idly tracing circles with his fingertip like he’d rather be anywhere else, and yet, somehow, he didn’t look miserable.

Just… out of place.

“Maybe.” You murmured, trying to sound nonchalant, but the truth betrayed you in the form of heat creeping up the back of your neck. You lifted your drink to cover the slight twitch of a smile you couldn’t suppress. Penny leaned in with a smirk, wiping down the bar like she wasn’t studying your every move. “Then don’t wait too long,” She coaxed under her breath, voice teasing. “Use that Seresin charm. Guys like that don’t usually make the first move.”

You glanced back at him. He was still in the corner, tracing the rim of his bottle with his thumb, eyes low, posture slightly slouched like he was trying to shrink himself into the background. But something about him, it tugged at you. Maybe it was the way his eyes had flicked toward you moments ago, a little wide, like he couldn’t believe someone like you had noticed him. Like he wasn’t used to being seen.

Or maybe, just maybe, you were tired of playing it safe. Tired of living under your brother’s ever-watchful gaze. Tired of waiting for permission you never needed in the first place. Your fingers tightened around the glass as you made your decision. You slid off your stool, smoothing down your dress like it could steady your nerves, and crossed the bar, each step quickening your heartbeat. “Mind if I sit?” You asked, voice smooth, chin tilted ever so slightly in confidence, fake or not.

He looked up at you, caught off guard. His expression flickered,first surprise, then something gentler. He cleared his throat, straightening a little. “Uh—yeah. I mean, no. I don’t mind.” You smiled and took the seat beside him, the wood cool against your skin as you eased into it. “Thanks, I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand across the small gap between you. The contact was instant, his larger palm warm, slightly rough from flight gloves, his grip unsure but respectful nonetheless.

“B-Bob,” He mumbled out. “Well, Robert. But, um… everyone calls me Bob.” You smiled, loving how blush dusted his cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Bob,” You let his name linger, giving it weight as your gaze swept over his face, softer up close, his features earnest and boyish beneath his glasses which hid his captivating cerulean blue eyes. “So… you always hang out in dark corners, or is tonight a special occasion?” The edges of his mouth twitched with a quiet, amused smile.

“Just trying to stay out of the way.” You raised a brow, slightly leaning into him so your shoulders were touching. “Of who?” You teased, head tilting. “The loud ones? Or the terrifying older brothers?” That made his eyes widen slightly behind his lenses, and you didn’t miss the way he stiffened, the realization hitting like a gust of wind. He blinked once. Then again. “Y-You’re… Hangman’s sister?” You sipped your drink, nodding slowly. “Guilty as charged, Lieutenant.” You winked as Bob stared for a moment.

You could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes, fast, nervous, cautious. “You gonna run, Bob?” You asked, eyebrow lifting, lips curved just enough to keep it playful. You wouldn’t have blamed him. You were used to that look. You’d seen it before on a dozen other faces. Guys who decided no girl was worth catching hell from Jake Seresin. But Bob surprised you. He didn’t bolt. Didn’t stammer out a goodbye or glance over his shoulder like he was looking for an exit.

Instead, he just smiled, really smiled, and for the first time, something inside you fluttered. His whole face shifted when he did, gentle and sincere, like the smile had been waiting for the right moment to be let out. His shoulders dropped, and the tension in his spine eased as his nerves melted into quiet warmth. The corners of his eyes crinkled behind his glasses, and the golden bar light caught the faint dimple in his cheek, softening his whole demeanor.

Something about it, about him, felt honest. “Not unless you tell me to.” His voice was low, laced with a touch of humor, but no hint of fear whatsoever. And that was it. And you knew then… you were in trouble. Of course, right on cue, nothing good in your life ever slipped past Jake unnoticed. And the moment your brother spotted you talking to someone, especially someone in uniform, he made a beeline across the bar like a guided missile.

“Seriously?” He muttered under his breath, then louder. “She’s off-limits.” He slung an arm around your shoulder, the heavy weight of it both familiar and infuriating, while his eyes narrowed at Bob like he’d caught him trying to hack into the Pentagon. His voice was low and sharp. “I mean it, Floyd.” To Bob’s credit, he didn’t bristle or shrink away. He didn’t puff his chest or try to argue. He just gave a small, respectful nod, calm, measured. “Understood.” You expected him to walk away after that.

Hell, Jake even expected him to.

That was usually the part where most men retreated, tail between their legs, deciding no woman was worth facing down a protective older brother with a reputation like Hangman’s. But Bob surprised you. Later that night, long after the initial rush of aviators had moved on to games of pool and darts, and Jake had wandered off to trash-talk some poor soul at the dartboard, you found yourself by the jukebox, flipping through the cracked plastic covers of old CDs. Then, a quiet voice spoke up from behind you.

“I know your brother’s... protective,” Protective was one way to put it, you thought to yourself. You glanced up from flipping through the CD’s as Bob shifted his weight from one foot to another, hands in the pockets of his khakis, standing just far enough away to give you space, but close enough that you could feel the sincerity in his tone. “But I’d still like to buy you a drink and maybe talk some more. I-If that’s alright with you of course.” You looked up, surprised and maybe a little impressed.

It was more than alright.

You gave him a nod, and the two of you sat at the end of the bar, away from prying eyes and Jake’s over-the-top dramatics. Conversation flowed easier than you expected. Bob wasn’t flashy or performative, he was thoughtful. Funny in a dry, unexpected way. A little awkward, but charmingly so. That night turned into another. Then a real date. Then two. Then weeks of texts that made you smile at your phone like a teenager. Things didn’t move fast, they didn’t need to. With Bob, it was steady.

He remembered your favorite drink after the first time you ordered it. He walked you to your car every time, even if it meant doubling back on his own route. He asked about your day and actually listened, not just to respond, but to understand. He never interrupted. Never made you feel small. He laughed at your jokes, even the bad ones. He offered his hoodie on breezy beach nights without saying a word. And even had this quiet habit of checking on you.

Whether it was a text at the exact right time. A glance across a room that grounded you. And maybe most surprising of all, he made you feel safe. It didn’t matter that he flew backseat for one of the Navy’s best pilots. That he was part of a squad who took down a nearly impossible mission. That half the base jokingly called him “baby-on- board.” None of that defined him.

What mattered was that when you were with him, for the first time in years, you didn’t feel like someone’s little sister. You didn’t feel like someone to be guarded or shielded or spoken for. You just felt seen. Of course, that didn’t mean you were ready to throw it in Jake’s face. For a while, you and Bob kept things quiet. It wasn’t that you were ashamed, far from it. But you both agreed: Jake didn’t need to know just yet. You liked the way things were. Soft. Sacred. Yours.

Besides, the moment your brother found out you were seeing someone, especially someone on his squadron, he’d lose his mind. So you kept your dates discreet. Stolen kisses in parked cars. Quick coffee dates before his briefings. Whispered conversations during beach bonfires where no one was paying attention. And on one particularly slow afternoon, he stopped by your office. Your practice had just closed for the day. The soft hum of the white noise machine still filled the room, and the late sun poured through the windows.

Bob was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, pretending to read the spines of your books, psychology texts, self-help, a few novels tucked in like secrets. “I still can’t believe you keep a weighted blanket in your office.” He teased lightly, eyes glued to your legs as you reached for your laptop. “Trauma work, remember? Nervous systems love pressure. Plus, it’s cozy.” Bob stepped closer, a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. “You’re cozy.” You mirrored his smile, letting out a lovesick giggle before you could stop it.

“Are you trying to flirt with me using therapeutic language?” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief stepping closer. “Is it working?” You laughed, and before you could answer, his lips were on yours. It was supposed to be just one kiss. A quick goodbye before he headed back to base, enough to hold you off until you could get your hands on him later that night. But then your back hit the wall, and his hands cupped your jaw like he was memorizing every curve of your face.

You instinctively melted into him, fingers curling into his fitted white t-shirt that had no business making his biceps look that good. His lips pressed to yours, slow at first, soft and searching, but it deepened quickly. His hands found your waist, sliding over the thin fabric of your blouse, fingers splaying wide as if to anchor himself in the feel of you. Bob groaned quietly into your mouth, the sound low, needy, almost reverent. His tongue slipped past your parted lips, tentative but eager, and you welcomed him in with a soft, breathy moan.

Your hands fumbled for his collar, pulling him closer, grounding yourself in the way he tasted. One of his hands slid up your side, fingers brushing under the hem of your shirt, calloused fingertips grazing the bare skin of your ribs. You shivered at the contact, arching into him instinctively. His other hand cupped the back of your neck, thumb stroking just below your ear as his mouth moved with yours, deeper, hungrier.

Your nails scraped lightly through his hair, mussing it from its neat comb, and that earned you another quiet groan that vibrated against your lips. The air between you felt heavy, time blurred. Nothing existed beyond the feel of his body against yours, the way he kissed you like he was starved for it, like he’d been holding back for weeks. Maybe he had. Your hips shifted, a little too eager, and you felt the subtle hitch of his breath as his hand gripped tighter at your waist, holding you there.

Which is how you didn’t hear the office door creak open until: “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You both froze. Your lips were still tangled. Bob’s hand was still under your shirt. And Jake Seresin was standing in the doorway of your office, expression stuck somewhere between outrage and horror. You sprang apart, your heartbeat plummeted. And Bob, poor Bob, froze in place like someone had pulled the eject handle. Jake stood in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw clenched, face unreadable.

A vein twitched in his temple. “Jake—” You started, breathless, smoothing down your blouse. “It’s not, well, it is what it looks like, but—" Busted. “Of all the people,” Jake let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh, dragging a hand down his face, then pinching the bridge of his nose like it physically pained him to witness what was happening. “Baby-on-board? Seriously, Y/N?!”

You instinctively stepped in front of Bob, shielding him with your body like your brother might actually tackle him through your office window. “Jake. Don’t.” Bob, didn’t move. His back was straight, blue eyes wide behind fogged-up glasses, lips parted as if mid-apology. His cheeks were flushed, his t-shirt slightly wrinkled from where your hands had just been. “I, uh… hi, Hangman." He offered awkwardly, pushing his glasses up with a shaky hand.

Jake stared at him, hard. Like he was cycling through a mental list of disciplinary actions and weighing the pros and cons of each one. “I told you once,” He growled slowly, voice like ice cracking. “My little sister is off-limits.” You stepped in again, squaring your shoulders, chin lifting. “And I told you I’m not twelve.” There was a beat of silence. Then Jake turned to you, jaw tight, mouth slightly open like he wanted to argue, but the fire behind his eyes dimmed.

You saw it, the shift. That split-second of hesitation. The realization. You weren’t his kid sister anymore, sneaking candy into movie theaters or crying over scraped knees. You weren’t some fragile thing he had to wrap in bubble wrap and keep hidden from the world. You were a grown woman. And you’d made your choice. “I’m your big brother,” He muttered voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “I’m supposed to look out for you.”

Your expression softened, shoulders dropping. “You always have. Better than anyone, but you don’t have to protect me from Bob. He'd never hurt me.” You glanced over your shoulder, eyes meeting Bob’s. Jake exhaled sharply through his nose and looked between the two of you. At Bob, still standing there like a soldier awaiting his court-martial. And at you, arms folded, gaze unwavering. After a pregnant pause, a long, reluctant sigh left his chest. “Are you really into him?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I am.” Jake stared at him for another long second, then finally, finally, cracked the smallest smirk. “Jesus Christ. If this is happening, I don’t want to hear about it and I definitely don’t want to see it.” He turned toward the door, muttering under his breath. “Shit, I need bleach for my poor eyes.” Then, he paused and glanced back “If you break her heart, Floyd, I don’t care how good of a WSO you are, I will make you wish you had ejected mid-flight.” Bob swallowed visibly and nodded.

“Understood.” You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lifted. It wasn’t exactly a blessing. But from Jake Seresin? It sure as hell was close enough. You smiled at the memory, lips curling as your thoughts drifted back. Since then, Jake had slowly eased up, still overbearing at times, but less of an asshole, finally starting to accept the reality that you and Bob were together. It wasn’t instant, but it was progress.

Maybe it was the way Bob never rose to Jake’s bait, or maybe it was how he treated you, with a kind of quiet reverence that left little room for protest. Because Bob was nothing but attentive. The kind of man who remembered how you took your coffee, who sent midday check-in texts just to ask how your sessions had gone, who looked at you like you were his entire goddamn universe. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, seen, cherished.

Which is why, when your usual Thursday night rolled around, the one night you always carved out for each other, and Bob didn’t show… something inside you spiraled. You’d cleaned the apartment, lit one of your favorite candles, even queued up Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith knowing it was one of his favorites. His favorite hoodie was draped over the back of the couch, the one he always “forgot” to take home because he liked the way it smelled after you wore it.

The popcorn was in the bowl. The wine was chilling in the fridge. Take-out menus were on the coffee table. Everything was ready. Except him. You glanced at the clock. Once. Then again. Then again, your eyes flicking to the screen, then to the door, like maybe he’d appear if you wished hard enough. Each time, you brushed it off with a quiet, He’s probably still at the hangar. You knew the drill. Sometimes they got grounded late, schedules shifted.

But the minutes stretched into an hour. Then two. Still no text. No call. Just eerie silence. And Bob? When it came to date night, Bob was never late. When your phone finally rang, the shrill tone sliced through the stillness, making you jump. You scrambled for it, heartbeat thudding against your ribs as your thumb slid to answer without even checking the caller ID on the screen. “Hey, handsome,” You breathed out. “Are you on your way home yet?” Only, it wasn’t Bob’s voice that answered.

“Aww, Y/N,” Came the familiar, cocky drawl you had grown familiar with. “I knew you were lying to me all those times you called me ugly.” Your jaw clenched. Your eyes rolled before your brain could catch up. “Jake,” You snapped, already pacing. “What the hell, where’s Bob? Why are you calling me?” Your brother’s voice cut through the line, irritatingly casual. “Sorry for the late notice, but your beau isn’t making it to date night.” The floor practically dropped out from under you.

“What?! Why? Jake, what happened?” You barely heard yourself over the rush in your ears. Your pulse kicked up, adrenaline beginning to surge. He ignored the edge in your voice, brushing off your panic like it was nothing more than static. “Just come to base. I’ll be waiting at the gate to escort you inside.” Then the line went dead. You stared at your phone for a second, willing it to light up again, to clarify, to make sense. It didn’t.

Just the reflection of your stunned face in the dark screen. “God, I hate when he does that.” You muttered, voice low and sharp as you shoved the phone into your back pocket. Without wasting another breath, you yanked Bob’s hoodie over your head, feet shoving into the nearest pair of sneakers, fingers scrambling for your keys. Your heart thudded in your throat as you raced down the stairs, and out the door.

The base wasn’t far, thankfully. About a twenty-minute drive. You didn’t floor it, but your foot stayed heavy on the gas, knuckles white around the steering wheel. Your thoughts circled and twisted with every mile: Was he hurt? Why didn’t Bob call you himself? Was Jake just being dramatic, or worse, trying to protect you from something serious? By the time you reached the gate, your nerves were all over the place.

True to his word, Jake was waiting just past the security checkpoint, casual as ever, like this was a run-of-the-mill errand. You flashed your ID to the guard, who barely glanced at it before waving you through. You didn’t even bother straightening the car when you parked. The engine had barely cut before you threw the door open and leapt out. “Jake,” You barked, striding toward him with a glare. “You have one minute to explain yourself before I kick the shit out of you. Where’s Bob?”

Your brother slung an arm around your shoulder like this was all completely normal. The audacity of it made your teeth grit. “Relax, baby-on-board is fine.” He muttered, steering you forward. “Don’t call him that. How many times do I have to tell you before it sticks?” You snapped, elbowing him lightly. Jake lifted both hands in mock surrender, grinning like this was all part of a joke only he found funny. “Alright, alright fine. Just… follow me.” And without another word, he led you deeper into the base.

Your steps faltered, just slightly, as dread started to pool low in your stomach. Because something wasn’t right. You could feel it. Your suspicions were confirmed the moment Jake led you down the familiar corridor toward the medical bay. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the air, too clean, way too quiet. Your heart pounded harder with every step. Then you saw them, Maverick and Bradley, standing a few feet away near the nurses’ station, mid-conversation.

Or they had been. The second their eyes landed on you and Jake, their voices cut off like a switch had been flipped. “Mav,” You rasped, your voice laced with urgency as your eyes locked on his. They both turned fully now, posture straightening. Bradley offered a tense smile as he stepped forward to greet you, arms opening automatically. You didn’t hesitate, letting yourself fall into the hug, if only for the brief comfort of familiar arms and the steady heartbeat beneath his civilian clothes.

“Where’s Bob?” You asked again, for what felt like the hundredth time. The question burned now, raw and desperate, clawing up your throat. Maverick moved closer, his expression calm but lined with concern. “He’s alright,” He began, voice steady, measured, but the silence that followed said otherwise. The look, the flicker of shared worry between him, Bradley, and Jake did nothing to settle the growing storm in your chest. You could feel it building, pressure against your ribs.

Maverick exhaled slowly, like he didn’t want to alarm you but knew sugarcoating it wouldn’t help.“During today’s training, Phoenix and Bob suffered a bird strike. The impact triggered an engine fire, which spread fast and caused a total systems failure, both engines, and hydraulic controls.” Your breath hitched. “They had no choice but to eject,” He added, quieter now. “The medics brought them in immediately. They’re stable, conscious, and mostly okay. The doctors are keeping them overnight for observation.”

The words tumbled in slowly, too slow to process all at once. Bird strike. Engine fire. Ejection. The air felt thinner. The hallway longer. Your mouth moved before your brain could catch up. “C-Can I see him?” You asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. Maverick nodded, but you were already moving. Your sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as you bolted down the hallway, weaving past a nurse and ignoring the muted “Miss, wait—” that came from someone behind the desk.

When you spotted the door at the end of the corridor with Seresin scrawled hastily on the visitor clipboard and Floyd, R./Trace, N. listed beneath it, your chest constricted. You pushed the door open. You spotted Natasha first. She was reclined in the hospital cot closest to the door, propped up slightly by a pair of thin, starch-white pillows. Her skin looked pale under the sterile fluorescent lights, a stark contrast to the deep purpling bruise blooming along her cheekbone.

A butterfly bandage held a small cut together above her eyebrow, and her arm, though not in a cast, was wrapped in gauze from wrist to elbow. Still, she was awake. Alert. Breathing. “Nat,” You exhaled, already moving toward her. Her head turned at the sound of your voice. The split-second surprise in her expression melted into something warmer, despite the lingering pain behind her eyes. She pushed herself up with a small wince, the thin hospital blanket slipping off her shoulders.

“Y/N, hey,” She murmured, voice raspy but steady. Your arms were already wrapping around her before you could stop yourself. Your movements slowed as soon as you felt her body tense slightly, stiff from the impact, from the adrenaline still likely fading. She let out a breathy laugh against your shoulder, one arm curling weakly around you. “I’m glad you're here.” She murmured, voice muffled against your sweatshirt. You leaned back slightly to look at her, brushing a stray curl from her forehead, careful not to graze the fresh scrape on her temple.

It was safe to say that ever since you and Bob had started dating, you and Natasha had become inseparable. It started with casual conversations at the Hard Deck that turned into late-night wine nights, venting sessions, and a friendship built on fierce loyalty and shared eye-rolls at the men in your lives. Part of it, no doubt, came from the fact that she and Bob were more than just teammates, they were a crew. They trusted each other with their lives, and somewhere along the way, that trust naturally extended to you.

“I’m just glad you’re both okay.” You whispered. Natasha gave you a faint, lopsided smile, tired but genuine. “Yeah, well, Bob took the worst of it. I was lucky.” Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t even seen him yet. The cot next to hers was shielded slightly by a privacy curtain pulled partway across, and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe fast enough. Your eyes darted toward the edge of the curtain. “He’s awake. A little banged up. But, he’s been asking for you since we were brought in here.”

That was all it took. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and whispered. “I’ll be right back.” Then, without hesitation, you stepped around the curtain, ready to face whatever was waiting on the other side. As soon as you rounded the curtain, your eyes found him. Bob was sitting upright, well, trying to. He winced slightly bracing himself on one elbow as he straightened in the cot, ignoring the tight pull of gauze around his ribs and the IV in his arm. Sensing the presence of someone in the room, he stopped fidgeting, blue eyes meeting yours.

You moved without thinking. The world blurred as you rushed across the room, the cool floor beneath your sneakers giving way to the warmth of his outstretched arms. He barely had time to brace himself before you collided with him, sinking into his chest, arms wrapping around his torso with desperate urgency. He winced, but his hands immediately came up, one cradling the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair, the other wrapping tightly around your waist.

His grip was firm, steady, anchored, as if the contact itself might undo the fear that had rooted in both of you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin beneath the sterile tang of antiseptic. His heart was pounding hard beneath your cheek, fast and erratic, matching your own. “Shit, Bobby,” You whispered, voice trembling. “I thought—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. “I know,” He murmured into your hair, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I’m sorry I scared you, sweetheart.” Then, more softly, almost sheepishly, he mumbled into your shoulder. “I’m also sorry I missed date night.” You nearly scoffed, half a laugh, half a sob, as you pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers still tangled in the collar of his shirt. “Date night? Bob, I could care less about date night right now. I’m just glad you’re alive.” Bob’s selflessness never ceased to amaze you, how even through the haze of pain and adrenaline, his first thought had been about you, about letting you down.

As if your heart hadn’t broken in half the moment you realized he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. You clung to him tighter, your arms curling around his back, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt like letting go wasn’t an option. Bodies wound tightly around one another, like you were trying to climb inside his chest and stay there. Like the only way to be sure he was real was to feel every inch of him pressed to you. He exhaled shakily, lips brushing your temple.

“All I kept thinking was that I had to get back to you.”That made your throat tighten even more. Your hand moved instinctively to his face, cupping his cheek, thumb grazing over a scratch along his jawline. His glasses were still slightly askew, and he hadn’t even bothered to fix them, too focused on you. “I’m right here,” He reassured, almost as if sensing your inner turmoil. “I’m okay. We’re okay.” In that moment, he held tightly in his arms, everything faded away.

There was only the thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm and the soft warmth of his breath against your skin. You didn’t want to pull away, but when you finally did, it was only to take in his face. You brushed a thumb gently beneath his eye, tracing the faint bruise that had bloomed along his cheekbone. He looked a little beat up, but to you? He was perfect. Alive. And most importantly, breathing. His eyes met yours, impossibly blue beneath the smudged lenses of his crooked glasses.

They searched your face like he couldn’t quite believe you were here either. Like he was afraid if he blinked, you’d vanish. You leaned in again, this time slower, gentler, your hand cradling the side of his face. His breath caught just before your lips met, as if even now he was asking for permission without words. The kiss that followed was soft. No heat. No urgency. Just a lingering press of your mouths. You could feel the tremble in his shoulders as his hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you there like he needed it as much as you did.

His lips parted slightly against yours, letting out the faintest sigh, and you melted into it, into him, feeling the world finally slow down. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his. “I love you.” You whispered, the words weightless, certain. He smiled, eyes closed, breath warm against your cheek. “I love you more.” Just as you were about to lean in for another kiss, the door creaked open behind you. “Fucks sake, not this again.” Came the dry, unmistakable voice of your older brother.

You groaned softly, forehead dropping to Bob’s shoulder as he stifled a wince and a laugh at the same time. You were so close to murdering Jake and becoming an only child. “Do you have some kind of built-in radar for whenever we kiss?” You muttered into Bob’s shirt as his hand rubbed comforting circles on your back. “Apparently,” Jake scoffed, stepping fully into the room, arms crossed, brow raised in brotherly disapproval.

“I give it ten seconds and you look like you’re ready to climb the guy like a tree.” Bob straightened awkwardly, almost like a cadet caught doing something wildly against protocol. His cheeks flushed deep red, climbing all the way to the tips of his ears, and his hands instinctively loosened their hold on you. Before he could scoot even an inch away, your fingers curled gently but firmly around his bicep, grounding him right where he was as you shot Jake a glare. “What do you want now?”

Jake gestured vaguely at the two of you. “Don’t mind me. I’m just checking in on the critically injured WSO who, last I heard, had survived an emergency ejection, a bird strike, and now looks like he’s about two seconds away from a very different kind of cardiac episode, caused, I assume, by my little sister sticking her tongue down his throat.” Bob gave a tiny, nervous cough, his gaze flicking toward the heart monitor as if it might start blaring just to spite him. He wisely chose not to answer.

You smirked, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to Bob’s temple, just to be petty. You felt the way his breath hitched beneath you, the way his fingers curled gently at your waist despite himself. Jake rolled his eyes so hard you were genuinely concerned they might get stuck that way. “I figured you’d be staying the night, so, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. But don’t get any ideas. I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early, and I better not walk in on a repeat performance, especially not with Phoenix two feet away.”

From the other side of the curtain, Natasha’s dry voice floated through like a dagger dipped in disinterest: “Fuck off.” You bit your lip to stifle the laugh that almost broke through. “There’s the door, Bagman.” You shot back, raising your middle finger without even looking at him. With one last grumble and an eye roll that nearly cracked his skull, Jake pulled back the curtain dramatically and disappeared down the hall, muttering something about needing a drink.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Bob let out a soft breath, his entire body seeming to relax now that Jake had exited the room. He didn’t even need to ask. With a quiet grunt, he shifted on the narrow hospital cot, careful but determined, wincing slightly as he adjusted his IV line and tugged back the scratchy blanket with his good hand. It wasn’t much, but he made space for you like it was second nature, like your place had always been beside him, no matter the circumstances.

Without a word, you discarded your shoes and climbed in next to him, moving slowly, mindful of the bruises you couldn’t see and the ones you knew would surface by morning. The cot creaked under the added weight, but neither of you cared. Your head nestled into the curve of his shoulder, your hand drifting under the soft fabric of his t-shirt, fingers resting on the soft skin of his abdomen, like you just needed to feel he was real.

His arm slid around your waist, drawing you in with a familiarity that made your heart flutter. The other hand found its way into your hair, combing through the strands slowly, rhythmically, like he was soothing both of you at once. His thumb brushed absently along your spine in lazy arcs, and he let out a content when your legs tangled with his beneath the thin blanket.

The room had gone quiet, the soft beeping of monitors fading into the background like a lullaby. Wrapped in his arms, you tilted your head just enough to meet his eyes. “Still worth it?” You whispered, the question edged with lingering fear. Bob didn’t miss a beat. His smile was the same one he’d worn eight months ago, the first time he saw you across the bar. He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Every single second.”

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Feeling generous? Leave a tip!

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iyoonjh · 5 months ago

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Beyond Plus Ultra! – The anatomy of falling in love

꒰ ‎﹒ pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader

꒰ ‎﹒ synopsis: Soobin has mastered the art of invisibility—quiet, reserved, and perfectly content staying in the background, only socializing with his small circle of friends. Y/N, on the other hand, is the campus It-Girl: popular, effortlessly cool, and someone Soobin has only ever admired from a safe distance.

But when Y/N unexpectedly walks into the tiny manga shop where Soobin works, his carefully constructed world glitches. She’s not lost. She’s not here on a dare. She’s actually into this stuff? As Soobin struggles to process this plot twist, he quickly realizes that Y/N isn’t just different from what everyone assumes—she might actually be just like him. And, worst of all? He might actually have to talk to her now.

genre: social media au (smau), strangers to friends to lovers, nerdsoobin x itgirlreader, fluff, crack

status: on going

warnings: profanity, sexual jokes, crack humor, suggestive, weed consumption, alcohol consumption

profiles: d&d saturday mass group | bling bling losers

See You, Space Cowboy... Or Not (4370 words)

Soobin.exe Has Stopped Responding

I Want to Know More About You (But I’d Rather Die Than Ask) (2297 words)

My Criminal Record Can't Be Expunged (But At Least He Was Cute About It)

Re: I Am the Main Character? (2836 words)

Nothing Happened (Except Everything Did)

Every Protagonist Needs a Support Party (Even if They’re Clowns)

Is This a Shōjo Moment or Am I Just Delusional? (4930 words)

A New Challenger Approaches! (It’s My Feelings, and I’m Losing the Battle) (2624 words)

A Legendary Showdown: Soobin vs. Party Rock Anthem by LMFAO (4075 words)

The Stroker Mucus Has Entered the Chat

Filler episode but it's at Papa John's

The Party Arc Nobody Trained For (except for that guy in a bikini by the pool) (12932 words)

Hueningkai owns an iPhone 15 now and Niki merged with the forest creatures

Over 1,000,000 Heartbeats Per Second, but Jesus Christ who let the dogs out? (6536 words)

From Dungeon to Deck Chair: The Fellowship of the Beach (2082 words)

Take me home, country roads (but please don't tell me it's West Virginia) (8688 words)

My Friend Got His First BJ And All We Got Was Heat Stroke

Dude we're getting the band back together! (4144 words)

Wait, Did I Just Trigger a Flag? (Oh No.) (3141 words)

Emotional Support Watermelon (10 minute version)

UPCOMING...

THE END.

author's note: hey hi hello everyone! this is my first au ever, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it! btw english is not my first language! taglist is open!

#txt au #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #soobin #choi soobin #txt x female reader #txt smau #soobin smau #soobin x reader #soobin x you #txt fake texts #txt imagines #soobin imagines

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hannieoftheyear · 1 month ago

Text

LUCKY STRIKE [C.VN]

Vernon would never let anything happen to you. But when the time comes, and he's standing at your doorstep, flowers in one hand, and bloody cuts in the other, it's your turn to take care of him for once.

pairing: mafia!vernon x fem!reader

word count: 4,5k of lazy and messy sex for you

genre/au: mafia au, established relationship, smut with the barest plot, a bit of fluff.

content warnings: vernon is terribly down bad, light mafia themes, implied violent encounters, blood, bruises, cuts, minor injuries, reader takes care of his injuries and he gets horny, this is corny, you were warned!! | explicit smut: couch sex, switch!vernon, switch!reader, sucking fingers, they both have a thing for hands and fingers, biting, spit kink, spit as lube, handjob, unprotected sex (don't be stupid pls), cumming inside, nicknames: baby (both).

♥︎ thank you to everyone that tolerated me sending clips of vernon on the thunder stages for days ♡ this is for you

🎧: shining star (vernon solo) — seventeen

THIS FIC IS FOR +18 READERS ONLY. I can't control what people read, but I can control who interacts with my blog. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED

check out my main masterlist ♡

note: i'm a sucker for lazy couch sex with vernon and i won't apologize for it!! i hope you enjoy this silly thing ♥︎

this was, of course, heavily inspired by all the 'happy burstday' concept photos and stages

mafia prompt taken from here ♥︎ dividers here

"Being adopted into the local mafia has its pros and cons."

Pros: You can safely do your 2 am. grocery shopping at the one superstore that's open all night without fearing for your life. Those scary looking men, the ones you'd normally cross the street to avoid, treat you like their little sister. All except for the cutest one of them all.

The gloomy night accompanies the swift movements of the crochet needle between your fingers, tangling the strings of light blue and red knitting wool you bought days ago in a whim. In the search for a new hobby, your algorithm acted out again, and you ended up on the granny activities side, peaking your interest enough to sit on your uncomfortable couch for hours trying to make a usable piece of clothing.

Normally, on a weekend night, the cold wind would be welcomed by your barely covered skin, walking hand in hand with the only guy your self proclaimed body guards allowed you to be in close proximity to. But something, or rather, someone, told you to stay home for the night.

Another pro of being close with the bad guys: they help you avoid confrontations with threatening rival gangs. You're left blissfully out of the mess, but, as you're still able to hear the rounds of loud noises on the streets around the neighborhood, you're also not unaware of the bruises you see covering the guys' arms and faces the next day.

Your forehead hurts from all the frowning you've been doing for the past hour, trying to figure out the pattern you should be following and restarting every few rows.

A soft, unsure knock takes your concentration away, but it quickly puts a smile on your face as you realize who's the only person that'd show up at this hour at your door. The amateur crochet project is left forgotten on the coffee table, the metal needle crinkling against the glass as you get up from the couch.

But, whatever excitement you had, it drops completely as soon as the doorknob turns under your hold, and the door opens to reveal who you were expecting.

Vernon stands at the entrance, with his side smile painting his face as if everything was okay. You instantly know it's not. His lower lip is swollen red, probably from a punch, the neck line of his t-shirt is stretched far more than normal, with a tear visible on the side.

Cons of being adopted by the local mafia: your big bad mafia boyfriend constantly gets hurt on the job.

With one hand busy holding a bouquet of your favorite yellow flowers, he wraps the other one around your waist when you don't move, frozen analyzing his state. "Not happy to see me?"

Vernon's teasing smile so close to you, mixed with his breath fanning your face as he leans in to give you a peck, is intoxicating. His bruised lips are soft against yours, taking seconds longer to feel you on him than normal. One would never guess he's hurt from the way he's pushing himself against you.

"Baby, what happened?" Your hand reaches for his behind your back, the cuts on his knuckles harsh under the pads of your fingers.

He sighs against your parted lips, chuckling lightly before taking a step back and letting himself in into your apartment. "You should see the other guys."

"Multiple?" Your wide eyes follow him as he searches for a vase to put the flowers he brought.

It's natural for him to have his way around your home. After all, he's the only one that you, or your neighborly mafia, ever allowed in. It's your sacred place, safe from the dangerous outside world, the only place where you can be truly calm, be with him with no fears.

While he occupies himself with his gift, you take the chance to escape to your bathroom, wash the dried blood from your hands, and find your first aid kit. The one you've never had to use before.

You were always the one who he took care of, who he protected, made sure you were intact. After so many times he was there for you, it's your turn to take care of him and heal his wounds the best you can.

"Remember I told you to stay in today?" His gaze is trained on you as you sink down next to him. The click of the aid kit opening breaks the silence as he waits for your answer.

You only nod, half hearing him, half focusing on grabbing what you need to disinfect the cuts in his hand. His hand that places itself on your thigh to draw your attention.

"We're okay—I'm okay," his voice is soft, knowing you worry every time he goes out to parts of the town they don't have under their control, "it was just a small payback."

"Baby, you're bleeding," Vernon hisses as you clean the wounds around his knuckles with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, "who did you go with?"

"Mingyu and Wonwoo," your insides burn, feeling his stare, boring holes on the side of your face, "they took on the bigger guys." Vernon jokes.

You shouldn't sigh in relief hearing that, but you do so anyway.

It's a regular occurrence for the guys to tease him for his objectively smaller build, but he counters it with a perfectly learned strategy. He knows how to fight, knows the places that hurt the most being punched, where to kick, poke, slap to make his opponent lose their balance, and ultimately, the fight.

"Let's hope these people don't come back after you."

"Believe me, they won't." He smirks, charging his words with smugness.

You wrap the little bandage you had saved around his hand with care. Not too loose, not to tight. You feel his eyes on you as you leave the aid kit on the table, right besides the mess of knitting wool you alredy forgot was there.

"I have the best nurse ever." Vernon wastes no time, lifting your hips with his, now working, hands, and sits you on his lap, both your legs fitting naturally at his sides as he realizes you're only wearing panties under your t-shirt. "I should come here hurt more often."

"Then you'll have to replace the stuff I use on you!" Looking slightly down to connect your eyes with his, your teasing tone vanishes at the soft glimmer in his eyes. "Please, just… be careful next time."

The side of his face feels warm against the palm of your hand, and he leans into your touch, feeling your care even through the smallest, most mundane touches.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown up like this." His doe eyes turn glassy, searching for any anger indicators on your expression, but only finding worry. "I just wanted to see you."

You could never get mad at him. Not when you got to know him well aware of what his life was like. Not when he pursued you by showing you he can still be a gentleman despite his shady life. Not when he never gave you any reason not to trust him.

"I wanted to see you too," you reveal as if you didn't constantly wait for him. Sitting on this very couch every night, longing for that knock on the door you always know it's him. "I don't mind taking care of you."

"I should be the one doing that." Vernon's hands fix their grip on your hips, reminding you that they're still there, holding you close to him.

"Well, I'm not the one getting into fights with 6 feet tall buff guys on the daily."

He chuckles, full of endearment, and your stomach tightens. If you could rank every sound you ever heard, Vernon's kinds of laughs and giggles would all be at the top, not a very close race with anything else. It's a distinguishable sound you never want to forget.

Your hand goes down the side of Vernon's neck, his pulse accelerating under your touch as you check to see if he's real, if he's really sitting on your couch with you straddling him.

His focus get lost on your touch now going down the side of his arm, and soon finds your hand with his. He interlocks his fingers with yours as soon as he gets a hold of it, directing your hand to his mouth and leaving a gentle but teasing kiss on the back of it.

"Vernon," you reprimand, but don't stop him as he places peck after peck everywhere on your hand, each triggering a wave of different feelings down your nervous system. He's uncontrollable and always finds the way to get you in the mood with him.

"You look so pretty over me, all worried." His hot breath tickles your fingers that were just taking care of him.

Your thumb swipes gently over his busted lip, raw from his habit of gnawing at them with his teeth and from the fight you're nursing him from. He purses his lips, teasing your awaiting skin, goosebumps waking up all over your body at the anticipation.

"You can't seriously be turned on by this," you snicker to try and hide the very real reactions he's eliciting from you.

His eyes snap back to you at your words, as if a challenge was set.

So quick you barely have time to register it, the hand at your hip travels to your lower back and Vernon's sliding you across his lap, showing off his strength to get you closer to his torso until you're completely against him.

Every part of you is against him. His right hand on your back, holding you electrically close to his growing hard, pulsing against your core. Your hand's held hostage by his left hand just above where your chest flushes against his.

"You have no idea how crazy I am for you." Every word he says reverberates through his chest and into yours.

Gasping is your only answer. You don't trust your ability to apeak properly in your current state of increasing bodily heat.

"When I wake up and you're not next to me," he continues, "my first thought is always to come looking for you." His fingers wander inside the big t-shirt you're wearing, one you stole from him after your first night together.

"Nothing stops you from staying the night here." Your voice draws the smirk back on his face.

"I'd stay here every night if it didn't mean putting you in danger." Longing bleeds through his words, true and hurt.

"But you'd be here to protect me." You're not naive. You know what he means. But that doesn't stop you from wanting to be close to him every second of every day.

Vernon nods in acknowledgment, a silent agreement between the two of you. It's dangerous. Everything about your relationship is risky. But even if he's willing to put himself at risk for the chance of seeing you, he'd never put you in danger. He'd never take that chance.

His lips kissing your hand again catch your attention, every fiber of your body now focused on his next move. Your fingers, cold against the warmness spreading across his face, seem to be the only thing on Vernon's mind.

When he wraps his mouth around your index finger, gently sucking on it with a new admiration, fire expands from your insides and out, taking everything with it, filling you with a new, unexpected want.

"Vern—" Your breath halts at the mention of his name, fueling his need as he dives in further, playing with his tongue around your finger like it was his new favorite toy.

You've never felt anything like this. A hot, sizzling arousal rushing through your veins at the sight of your boyfriend worshiping the fingers that were just nursing him.

A choked up moan escapes you as he sucks another finger in his mouth. Your index and middle finger are now coated in his spit, making a messy, wet toy out of your hand.

The couch moves just slightly as you push yourself against him at every swirl of his tongue, feeling his length hardening with every uncontrolled grind of your hips against his.

Vernon's other hand travels all over your torso, finding you're wearing no bra under the shirt that was once his. He loves making a moaning mess of you, mixing the arousal from sucking on your fingers with the touch you've been craving on your chest.

Everywhere. He's everywhere. His thighs under yours, his hard pressing against your barely covered core, his hand feeling your chest up as your fingers scrape the sides of his mouth.

Every second it passes, you search for more of him, pressing against his chest until he has trouble fondling your breasts.

He pulls your fingers out of his mouth slowly, a string of saliva connecting them with his lower lips stretching until it breaks, undoing the trance you were in while watching Vernon have his way.

"I should be taking care of you," your voice breaks into a whisper, your boyfriend’s dark stare punching away any thought you had.

"Having you on top of me is all I need," your wet fingers trace his jaw as he speaks, and he smirks at the sounds you make when he flicks one of your nipples with his thumb, "making you moan my name when I've barely touched you."

His eyes train on your parted lips, exhaling heavily as he plays with your nipples exactly how he knows you like it. You can only fist the stretched neckline of his t-shirt, making it worse but making it yours.

Your other hand finds the back of his head, his growing buzz-cut threading between your fingers.

"Have I told you I love your hair?" How you find it in you to speak is beyond your knowledge, but he chuckles at your nonsense, and the fire burning at the pit of your stomach spreads down your thighs and soaks your underwear further. "I love it so much."

Vernon's hard groin twitches under the needy grinding of your hips, his throat swallowing with trouble as you break down his facade little by little.

"Let me," you know he won't take his hands off of you willingly. You don't really want him to stop either, but you're focusing on him tonight.

He groans as you push yourself off him, quickly finding the zipper of his jeans. "Baby…" his words trail off seeing you kneeling on the floor against him.

Trying to slip his jeans and boxers down, he gives in and lifts his body to help you. He'd never deny you of anything you want.

You don't restrain yourself, your hands finding the flesh of his thighs and traveling up and up until you're barely touching where he most wants to.

But a hand sneaks under your jaw, tilting it up until you're connecting eyes with Vernon again. "Don't," you barely whisper, a plea for him to let you make him feel good.

"Want you on top," he doesn't ask, doesn't order you, only outers his wish, with his eyebrows quirking in the way that always has you melting for him, "I'd feel much, much better."

You snort with an endearing smile, "I thought you were fine." Even after your teasing remainder, you oblige what he wants.

"Every time you get off of me, I start feeling sick," he coughs a few times to get his point across, "my body needs you to feel well.

Vernon's always been able to make you laugh, even when you're on the brink of tearing all his clothes off. "Then we better listen!"

His bare legs find themselves under your weight again, the skin to skin contact igniting every connecting point of your bodies. You tug at the ends of his damaged t-shirt until he gets the hint you want it off.

Vernon groans as the dampness of your panties rubs against his length, gripping your hips to flush you against him harder, not wanting to wait any longer to feel you all over him. You waste no time, holding his face between your hands and closing the electrifying distance between you.

A moan fights out of him a soon as your lips take his, molding together perfectly, as if they were meant to be connected forever. You can feel where his lower lip is hurt, swiping your tongue over the bruise as he moans on your mouth again.

Your hand caresses the side of his face, not letting his lips go as the other travels down his heaving chest. His muscles tense under the teasing touch of your fingers, nails raking down his skin.

Another moan coming from him is exactly what you need as you sneak your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock that craves your touch.

He chases your lips as you lean back, revealing the state he's in, all because of you. His lips glisten with the mix of yours and his spit, parted and calling for you again as he catches his breath.

The changing shine in your eyes alerts him that you're planning something, an idea planted by the sight before you.

You swirl your tongue in your mouth, gathering as much spit as you can before locking eyes with him and letting it drop out of your lips, falling in a glob until it sits at the tip of his hardness.

Vernon's eyes darken at every one of your moves, his gaze entranced on your lips. Lips that were spilling all kinds of worried words minutes ago, and now are coating his cock with saliva so your hand can glide up and down at your desired pace.

"God, baby," your hand squeezes around him, spreading the mix of spit and precum so slowly on his girth that he's having trouble breathing, "you're so good to me."

The back of the couch holds his head as he leans back with another groan. His neck stretched out, glistening with sweat, calls to you. And who are you not to answer?

Your core traps his erection against your hand as you lean in, leaving wet kisses on your boyfriend's throat, feeling his every sound vibrating against your lips. He mumbles praises into the air, letting his hands wander across your back and squeezing your ass to press your further to him.

The wet fabric of your panties sticks to your folds in the shape of his length, everything pushing your cores together harder and harder. You let the swift rhythm of your hand on his cock and you grinding your covered clit against him take you to another world.

"Feel better?" Your lips graze the sensitive skin on his neck as you half ask half gasp.

Vernon's automatic response is to tighten his hold on your ass, grinding your hips against his with more force, the friction between your cores breathtaking. "I could," he teases.

"Greedy," your hot breath hits under his earlobe, and even you can feel the shiver going down Vernon's body.

His cock twitches as you slow down the pace of you hand. The combining feel of your folds and your hand stroking him almost make Vernon go crazy.

"You feel so good, baby," his eyes close in concentration, every touch of yours too much for him, "can't wait to be inside you."

In the midst of his senseless words and your desperate touches, Vernon finds the way to sneak a hand under you. Between his legs, his digits find the dampness growing at your core. "So wet already, for me."

Another hand grabs a fistful of your hair, detaching your mouth from licking your way up his jaw. He forces you to look at him, eyes full of desire, waiting for your answer.

"Yes—all for you-u," your words break in a moan as two fingers sneak under your panties, collecting your arousal and triggering another wave.

"Good." It is all for him. All because of him. The only one who can have you like this.

Smirking, his eyes lock in with yours, full of fire as his hand appears in your field of view. You don't stop looking into his eyes, the mischievous glint on them keeping you there, all while he sucks your juices off his fingers.

It takes all your strength to get up from the couch again, with only one objective in mind.

Your boyfriend gawks as if you were putting on a show only for him, slipping down his favorite panties, now stained with an unholy amount of juices. He stares with his mouth agape, but he's not patient. As soon as the fabric's off, he's grabbing your big t-shirt and pulling you towards him again.

Lips crash with lust and desperation, messily craving more and more. His teeth nibble at your lower lip, a matching bruise waiting to appear, but you don't care. You moan in his mouth, tangling your fingers with the short hair growing at the back of his head.

His thigh becomes a mess of your arousal, careless about your position as you let Vernon have his way into your mouth. Your tongues dance around the other, slowly melting into each other.

"Spit," you chase his lips as he separates to demand. Seeing his non-injured hand under your jaw, you quickly realize what he's doing.

Your living room's filled with gasping sounds and hot breaths, time stopping as your eyes lock. Vernon's eyes are on you as you let your spit drop into his hand.

You hover over his groin, dripping into his hand as he lowers it down between your cores. The tip of his cock grazes your entrance as he pumps his hard with his spit covered hand, the wet sounds reaching your ears.

Sinking down on your boyfriend's lap, the head of his cock enters you just right, your walls welcoming to mold into his shape.

Your lips stop working as you're filled to the brim, sitting on Vernon's thighs and gasping into his mouth trying to get used to the unprepared stretch.

As you're draped over his torso, he easily finds his way down your neck.

"Relax, baby," he says against the skin of your neck.

Every spot he knows you like, he kisses, whispering encouraging praise that gives you chills. Under your ear, along your jaw, over your pulse point, his lips press and suck at your skin, feeling how you warm up around him.

When he shifts his position slightly, his length pushes inside you just a bit more, your walls clamp against him, sucking him further inside in a whine, "That's it."

His husky voice goes through your ear and down to your core, and you swivel your hips up just to elicit another sound from him.

Vernon's hands find themselves gripping your hips again, helping you as you start a lazy pace on his lap. Your teeth sink down on the flesh between his shoulder and his neck, and he moans in your ear at the sensation.

"You'll have to take care of that one too," his breath tickles down your ear, and the vibrations of your chuckle almost make you lose your focus on him.

You kiss on the dent shaped like your teeth, "like you don't love it."

He hums a broken moan, the combination of everything you're giving him finally working like you intended.

Your walls tighten around him just as your fingers find his scalp, short nails raking between his growing buzz-cut trying to have him losing his mind under you.

It's not long before his hips join the fun, thrusting up to meet your pace and making you lose your breath. You feel him up to your throat, every place inside you marked with his name.

Vernon's hands roam all over your torso, indecisive, keeping you close but in the search for his favorite places to grope and touch. Your body's on the verge of giving out, and he knows it.

When he wraps his arms around your back and leans back against the couch, flushing your chest completely against his, you both lose it.

You're not in control anymore, if you ever were. Your knees barely stay at his sides as he thrusts up incessantly, the sounds of your ass slapping against the flesh of his thighs echoing around your living room.

But his groaning in your ear, his rambling words about how good you are for him, are only for you to hear.

Intercalating between lazy and desperate, no matter the time or the place, Vernon always finds that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

So quickly, it'd be embarrassing if it was anyone else, your body starts quivering, every one of your senses losing focus as your insides get closer and closer to snapping.

"I'm c-close," you manage to form a coherent string of words in between a few merciless thrusts.

"I can feel it—" a breathless whine mixes up between his words, "cum around me, baby." He's as desperate as you.

With everything combined, Vernon's noises on your ear, his arms tight around you, and every spot inside you being abused at once, the world becomes a blur of fire and white light as your orgasm rips through you.

Your body shakes on top of him as Vernon chases his own orgasm, stretching yours for as long as his cock grinds inside you with a purpose. But he's a weak man when it comes to you, and with the way your walls clamp hard around him, making him work for every thrust, it's not long before he's lost too.

You feel the ropes of cum coating your walls, his length twitching as you take it all. All of him inside you as if you were one.

Silence, deep breaths and the smell of sex fill the room as your bodies take in everything you just did.

Only when Vernon's lips kiss along your shoulder, you realize he's still inside you, and you shouldn't rest.

"I have the best nurse ever," Vernon chuckles along his words as you get up from his lap to find your discarded panties.

Everything is still the same. His clothes disregarded on the floor, the flowers sitting on a vase you haven't seen since you moved in.

You turn around to find him putting on his boxers, his eyes a promise that he's not done with you yet, "I don't think a good nurse would recommend this type of cardio after a fight."

"Then I don't trust them."

Chuckling again, and knowing he'll join you later in the shower, you fall between his arms again, laying together on the couch like you've done so many times before.

Now is your turn to look up at him, the fire in his eyes not gone, but now overpowered by endearment.

You don't want to. You really don't want to. But your eyes close with tiredness, and the rhythm of Vernon's breathing is so serene that you fall asleep in his arms.

There, in your couch, everything around you forgotten and replaced by him.

note: thank you so much for reading! pls share your thoughts I'd love to read them ♥︎

#vernon smut #kvanity #keopihausnet #svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #seventeen smut #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #vernon fanfic #seventeen fanfic #vernon imagines #seventeen imagine #vernon au #seventeen au #hansol smut #hansol x reader #ema.library #seventeen imagines #svt smut

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davinawritings · 6 months ago

Text

His Pretty Girl

Hello! This is a commission for one of my Werewolf's Mate members on Patreon! I hope you enjoy!

Request: Male hybrid cat x female reader. I want to have the guy to be mostly humanoid. So like cat ears and tails or whatever else comes to mind. Just like no like full on cat head or paws. And I want him to be a yandere. Reader- shy and introverted. Other than that you have full creative freedom.

Pairing: Male Cat Hybrid X Fem Reader

Summary: Simon quickly became your best friend but he wants more. He wants you to belong to him and only him and is willing to do anything to have you. He has waited long enough so he finally puts his plans into action to make sure you are all his.

Word Count: 2,547

Warnings: Yandere, Manipulation, Smut, Creampie, Very Brief Talk Of Oral

Simon had become attached to you from your very first meeting at freshman orientation. In his eyes, both of you choosing the same college had to be fate. He adored how shy you were when he first approached you to introduce himself. The way you gave him a soft smile but could barely meet his eyes when he spoke to you just made him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

While you both became best friends fast, he knew he needed more. Simon wants you to be his completely, mind, body, and soul. He wants you to want him and need him more than anyone. You are so perfect for him—so sweet, shy, and beautiful. He has spent the last two years becoming inseparable from you, but now it is time for more. He needs you to be entirely his.

His first step brings him to now, with you crying in his apartment. He knew it was wrong to alienate you from all of your childhood friends, but he needs to be the most important person in your life. He’s not happy that it’s causing you pain, but it is necessary for your future together.

You lay against his chest while he reclines on his couch, sobs escaping your soft lips as you cling to him. His pointed ears twitch at the sound of your sadness, gently purring to try and calm you down. His tail stays wrapped around your plush thigh firmly as a comforting gesture. He lets you release all your built-up feelings, his large hands rubbing up and down your back.

You had come over about an hour ago, tears already pouring down your cheeks. It didn’t take him long to pry the reason out of you between sobs and gasping breaths. You had been texting your friends back home, but they all seemed to be icing you out. None of them would respond to your messages. You had no idea why they would suddenly stop speaking to you, but Simon knew why.

Two weeks ago, when you slept at his place, he had gone into your contacts and blocked all of your friends. He knew it would hurt you, but he would make sure that he stepped up and showed you that he was the only person you needed. He was ready to do anything for you and be the only person you needed. So he kept you in his arms and cooed soft words in your ears about how amazing you are.

His words are comforting and calming as he reassures, “I know, darling. It’s okay. Let all your tears out. I’m not sure why they won’t talk to you, but you did nothing wrong, pretty girl. I’m here for you. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll never leave you like they did, darling. You will always have me”. He smiles as your sobs finally start calming, happy with the way you are clinging to him.

He waits a few more weeks before making his next move. He waits until Tuesday night when you close the small bookstore where you work. All your coworkers take one night each week to take the closing shift, making it fair for everyone. Simon waits and watches while you do all the closing duties. He makes sure to stay hidden as you lock the door and start going to your car, ready to go home for the night.

He waits a few extra minutes to be safe before walking up to the door and opening it. Last week, he made an imprint of your work keys, the one for the shop’s front door and the key for your locker. He quickly had copies made, and now he had access to everything. He moves around, trashing the entire store, ripping pages out of books, and knocking over the shelves. Simon then moves to the register, smashing it with a large book. He quickly takes out all the cash before dumping the coins all over the floor, making an even bigger mess.

He makes sure not to harm or break the door, leaving it untouched and unlocked as he makes his way out of the store. He quickly stops at the local grocery store and picks up some of your favorite comfort foods, knowing you will need them tomorrow.

Wednesday evening rolls around, and Simon is waiting for you to arrive. Your shift should have started at two and ended at seven, but he is sure you will be in his apartment before then. He is proven correct when he hears his apartment door open, and you come running to him. The tears are already falling as you cling to him. He runs his hands through your hair in a soothing manner, asking gently, “What happened, pretty girl?”

You sniffle and explain, “I got fired Simon. Som-Someone broke into the bookstore last night. They ruined all the books and stole the money in the register”. You take a deep breath, and he uses the opportunity to ask, “Why would you get fired for someone breaking in? That isn’t your fault”.

You release a sob and explain, “They said I left the door unlocked and that’s how the person broke in. I tried to tell them that I know I locked it but they wouldn’t belie- believe me. They said the lock wasn’t broken, and none of the windows were broken, so I must have left it unlocked. I swear I didn’t, Simon. I always make sure to lock up on my night. Now they fired me, and I don’t have a job, and I only have a couple of months’ worth of rent in my savings, so I need to find a new job within the next few weeks- and I… I…”.

Simon purrs softly and pulls you closer to his chest to calm you as your sobs begin breaking up your words again. “Everything will be okay, pretty girl. You don’t need that job anyway. I can help take care of anything you need until you get back on your feet”, he says, his tail rubbing up and down your leg affectionately.

Your hand wraps around the back of his neck, and you cling to him even more, whispering out a “Thank you” as he puts your mind at ease. He places a kiss on your forehead before saying, “Go ahead and get comfortable on the couch. I’ll grab some snacks, and we can have a movie night”. You give a slight sniffle before giving him a shy smile, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek before running off to his couch to get comfortable. He smiles as he watches you run off, his cock twitching in excitement, almost as if it knows how much closer he is to claiming you completely.

He only waits a few days before acting on the third part of his plan. He knocks on your landlord’s door, an unmarked folder in his hands. Your sleazy landlord opens the door, but Simon cuts him off before he even has a chance to speak. “Listen, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to double the rent for the woman in apartment 2C. You tell her the new price starts immediately, and she has to pay or get out by the end of the month, which is in exactly three days. If you don’t do that, I will send copies of these photos to the cops”.

Simon doesn’t hesitate to pull out several photos of your landlord dealing drugs outside your apartment building. He watches the landlord’s eyes go wide as he flips through photo after photo, each showing clear photo evidence of his crimes. His voice wobbles as he asks, “So I kick the girl outta 2C, and you swear these photos disappear?”. Simon gives a simple nod, which is enough for the landlord to agree. Now, all Simon needs to do is wait; luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long.

That evening, you come crying into Simons’s apartment, practically collapsing in his arms. Tears flow freely once more as you lean on the only person you have in the world. He pulls you onto the couch once again, keeping you wrapped tight in his arms. He releases soft purrs to calm you as you explain you have to be out of your apartment in three days because your landlord raised your rent. Your tears come faster as you begin panicking.

His ears twitch slightly as your cries pull at his heart. His voice is soft as he says, “Don’t worry, your pretty little head. You can live here with me. I’ll take care of you”. He has to physically bite the inside of his lip as you stare up at him with glossy eyes, a look of love and adoration on your face.

You calm your breathing slightly before asking, “Are you sure, Si? It doesn’t seem fair for me to just move in with you. I only have a little bit of money in my savings, so I can’t pay you much for rent, and I don’t even have a new job yet.”

He affectionately strokes your cheek as his tail moves to wrap around your upper thigh, its favorite place to be. He gives you an innocent smile and replies, “Of course, I’m sure. Haven’t you realized that I love you more than anything in the world, pretty girl? No one loves you as much as I do. Plus, now we get to spend all our time together. It will be even better. I don’t want you to worry anymore, okay? I can and will take care of my favorite girl”.

This time, he can’t suppress his grin as you nuzzle your face into his neck, curling your body into his own as much as possible. Simon lets his hands roam up and down your back, happy you don’t stop him when his hands roam lower than they ever have.

He can already feel his cock hardening as you say, “Thank you so much, Simon. I really can’t express how grateful I am to have you in my life. When everything goes wrong, you are always there to take care of me”. Simon pulls you closer, once again promising to always be there for you.

Over the next few days, Simon helps you move into his home, insisting that you both share one bed. He makes sure to cater to all your needs and make you feel loved and safe. He’s overjoyed when you genuinely seem to only focus on him. No more plans with other people, no more leaving him for hours to go to work, and no more interrupting phone calls from childhood friends and family.

He lets you adjust for the first few weeks in his home, but he quickly grows impatient. The need to make you his completely is building with each day. As you both lie in bed, he finally decides to put his last plan into place tonight.

The moon is high in the sky as he shifts around in his spot on the bed, occasionally letting little sighs escape him. It doesn’t take long for you to ask what’s wrong. Simon puts on his best-embarrassed face and tells you, “It’s nothing. Just get some rest. I’m okay”.

His cock hardens as you shift closer to him, placing one of your hands on his chest and pleading, “Please tell me, Si.” He pretends to be embarrassed again as he tells you, “It’s just that you are so pretty, and having you in my bed… well, it just kind of got me a little… you know… worked up”.

He can see when you piece together what he is trying to say. He watches, slightly amused, as you become his sweet, shy girl again. He knows his pretty girl is too nice to leave him to solve his problem by himself, especially after all the recent events.

Simon can feel his tip leaking precum as you say, “I can help if you want.” He pretends to be nervous, telling you you don’t have to. You immediately say, “I want to help. Si, you have been so good to me, especially these last few weeks. It’s my turn to help take care of you. Please let me take care of you”.

He nods and can’t hide his eagerness as he quickly slots himself between your soft thighs. Tomorrow he will spend hours worshiping your body and licking your cunt, but right now, all he wants is to feel you wrapped around his throbbing cock. He strips you both of your clothes as fast as he can, needing to feel your skin against his own.

His tail caresses your upper thigh, causing you to shiver. He grins at the sight, knowing just how much fun he’ll have teasing your body every day. He pushes your legs up, placing your legs over his chest. Grabbing his cock in his right hand, he rubs it along your puffy slit, making sure to tap the head on your clit. Precum drips from his tip as you release little mewls and whimpers.

Your slick starts to coat his cock as he continues rutting against you, his cock sliding between your lips. He continues until you beg for more. Your begging is like music to his ears, hearing how much you need and want him. He lines up with your weeping cunt, taking a moment to admire the sight and tell you how beautiful you look like this.

With one hard thrust, he enters your tight pussy, finally feeling you wrapped around him where you belong. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as he sets a slow but hard pace. He wants you to feel every inch of his cock, every ridge and vein. He leans down, kissing you with a burning passion. His tongue caresses your own, and he groans in delight. Your legs press to your chest, and you are at his mercy. He grins as he feels your cunt start fluttering around his length.

Simon’s thrusts slowly pick up speed as he gets closer to his own high. Your nails dig into his skin and leave little crescent-shaped marks as you arch your back and cry out. Your pussy clenches down on his cock hard and triggers his release. He moans as he feels rope after rope of cum filling you up. He keeps thrusting despite the overstimulation, wanting to fuck his cum deeper inside you.

He slows to a stop and takes a moment for you both to catch your breath. He reluctantly pulls out, smiling softly at your little whine. He kisses your lips briefly before saying, “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’m just going to get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back”.

He makes quick work of walking to the restroom and wetting a washcloth. He returns and gently wipes you clean before wiping himself and tossing the rag into the hamper. He climbs back into the bed and pulls you into his chest. He purrs quietly as you curl into him, already dozing off.

Simon finally feels at peace, knowing his pretty girl is all his. There’s nothing that will ever take you from him now.

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delugyu · 7 months ago

Text

cold, cursed city (part 1)

part 1 / part 2

summary: You wish your best friend would just leave your budding relationship alone.

pairings: beomgyu x fem!reader, soobin x fem!reader

word count: 25.1k

tags: angst, smut (MDNI), best friend and roommate!beomgyu, reader has a crush on soobin, chaewon is reader’s other bestie, so much possessiveness and jealousy, beomgyu is extremely clingy, manipulation, lying, arguments, a lot of crying, guilt

smut tags: multiple smut scenes lol (2 in this part), switch!gyu, switch!reader, guided & mutual masturbation, dry humping, praise, little bit of degradation, nipple play, very desperate gyu, fingering, overstimulation, oral (f rec), dacryphilia?, pet names (angel, pretty girl, baby, etc)

notes: finally releasing this monster from its prison cell (my google docs). been working on this for a month because whiny possessive best friend gyu has been haunting me every day… anyway i hope u guys enjoy, and lmk what u think!

You hated the walk back to your apartment in the winter. It’s always so cold, and certain paths are always so icy. But you have no choice, and you’re fortunate enough that your job is only a ten minute walk away. It’s snowing today, though, hard enough to make you take each step with caution.

The wind whips across your face, making you squint to protect your eyes. You make it all of two minutes before giving up and going into the nearest public establishment you walk by, which happens to be your city’s library. You catch your breath as soon as you enter the building, taking off your jacket and folding it in your arms. You walk around slowly, looking for a comfortable chair to rest on. It’s unsurprisingly very quiet in the building. All you can hear is people typing on keyboards and hushed conversations every now and then. Everyone looks busy here.

You find a secluded area in the back corner of the library with three lounge chairs. You rush to take a seat there, letting out a sigh of relief as you sink into it. It’s right next to a heater, too. The yellow lights are soft and warm above you. You look out the window, watching the snow rage on. Now that you’re able to see clearly, you notice how there’s a good four inches on the ground. There’s a few people passing by here and there, but the streets are mostly empty. Even the cars are few and far between.

You fish your phone out of the pocket of your abandoned jacket to call Beomgyu. He should probably know that you’ll be back later than usual. By the looks of it, you could be waiting in this library for another hour.

“Hiii,” he says. You can hear his smile in his voice, and it makes you light up.

“Hi Gyu. Did you see the storm outside?” you ask, voice hushed so as to not disturb anyone. You don’t think he had work today, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed home all day, unaware of the weather.

“Yeah, we’re supposed to get six inches or something. Are you on your way back?”

You groan, “I was, but the wind is ridiculous right now. I had to take shelter in some library.”

He laughs at you. “Should I pick you up?”

“I don’t think you should be driving right now honestly,” you answer.

“It’s gonna get dark if you wait it out though,” he reasons. “I’ll pick you up, I don’t mind.” You hear the jingle of his car keys when he grabs them.

“No, don’t, you can just pick me up once all the roads are safe,” you offer instead. “You know you’re not a good enough driver to handle this weather.”

“Wow. I’m gonna drive through it just to prove I can now,” he says.

“Then the next time I see your face will be in some news article explaining the crash,” you snide.

“No, it’ll be an article about all the sick wheelies and 360s I did despite the storm.”

“Yeah right,” you laugh. “How are you even gonna do that with your shitbox?” You realize you’ve been talking a little loud when you see someone’s head whip over at you. You sink into your seat in mild embarrassment.

“I’m so good I could figure out a way to make this car fly.” You roll your eyes even though he can’t see it.

“Oh I’m sure,” you say. “Alright, I’ll call you back when you can pick me up. I’m just gonna chill here ‘til then.”

“Okay. Hope they plow the roads so my shitty driving doesn’t kill us,” he says, and you know he’s doing that stupid sarcastic pout.

“You’re such a drama queen,” you reply.

“You love it.”

“I guess I wouldn’t put up with it for so long if I didn’t.” You take another look out the window to check the weather. The wind calmed down a little, but not enough to go back out. Plus, you’re comfortable right now. “Well, I’ll see you, Gyu.”

“See ya.”

As soon as the call ends, you relax further into the lounge chair. Your posture is horrid, with your back being more on the seat than it is on the back of the chair, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Work was awful today: your boss scolded you about missing paperwork, a potential partnership with another company fell through, and your coworker wouldn’t stop talking about her family problems on your lunch break. Thank God tomorrow’s Friday.

You’re scrolling through Instagram when you notice a tall figure coming into your field of vision from over your phone screen. You look up and realize he’s coming closer to you. Your eyes widen for a second in panic, and you scramble to straighten your back out and look more presentable. You worry that perhaps this is a worker about to kick you out. Why? You don’t know. Maybe you’re about to find out.

You look innocently up at the man as he finishes crossing the few steps it takes to reach you. You try to ignore how cute he is. And tall. And sexy. And really, really tall—did you say tall? He’s so attractive and so your type.

“Hey, I’m sorry, could I sit here?” he ends up asking. He points to the chair furthest from you, since you took the right-most chair of the three. You’re a little stunned for a second, then you remember you have to talk.

“Yeah, of course,” you say, nodding quickly.

“Thank you. All the tables were taken,” he explains quietly, putting a bag down beside his chair.

“I know, it’s weird to see a library so full,” you say. He takes his laptop out of his bag and opens it on his lap. You think you might be watching him too closely, so you snap your head in another direction. There really is no empty table, you note as you look at all the people in the library.

“Normally it’s not. It must be because of the weather,” the man explains. You look back at him when he speaks, and a small smile finds its way onto your face when you see his bunny-like features. You’re never the type to ogle at someone like this, but he’s seriously so pretty. You can’t help it.

“I mean, I’m only in here because of the weather, so I believe it,” you say. The man smiles. You swoon.

“Makes sense. I’d remember if I’d seen you before.”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

The man looks down at his laptop, as if he can’t look you in the eye when he speaks next. “Ah, no reason. I-I’m normally good with faces.”

He’s adorable. You figure this is how you can pass time until the storm is over.

“So you come here a lot?” you ask. You hope you’re not annoying him with all the conversation, but he seems happy to respond.

“I do my work here pretty much every day. I like it better than doing it from my home,” he answers.

“Oh wow, you work remotely?”

“Yep, and I get to choose my hours too. It’s a perk of the job.” He starts typing something on his laptop. You watch his diligent fingers fly across the keyboard. He has big hands. Your head is reeling a little.

“I wish my job was like that,” you say. “Well, I’ll let you work now. I don’t want to distract you.” You relax back into your chair, not realizing how close you’ve been leaning in during the conversation.

“No, I honestly like the conversation! It makes the time go by faster,” he rushes to say. You perk back up and can’t control how you beam. You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear.

“I’ll make sure to keep talking in that case,” you giggle. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Soobin,” he introduces, looking into your eyes kindly.

You tell him your name. “Nice to meet you,” you say.

“Nice to meet you too.”

“So, what exactly do you do for work?” you ask. You’re surprised at how well he can focus on the conversation and on his work. It’s impossible for you to multitask like that.

“I do software engineering for an insurance company. We just finished a major project a couple days ago, so there’s not a ton to do for the rest of the week.”

“Damn, sounds like there’s money in that.”

He laughs, “I guess so.”

“My job’s a lot less interesting than that,” you start, going on to explain your position, then about the mess of today at work, and your conversation with Soobin flows from anything to everything until you remember that Beomgyu’s waiting to pick you up. You look out the window to monitor the weather. It looks like the snow has long since stopped. The streets are plowed, only illuminated by the streetlights since it’s gotten so dark. You find yourself disappointed to have to cut the evening so short.

“Are you leaving already?” Soobin asks.

“Yeah, my friend’s gonna pick me up.” When you unlock your phone, you find that Beomgyu’s already texted you a couple times. You also find that it’s been an hour and a half since you last called him. Holy shit, the time really did fly. You open his messages to read what he sent.

[Beomgyu] are u readyyyyy

[Beomgyu] ANSWER ME WHERED U GO

You call him, and he picks up after only the first ring.

“Finally,” he said. “You had me thinking you started going back on your own or something and died.”

“Pfft, you think so lowly of my survival skills,” you respond. “You should head out now before I lose any beauty sleep.”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” he jokes. You hear him grab his stuff and shut the door behind him. “I hate parallel parking so just wait for me in front of the building, I’ll pull up.”

“Okay. Thanks, Gyu~” you say sweetly.

“Mhm, see you,” he says.

“See you.”

The drive is only a few minutes. You should probably head out front now. You look back to Soobin.

“Hey, thanks for the conversation,” you say. “Made my shitty day a little better.”

“Same here,” Soobin agrees. He watches you put on your coat, getting ready to leave. You don’t think he has it in him to make the next move, so you do it instead.

“You know, it would be a shame if I had to leave right now without your number…” You blush as you say it, looking off meekly for just a second, then back to him to see him giggling. (You? Make him? Giggle? Fucking score!!!)

He motions for your phone with his hand. You can’t wipe the grin off your face as you open a new contact page. You watch him insert his information.

“Let’s meet again soon,” he suggests when he hands his phone back to you.

You nod. “I’ll be in contact,” you say and wave your phone in your hand. Perhaps you’ll be making more stops to the library now.

You seem to exit the library at the same time Beomgyu arrives. You get into his car quickly to avoid the cold weather, shivering once you enter the car.

“Why isn’t your heater on?” you ask, fiddling with the buttons on the dash to turn on the heat.

“My heater barely works. It won’t even kick in before we get back home,” he explains, shutting the heat off again. You make a face at him.

“Then drive, I’m freezing,” you insist.

“I’m on it boss.” He gives you a salute.

His music plays quietly in the background of the ride. He has a nice taste in music, the type fitting for night drives.

“What’d you do today?” you ask him.

“Play League,” he says. You laugh at him, and he looks away from the road for a second to smile at you. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Why do you always make me decide?” you complain.

“Cause I don’t know what I want.”

“I don’t know what you want either, you always reject my choices.”

It’s a short drive to your apartment complex, so you arrive quickly. You rush to get inside once Beomgyu’s car is parked. The moment you open the door to your apartment, you fall flat onto the couch. You don’t care how your face digs into the cushion, it just feels nice to alleviate the day’s stress.

Beomgyu follows behind not long after. “Damn, you ran here,” he remarks. He stays at the door for a minute, probably putting all his stuff away, before he approaches you. You feel him taking your boots off your feet, which you forgot to do in your haste.

“Thanks,” you murmur into the couch cushion.

“You’re welcome.” He leaves you for a moment to put your shoes on the shoe rack by the door. When he comes back to you, he’s sliding your jacket off your arms. He folds it sloppily and plops it on the coffee table.

You turn your head so it’s facing him instead of being pressed into the couch. “What’d you decide for dinner?” you ask him.

He laughs. “Wasn’t that your job?”

“No.” You sit up with great effort. He sits on the other side of the couch and extends his legs out. You freak out when he rests his feet on you. “Nasty!!”

“I got socks on!” he exclaims in defense. You slap his feet away until he gives up and tucks his legs into his body.

“What time is it?” you ask.

Beomgyu checks his phone. “Seven.”

“I’m too tired to cook anything,” you say.

“I think we have leftovers we can just heat up,” he says, then gets up to look in the fridge and make sure. He holds a container out to you. “You want?”

Looks good enough. “Yeah,” you answer. He closes the fridge and grabs two plates.

“I’m so nice, cooking for you,” he says, portioning the food between your plates. “How long do I nuke it for?”

“Try two minutes.”

The rest of the night follows like any other: you eat dinner with Beomgyu, you watch a little TV, you get ready for bed, then you sleep. You hope a certain tall, attractive man visits you in your dreams tonight.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

When you walk back home from work the next day, it’s considerably better in terms of weather. Your eyes linger on the library as you pass it by, and your hand twitches around your phone. Soobin still hasn’t texted you. You’re a little disappointed, honestly. Every notification you received throughout the day made you light up, thinking it might be him. You might just put your pride aside and text him yourself at this point. You even think about walking back and waiting in the library for him, but then you’d just look weird.

When you get back home, Beomgyu isn’t there. His work schedule is so inconsistent, you never know when to expect him. He’s not a 9-5 worker like you, so you suppose that’s where the difference in flexibility comes in.

You lean against the kitchen counter and find Soobin’s contact on your phone. You open a new conversation with him, excited to talk again. You don’t think too much about your messages before you send them.

Hiiii

It’s the girl from the library

You shut your phone off after, not expecting an answer for a while. You turn on your playlist and busy yourself with getting undressed, wiping off your makeup, and showering. You go back to the kitchen once you’re finished to figure out what you’re gonna make yourself for dinner. As you’re gathering a list of ingredients in your head, your phone vibrates on the counter. You grin as you rush to look at the messages, making sure not to open the chat immediately though.

[Soobin] Hi! I’m glad you didn’t forget about me

You find yourself giggling at the message. You’ll respond in a few minutes, not wanting to seem desperate by opening it right away. You pass the time by taking out some ingredients for the meal you’ll make tonight. As you wait for your veggies to steam, you decide that now you can answer Soobin.

Forget you? How could I?

Hehehe

Wyd??

You’re in a very chipper mood, swaying around as you stir your vegetables and decide they’ve softened enough. You hum the tune of a song while you add noodles into a pot of boiling water. Your phone buzzes when you’re in the middle of making the sauce, so you try to hasten your movements. You finish pouring everything in, giving it a quick stir and making sure the heat is on low before running to your phone.

[Soobin] Drinking and watching TV lol

[Soobin] How about you?

You take a picture of your stovetop, sending your work in progress to him.

Working on my culinary creations

You’re done making your meal when he replies to that.

[Soobin] Looks yummy

You laugh and open your camera, taking a picture to send of the plated meal. You type your response immediately, not caring about waiting a few minutes between anymore.

Tastes decent

It seems he doesn’t care to wait to respond to you either, cause his next text is immediate.

[Soobin] Woah five stars

Your conversation fizzles out not long after, but you feel satisfied with it. Even as you clean your dishes, your smile doesn’t leave your face. You almost forgot how exciting it is to have a crush.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

The next time you see Soobin is Monday after work at the library. You offered to hang out with him as he works, and he seemed more than happy to accept. He even asked for your coffee order so that he could bring you a cup. You need the caffeine after such a tiring day at work, you don’t care if it keeps you up until midnight. The coffee’s still hot, but not scalding, when you arrive. You take a seat in the same chair you sat in when you first met.

“Thank you for the coffee,” you say, using the disposable cup to warm your hands. Your face still burns from how cold the walk here was.

“Of course,” he replies. “How was work today?”

You shrug. “Not much to do. I almost fell asleep at my desk. What’s on your agenda for the day?”

You pretend to understand the techy language he spews back at you when he answers. You take a sip of your coffee, humming in appreciation at the taste.

“Where do you get your coffee from? This place does it so good,” you ask, trying to look at the cup for a logo.

“Actually, I get it from a cat cafe near where I live,” he answers. You gasp and look at him in awe.

“What?! Is it new? How have I never heard of it?” You always wanted to go to a cat cafe. Their delicious coffee is just a bonus.

“I don’t think it’s new, but it’s kind of secluded, and the sign is small, so it’s easy to miss.”

“You have to bring me sometime,” you insist.

“Noted,” he laughs.

It gets quiet when Soobin starts focusing on his work, which you don’t mind. You look around the library, taking in the atmosphere. Soobin was right, there are way less people here today than there were on the night of the storm. The library is warm and nice and never loses power, so it’s not a bad place to turn to, you suppose.

You turn on your phone and find a text notification from Beomgyu. You open it.

[Beomgyu] are u on ur way back

You usually tell him when you won’t be back after work, but you guess you forgot to this time. It’s reasonable for him to ask, since you’d be back home by now on a regular day. You explain yourself in a text message back.

No lol

I’m out with somebody rn

I’ll be back for dinner

[Beomgyu] nooo don’t make me cook

You snicker at his response.

Okay I’ll pick up something on my way back

[Beomgyu] muahahaha yessss

[Beomgyu] who are u with?

You think for a moment on how to answer the question. You don’t want to tell Beomgyu about a guy you’re only just starting to see. He’ll flood you with questions that you don’t want to deal with if this ends up going nowhere.

A friend you don’t know lol

You put your phone down when Soobin starts talking to you again. It’s so easy to sink into conversation with him. You find yourself asking most of the questions, liking his eagerness to explain little things about himself. You talk about yourself here and there too.

Time flies yet again, and you realize that you should be heading back home now. You remember promising Beomgyu to pick up dinner on the way back, but you’re not sure where to go. You look over at Soobin.

“Do you know any good spots for food nearby? I still gotta grab dinner,” you ask.

“Yeah, there’s a restaurant that does really good fried chicken, it’s not too far from here,” he answers, then tells you the name of the place. You commit it to memory. You’re about to thank him before he starts up again, “I’ll come with you. I haven't eaten much today.” He starts logging off and shutting down his laptop. You’re so excited at the prospect that you don’t turn him down, even though it means Beomgyu will have to wait a little longer for his food.

The walk to the restaurant is quick and filled with small talk. You get him to laugh hard at one of your jokes, and it feels better than scratching a winning ticket. At the restaurant, you sit across from him in a comfortable booth.

“This one is really good,” Soobin says, pointing to one of the options on the menu. You purse your lips and nod.

“Sounds interesting,” you say. “Normally I go for spicy chicken though.”

“The sauce is so good on it. At least try some of mine,” he insists.

The waiter comes and you order your food. As you wait for it to arrive, you figure you should ask Beomgyu what he wants from here. You send him the link to the menu online.

Lmk what you want

[Beomgyu] omgggg that place looks so good

You feel even happier with your choice to go here now. Hopefully Beomgyu won’t feel bad that you ate without him. You don’t linger on the worry, though, not when Soobin starts telling you about how his first job was at a restaurant that reminds him of this one. You lean into your palm, staring at his handsome face with a dopey smile. Maybe it’s just you, but today just feels like more proof that there’s a lot of potential between you two.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Visiting Soobin at the library becomes a common post-work habit for you. You see him another three times in the next week. There’s something about him that won’t let your heart sit still, fluttering at each little thought of the man.

Your coworkers noticed you had some more pep in your step, and you wonder if having a crush is really giving you a glow. You were just excited to get out of work and go to the library. Even Beomgyu says something when you get back home.

“Someone looks happy,” he says from the couch as you walk into your apartment. You didn’t notice how hard you were still cheesing until he mentioned it. You take off your shoes and jacket.

“Maybe a little,” you giggle. Beomgyu follows you when you walk into your room. It’s normal for him to accompany you while you get unready. He sits on your bed, and you sit at your vanity.

“What are you so smiley for?” he asks. You guess your happiness is contagious, cause when you look at him through your mirror, he’s smiling too.

“Oh, nothing…” you say, building up the anticipation. Truthfully, ever since you left Soobin today, you were planning on how you should tell Beomgyu about him. You’re excited; you haven’t had a real relationship since high school, and you feel it coming up on you now. Any day now, you’ll get the courage to ask him out. Everything has been friendly so far, but you can feel the undertone of romance behind it all.

“What? Tell me!” he exclaims. He walks over to you, standing right by you as you clean your face. “Did you get a promotion?”

You laugh, “I wish.”

“Then what?” he asks. “Is it your new friend?” You shrug and sigh girlishly. You see his smile falter a little in the mirror.

He stops guessing and just watches you take off your makeup. He stays stood next to you, entertaining himself with the little trinkets on your vanity. His silence is a little weird, but you don’t break it with conversation either.

You finish taking care of your face and get up to pull some comfier clothes from your dresser. You throw them on your bed and look over at Beomgyu. He takes the hint and turns to the wall so that you can take off your work clothes.

“Did you see the group chat?” he asks as you slide a loose shirt on. You hum in confirmation. Your friend group is planning to go out together to a nice bar tomorrow night. You even mentioned it to Soobin, gauging his reaction to see if he’d potentially come. “Did you wanna go?”

Something in your heart urges you to spill your secret now. You want to try to sound casual about it, even though you feel like you could talk on and on about Soobin. You don’t let yourself pause too long, deciding to just speak without thinking too much about it.

“Yeah, I’m thinking I’ll invite the guy I’ve been talking to recently,” you say. You’re not prepared for how Beomgyu whips his head around and looks at you like you said something insane. You finish pulling up your sweatpants quickly, but you don’t think he even notices.

“What?! What guy you’re talking to?” he asks, and you’re taken aback by how appalled he sounds.

You put your hands up. “Woah. Chill.”

“No. What are you talking about??” he pushes.

“I’ve already been talking to him for like, two weeks, it’s fine.” You figure he must be upset because he’s cautious of you being with men you barely know. That’s fair, you’re weary when your girl friends bring up new men sometimes too.

He’s quiet for a moment, and you think he’s dropped the case until he starts back up, “Is this the same person you’ve been seeing after work?”

“Yeah, he’s a really nice guy,” you answer.

“You said you were with a friend.” There’s something accusatory in his voice. You tense up as defensiveness flows through you.

“Because I was?” you say incredulously.

“Don’t tell me that’s why you came home so smitten today. I had a feeling.” He looks at you like he’s disgusted, but you can’t figure out why. It’s not like you did something wrong.

“You’re not happy for me?” you ask. He looks away and huffs out a laugh. His arms are crossed over his chest, and you’re baffled as to why he’s taking so much offense to this.

“No, I don’t know this guy,” he says.

“That’s why I’d be bringing him tomorrow.”

“Why? It’s just supposed to be us.” You sit on your bed, and he doesn’t follow. He doesn’t even move from the spot he’s standing.

“Just give him a chance. I think you guys could be friends,” you suggest.

“Fat fucking chance. No way,” he refuses. Now you’re getting upset, cause why the hell can’t he at least try to hang out with the guy you just said you’re interested in? As your best friend, he should be in full support of you finding love.

“Well, I’ll talk to the others about it and see what they think.” You pull your blankets up and go on your phone, not paying Beomgyu any more attention. You hear him scoff and leave the room.

You lay on your side and replay the argument in your head. Did you bring it up wrong? Maybe you introduced the idea at the wrong moment. Maybe Beomgyu had a bad day, and he’s just lashing out at you. He never does that though, why would he start now? You’re so frustrated. You wish you knew why Beomgyu cares so much.

Whenever you see him with girls, you don’t make a big deal. You help him with what little gestures to do to make her feel special. You always give him advice. His relationships never last, though, and he hasn’t seen anyone since you two moved together over a year ago.

Throughout the three years you and Beomgyu have been friends, you haven’t dated a single person. You guess you were wrong to assume that he’d be happy to see you finally do so. Did he want you to tell him sooner? It’s only been a couple weeks, though. That’s pretty soon.

You regret saying anything now. Beomgyu might not even go to the get-together if you ruined his mood that much. Maybe you shouldn’t go. All your friends might get pissed at you the way Beomgyu did. You don’t know what the right way is to introduce Soobin.

You throw an arm over your eyes and scowl at yourself. Why are you wallowing in self-pity? Beomgyu had no right to react like that! He forgets that you can do whatever you want with your life!

The smaller voice in your head reminds you that Beomgyu has always been a good friend to you. He rarely gets upset at you, and whenever he has, he was within his right. But this time? Really? Was it justified? You almost groan in frustration. You don’t know. All you know is that you’re in dire need of talking to another girl now. You unlock your phone and open your chat with Chaewon.

Heyyy you’re going to the bar with us tomorrow right??

[Chaewon] YES!!!!

You smile at her response. You love her bubbliness. It’s impossible to feel sad when you’re talking to her.

Thank god

We should get ready together at your place

I’ll just head there right after work

You hope she takes up your offer. It would be a huge stress relief for you. It would also be a good time to gauge her reaction on Soobin, as well as her thoughts on Beomgyu’s reaction. Debriefing life—even the bad moments—is never dull with her. It’s like she always knows what to say, and she’s always got what you need to hear.

A smaller part of this is motivated by the urge to avoid another argument with Beomgyu tomorrow. If he ends up coming, great. If he doesn’t, hopefully it won’t weigh on your mind so much. You don’t want to ruin your mood right before hanging out with all your friends.

[Chaewon] Omg yes please

[Chaewon] I have the cutest dress for you

You giggle and kick your feet in the air. Maybe you should ditch Soobin and let Chaewon carry you on her arm tomorrow night instead. She’s your hero right now.

I literally love you

[Chaewon] I LOVE YOU MORE

[Chaewon] IM SO EXCITED

ME TOO!!!!

Your shoulders feel less heavy after that. You shut your phone off and let out a sigh of relief. You find yourself excited for tomorrow to come now.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Luckily for you, your work day passes quickly. You speed walk the whole way to Chaewon’s place, not wanting to waste a single moment. You’re excited for tonight, thankful that everyone said they’d be able to come. You try to push back the worry that Beomgyu might not go.

You’re out of breath when you knock on Chaewon’s door. She doesn’t leave you waiting long, swinging it open with a squeal and hugging you immediately.

“How are you?” she asks as she ushers you in and shuts the door. She takes your jacket for you as you slide off your shoes. She hangs it on a cute little coat rack.

“I’m good now that I’m with you!” you say, beaming. She takes your hand and drags you to her bedroom.

“Let’s not waste any time, we gotta look hot before the hour’s up!” In her bedroom, she already has two small bins of makeup products on the floor. She gives you her makeup mirror and uses a smaller handheld one for herself.

“Oh, I already did my makeup,” you say, trying to hand the mirror back to her. She raises an eyebrow at you.

“You mean your work makeup?”

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask, looking in the mirror to check it. Looks fine to you.

“It’s cute, but it’s so modest. You need to look sexy,” she responds. You nod and point at her like she made a great argument.

“You’re right, let me see what you got in these,” you say as you dig through her bins. You pull out the palettes and glosses that intrigue you. She also picks some products out for you, telling you how good they’d look on you. You grab a few of your own products from your purse.

As you both start applying, you think back to Soobin. You wonder how he’ll react seeing you in non-work attire. You bite back a smile at the thought. You still have to ask Chaewon about bringing him, though. You hope that Soobin kept his schedule free for this, but also that he won’t be disappointed if you don’t end up inviting him in the case that Chaewon thinks you shouldn’t.

“I got a surprise announcement,” you start, immediately grabbing Chaewon’s attention. She looks at you with wide eyes.

“I’m scared. Please don’t be pregnant,” she says.

“Well, there’s this guy…” You can’t even finish your sentence before Chaewon starts screaming. You burst out laughing, and she smacks the ground in amusement.

“Okay, okay, tell me more,” she pries once she calms down.

“His name is Soobin. He’s really cute, but also so hot. Like, Chaewon. I swear. I was drooling when I first saw him.” Her jaw is dropped open as she hears that.

“How'd you meet?” she asks.

“We met at the library a week ago and have been talking every day since,” you explain. “And girl… he does tech for an insurance company. That sounds like money to me.”

“Bring me to his mansion when you get married,” she jokes.

“Oh for sure. Imagine though,” you say.

“That’s so good for you. I could actually cry for you. You needed this.”

“Right?! See, at least you get it.”

“I mean, who wouldn’t? He sounds so good.” You pause doing your makeup to give her a pointed look. You emit an exaggerated groan and lean your head back.

“Don’t get me started,” you say.

“Well now I have to hear.”

“When I brought it up to Beomgyu, he completely freaked out. I mentioned bringing Soobin with me tonight and he just lost it.”

Chaewon scoffs. “Screw him, I wanna meet the guy! Who cares what Beomgyu thinks?!”

“I care, I don’t want him to be pissed at me,” you say, and Chaewon frowns.

“He’s just mad cause you’ll be getting it and he’ll be watching from the sidelines,” she says. You push at her shoulder and she laughs.

“You should try to set him up with someone so he gets off my ass,” you suggest, only half-joking.

“As if he’ll ever look at someone besides you.” You tilt your head upon hearing that response, not knowing what she means. She senses your confusion and continues, “I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

You rush to deny the claim, but your heart picks up in some weird sense of panic and shock. “That’s not it at all,” you say. You shake your hand frantically in denial.

“Keep telling yourself that. Why else would he freak out like that?” she asks.

“Oh my gosh… I’m not even hearing this one out,” you dismiss, locking this conversation away to never think about it again. “So, you think I should tell Soobin to come?”

“Yes! One million percent. I have got to see this handsome stranger,” she answers.

“Okay, I’ll text him once I’m done with this.”

“I haven’t been this excited in so long!” Chaewon squeals. Honestly? You either.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

The moment you find your friends’ table at the bar, you notice Beomgyu’s absence. Your heart sits heavy in your chest upon realizing that. Chaewon grabs your hand, and you wonder if you were wearing your guilt on your face. Her reminded presence is reassuring. You sit next to her at the table and greet all your friends.

“Did anyone pregame?” Aeri asks. “Cause I totally did.”

“Girl, I hope you Ubered here then,” Chaewon says.

“I drank a little, but only enough to feel a buzz,” Julie answers.

“Ayy,” Aeri cheers while high-fiving Julie.

“Meanwhile we were too busy scrambling into these dresses to think about drinking,” you say, pointing between yourself and Chaewon.

“You look hot, it was worth it,” Julie says.

“Is Beomgyu not coming?” Yeonjun asks, looking at you.

“I’m not sure. I thought he was,” you answer.

“He better,” Julie says. “The whole group hasn’t gotten together in so long!”

“Speaking of, there’s gonna be an addition to the group tonight,” Chaewon announces, shimmying her shoulders and looking at you. You roll your eyes at her with a fond smile.

“I asked this guy I’m seeing to come by tonight,” you inform, and the table erupts at the news.

“When’s he coming? I’ll give you my brutally honest opinion after seeing him,” Aeri says.

“Oh, you’ll love him,” you say. “Don’t flirt too hard, I can’t have you stealing him from me.”

“So a little flirting is okay?” she jokes. You lean over the table to swat her shoulder.

“He kinda gives shy vibes, so don’t be surprised if he’s not as energetic as us,” you say.

“Let’s just get him super drunk then,” Yeonjun suggests. The table bursts into a chorus of ‘yeahhhh’s.

“Oh hey, look who came,” Chaewon says, putting a hand on your shoulder and pointing her chin to Beomgyu walking towards your table. You hope your smile doesn’t look forced and awkward, but it feels it as he comes closer. Your eyes dart from Chaewon, to your other friends, to your hands on the table, then back to Beomgyu. Your heart pounds in fear that Beomgyu might still be mad at you. He wouldn’t come if he was that upset still, right?

He sits next to Yeonjun, and you’re holding your breath as you gauge the look on his face. He looks… happy. You release your breath slowly. He holds no anger in his eyes when he meets your gaze. A weight lifts from your shoulders.

Yeonjun slaps a hand onto Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Finally!” he exclaims.

“Hey, you think I’d miss a chance to drink with you guys?” Beomgyu responds.

“Okay, let’s get started. Should we each just open our own tab?” Julie asks.

“Yeah, that works,” you answer.

“Wait, I have no money, who wants to be my sugar mommy for the night,” Aeri says.

“You can put yours on mine,” Chaewon offers. Aeri wraps her arms around her for a quick hug in thanks.

“I will pay you back in double when I get my next paycheck,” Aeri promises.

“Ahh come on, don’t worry about that, let’s just have fun,” she responds. Chaewon pulls you up with her to go over to the bartender. Aeri follows along with the two of you. The other three probably split off on their own to figure out their orders.

The three of you take a shot for good luck first, then you work on your own drinks. You’re all giggling as you head back to your table with your drinks. Beomgyu and Yeonjun are back with their own beers, and Julie is nowhere to be seen.

“You think Julie’s drunk already?” Aeri asks the table.

“Oh, she’s been drunk. When she says she’s a little buzzed, that means she’s fucking wasted,” Chaewon says. Everyone laughs because it’s true.

You don’t know how much time passes where you guys just catch up on life and joke around, but at some point you feel your phone vibrate from a text notification. It’s Soobin.

[Soobin] I’ll be there in a minute! Please wait for me at the front so I can find you

“Guys, I gotta go grab Soobin, I’ll be right back,” you say. Everyone’s still caught up in conversation and doesn’t pay much mind to your announcement—everyone except Beomgyu. His eyebrows are upturned, eyes wide as they follow you when you stand.

You pat his head. “I’ll be back,” you reassure.

You don’t wait long by the bar door. Soobin finds you as soon as he walks in, greeting you with a hug. It takes your breath away for a second. It’s fleeting, and it’s over before you know it, but it makes your heart race.

“How have you been?” he asks. You’re standing so close that you have to bend your neck to look up at him.

“Good, better now that you’re here,” you say. He turns his head away to laugh. It’s unbearably cute. You have to stop yourself from squeezing his face in your hands.

“Do your friends know I’m coming?”

“Of course,” you answer. “They can’t wait.”

“Oh gosh,” he says, following you as you lead him to your table. It seems like Julie came back in the time you were gone, cause everyone’s there when you get back. All the girls squeal upon seeing Soobin. You give them a knowing grin.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Yeonjun greets. “Sit, sit.” He motions to the chairs on the opposite side of the table from him. You sit next to Julie, and Soobin sits next to you. Right across from you is Beomgyu. You tighten your lips when you see him looking off as if uninterested. You pray he can be amicable.

“Yeah, so, this is the boy,” you say.

“I’m Soobin,” he introduces with an air of awkwardness. It endears you.

The next few minutes are filled with your friends getting to know Soobin. They make good conversation, and Soobin responds well. Yeonjun even grabs a drink for Soobin at some point—“Be careful, he’s got plans to get you super drunk,” Julie joked—and it seems to loosen him up a bit. You just can’t help but notice how quiet Beomgyu is, though.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you announce, patting Soobin’s back as you get up.

You seat yourself on a barstool, tapping your fingers against the bar as you wait for the bartender to come to you. You hum along to the song playing.

“Hello again,” the bartender greets. You shoot your head up and smile. “Same as before?” You’re surprised he remembers your order when there’s so many people here tonight. You guess he’s just good at his job.

“Yes, please,” you say. You go back to humming and tapping to the beat of whatever song the bar is playing. You look back at your table for a second. Everyone looks like they’re enjoying themselves. It makes you happy to see your friends get along with Soobin.

You check your phone for any important messages, but all you received was a bunch of meaningless notifications from various apps. You shove your phone into your purse so you stop looking at it. You’re here to socialize.

A hand lands on your shoulder, prompting you to look back. You were expecting it to be Soobin, but you’re not surprised when you see that it’s Beomgyu. You give him a smile as he takes the stool next to you. You look back at the bartender, and Beomgyu looks behind the two of you at the rest of the people here. Beomgyu’s arm stays slumped around you.

When your drink is handed off to you, you turn your full attention to your friend. “What’s up?” you ask. You swivel your seat so you can face him directly, forcing his arm off you. He leans into the bar, getting—probably too—comfortable.

“I just wanted to see you,” he answers.

“How’s your night going?” You take a sip of your drink, licking your lips after. His eyes follow the movement.

“Alright, I guess,” he says. He looks out to the crowd again.

“You should go dance,” you suggest.

He shakes his head. “I only like dancing with you.”

“Isn’t that sweet,” you tease. He matches your smile before stealing your drink and taking a sip from it. “Oh my god, you and your big ass gulps, all the time,” you reprimand jokingly.

“I barely drank any of it,” he defends with a pout. You laugh and pat his head to summon his lips back upward. It works immediately, of course.

“How’s everyone doing at the table?” you ask.

He shrugs. “They’re having a good time. Soobin talks a lot.” Soobin wasn’t talking that much when you were at the table, so you’re surprised to hear that. Maybe the alcohol started really coursing through his system in the short time you were gone.

“That’s good,” you respond.

“Are you going home with him?” he asks, looking at you with big round eyes. Usually Beomgyu mellows down and laughs a lot when he drinks, but this time he’s a little different.

“With Soobin?” you clarify. He nods. “Probably not. I don’t think so.”

“Good,” Beomgyu says quickly. You laugh.

“Why good?”

“Don’t want him stealing you from me.”

“You’re such a child,” you chuckle. He holds your hand over the table when you let go of your glass. It’s not abnormal for him to be touchy with you, so you don’t question it. He brings your interlocked hands up to his face and leans into them. His face feels warm on the back of your hand.

“Let me know when you wanna head to ours,” Beomgyu says. He’s being cute right now, you can’t help it when you let go of his hand so you can poke his nose. He beams at you.

“Let’s go back to the table,” you say, grabbing your drink and getting out of your seat.

“No, stay here with me.” He’s so needy. You look him up and down, assessing him.

“How much did you drink?” you ask. You swear he only had a couple beers. He ushers you back into your seat with a gentle hand on your hip. “Gyu, I can’t just leave Soobin for the rest of the night.”

“He’s having fun. Don’t mind him.”

“I brought him here though,” you reason.

He sighs, and his eyes lose their sparkle. He turns his head so he’s not facing you anymore. “Fine,” he says.

“You can’t seriously be upset with me for this?”

He still doesn’t look at you. “I’m not.”

You bite your tongue and decide to leave it at that, even though you know he’s lying. He’s jealous for no reason; it’s not like you’re going to abandon your best friend all because you might have a man in your life. Soobin and you aren’t even anything more than friends right now. You wish you could talk some sense into him, but you don’t want to do that in public.

Beomgyu will wallow alone for the rest of the night if you leave him now. The choice is on you: abandon Soobin at the table, or abandon Beomgyu right here. It’s not like there’s a correct option.

You look at your table. Soobin’s intently listening to Yeonjun as he rambles on about something, while the girls seem to be in a conversation of their own. Does Soobin need you right now? He seems like he’s holding his own. Your eyes fall back to the boy that definitely does.

“Beomgyu,” you call, shaking his shoulder so he’ll look at you. He does. “Let’s go home.” His smile returns immediately.

You already start thinking of what excuse you’ll text Soobin later.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You wake up feeling suffocated by both the tight dress you’re still wearing and by half of Beomgyu’s body weight being sprawled on top of you. Curse him for insisting on watching a movie with you last night—not only is he crushing you now, but your laptop fell off the bed sometime during the night. He better pray it survived the landing. Neither of you even finished the damn movie.

You push him off of you, not caring how hard you do it because of how much of a heavy sleeper he is after he drinks. You sit up and look at yourself in your mirror. Your makeup’s a little smudged, but you don’t look totally crazy. You let yourself wake up for a minute more before sliding off the bed to check on your laptop. The screen lights up with the title card of the movie you watched. Phew. You close the device and stuff it back in the drawer of your nightstand.

You change into comfier clothes and wipe away the mess on your face. You carry on with your morning routine as usual, then lounge on the couch as you wait for Beomgyu to wake up.

The first thing you see on your phone is Soobin’s response to your text from last night. You ended up telling him that Beomgyu wasn’t feeling well, and you had to take him home. That’s not a lie, is it? Beomgyu was definitely not going to be okay if you carried on the night without him. You shake the thought and open Soobin’s text.

[Soobin] Don’t worry about it :) I had a feeling something happened

You didn’t doubt that he’d be understanding. He really is a good person.

You pass the day alongside Beomgyu once he wakes up, hanging with him in his room for most of the day. He plays his games while you go on your phone. You make dinner for the two of you, and Beomgyu cleans the dishes.

You watch him scrub at your plates from your spot at the table. You want to ask him about Soobin, but you’re nervous about him reacting poorly. You don’t want to argue again.

Beomgyu couldn’t be that immature about it though, right? If you just ask him for his opinion on Soobin, it’s not like he can really take offense to that. You’re genuinely curious, and you obviously want his approval on the guy you’re talking to. You bite the bullet and just go for it.

“So, what’d you think of Soobin?” you ask. You’re eager to hear his review, albeit a little nervous. He gives a short laugh in distaste, and your brows scrunch in confusion. “Did you not like him?”

He shuts off the sink and dries his hands after cleaning the last dish, then leans his back on the counter and stares at you with an unreadable expression, which is weird because you can normally tell exactly what he’s thinking.

When he finally responds, his face is just as indecipherable. “I don’t think he’s the right guy for you.”

“Why?” You’re genuinely curious. Maybe you’re wearing rose-tinted glasses, and Beomgyu could see something that you couldn’t.

He sighs, “He was just… giving me bad vibes.”

“How come?” you ask.

“Just a feeling,” he explains. You groan. What a non-answer.

“Well, I think he’s super charming.” He scrunches up his face like you said something disgusting. “Stop being like that,” you scold.

“I can’t help it. It’s gross,” he says.

“Yeah okay. I didn’t say it was gross when I was helping you get a new girl every week,” you mention.

“That was years ago!” Beomgyu whines.

“Still happened.”

“That’s not a fair comparison,” he complains. “And it wasn’t every week.”

“So it’s wrong when I find one guy I like and want to be with?” you question. He groans and crosses his arms.

“Why do you even need a boyfriend right now?” he retorts. “What’s wrong with what we have?”

You pause. What the hell is he on about? Having a friend is very different from having a boyfriend. He’s completely serious, too; his face is stone.

“Um, nothing? I don’t know what that has to do with this…” you answer, unsure. He sighs and makes his way over to you, but never gives you a response.

He picks up your hand and helps you out of your chair. Is this seriously where he’s gonna end the conversation? No, you want a real answer. You’re only being left with more and more questions.

“Don’t bring me back to your room, I want to talk about this,” you say.

“There’s no point,” he responds. He might be right, but you still want to know why he’s acting like this. You take your hand back from his grasp.

“Why don’t you like Soobin?” you ask, more demanding now. You harden your stare on him, but he’s not budging. You cross your arms as you wait for an answer. “Well?”

“Why does the reason matter so much?” he asks back.

“Beomgyu, what the fuck are you saying? Why are you being so secretive?” Anger starts filling your words, you can’t help it. It’s not fair for him to shit on Soobin nonstop without telling you why. If something happened that made him form this opinion, then you want to know.

“Calm down,” he says, and it only serves to upset you further. Before you can bark at him, he continues, “I just don’t think you need to be seeing anyone right now.”

“Why?” you demand.

“Cause you have me!” he exclaims like it’s obvious.

“That’s different!”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says. You tilt your head and look at him incredulously.

“What does that even mean?” you groan.

“What do you want from him? I can give it to you instead,” he pleads. Something’s changing in the air of this conversation, something you’ve been pushing to the back of your mind for your own sanity. Chaewon’s words from yesterday rattle in the cage you mentally locked them in. You push them back, not letting them escape. That’s an impossible and crazy thought.

“Stuff that best friends don’t do with each other,” you answer plainly.

“Why not? We can. Nothing has to change,” he says.

Your head is spinning and you want to sit down. You rub your temples and close your eyes. Everything in your mind is flying by too fast for you to make sense of it. Beomgyu holds one of your shoulders, and you back away instantly.

“I think I’m gonna spend the night at Chaewon’s,” you say, defeated. You feel a serious headache coming on.

“Don’t, please,” he begs. “I’ll talk, I promise.” His eyes are watery now, and it only fuels your stress more. How did you manage to make him cry? What is going on?

“I need to collect my thoughts.” You just want to get out of this now. Beomgyu was right: this conversation was pointless. Now you’re left with more confusion than you know how to deal with.

He quickly gets on his knees in front of you, big eyes pleading to you, hands clasped over his heart. He’s going too far for this right now.

“What is wrong with you?!” you exclaim, half-frightened at the sight of your best friend acting so different in front of you. “What in the world has gotten into you?!”

You try backing away, but he wails immediately and stops you. “No!” he yelps, clinging onto your legs to keep you from moving any further. He leans his tear-soaked face onto your thigh. His skin is warm against yours, and you suddenly regret wearing such tiny shorts. You try moving away again, but your back hits the kitchen counter, and you realize you’re cornered.

“I was here first,” Beomgyu says with conviction, like that justifies his whole argument, like you’ll stop seeing Soobin just because of that.

“Can we talk about this like adults?” you ask. He looks up at you with those watery wide eyes, and you can’t help but feel your heart ache a little. You soothe him with your touch, running a hand through his hair and down his face, collecting his tears. He leans into your touch and wears the most pitiful frown you’ve ever seen.

“Please,” he begs quietly. “You don’t need anyone else, you have me.”

“Gyu, get up,” you say, trying to keep your voice authoritative but gentle.

He doesn’t, of course. “Tell me what to do,” he insists instead.

“I just did.”

He scowls at that and nips at the flesh of your thigh. You jolt in surprise and pull his head back by his hair. He winces in pain for a second, then looks up at you like a puppy.

“Behave,” you warn, and he smiles like he’s getting what he wants.

“I will, I’ll be good, tell me what to do,” he pleads again. He looks delirious off of this. It twists your stomach and makes you release your hold on his hair. He immediately goes back to your thighs, licking a short stripe up it, reaching the hem of your shorts. You gasp as your legs twitch, and he looks up at you with a grin.

“I can’t be doing this,” you say, and Beomgyu rolls his eyes in annoyance. You get another nip to the thigh, harsher this time. “Enough with that,” you tell him, swatting at his head.

“So you get a boyfriend and suddenly I can’t be close to you anymore?” he spits bitterly, angrier now. He stands back up, crowding you with his proximity. You hate how you immediately feel like you have less power. A part of you wants him back on his knees.

“We are still close.”

He scoffs at that. “Yeah right. It’ll be different now and you know it.”

“Well now it’s gonna different, since you put on that whole fucking show!” you argue, swinging an arm out in disbelief.

His brows are drawn together, and he looks at you furiously. “I can’t just sit back and watch another man have you in whatever way he pleases.”

“We’re friends, Beomgyu! That’s it!” you exclaim. You don’t bother correcting his assumption about Soobin ‘having’ you. “No amount of confessions is gonna erase Soobin from my life just like that.”

He clenches his jaw and stares at you silently for a few long seconds. The tension is so palpable and thick, you don’t even dare to breathe. He grabs your wrist and brings you down the hall, into your room. He lays you on your bed with a gentleness that doesn’t match the anger on his face. You know where this is going, you’re not stupid. You should stop this. You need to stop this.

Words get caught in your throat. You should speak, you should yell at him. You should shove him away and put him in his place. This is too far, too much.

You don’t stop him when he crawls onto the bed with you. You don’t stop him when you see the hunger in his eyes as he scans your frame. You wouldn’t stop him no matter what he does right now, your guilty conscience snides.

Your core clenches when Beomgyu brings himself down to hover over you. He remains wordless, just examining your every feature. You’re scared you’ll give away too much and let him in on your desire, but a darker part of your mind hopes that he catches it. Fire builds in your stomach as the moment drags on.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispers. He’s so close that you feel his breath on your face. You stay quiet. He traces up your jaw with the tip of his nose, smiling when your breathing stutters.

He pulls away a bit, just enough to stare at where your hips almost meet. You’d just have to push forward a few inches to close the gap, but you hold back. His hand finds your hip, thumb rubbing you comfortingly.

“Tell me what you need,” he tries again. You bite back a whimper at the deepness of his voice. He laughs at how you still don’t respond. “You this quiet with Soobin too?”

That pisses you off and brings you out of your haze. “No, I give him whatever he wants.” It’s a lie, but you mostly say it to piss him off, and clearly you’ve struck a nerve judging by how he grits his teeth.

“I’m trying to be good for you,” Beomgyu says. He grips onto your waist tight. “I’m showing you I’d do anything for you.”

“Soobin does that just fine,” you say pointedly. Neither of you are amused, and the moment is laced with venom from both sides now.

You gasp when Beomgyu suddenly takes your thighs and pulls them up toward your body, exposing your clothed pussy to him. You try to shut your legs, but Beomgyu’s hold is too strong and doesn’t budge. He smirks when his eyes land on the damp spot over your core.

“Does Soobin make you soak through your shorts like this too?” he taunts. Before you can even think of a smart reply, he’s bending you even further, bringing your knees to the sides of your head. He has you folded firmly in half, and it feels so demeaning, but it makes you so wet. He laughs at the sight of you, slack-jawed and speechless.

You’re fully-clothed but feel so exposed. Your heart is beating erratically. You’re starting to shake from how worked up you are; you ache for him to do something.

“No, he doesn’t, does he?” he continues, and you whine. “You can pretend all you want that he’s the man of your dreams, but you know he’ll never compare to me. Isn’t that right?”

You don’t respond to that. You’re too far gone in your lust to trust yourself to talk; you’ll end up saying something you regret. Beomgyu finally releases his grip on your legs, and you feel all your arousal leaking out of you as soon as your hips fall back on the bed.

“You don’t wanna tell me what to do? That’s fine. I can read you like a book. I know what you want,” Beomgyu says before grabbing your hand and placing it over your cunt. You immediately grind into it, losing yourself in the stimulation. He smiles deliriously at the sight, running his hands soothingly up your sides. “That’s it, now you’ve got it. Now you’re being good.”

One of his hands leaves you, the other helping to keep your legs spread. When you focus your attention back on him, you see him pulling his dick out and stroking himself. He spits in his hand before wrapping it around his length again, and you moan at the sight. He looks delicious.

His eyes are wild as they try to take in every part of you. It’s hard to keep yours open, but you want to watch him as much as you can. Something like this can never happen again, so you need to take it in.

You work your hand faster over yourself when you see him tug at his length with more fervor. His mouth drops open when he moans. He looks so pretty, making a mess out of himself. The sight is addicting, him panting and kneeling over you. You never thought about him like this before, but now thoughts this lewd will plague you.

“Gyu,” you whine, trying to find the perfect rhythm to get yourself off, but you need more. He senses your urgency and gets his hand off his dick in favor of grabbing your wrist. He plunges your hand past your shorts and panties, guiding it to your core. You gasp at how crude the action is. He bites his lip as he takes your two middle fingers and forces them into your fluttering hole. You moan at the intrusion, which was made so easy thanks to how embarrassingly wet you are. The slick sounds of your cunt fill the air, loud and filthy.

Beomgyu wraps his hand around your wrist again to control your movements, pacing the way you fuck yourself. It feels so scandalous and so hot, you find yourself getting worked up quickly. He makes you fuck yourself with vigor, and the way your palm meets your clit with each thrust has your mouth falling open. You stay in the rhythm he set even as he pulls away to fuck his fist again. His grunts and moans are shameless, and they’re like music to your ears.

“Fuck, you’re so dirty, you’re a dream,” he rambles, clearly teetering on the edge. He squeezes the meat of your thigh, then your hips, then palms your ass. “Are you gonna cum, my angel? Are you gonna let me see how pretty you look when you fall apart?”

“Yes, please,” you answer breathlessly, back arching into the feeling. Beomgyu bites down his smirk and runs his hand down the outside of your thigh.

“Wanna see it so bad, fucking dreamed of this.” You can feel the mattress shake from how hard he’s fucking his fist. His grip is bruising on your thigh, and he moans when he feels you jolt in pleasure. “Yeah, keep fucking yourself like that. So perfect.”

You moan out as you finally cum, clenching down on your fingers and throwing your head back as the sensation takes over you. You hear him whine, and it makes you tighten even more around your fingers, dying to hear it again.

“So good, so good for me,” Beomgyu praises in a shaky voice. You can tell his high is approaching. “Look so b-beautiful.”

“Cum for me, Gyu, let go,” you urge, making him moan out again. You slip your fingers out of your cunt but keep your hand over it, fingers ghosting over your clit as you watch Beomgyu lose himself. The slight overstimulation is delicious, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering at the feeling.

“Have I been good to you?” Beomgyu asks, out of breath as he squeezes the base of his cock. He strokes himself slowly once he regains his composure.

“So good, felt so nice,” you answer, feeling blissful after your orgasm.

“Yeah? Better than Soobin?” he asks, increasing his speed again. You can’t even scold him before his motor mouth starts running again. “Could fuck that little pussy so much better than him. Make you feel so good. Make you forget about him.”

He pushes your shirt up with his free hand, and before you can even react to that, he’s pushing up your bra too. “Oh my god, Beomgyu!” you exclaim, pulling your hand from your pussy to cover your tits. Beomgyu yanks your arm away and brings your fingers to his mouth. You stare at him in shock as he sucks your juices from your digits, diligently swirling his tongue around them. He’s moaning around your fingers, and a second later he’s spilling his load onto your stomach and breasts. Your mouth drops open. He’s got a lot of nerve doing all that; unfortunately for you, it was the hottest thing you have ever seen.

He takes your hand out of his mouth once he’s cleaned your fingers off, whimpering as he rides out the last of his high. He looks down hungrily at your body, taking in the ropes of his cum splayed on your skin. Like the horny freak he is, he sticks his fingers in the mess and smears it all over your torso.

“Gross,” you laugh. He ignores that. He tugs at your nipples with his cum-coated fingers. You yelp at the sensation, and he coos at you. He does it again, and again, until he’s had enough of his fun. He stares into your eyes, and you wish you could crawl away from his heated gaze, it’s that intense. His thumbs return to tease your nipples, but he doesn’t pull his eyes away from your own.

“You’re mine. Never see him again,” Beomgyu declares like it’s final.

“We’re meeting tomorrow,” you respond. He pinches your nipple harshly for that.

“Why? Cancel. Just stay with me,” he offers instead. You try to get up onto your elbows, but Beomgyu pushes you back down against the bed. He continues absentmindedly playing with your tits. He’s practically sitting in your lap to do so.

“…Can you wipe your cum off of me?” you ask, ignoring the conversation at hand.

“But I’m having so much fun.” He pouts. He’s cute like this.

“I let you have enough fun today,” you say with no real bite. He sighs like it will kill him to do so before getting off the bed and leaving for the bathroom. He comes back a minute later with a wet towel, and it’s peacefully quiet as he wipes you down.

“He’s not even really my boyfriend, you know,” you mention, watching his focused face as he rids you of the mess he made.

“Sure,” he laughs bitterly. “Tell him that.”

“We never made anything official,” you say.

“Then why’s he parading around telling everyone how you’re his girl?” Beomgyu asks, giving you a hard stare. You pull your bra and shirt back down once he finishes cleaning you, trying to feel a little more decent. He throws the used towel on the floor and crawls in bed next to you.

You perk up at that. “He is? How do you know?”

He stares straight ahead instead of at you. “You don’t gotta sound so excited.”

“I’m just curious,” you defend.

“Right,” he says, not believing you. “Yesterday at the bar he said it. Multiple times.” Did he? You hold in your gasps and squeals and suppress the urge to kick your feet. Maybe you were too drunk to remember, or maybe Soobin was saying it while you were away from the table. Or maybe Beomgyu’s just psychotic and putting words in Soobin’s mouth.

“Wow,” you say as nonchalantly as you can.

A few silent moments pass where you find yourself filling the time by trying to ignore Beomgyu’s stare on you. He turned to his side at some point and seems to find you to be the most interesting thing in the room. You try to focus on your nails, the walls of your room, your disorganized vanity, but nothing lifts his stare from you. You give in and turn your head to him, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Well?” you prompt.

“What now?” he asks.

“Now… you get out of my room,” you say, holding eye contact and keeping your expression still. His face falters immediately.

“Are you joking?” he asks incredulously, backing away from you with a scoff, propping himself up on his elbows.

“This shouldn’t have happened, Gyu,” you say with a sigh. You know it hurts him—it hurts you, too—but you can’t do this while you’re seeing Soobin. You’ve already crossed the line.

Beomgyu is silent and unmoving. After a minute, it becomes clear he’s not leaving. You don’t know if it’s out of stubbornness or desperation. He lays back down and curls himself into you, tucking his face in your neck and holding you tight.

“Beomgyu,” you warn, but to no avail. He stays there and nuzzles further into you, and you’re so pathetic that you just let him. A stronger woman than you would have put her foot down, but that kind of power doesn’t find you in this moment.

Another long minute passes, consisting of you staring straight at the ceiling, listening to your combined breathing. You think of how Soobin would feel if he found out about this. How are you going to look him in the eye tomorrow? Do you tell him about this? Is it wrong to keep it a secret?

You try to pull away from Beomgyu, but he doesn’t let you move. “Please, Beom—“

“Stop,” he murmurs, putting his hand over your mouth just long enough to get you to stop talking. “Let me have this one night. He gets you every other time.”

You can’t help but feel a little aggravated at that. “Because he’s the one I’m seeing! This is wrong!”

“What’s wrong is you looking for other men when I’m right here,” he says with finality. When you don’t respond, he continues, “So let’s just go to sleep.”

You decide to let him win this time, telling yourself that this will never happen again. Sleep doesn’t find you easily with the guilt eating you alive, but it does feel kind of nice to have Beomgyu hugging you like this again.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

When you wake up, Beomgyu’s already gone. You let out a sigh of relief. You feel bad for not wanting to see him, but you know that last night changed things. There’s a conversation that needs to be had that you’re not sure you’re ready for.

You sit up and stretch, then check the time and notice that it’s already nearly 10. Your eyes go wide, horrified—you’re supposed to see Soobin at 10! You have less than twenty minutes to get ready!

You leap out of bed and run to your closet, looking for a cute dress to throw on cause you have no time to curate an outfit. Once you have the dress selected, you hold it in front of you in the mirror. The fabric is super soft and looks casual enough while still being pretty. The light color of it looks great on you, too.

You don’t have enough time to linger on your options, so you go with it. You fold the dress and run to the bathroom to finish freshening up and getting ready. You need to take the quickest shower of your life.

You’re rushing out the door once everything’s complete, cursing at yourself as you check the time. It’s already ten minutes past. You shoot him a text as you scramble down your apartment’s stairs.

Hey! I’m gonna be a bit late, leaving now

Forgot to set an alarm, my bad

Wait for meeee

You shove your phone in your jacket pocket and speed walk down the street. You’re lucky enough to live near the heart of the city, so everything is at walking distance. You’re halfway to the cafe when you feel your phone buzz with a response.

[Soobin] No worries. I’m waiting :)

[Soobin] Gives your coffee some time to cool down

You smile at the response. Of course he already bought your coffee. Of course he memorized your order. It’s Soobin, he’s the most thoughtful guy you’ve ever known. Your phone buzzes with another text notification. This time it’s Beomgyu.

[Beomgyu] omg where’d you go i got stuff for breakfast!!!

Your heart squeezes at the prospect. You rush to type out your responses.

I said I was meeting Soobin today

I’m sorry

Brunch?

You slow down your walking, finding yourself nearing the destination too quickly. You just want to get Beomgyu’s response before seeing Soobin. Your phone buzzes when he replies.

[Beomgyu] hmm.. ok brunch

You don’t find yourself excited, though. You guys do things like this all the time, but now you’re just nervous. It makes your stomach churn with anxiety. You know things have changed. Even if he acts like nothing happened, you both know something did.

You shove your phone into your pocket when you arrive at the cute little cat cafe. You wipe the sweat off your palms before opening the door. You try collecting yourself before looking for Soobin, who’s sitting at a small table near the front of the shop. You smile when you see him, but it’s only half-genuine; the other half of your mind is busy trying to push down your worries about Beomgyu.

You seat yourself across from Soobin, who smiles widely and fully-genuinely at you. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” you apologize. “Thank you for the coffee.”

His smile stays on his face as he watches you grab the cup and feel for its temperature. “It should be good to drink now,” he says. “I had company, the cats were coming to me.”

You laugh before taking a sip of your coffee. It’s the best thing in the world, you’re grateful he got it in advance for you. The hot drink eases your mind a bit. You look around the cafe until you spot a cat. It’s a fluffy black and white one, perusing around lazily.

“That one is so mean, don’t pet it,” Soobin says, following your gaze. He brings your attention to a different cat with a pointed finger. “The orange one sunbathing there is the best.”

“Oh yeah? You’re an orange cat fan?” you ask.

“I think you’d like that one,” he says. As if the cat could hear that, it gets up and starts walking toward you.

“Look at you, cat whisperer,” you joke. The way his face scrunches when he laughs makes your heart flutter. The orange cat brushes up against your legs when it finds you, and you immediately coo at it. “Hello, sweetie! Can I pet you?” you say, bringing down your hand for it to accept. The cat rubs its head against you, and you pet it lovingly.

“So you’re more of a cat person?” he asks. You look up from the cat to pay attention to him.

“I like all animals,” you say.

“What’s your favorite?”

You think for a second. “Should I say bunnies because you look like one?” you giggle.

“That’s a good answer,” he laughs with you.

“What would have been a bad answer?”

He looks up in thought and leans his face on his palm. “Maybe a mole or something?”

“Hey, I like moles,” you say.

“You like all animals.”

“What a good listener.”

“It’d be a little sad if I forgot something you said just a minute ago,” he responds.

“Men are like that,” you joke. You feel your phone buzzing with a call notification. “Sorry, let me check this.”

Why the hell is Beomgyu calling you?! You told him you were with—you roll your eyes. That’s why he’s calling you. He’s so petty and childish. You shove your phone back in your pocket.

“No one important?” Soobin asks.

“It’s Beomgyu,” you answer.

“Ah, you should answer then,” he reasons.

“I’m sure it can wait,” you dismiss.

“I need to go to the bathroom anyway, you can call while I go.” He smiles as he gets up.

You don’t really want to, but as you watch him walk away, you’re stuck sitting alone with nothing better to do. With a sigh, you unlock your phone and open your messages with Beomgyu.

What’s up

His response is immediate.

[Beomgyu] when are u coming back

You hold your head and groan at his antics. It’s been ten minutes and he’s acting like you’ve been gone ten days.

Whenever we’re done

Maybe an hour

He calls you again. Reluctantly, you answer. “What?”

“I just wanted to talk,” he says.

“No, you just want my attention. It’s one hour, I think you’ll live.”

“I think I won’t,” he counters. So annoying. You find yourself laughing for some reason, though. You see Soobin coming back, and you quickly fix your posture and tuck your hair back. That was fast.

“I gotta go,” you say abruptly. Beomgyu doesn’t get a word in before you hang up. He texts you his final words instead.

[Beomgyu] UR SO MEAN

Soobin sits back down in front of you. “What’d he say?”

“A whole lot of nothing,” you answer.

Soobin laughs. “Is that usual for him?”

“Always,” you groan.

After a moment, Soobin finds a new topic. “So what kept you up so late that you slept in so much?”

You freeze at the question. You have all of one second to decide if you’re going to spill the truth, or if you’re about to lie to his face. It would be the right thing to do to be honest with him…

“Beomgyu and I were hanging out,” you decide on saying. It’s technically true, but it feels like a cover-up rolling off your tongue.

You try to reason with yourself. You didn’t have sex. You got yourself off, with your own hand, and you didn’t touch him at all. The most he did was a little titty touching… so what? That’s so high school. It doesn’t even count.

You wonder if it would fool Soobin, cause it’s not fooling you.

“Oh, must’ve been fun then,” Soobin says. “Hopefully you can catch up on some sleep tonight.”

He’s so kind. You feel so gross. You don’t deserve him. Your smile doesn’t meet your eyes.

“You got any other plans for the day?” Soobin asks.

“I’m doing brunch with Beomgyu after this,” you answer.

“Wow, you spend a lot of time with him,” he comments. You don’t know why you feel a little offended at that.

“Yeah, we’ve been best friends since our senior year of high school. We moved to the city together, so we’re roommates.”

“Must be nice. I came here alone, so it was a little hard at first,” Soobin says.

“How so?” You’re honestly glad to shift the questions towards him for a bit. You like learning about him, and you hate how you always seem to end up talking about Beomgyu.

“I’m really shy, so making friends took a long time,” Soobin answers. “I’ve been here a few years now, though, so I made a decent community.”

“That’s nice. What’d you think of my friends on Friday?” you ask. “I heard you get chatty when you drink.”

He laughs and scratches his neck shyly. “Your friends were nice. I don’t think Beomgyu was very interested in talking to me though.”

You conceal your groan. Why does it keep coming back to Beomgyu?! You wish last night never happened so you could feel normal about this conversation. Even then, though, it wouldn’t erase how Beomgyu acted before that.

“Yeah, I don’t know, I’m sorry. Must’ve caught him on a bad day,” you excuse.

“Maybe. He seemed fine talking to you, though…” he mumbles, and you can tell that it’s bothering him. Now you really feel like shit. Any attempt you make to comfort him would be a lie after what you let happen between you two.

You grab Soobin’s hand, making his head pop up from where he was looking down all sullenly. “Thank you for coming that night. It means a lot that you met my friends,” you say. That puts a smile back on his face.

“Guess I gotta introduce you to mine now,” he says.

“I’d love that!”

“I’ll plan a day. How busy are you this month?” he asks.

“Not super,” you answer. You go on to ask about his friends, listening to him as diligently as you can while ignoring your phone buzzing in your pocket with text after text. You can guess who they’re from.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

The moment you get back home, you find Beomgyu already near the door waiting. He lights up, but you’re not amused.

“That texting and calling shit needs to stop,” you say, looking him dead in the eye.

He pouts and points at the table. “I made us food. It was gonna get cold.” You look at the table. He set up the dishes all cute, with plates of meats and pancakes in the middle alongside a bowl of berries. You sigh.

“We could’ve made it together when I came back,” you mention, but the fight leaves your voice. You wish you weren’t so endeared by him. You’re so weak, it makes you curse at yourself in your head. You sit at the table and pile some food onto your plate. He sits across from you and does the same.

You’re not sure what to talk about. You feel your skin heating up as you remember what happened the last time you were with Beomgyu. He must be thinking about it too. Maybe arguing about Soobin would be better than dealing with the awkwardness you feel right now.

You take a quick glance at him. He’s smiling and swaying around as he chomps down on his food. If he notices your discomfort, you’re glad he doesn’t say anything. You try to focus on your food instead of him as much as you can.

Usually Beomgyu is the only person you feel like you can do anything around, but right now you’re second guessing every little thing you do. Did you stare at him too long? Should you not check your phone right now? Where should you be looking? Does he know you’re overthinking this right now?

“I hope this is better than whatever you just did with Soobin,” he says, breaking the silence. You stop eating for a second to give him a disapproving glare. That’s one way to cut through your thoughts.

“You need to stop being so jealous,” you say. His neediness is being turned up to 100, and you don’t know how to deal with it. Whatever he thinks he’s doing is only going to drive you away from him.

“Well, I have to fight for your attention now,” he explains. You roll your eyes.

“No you don’t, I still spend most of my time with you.” It’s ridiculous that he thinks you’d just drop him like that. You literally live with him, you can’t avoid him. His insecurities are getting the best of him, and it’s changing your relationship with him.

“But soon you’ll spend it all with him, and I’ll have no one,” he says like he can see it all already. Gosh, seriously? His brows are upturned and the slightest frown mars his face. Why must he try to break your heart?

“Where’d you get that idea? I’m not going anywhere. You’ll always be the most important person in my life,” you reassure him. He looks down like he can’t stand to make eye contact anymore. His shoulders slump.

“I just have to make sure you don’t forget me,” he mutters. He keeps his eyes down. You sigh.

“I won't forget you. Can’t you just trust me? I’m telling you you’ll always be my number one. What more do you want to hear?” you ask.

He meets your eyes again. They still look sad. His lack of response puzzles you; he always has so much to say. You stay staring at each other for what feels like an eternity, until you pull your gaze away, unable to handle it.

You know you’re not in the wrong here. It’s not abandonment to just see another guy. He looked so pitiful, though. It would’ve hurt less to see him get angry and yell at you. He can’t really help how he feels, and you suppose it is a big change. What does he want you to do, though? Well, stop seeing Soobin. But you’re not going to do that.

You go to your room without another word, needing to leave his presence. It murks your mind and leaves you unable to think clearly. You text Chaewon to come over when she’s free. You just need to get your mind off of whatever’s developing between you and Beomgyu.

When her knock sounds at your door hours later, you run to open it, excited to finally talk to someone who won’t give you a headache. She holds up a grocery bag full of your favorite snacks, smiling ear to ear. You make a mental note to splurge for her next birthday; she always treats you so well.

You usher her to the couch and offer her a drink. She turns on the television and finds something to play in the background. Once you’re both situated, you open one of the snack bags and throw a blanket over the two of you.

“What did you do this weekend?” you ask her.

She doesn’t look away from the television when she answers, “Julie and I went to a spa.”

“Oh my god, and you didn’t invite me?!” you say in faux offense, although you definitely would have liked to go.

She laughs and points at the bag of food in your lap. “I made up for it with those.”

“You still owe me a day out,” you joke.

“I know, I’m thinking we’ll go to an amusement park in the spring. You down?” she asks.

“Oh, for sure,” you confirm. You go quiet for a bit, captured by the show Chaewon put on. The two of you make your own commentary on the characters and their decisions. You share looks when something crazy happens, and burst out laughing when Chaewon’s prediction about one of the plot lines comes true.

This is the stress relief you needed. You already feel lighter and happier. Good thing you asked Chaewon to come over. During a commercial break, Chaewon turns to you.

“Okay, I have to ask, how are things with Soobin?” Chaewon asks. The question doesn’t irk you, partially because it’s not Beomgyu asking it, but mostly because Chaewon put you in a better mood.

“It’s going good with him,” you say. You look down the hall to make sure Beomgyu’s door is shut. Talking to Chaewon about this might actually clear things up for you. She always has good advice.

“Tell me more,” she prompts, leaning in with a grin.

“Well, we went to a cafe today”—Chaewon cuts you off with a delighted ooooo—“and it went really well. He wants me to meet his friends next.”

Chaewon gasps. “You’re halfway into boyfriend territory now!”

Ugh. “About that…” you start.

“Uh oh,” Chaewon lets out.

“I really, really like Soobin, it’s just”—you shut up immediately once you hear Beomgyu’s door open. There’s no way he heard you, not unless he was intentionally listening in, and if he did, is he ballsy enough to come out and argue with you now? With Chaewon right here? You hold your breath.

He walks into the kitchen, and you let yourself breathe again. You watch him carefully. He opens the fridge. It’s a little early for dinner, so he’s probably just looking for a drink or a snack.

“Hey! Talk to me about that sexy tall man!” Chaewon says, bringing your attention back to her. You laugh nervously.

“Let’s talk about you, actually,” you say in attempt to shift the conversation. “How was your spa day with Julie?”

“We had fun, but it was nothing more important than Soobin updates!” she assures. She’s talking so loud, you flinch thinking about Beomgyu listening in.

“I don’t think we should talk about him right now,” you say, eyeing Beomgyu’s figure in the kitchen. You release your breath when you notice he’s still distracted in his search through the fridge.

“Girl… what,” Chaewon deadpans, following your gaze. She looks back at you, brows scrunched. You share a glance, and she puts two and two together. “You’re kidding me.”

“Please,” you whisper.

“He is so ridiculous,” Chaewon complains, shaking her head in disapproval.

“I know, but I can’t talk about it right now. Later, please,” you continue in a hushed voice. Beomgyu settles on an energy drink, closing the fridge and advancing toward the two of you. You pray Chaewon drops it.

“Hey Chaewon. Whatcha guys up to?” he asks as he lingers by where you sit on the couch. You look to Chaewon with pleading eyes. Hers are unamused and disappointed.

“Just talking,” she answers, her voice lacking any emotion. Beomgyu nods.

“Cool. What’s on TV?” he asks.

“Some crime show Chaewon likes,” you respond. It’s quiet for a minute, and you’re trying not to feel antsy. Beomgyu definitely didn’t hear your conversation about Soobin, but you can’t shake the reaction Chaewon had. You were just about to tell her how Beomgyu’s been acting, but now the conversation will have to wait.

When Beomgyu takes a seat next to you, you know that you won’t be able to talk to Chaewon about Soobin until the next time you see her. He puts his arm on the couch behind you and gets himself comfortable. It’s not like you’re going to ask him to leave, so you just lean into his side. You might as well make use of his warmth.

The three of you watch a couple more episodes of Chaewon’s show, and after some time your anxiety leaves you. It feels like a normal hang out, not like you’re in between your best friend you just got intimate with and your other best friend who has no clue.

“Are you having dinner here?” you ask Chaewon. She shakes her head.

“I think I’m gonna head out now, actually. I’ve got a few things to do,” she says. She gets off the couch. “But you need to come over tomorrow, ‘kay?” She points at you. You already know it’s because she wants to finish the conversation you started before Beomgyu came in. It must’ve been pestering her mind.

“I will,” you say. You get up from the couch to hug her. “Thanks for coming over.” You walk with her to your door.

“Love you, see you tomorrow!” she exclaims, waving.

“Love you too!!” You wave back.

Once Chaewon’s out the door, you return to Beomgyu on the couch. You lean your head on the armrest and fold your legs so they’re not resting on Beomgyu.

“I don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” you complain. He laughs.

“When do you ever?” he asks.

“Fridays, cause there’s donuts,” you answer. He tugs on your legs to pull you closer to him. Your shirt rolls up a bit as he drags you down the couch, but he fixes it for you.

“Call out sick or something,” he suggests.

You groan, “I only get, like, seven sick days.”

“You should skip and we should go to the shopping center.” You hit his chest with your knee at his offer. He smiles down at you.

“The difference in maturity levels between us is crazy,” you say.

“I keep you young,” he jokes.

“Bitch, we’re the same age.” You hit his chest again.

Your phone buzzes on the table in front of you, but before you can sit up to check the notification, Beomgyu flips the device so it’s facing down.

“Who texted me?” you ask.

“No one,” he answers. “What do you want for dinner?”

You hum in thought. “I’m not really hungry honestly. I filled up on Chaewon’s snacks.”

“Same.” It falls silent, so you grab your phone and finally check your notifications.

“You liar, you said no one texted me,” you say, reading your text notification from Soobin.

He wears a mischievous smile. “Oops. Must’ve read it wrong.”

“Yeah right,” you say. You open your phone, going to respond to Soobin until Beomgyu takes your phone from your hands. “Hey!”

He shuts off your phone and puts it in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Talk to me instead of going on your phone.” You scowl at him, who looks back at you with a teasing grin. Asshole.

“Give me back my phone,” you order, hand reaching out for him to place it in. Instead, he takes you by the hand and drags you into his lap, laughing when you yelp.

“Why don’t you take it?” he offers, looking down at his pelvis.

“I’m not digging in your pants to get my phone back,” you say.

“Will you dig in my pants for other reasons?” He wiggles his eyebrows. You bite down your smile and smack his arm.

“You wish, freak.”

He snickers, running his hands up your arms. “I do wish.”

You’re acutely aware of the tension starting to build in the room, and you can’t deny how you’re getting excited in the heat of the moment. This is innocent enough, right? You’re just being playful with each other. Just because you’re starting to feel a little worked up doesn’t mean you’ll act on it.

You move your hand slowly down his chest, traveling down his torso, making your way down to the pocket of his sweatpants. He stares at you with big dumb eyes, and you hold back your laughter. You pry open his pocket, sliding your hand in and retrieving your phone, letting the weight of it drag across his thigh as you pull it out from the fabric.

“Got it,” you whisper, a winning smile on your face. You throw your phone behind you on the couch. You don’t know why you don’t move from your position, though. Maybe it’s the satisfaction you feel at watching his mouth fall just the tiniest bit open at your actions.

His hands grab your waist, thumbs lifting up your shirt just the tiniest bit, revealing a sliver of your stomach. He brings you forward on his lap, moving you even closer to him, and your eyes widen when you feel his half-hard length beneath you.

“Gyu?” you say, searching his eyes. He looks drunk off this moment, and he doesn’t bother to hide his lust. It’s evident all over his face, from his lidded eyes to his bitten lip. “Maybe we should”—

“Do you wanna ride me like this?” he interrupts, hands moving to your hips so he can guide them into a slow grind. You gasp at the sensation, not realizing how aroused you’d gotten. You feel him hardening below you the more you sway your hips over him. You feel dizzy.

You drop your head in his neck and let out a shaky exhale, letting him control your movements. God, this is so wrong. You’re doing this again? You’re really bad at keeping your own promises. But fuck, when your clit catches on the head of his cock, even through all the clothes, it feels like heaven. You can’t even think about how you should stop.

He slides your hair to one side of your neck and kisses the side he bared. “Good girl,” he praises, keeping your hips in a slow rhythm that has your brain malfunctioning. You whine, and your thighs twitch and tighten around him.

Beomgyu’s rock hard now, and you wish he didn’t feel so sinfully good. He presses his hips further up against you, and the added pressure makes you moan out before you can hold it back. He laughs and scatters wet kisses onto your neck.

“Look at you,” he says, voice so low it makes you shiver. “Pretty little thing getting herself off on my lap, creaming her pants for me. Cute girl.” He hastens your rhythm for you and holds you down tighter against him. You gasp and cling onto his shirt.

“Gyu, Gyu, please,” you stammer, feeling your high approaching.

“I know, sweet girl.” He matches your rhythm with his own hips now, making your toes curl.

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe out, moving yourself even faster over him, losing yourself as you chase your orgasm.

“Yes, fuck, cum for me, I need to see it,” he insists, watching you spasm and shake over him. He moans out at the sight, and the sound is what brings you over the edge. You feel his dick twitch as you ride out your high, and you realize he came in his pants too. The thought makes your head spin.

You slow down as you begin to come down, holding his face in your hands. You wear a dopey smile, and he looks just as fucked out. You’d like to ruin him one day, to see him beg for pleasure and get more than what he can take. He has a pretty face for things like that.

Your hips still over him completely, and Beomgyu connects his mouth to your jaw. He sucks on your skin there, and you push his head away. “No marks,” you tell him. He nods quickly and goes back to licking and kissing and sucking your skin.

He trails his kisses down to your neck, lapping at every inch of skin he has access to. He’s messy with his tongue, coating you in his saliva. It’s so filthy, but it has your core pulsing again. You don’t know why he has this effect on you.

You jolt when you feel his teeth on your neck, biting down and sucking hard. It makes your hips push forward, and he moans against you. You’re not too far gone to let him get away with that, at least.

“Are you serious?” you scold, pulling Beomgyu away by his hair. He kisses your cheek, just barely missing your lips. You gasp, flustered.

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, breathlessly. He lays you down on the couch and lifts up your shirt and bra. He decides to connect his mouth to what he reveals there instead. He swirls his tongue around your nipple and sucks, squeezing and fondling your other tit with a hungry hand. You whine out when he just barely scrapes his teeth against the bud, fueling the heat in your core. He switches sides so that he can suck your other breast, delivering wet kisses to it.

His free hand travels up your thigh and stops just inches from your cunt. He swipes his thumb lazily over your inner thigh, so close you can feel it ghost your center. It’s getting you desperate for relief. You close your thighs around his hand, and it brings him right to your core. He moans against your chest at the collision. You wonder if he can feel your wetness through your thin pajama pants.

He rubs his hand against your cunt, moving slow enough to keep you wanting more. He detaches his mouth from you and stares at how your hips gyrate against him. He bites his lip and presses his fingertips harder against you, teasing your entrance through your clothes.

“Oh my god,” you moan, throwing your head back.

“Fuck, let me finger you,” he insists, bringing a thumb to your clit. Your head is spinning from the pleasure. “I need to, I’ve got to feel you.” You feel his bulge on your thigh, heavy and hard. You cry out. You feel your moral ground starting to slip.

“Take off my pants,” you instruct. “Just those.”

He rushes to follow through. Your pants are on the floor in an instant, and his hand is right back on you. He drops his head into your neck when he feels you this time.

“You’re drenched,” he moans. He runs his index finger through your folds over the cloth, so soaked through that he can feel the outline of your pussy perfectly. He pushes his index finger just barely into your hole, watching your panties scrunch up into it.

“Gyu!” you yelp.

“Let me, let me, let me,” he pleads, jamming his finger just a touch further. Your hands wrap around his arm, needing purchase on something. “You want to cum so bad, right? You want to feel good?”

“What do you want?” you ask back.

“To make you take whatever I give,” he answers. Your entrance flutters over his finger at that. “So let me take these off,” he says, pulling his hand away to snap your waistband.

You feel your sanity leave you. You need that pressure back in your cunt. His eyes are dark and blown out. He pulls your panties down just barely, letting them sit below your hip bones, your center still covered. He’s agonizingly slow as he pulls further and further, not daring to reveal your cunt until you say so.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Beomgyu whispers.

He’s the one driving you crazy. Your mind is completely fogged over. You’ve been turned into some kind of lust-drunk whore, seeing as you can’t focus on anything but him if you tried.

“Take them off,” you finally give in. You pulse and ache where you need him most. Beomgyu wastes no time when he pulls your panties off and away, and the first thing he does is hold your legs wide open and stare at your pussy.

“So perfect and slutty for me,” he says in his deep voice. “Gonna make this little pussy all mine.”

You whine at his words, thighs twitching and trying to close. You need him to do something, you need him to fill you. Your hole clenches over nothing, the emptiness starting to kill you. Beomgyu bites his lip and watches as your arousal leaks from you.

“You’re so cute, maybe I should just keep you like this,” he muses, laughing when you cry out and shake your head. “No? But I love watching this sweet cunt leak for me. You’re dripping like a whore.”

You arch your back, push your hips out, do anything you can, but he still doesn’t relieve you. You try to bring your own hand down to your pussy, but Beomgyu grabs it and pushes it back against the couch by your head.

“Please touch me!” you plead, desperate beyond belief. You might even start crying.

“Aww, my baby needs me,” he coos, soothing his hands up your thighs. “My pretty girl needs me, only me.” Finally, his fingers find your clit. You melt into the feeling, sighing in relief. Your hips twitch closer to his hand, making sure he won’t leave.

“Thank you,” you moan. Beomgyu holds your face with his free hand, staring into your teary eyes.

“Don’t cry, I’ll give you what you need,” he says, voice soft. He dips a finger into your cunt, stopping once he’s knuckle-deep. He fucks his finger into you slowly, and you sigh at the relief. He watches his finger sink into you, humming in pleasure when he sees how it collects your wetness.

His actions pull soft moans from your mouth, but you can’t bring yourself to conceal them. It’s not like you need to be embarrassed anyway, seeing how much Beomgyu loves your reactions. You get sick of his slow pace after a while, trying to ride his finger faster.

“More?” he asks. He inserts a second finger into you. The stretch feels like heaven, you crave to be stuffed by him.

“Yes! I need it,” you exclaim. He picks up the pace a little. “Thank you, thank you..!” He laughs a little and leans down to kiss your forehead.

“You’re so nice to me right now,” he notes with a smile, fucking you faster on his fingers in appreciation. “This is how you should always be.” You pay no mind to the wet squelches your pussy makes as he pistons into you. Your stomach muscles clench as you feel yourself getting closer.

He starts curling his fingers inside of you, and it doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for. You arch your back and yelp at the sensation of him pressing against the spongy part inside of you. He grins and keeps thrusting against that spot, watching your reactions with amused eyes. His head moves down between your thighs, biting and sucking at all the flesh his mouth can find, then wraps his lips around your clit once he grows tired of marking you.

“Ah! Gyu! That’s—mmh,” you sputter, rolling your hips up into the feeling. It’s so much. He pushes his fingers into you harder, deeper, with more purpose. He toys with your clit using his tongue, swiping and flicking it while he sucks. You’re right there and he knows it, doubling his efforts.

The pleasure takes you under, and you cum with a cry. Your hands find purchase in his hair, tugging at the strands. It makes him moan, and the vibrations fuel your orgasm. He’s hungry for it, fingers coaxing as much of your cum as he can get out of you. He doesn’t give up his pace even as you start to come down, fog clearing from your mind.

“That’s enough,” you say, trying to push his head away. His mouth leaves you for all of one second before he latches himself back on. “Beomgyu, I already—fuck!” He sucks harder now and hooks his fingers harshly into you to rub right against a spot that has you seeing stars. He only pulls his fingers out long enough to push a third one in, pressing right back where he was.

You gasp, pulling his hair again, needing something to keep you in reality cause you feel like you’re about to slip. You shake and twitch with overstimulation, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. It’s like he hasn’t gotten his fill yet. He’s careless with how he breaks you, paying no mind to your body’s limits.

Your orgasm builds up and hits you quickly thanks to Beomgyu’s determination. Your thighs clamp around his face, but that doesn’t stop him. You whine and mewl as Beomgyu feasts on your arousal. Your poor pussy clenches hard around his three fingers, so much he can’t even thrust them anymore, so he curls his fingers rapidly inside you instead. Your cum pools out of you and onto his hand, your juices dripping out of you uncontrollably.

He pulls away, panting, staring at your pussy. He licks a stripe up it, then goes back down to circle his tongue around your entrance. You whimper and push his head away. He meets your eyes, and his dark gaze softens when he sees your teary ones.

“Can’t you just take a little more?” he asks. His eyes don’t leave yours as he nibbles and sucks on your thigh. You shake your head and push his face away again. With a pout, he rises back up so his face is hovering over yours. You don’t know why fondness overcomes you when you’re staring at him, but the feeling isn’t entirely unwelcome.

“You’re so good,” you say, cupping his face and giggling. He leans his face into your neck, and you can feel his shy smile form against your skin. He comes back up with stars in his eyes.

You want to kiss him, and the thought scares you because you’ve never wanted that before. The feeling is so overpowering that you have to look away. You try to find interest in the wall, but Beomgyu’s movement makes you turn your head back to him. He leans back to admire you.

He smirks at the sight of your thighs, prompting you to look down at them too. Your eyes widen in horror at all the marks he sucked onto them. He pats your leg with a happy grin on his face. “No more short skirts around him,” he says. What a little shit.

“Beomgyu!” you scold. Dignity finds you and forces you to sit up and reach for your clothes on the floor. Before you can grab anything, Beomgyu’s placing you in his lap and holding your face much too close to his. His hips jut up into yours, and you gasp upon feeling his erection. Of course he’s hard again.

“I still need you,” he whines. “Please, don’t go yet.” You pull your face away from him, so he takes your hand and presses a kiss to your palm. His puppy eyes are so sweet and pitiful, you have no choice but to stay. One sad look from him is all it takes for him to get whatever he wants from you. You’re weak.

“I-I’m still sensitive,” you say as he grinds into you. He grips your hips hard, keeping you in place so you have no choice but to take it. You can already see your juices on his sweatpants, leaving a damp mark right over his cock.

“Yeah?” he asks, half-breathless. It’s like he’s not even listening to you, too focused on humping you like a bitch in heat.

“Yes, slow down.” He drops his head on your shoulder and pants heavily, not slowing down at all. You’re buzzing in overstimulation, legs twitching uncontrollably. His hands are shameless as they try to grab at every part of you. He squeezes your hips, your waist, your tits. His tongue is warm on your skin as it trails up to your ear, where he bites down and sucks.

He pushes himself further against you, giving you no space and no chance to leave. He wraps his arms around you and pistons his hips like he’s actually fucking you.

You gasp, “G-Gyu! Stop being bad!” You tug his hair, forcing his head back. His mouth drops open, and he stares at you through lidded eyes. Lust has possessed him, and your words only fuel him.

“Then punish me,” he says. You pull his hair harder, forcing his head back as far as you can, and suck on his neck. He moans louder than you’ve ever heard from him before, and his hips stutter in their rhythm. His hands keep you pressed against him as close as you can get. You moan when you feel his dick twitch through his clothes. For a second, you wonder how it would feel inside of you, but you shove that thought to the back of your mind.

You detach yourself from his throat and watch his face twist up from the pleasure. You look down to see the cum stains on his pants, giggling at the sight. Your hips jerk, and he gasps at the sensation.

Your eyes land on the mark you sucked into his neck. It’s darker than the ones he plastered all over your thighs. You want to feel ashamed or appalled for leaving that on him, but all you feel is some sort of satisfaction. You let your body fall limp against him, sinking into his hold and laying your head on his chest. His hands run to soothe you, brushing through your hair and rubbing your back.

You avoid asking questions. You avoid talking at all. You don’t want to know what this is or what it means, you just want to bask in the afterglow of whatever this is. The unpacking part of this will be a problem for future you.

Even if you hate yourself for this tomorrow, you can’t think of anything better than Beomgyu’s embrace on you now. You’ve already crossed so many lines with him, adding a few more won’t hurt. You find yourself wondering what things you’d like to do with Beomgyu next.

You lean back to stare at his face. His smile is blissful and lazy. You can’t pull your eyes from his lips. Even in the middle of winter, they still look so soft. You wonder what it would feel like to run your tongue over them, or how they would feel wrapped around your fingers. Would they be carnal and unforgiving against your own, or would his lips find yours in a sweet, gentle kiss?

You feel his hand on the back of your head. He’s pulling you closer, and you panic. You tilt your head so that your lips find his jaw instead of his mouth. You pull away after planting a little kiss there. Your gaze flits down his face for just a few seconds before you lean in to place another kiss on his jaw, a little higher than the last, lingering a little longer.

“A real one now,” he requests, eyes pleading and hands resting on your neck. You peck his nose, then his cheek, then his other cheek. He holds your face still and whispers your name. You share the most intense stare you’ve felt in your life.

You close the gap and let your lips touch for just one second. It’s soft and simple, and it’s enough to satisfy your curiosity, but Beomgyu has to come back for more. His lips feel so nice, they were made to be kissed. His fingers dig into your hair, desperate, clinging to you as if you’ll slip away from him. His kiss is hungry, like he wants to consume you, like he’s trying to find a way to your soul through your mouth.

You use both your hands on his chest to push him away, and when you succeed, you stare at him with wide eyes. You’re trying to get your breathing back under control. His face is flushed.

“Please, you can’t go back to Soobin after that,” he begs. The fragile glass holding this moment together breaks, and your sense crashes back over you immediately. Shit, you forgot about Soobin. How could you have forgotten about Soobin?!

You pull yourself out of his lap and stare at your best friend with horrified, blown-out eyes. What the fuck? What did you just do? You have to tell Soobin, you have no choice now. Next time you see him, you’re going to spill everything that’s happened with you and Beomgyu. This isn’t right. This isn’t fair to him.

“Gyu… I’m so, so sorry,” you apologize getting off the couch slowly, putting on your clothes. How do you save this? How do you stop yourself from breaking both Soobin’s trust and Beomgyu’s heart? There has to be a way to salvage this. There has to be a way to make this okay.

“Why?” He shoots up, holding your arms so you stay. “Why would you be sorry?” He shakes his head like he’s not understanding, but his eyes tell you that he knows. He knows you’re going to try to stop this again. What will he do to prevent you this time?

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you whisper. You can’t even look him in the eye.

His disappointment only shows for a second before it’s overcome by need. A need to stop you from leaving, a need to show you that he’s yours, a need to prove himself to you—you know it all already, it’s happened so many times before. You can’t give in. Not again. Not after you let him get this far. If you allow this, what else will you let him do?

His hands are shaking as they cup your face. When you meet his eyes, you see tears already falling from them. You hate it. You hate it so much, how you’re always the cause of them. You’re always finding new spots to put your knife, slower ways to kill him. You know it by now; you know he’ll be hurt, but you do it time and time again, and you never learn your lesson.

This time it will change. This time you have to mean it.

“Stop making this so hard…” you say, hushed, as you wipe his tears from his face.

“I can’t leave you alone,” he insists. “You don’t get it. It’ll kill me.” He turns his face to kiss your palm. You try to pull your hand away, but he catches your arm and brings your wrist to his mouth, kissing you gently over your pulse point.

Why does your heart race? Why does your breath catch? He keeps finding new ways to fluster and confuse you, and all this just to make sure you don’t leave him for Soobin. You don’t know what’s more pathetic: the fact that he keeps doing this, or the fact that it keeps working.

You smooth your hand down his neck and rest it on his shoulder. “Just go to sleep,” you tell him softly.

“Come with me. Don’t make me go to bed alone after this.” He looks so cute and hopeful, you almost give in. You tighten your lips and place a parting pat on his chest.

“Good night,” you say before walking to your bedroom. He must know better than to follow, because he doesn’t. You try to ignore how your bed suddenly feels so big and empty.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

“Tell me everything, girl,” Chaewon says as soon as you settle onto her bed with her. You rushed over to her place after work, needing to debrief her on whatever has been going on between you and Beomgyu.

“First promise me that you won’t hate me,” you start.

“Oh, this is how I know it’s gonna be good,” she chuckles.

“Promise me!” you repeat, clutching onto her legs and locking eyes with her.

“I promise!” You lean back and let out a dramatic sigh, preparing yourself for your recap of all the events. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.

“So, remember the day we went to the bar, how you said you think Beomgyu might like me?” you ask. She nods. “I think you might’ve been right. Things have been getting weird.”

“I literally fucking knew it, I knew he must’ve been on some shit,” she says, looking excited to hear more. “Continue.”

“Well…” you trail off, feeling your stomach knot up in fear of actually saying what happened out loud. “Oh my Godddd, I can’t.” You hide your face in your hands.

Chaewon pushes your hands down and shakes you by the wrists. “Tell me!”

You take a deep breath. “Okay, so. At the bar, Beomgyu came up to me and was like are you leaving with Soobin? And I was like no, and he was so happy about that. But then he got really upset when I wanted to go back to the table with Soobin. Literally so upset that I ended up going back home with him cause he was gonna sulk all night otherwise.”

“Oh my fucking God, Aeri and I were literally joking about that being the reason why you left. That’s crazy,” Chaewon says.

“The next day, I asked him for his opinion on Soobin, and he got all pissed at me for some reason,” you continue.

“It’s cause he likes you!” Chaewon chimes in, rising up and screeching with the adrenaline of the conversation.

“Well then it gets crazy. He starts talking about how our friendship is enough, I don’t need a man, and I’m like huh? I don’t even remember everything he said, but it was so weird, and he started offering himself up to me basically.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. Like, I’ll do whatever you want, literally like that,” you explain.

“Girl.” You share a glance.

“Just wait. It gets worse,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you fucked.”

“Just wait!” you repeat. “So I tell him I’m gonna head to your place to clear my mind, and—I can’t make this up—he drops to his knees and starts crying actual tears. And then it gets kinda horny?”

Chaewon busts out laughing and claps her hands. “How’d I know?”

“He’s biting and licking my thigh, and I’m still trying to talk some sense into him, but some demon ends up possessing me and he takes me to my bed, and we don’t fuck but we… yeah.”

Chaewon covers her mouth in shock. She’s speechless, and you let the first half of the story ruminate in silence for a few long seconds. You tighten your lips and nod like you’re disappointed too.

“When we finish, I tell him that this is never happening again, and that he needs to leave my room, but he doesn’t. He insists on sleeping in my bed with me because Soobin gets me every other night, which is not true, but I let him have it anyway.”

“You need to put your foot down. He’s crazy,” Chaewon says.

“There’s more,” you respond. “Also, that night, he told me that Soobin apparently said we’re together or something at the bar? Is that true?”

Chaewon scrunches up her face. “No? I don’t think he said that.”

You groan, “Beomgyu is literally driving himself crazy. Anyway, the next day I literally start hating myself so bad because I wake up and have to see Soobin immediately”—Chaewon gasps—“Yeah. And the whole time I’m thinking, do I tell him? Should he know? And, oh my God, Beomgyu would not stop blowing up my phone during our date.”

“I would have to fight him, that’s so annoying,” Chaewon comments.

“It was! He didn’t even need anything either, he just wanted my attention. I didn’t end up telling Soobin anything cause I was scared. When I got home, Beomgyu and I ate and he was like I hope this is better than what you did with Soobin.”

“Girl, beat his ass,” Chaewon says.

“Stop,” you laugh, pushing her shoulder. “We argue again, and then I ask you to come over. Then you know what happens when you’re there. When you leave, though, the demons get to me again and I get even freakier with Beomgyu.”

Chaewon looks at you in horror and shock.

“Yeah. So when it ends, I tell him that this won’t happen again. He gets all sad and cries again, and says all this heartbreaking, confusing shit. So no matter what I do, I feel like I’m hurting someone.”

“Can I be honest? He’s one hundred percent manipulating you,” she says. You flinch a bit at that. Manipulating you? That’s a little far.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you refute. “He just ignores all our friendship’s boundaries.” Beomgyu has touched you in ways that friends shouldn’t. He’s declared things to you that friends shouldn’t. He’s begged to you and drove himself to tears, he’s gotten in his head with insecurities about you, he’s done too many things that a friend would never do that you just can’t ignore.

Chaewon places her hand over your own. That’s how you know she’s about to get serious. You like talking about this with her because she can be fun, but she can also be mature about things and give good advice. Plus, at least with her, you don’t have to worry about not being heard.

“Listen,” she starts. “He cries to you because he knows you’ll give in. He brings up his devotion to you because it makes you feel like you owe him. It’s not about professing his emotions, it’s about doing whatever it takes to keep you closest to him.”

Your brain is struggling to fit all the pieces together. It’s not adding up or making sense to you. Maybe to an outside source like Chaewon, it looks a little bad, but you know Beomgyu better than that. You always have been influenced by him. Right now is no different. He doesn’t want to control you, you think. He just wants his best friend.

“He’s not evil, Chaewon, he’s just being annoying,” you say. She sighs and goes quiet for a second. You can tell she’s carefully formulating her response.

“He’s being selfish. He can’t stand to see you choose another man over him.” That much you know. He’s admitted to that.

“Then wouldn’t I be selfish too? Letting him do things with me while I’m talking to Soobin,” you ask, looking off to the side. When you say it like that, guilt pours over you. If Beomgyu’s being selfish, then you’ve been obscenely greedy. That’s not a far cry from the truth, though, and it may even be the actuality of the situation after all. You won’t defend yourself from that claim.

“The thing is, you wouldn’t be doing any of this if Beomgyu wasn’t messing with your head,” Chaewon reasons. “Would you have let him touch you if he never cried to you that night?”

You think back to your first intimate moment with Beomgyu. You definitely wanted it. The second time too. You ponder Chaewon’s words. If he never fell to his knees, begging you to stay, what would have happened? If he skipped the tears and the pity party and just took you straight to your room to fuck, would you have been okay with it then?

Probably not, you think. But how relevant is that? You can’t separate Beomgyu’s emotions from his actions. He felt like he was losing you, and that’s why he did everything. Everything that happened after was from the heat of the moment, an act of desperation.

Maybe it’s his utter devotion that turns you on, maybe that’s what keeps you from denying him. Seeing a man so desperate that he’d shed tears for you, perhaps it’s what makes you lose control. When Beomgyu’s on his knees, looking up at you with painfully honest eyes, promising you that he’ll be good, any woman in your position would fold.

What if it wasn’t Beomgyu? What if it was Soobin instead? Would you still give in? You try to picture it. You look into Soobin’s eyes and feel his fingers on your thighs. You try to make yourself burn up more, but you don’t feel much.

Okay, picture it more, maybe. He’s got you spread on your mattress, begging you for just one touch. He kisses your stomach, and his tears fall off his cheek and onto your skin. His tongue is warm and wanting, exploring further down your body until he bites down on your waistband. You tense up, needing more. You grab his hair tight. He looks up at you and you almost shriek, horror and humiliation crashing over you. He’s not Soobin at all. He’s Beomgyu.

Chaewon’s voice cuts through your thoughts to ask you another question, “Do you feel like you can’t leave him?”

“I’d never leave him,” you answer. You didn’t even have to think about it. She sighs.

“At some point, you have to realize that this is going beyond keeping a friend around,” Chaewon says. “He won’t let you go out with Soobin in peace. He argues with you whenever you mention him. He touches you to get your mind off of him.”

You don’t try to refute that. Should you just accept defeat? You could go home and surrender to Beomgyu. You could promise to never look at Soobin again, and he’d finally get what he wants without a fight. You’d live the rest of your life not knowing whether you’ve got the love of your life standing right beside you or waiting out in the world somewhere.

“He’s giving you no choice. He’s doing it on purpose.” Chaewon picks up your hands, lacing them with her own. “You have to start standing your ground with him. No more letting him control your life.” Her hands give a firm, reassuring squeeze to yours.

You nod. “You’re right.” She smiles.

“Okay. Bring it here,” she says, pulling you into a hug. The second your head lands on her shoulder, you start crying. You didn’t even know you had to cry. She rubs her hand down your back, letting you use her as an outlet.

“What happens if I can’t, and nothing changes?” you sob. You feel helpless in your own life. Nothing you do will change what Beomgyu does or erase what you have done.

“Then you leave,” she answers simply. You tense up at the idea. Do you have it in you? You’re not nearly brave enough. “You come stay with me for however long you need. I promise.”

“How will I look at Soobin after this?” You should save everyone a whole lot of trouble and just call things off with him. The thought makes you feel sick, though. You don’t want to leave Soobin. You have a real connection with him. Beomgyu’s just getting in the way of it, fogging up your mind at every chance he gets.

Chaewon pulls you out of her embrace so she can look you in the eye. Her hands stay on your shoulders, firm and reassuring. “Stop beating yourself up. You made a mistake, but you’re not the biggest one at blame here.”

You wish that was true. You blame your lack of spine, your inability to keep your conscience clear, and your willingness to lie to save face. You look down at your lap in shame. If Beomgyu’s an asshole, then you’re perfect for him. You’re not as good as you’d like to think.

Chaewon calls your name to bring your attention back to her. “Soobin isn’t even your boyfriend. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Well, that’s true. You sniffle.

“Won’t he hate me now?” you ask.

“He has no right. As long as there’s no label, you two aren’t exclusive. Sure, things are a lot more complicated now, but you’re not a bad person for anything you did,” she says. You nod slowly. Her words help you so much. You would have gone crazy without her.

Maybe you should take her advice: leave Beomgyu and stay with her, at least until you can make up your mind. You can’t do that to him, though. He’d fall apart. It would honestly be hard for you, too.

“Thanks, Chaewon,” you say. You flop down onto the bed, letting your body sink into her mattress. “I’m so exhausted after that.”

“A good cry will do that to you,” Chaewon laughs. She lays down beside you and rests her arm over your waist. You pull yourself closer to her until you’re laying on her chest. You throw a leg over her, getting comfortable.

“Let’s order pizza,” you suggest.

“Yesss, and watch more of my show,” Chaewon adds. She picks up her phone and searches for a good pizza place that can deliver to her. As she does that, your phone screen lights up to signal that Beomgyu’s calling you.

“Oh my God,” you say, holding your phone up for Chaewon to see.

Chaewon smirks and shakes her head. “We summoned him.”

You sit up as you answer the call. “Hi Gyu, what’s up?”

“Not much, just wondering if you’re gonna be here for dinner?” he answers.

“No, I’m getting pizza.” Beomgyu hums on the other end, and it’s quiet for a few seconds.

“Are you with Soobin right now?” he asks. You’re displeased but unsurprised at his question.

“I’m with Chaewon,” you say flatly. Chaewon leans closer to you and points at your phone.

“Let me talk to him,” she whispers, fury in her eyes. You shake your head. You absolutely cannot let that fight happen.

“Oh. Are you sleeping over there?” Beomgyu asks. Chaewon nods with wide eyes, like you’d be crazy if you said no.

“I might, yeah,” you answer.

“Alright. Tell her I said hi. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back after work.”

“Yay, have fun with Chaewon then! Bye~” he sings.

“See you.” You hang up and turn to Chaewon. “Did you order the pizza?”

“It’s on its way,” she confirms with a grin.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You take a deep breath before you enter your apartment. You’re nervous to face Beomgyu again. Not knowing how he’s going to act is worrying you, because you don’t know if you’re going to walk in and get a normal night with your best friend, or more confusing confessions that toe the line between friendliness and something greater.

You don’t see him when you come in, so you wonder if he’s working. That would make your night less stressful. That proves to be wishful thinking, though, when shut the fridge after grabbing a drink and see Beomgyu walking into the kitchen. He greets you with a sweet call of your name.

You smile at him, but it doesn’t meet your eyes. After your conversation with Chaewon yesterday, the only thing that’s been lingering on your mind is how to finally put your foot down. Do you wait for him to try something to have that conversation? He’s going to be offended no matter when you say it, so maybe you should just get it over with. You don’t know.

“How was work?” he asks.

You shrug. “It was kind of a long day.” Not for any work related reasons, but you don’t tell him that part. Standing in the kitchen with him feels awkward now, even though it never used to before. You just can’t stop thinking about him in unfriendly ways, be it from his kiss or from his confessions.

You realize that these thoughts will only pester you worse and worse the longer you ignore the topic with Beomgyu. He’s talking about what he did at work today, but you’re barely listening. Your eyes linger on his lips as he speaks. You follow the movement of his hands as he rambles, thinking about how those slender fingers felt inside of you.

God, stop! This is why you should have never done anything with him. At this rate, you’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with him again. Your heart starts beating faster. You need to let him know that you need space. Fuck, why did you let it get this far? His sad eyes flicker in the back of your mind already.

Beomgyu moves to the couch, probably expecting you to follow him and turn on the television. Your feet stay planted where they are, watching him with careful eyes. He looks back at you when he realizes you didn’t trail behind him, staring at you expectantly.

You force yourself to move, walking slowly into the room with him. You sit on the couch, leaving a considerable amount of space between the two of you.

Now’s the time. Speak up, you have to. Don’t worry about his feelings. Think about Soobin. Do this for him—better yet, do this for yourself. Prove that you have it in you.

“Beomgyu,” you say. He furrows his brows, seeming confused at your serious tone. “We can’t do this anymore. I’m serious.” You steady your breathing as you look him straight in the eye.

“What do you mean?” he’s quick to ask. You know he’s not dumb enough to not understand what you meant. He grabs your hand to hold it, and you let him have it for a few seconds before you pull away.

“I mean, no more playing with each other. No touching, or kissing, or anything we wouldn’t normally do.” You’re anxious as hell, but you feel strong for once, and it’s nerve-wracking yet empowering. You’re setting your boundaries. No more reckless decisions that leave you regretting everything the next day.

Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “Why, cause Soobin said so?”

“No, because I said so,” you correct. He tilts his head as a frown starts to form on his face. You remind yourself that you can’t let him win. You remind yourself of everything that Chaewon said. Beomgyu will do anything he can to win, and you can’t let that happen.

He’s quiet for a moment, unnerving you. You know that he’s coming up with his pleas now. You have to cut him off before he can get anything out.

“You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you because of some dumb decision we made,” you say, hoping he’ll understand, but the sadness in his eyes only grows at that. He drops his head onto your shoulder and hugs you. Oh lord. You hug him back with a heavy exhale.

“What am I supposed to do? Watch you be happy with someone that’s not me?” he murmurs into your neck. You lean out of the hug so that you can look him in the eye. He needs to know you’re not breaking this time.

“Yes. It’s either that or we argue like we have been everyday.” It’s about time that he stops sulking at every mention of Soobin.

“Then I’ll take the arguments. I’ll take you yelling at me and hitting me, I don’t care. I just can’t take you being with him,” he says.

“I’d never do that,” you refute, sick at the idea of hurting him. “You have to listen to me. Let me see this out with Soobin. I want to at least give him a chance without you intervening.”

He sighs with a heavy heart. Is he going to let you win? That easy?

“Did Chaewon tell you to do this?” he asks. You drop your jaw in shock. He’s got some nerve asking that.

“That doesn’t matter, the only thing that does is that I told you we have to stop, and you need to listen.” You can’t believe he’s bringing Chaewon into this. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re going to let him blame her.

Beomgyu deflates into the couch and looks down at the floor. You ignore how your heart clenches. You can’t comfort him, that would be his window for turning this situation around. He has to know you mean this, so you walk away, going to your room and shutting the door.

You lean your back against the door and zone out, staring at the wall. Don’t think about how Beomgyu feels. Don’t think about how you might have ruined your friendship.

What do you do now? Will he want to talk to you anymore? Maybe you should have let him plead his case a little. He’s insecure, he can’t help it. You slide down the door until you’re sitting down.

You have to stop making excuses for him. He’s an adult, it’s time he acts like it. Chaewon’s right, you can’t keep giving him what he wants, and putting your foot down and hurting his feelings was the only way he was going to learn.

That’s what you’ve been doing, you suppose, but this time you mean it, and you hope he knows it. You’re going to have to put in more effort into resisting the urge to comfort him. If he keeps making things hard for you, you’ll have to start ignoring and avoiding him. The thought scares you.

You don’t want to think about this anymore. You wish you didn’t have to do this, but you had no choice. Your thoughts about him were driving you crazy, and you had to put a stop to it before they could get even worse. Not to mention how guilty you’d feel hanging out with Soobin if you continued letting Beomgyu have his way with you.

You open your phone and go to your chat with Soobin and type a quick message.

Hey

You just want to reassure yourself that you made the right choice. Hurting Beomgyu’s feelings can’t be for naught. You don’t expect Soobin to respond so fast, but he does.

[Soobin] Wow I was just thinking about you lol

[Soobin] Hi

Your heart skips a beat as you read his texts. He thinks about you?

Oh really? About what?

[Soobin] I wanted to see you again

You bite your lip and a smile grows on your face. See? Wasn’t this worth making Beomgyu a little sad? Wasn’t it a fair trade off? He’ll be okay, surely. And eventually, you might even stop feeling guilty for doing it, too.

You deserve to be able to talk with Soobin without your conscience barking at you. This is what had to happen. You’ll feel better about this when everything all works out in the end.

How about tomorrow?

[Soobin] I’d love that

Yayyyy

Finally something not shitty about my day

[Soobin] What happened?

You groan. Where do you even start?

Argument with my friend

[Soobin] Beomgyu?

Yep…

[Soobin] Well I’m glad I could make you happy for a minute then :)

You find yourself giggling at his message.

You’re cute

[Soobin] Thank you

[Soobin] You too

You almost squeal when you read that. He’s so shy when it comes to flirting, but when he does it, it never fails to give you butterflies. You imagine him blushing as he sent it, feeling a little hesitant to be so bold. What an endearing guy.

Finally, you feel like you can end the night on a decent note. You feel better now that you’ve got something to look forward to with Soobin. You don’t let yourself think about Beomgyu anymore tonight, not wanting to sink down that rabbit hole.

I’m gonna go to sleep, thanks for cheering me up hehe

And for everything that you do

Good night

[Soobin] Sleep well

[Soobin] Dream of me

Your heart flutters. Your fingers race across the keyboard.

Fingers crossed

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

The air around you and Soobin feels so much lighter now that guilt doesn’t have you in its claws. You ended whatever you had going on with Beomgyu, and now you can focus more on Soobin. Your heart holds an open invitation for Soobin to occupy, you’re just waiting for the feelings to further bloom.

It’s unfortunate how early it gets dark out, but you don’t let it ruin your day. You bask in the glow of the streetlights as you and Soobin walk to the park.

“I used to come here all the time with my sister and nephew,” he says. You find a gazebo to sit under. From here, you have a perfect view of the frozen-over lake ahead of you. “We’d play tag with him, but we’d have to run super slow to give him a fair chance.”

You can see that image clearly in your mind, and it makes you smile at how cute it is. Soobin being such a family man is so charming to you. He has such marriage potential. You’re getting ahead of yourself, though.

“This seems like a good place to bring a kid. So much space to play,” you comment, looking out at the park. The grass doesn’t look so alive right now, and all the trees are bare, but it must be nice in the summertime. Even now, there’s something beautiful about it.

“Yeah, it makes me think about having kids of my own to run around in these fields.” The idea of a mini Soobin playing here makes you chuckle. He’d definitely have well-behaved kids. He would be a good dad.

“You want to stay here when you raise a family?” you ask.

“I think so. There’s a lot this place has in store. I’m a little attached to it,” he laughs. You wonder if you’ll think of the city so fondly one day too. You’ve only been here for a little over a year.

“Really? What’s the best thing in this city, then?” you ask and smile at him.

He looks at you for a long second, then lets out a little laugh. His cheeks are red when he looks back out at the lake. “I don’t know…”

You giggle, swooning over him yet again. “What about your hometown? What was it like there?”

“It was nice. I lived in a small area. I miss it sometimes, but I don’t think I’d go back. I think I mostly miss being a child,” he answers.

“I can relate to that,” you say. “Life’s harder now.” You think about the past week in particular and all the chaos with Beomgyu. Teenage you would never have imagined getting tangled up in something like this, especially not involving him.

“Things like this are good, though,” Soobin adds, smiling at you. “Things with you.” Your face heats up. He’s getting so flirty and brave.

“Same for me,” you say. “It’s good with you.” You spend a few quiet seconds admiring his face, letting the butterflies flutter wildly within you.

“I think it’s been long enough for me to ask this,” Soobin starts. Your body tenses in anticipation. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Oh god. The butterflies halt and replace their happy fluttering with silent dread. All of your effort is going into maintaining a neutral composition. You don’t want to let your internal dilemma show. Your heart is going haywire, like it’s trying to beat right out of your chest. You don’t blame it for trying to run away; a part of you wishes you could too.

“Can we wait a little longer?” you ask meekly. You fear hurting his feelings, but you simply need more time. This is not how you imagined this moment would go. You wish you could scream yes and jump into his arms, but things have gotten muddy in the past week. You need to sort everything out with Beomgyu first. If this is going to happen, you need to make sure it comes from a place of one hundred percent certainty. You can’t be exclusive with Soobin with Beomgyu lingering in the back of your mind.

If Soobin’s trying to mask his disappointment, he’s failing. Your heart drops. Is this where he leaves you? No—you’re not ready for that either. If he gets up right now, you’re ready to cling onto his jacket and beg him not to go. You don’t know what you just did. You messed up. You should’ve just said yes.

“I’ll wait however long you need,” he ends up saying. He stays right where he is. You sigh in relief and hug him. He lets out a noise of surprise, but is quick to hug you back.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. Things are just…” you trail off as you pull away from him. He brushes your hair out of your face. “…Confusing right now.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks.

You gulp. “Kind of. It’s… Beomgyu.”

“Oh, right. He doesn’t like me.”

You frown. “I don’t know why.”

“You really value his opinion,” he notes.

“It’s not only that…” you say, looking down at your hands fidgeting in your lap. Soobin lifts your head back up with a gentle hand. He smiles when your eyes meet.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. I’m ready whenever you are,” he reassures. He leans in to place a peck on your cheek. You heat up wildly.

“You should probably know, though,” you urge.

“No,” he insists. “Honestly, I don’t want to know. I’m just happy I get you to myself every time that I do.”

A weight lifts itself from your shoulders. You feel like you can breathe again. You’re lucky that Soobin is so understanding, and even luckier that he’s willing to wait for you to figure your own things out. He doesn’t owe you that, but you’re endlessly appreciative that he gives it to you anyway.

You lean into Soobin’s side and look out at the scenery in front of you. The two of you fall back into conversation, and you find yourself feeling sad when it’s time to go.

As you hug him goodbye, you feel inclined to just never let go. You feel so comfortable in his embrace. You insist on meeting up again over the weekend, and he puts up no fight in accepting. Gosh, he makes your heart race. Things are finally feeling good again.

notes: yayyyy what do we think?? chapter 2’s already at 7.6k and i’m estimating it’ll get up to ~17k-20k, but we shall see. i’m excited to hear ur thoughts, so feel free to leave feedback! 🤍

#txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard hours #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu angst #txt angst #txt fic #beomgyu fic #soobin angst #soobin x reader #soobin fic

1K notes · View notes

secretsandwriting · 1 year ago

Note

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that.

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama.

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you.

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were.

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death.

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow.

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone.

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed.

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders.

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back.

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger.

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections.

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there.

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him.

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating.

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.”

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would.

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself.

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once.

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited.

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting.

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!”

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores.

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving.

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird.

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was.

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind.

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning.

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it.

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped.

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last.

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe.

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you.

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to.

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough.

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence.

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear.

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that.

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky.

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you.

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.”

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were.

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it.

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable.

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left.

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had.

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother.

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too.

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her.

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size.

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much.

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

#dc #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #fem reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #Damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #batfamily x reader #batmom reader #batmom #request #cipheress-to-k-pop

5K notes · View notes

w2soneshots · 4 months ago

Text

Over the years -W2S

warnings: mentions of pregnancy.

summary: your and Harry’s relationship each year from twenty-sixteen to now through instagram posts.

notes: hello lovelies! For once this isn’t a request, thought of it all busy myself🙂‍↕️. I used Bella Hadid for the face claim (I usually don’t use just one person but it made sense for this)🫶🏼. Also, omfg did this take ages… one thousand photos and a week later I’m finally finished! Don’t forget to reblog and enjoy💞✨

2016... the year you became boyfriend and girlfriend

Liked by miniminter, zerkaa and others

y/username: love youuu @wroetoshaw

-comments-

wroetoshaw: love you more

-> y/username: 😋❤️

tobjizzle: ay! happy for u 2!

-> y/username: ty Tobes!!

y/nfanpage21: cuteeeee oh my gosh🫂

user: my two worlds colliding

y/username posted a new story!

2017... your first big holiday as a couple

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

Liked by wroetoshaw, freyanightingale and others

y/username: Italy🍝✨🇮🇹

-comments-

callux: looks sick, hope you had a great time!

-> y/username: we diddd! best pizza ever😌

y/nfanpage21: this is adorable💞

user: Harry in the unicorn floaty lol

2018... festival season

Liked by calfreezy, behzingagram and others

y/username: drunk, covered in glitter and hot, but ready for some bangin music!🤸‍♂️☀️🍺

-comments-

wroetoshaw: definitely hot😉🔥

-> y/username: lmao smooth

reevhd: vibes = immaculate

y/nfanpage21: outfit on FLEEK🤭

user: she's so perfect for Harry omg

y/username posted a new story!

2019... London and the boys

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

Liked by tobjizzle, mollymae and others

y/username: 19 you've been good to me, see you all next year!!🎆

-comments-

wroetoshaw: ⛷️

taliamar: gorggg!💓

-> y/username: mwah😚

y/nfanpage21: I live for y/n with the sidemen boys

user: she's the original icon⭐️

2020... the virus

Liked by ksi, wroetoshaw and others

y/username: haven't posted in awhile, here's a few very uninteresting photos from my week🥞🤍 stay safe everyone and please STAY INSIDE!

-comments-

calfreezy: daily runs entered the chat

-> y/username: running buddy 4 life🏃‍♀️

y/nfanpage21: ahh we've missed you girly!!😭

user: Harry and his biohazard bag against the world

y/username posted a new story!

2021... new beginnings

Liked by behzingagram, taliamar and others

y/username: a random dog turned up on our front step today (he has been safely returned to his owner dw🐶), pleaseee can someone convince @wroetoshaw that this is a sign we should get a puppy😫🙏

-comments-

wroetoshaw: brilliant, now my dm's are filled with people asking if your pregnant (also no puppy)

-> y/username: omg shit, forgot to specify that that's my FOOD baby vs Faiths ACTUAL baby🤣 (we're getting a puppy)

faithlouisak: love u wifey

-> y/username: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

y/nfanpage21: she's so unserious lmao the first and second pic

y/username posted a new story!

2022... the year he finally popped the question

Liked by sidemen, joeweller and others

y/username: we're engaged!! enjoy this dump from our week away, where I had NO idea I was going to become a fiancé hehehe💍💓

-comments-

wroetoshaw: only took me 7 years

-> y/username: not bad for you tbf babes😌🫶

tobjizzle: congrats again guys❤️

freyanightingale: AHHH! unbelievably happy for you y/n🥹💝

y/nfanpage21: our fav couples growing up

user: HE'S DONE IT!!!!

y/username posted a new story!

2023... bride and groom

Liked by chrismd10, wroetoshaw and others

y/username: random photos from my week + wedding prep commences!💫💝

-comments-

faithlouisak: SHE'S GETTING FUCKING MARRIED!!!🥳

-> y/username: hehe thank you once again for the cake girl, smashed the brief

callux: exiting stuff😯

y/nfanpage21: makeup... ate. hair... ate. cake... they ate it.

user: I can't WAIT to see what dress she picks

y/username posted a new story!

2024... the year you became mummy and daddy

Liked by wroetoshaw, dualipa and others

y/username: counting down the days until we meet baby girl...🎀🌟

-comments-

ksi: can't wait to spoil her😁

-> y/username: uncle JJ incoming...

faithlouisak: your GLOWING mama💕

y/nfanpage21: the book🥺

user: two youngest sidemen having a kid before the others lol💁‍♀️

y/username posted a new story!

2025... the life you've always dreamed of

y/username posted a new story!

Liked by zerkaa, faithlouisak and others

y/username: right where I want to be💌

-comments-

wroetoshaw: my beautiful girls

-> y/username: love u💞

taliamar: brill, got Mushu trying to eat my strawberry😂

-> y/username: he stood there for a good ten minutes, bless him. maybe next time buddy🥲🐕

y/nfanpage21: oh... to have her life

user: fun fact: this was posted exactly nine years from their first couple post, how cute❤️‍🩹

770 notes · View notes

mejaemin · 15 days ago

Text

city girl 𐚁 with mark lee and lee donghyuck (18+)

wc ⭑ 6.2k summary ⭑ moving from the city to the country was definitely a downgrade, but ranchers mark and donghyuck from across the street seem to make it a little better! warnings ⭑ threesome, fingering/oral (f rec), unprotected sex, a little bit of spit hehe, some spanking, oral (mark rec), bossy markie ♡, markhyuck beefing but it’s giving e2l, strangers to.. something? v mark centric at the end, aftercare !!! also more plot than i’ve EVER written in my life an ⭑ it’s finally here !!! the “+82 pressin fic” i’ve been talking about since march !!! i hope everyone is excited, and enjoy it thoroughly 🤍 i put a LOT of work into this to make sure it was at least out before holo…

you’ve always hated cowboys.

from your experience, they’re all so.. non progressive? they all look, act, and think the same way, generations upon generations of closed-minded boys, raised by conservative old men who were raised the same, and it makes your blood boil. if you had any say in where your family had moved, still living under the iron fist of your rich father, you’d have stayed in the city, far away from any of these dirty, stinky people rather than moving to yeehaw county.

not to mention, you’re stuck all by yourself, not a single man worthy of your standards in sight. the city would have what you’re looking for, you think. the country doesn’t have hard working, smart, considerate, handsome men, does it?

that’s what you think, sitting out on your porch with a strawberry lemonade while people watching. if there’s one thing you like about living in the country, it’s that you can actually sit on your porch without fear of being attacked.. and you sure do feel safe with your next door neighbor.

mark lee, the boy living at the small ranch across the street, son of its owner, sure has been making you feel pretty comfortable in the area.

you’ve seen (stalked) him at night, out near the woods with his father having shooting practice. they’ve got all sorts of guns, and honestly, you have no idea what they all do, but you sure would be safe if protected by him— not that you want that.

right now he’s out with his horse, gwen, he calls it, riding around for fun, you assume. you never thought you’d compliment a farm animal, but she really is pretty, white fur shining as she walks. they’re going slow, and it’s really not like that, but he looks so good in his tank and blue jeans, looking off in the distance. his hips rock back and forth as she moves. his leg muscles tense every once in a while, so hot and defined through the fabric of his pants.. seeing his biceps flex as he guides her around, watching them engage when he tames new horses, it’s such an attractive look that you can’t look away. god, if your friends knew you were ogling a country boy-

“you’re really bad at being subtle.” a voice yells, pulling you from your trance. across the road, sitting on the fence, is the second of the only two attractive men in your town, also a rancher.

lee donghyuck, mark’s best friend, also employed by his father. you see him on the ranch so often you’d think he lives there. he’s always where mark is, trailing behind him like a baby duck while doing chores on the farm that no one else probably wants to.

even though most of them are gross, the more sanitary ones make him look really good. like, when he’s out picking up equipment used by the show horses, seeing him use so much strength has more than just your heart fluttering. his brows are always furrowed with frustration, a tiny little pout on his lips as he works, looking like he hates his job. sweat drips down his neck, tan skin littered with moles that you have to squint to see from your side of the street. he’s less devoted than mark, but you can see his effort with his muscles and how he handles all their farm equipment.

“you, yes you!” he yells, and when you pull your designer sunglasses off your face he nods. “yeah, you, city girl!” he hops off his seat on the fence, crossing the street and tossing his empty lunch bag in your garbage can before walking all the way up to your house.

“i’m sorry, can i help you?” you ask, feigning your best unbothered, innocent voice you can muster.

he chuckles. “uh, no? i’m just wondering what you’re doing out here eye fucking my boss.” he says, stance full of attitude as he taps the toe of his boot on the ground.

“i have..” you look him up and down, most definitely checking him out, disguising it as a judgemental look. “..no idea what you’re talking about.”

he raises an eyebrow, hand on his belt. he looks nearly just out of place as you, making a show of his country-esque outfit. “i think you do, miss. those, uh, what, hundred dollar sunglasses don’t do a good job hiding where you’re looking.”

you scoff. “these are way more than just a hundred. multiply that by like, four and you’re closer.”

he stops, probably thinking about what that even comes to, before shaking his head. “well, whatever. do you have a problem or something? why do you keep looking over at us all day?”

“next question.” you start packing up your stuff, putting it into your little tote bag. you look back to donghyuck, about to bid your not-so-nice goodbyes when you see someone behind him running over.

finally, he catches up, and it’s mark, stepping beside his friend, catching his breath. looking at the boy, he asks, “is there a problem?”

donghyuck looks at him incredulously, “are you serious? she won’t stop starin’ at us while we’re working, and honestly, i find it,” he makes sure to side eye you, “really annoying! so i came over here to ask about it!”

mark flushes. “dude-” he leans in, whispering in his friend’s ear, and you learn that he’s really bad at it, because you hear their entire conversation, entirely about you and mark reminding the other of how you’ve been their topic of conversation for weeks.

they have their private discussion for a little longer, donghyuck’s mouth hanging open by the end of it, until he eventually walks away from it, back to the ranch, with a smirk on his face. mark turns back to you, running a hand over his face.

“i’m sorry about him.. he’s a little bit dramatic, isn’t he..?” he chuckles, a sheepish smile adorning his features. he’s so hot yet so boyishly cute, and it’s hypnotizing. that’s all you can think about now that you’re “alone” with him.

you giggle, suddenly fluffing your hair and fixing your face. “just a little?” you both share a laugh, and you think of giving yourself a gold star for it later on. “it’s okay though, really. i’ve had people push my buttons in worse ways.

“i bet.” he says, “you’re from the city, right? i’m sure there’s plenty of uppity, pushy people over there, no?” you nod, and he reaches his hand out for you to shake. it’s so.. warm, large, enveloping your own. “you don’t seem like most of the ones i’ve met. i’m mark, by the way.” you respond with your own name, trying not to smile too hard at his hand in yours. “it’s nice to finally meet you after seein’ you around the past few weeks.”

“yeah, same goes for me..” you have no idea what to say. speaking to mark for the first time, along with his hot best friend (despite it being a headache), and for so long has your brain malfunctioning. his calloused hand against your soft, well kept one, and his sweet, slightly raspy voice filling your ears was thrilling.

he clears his throat. “..well, if you’re interested, you should come visit the ranch. i wouldn’t mind showing you around. hyuck too, he’s just a little salty right now.” he says, a cute and hopeful look pulling at his face.

you nod. “that’d be nice of you, mark. i’ve always been kind of skeptical of you country boys, but it’d be nice to have you change my mind on that, no?” he hums. “when would you like me to come by?”

“uh, would it be okay if you came tonight? i’d say you can come by in the daytime, but my dad’s not so fond of city girls, or any girls, so.. i know it’s kind of creepy, but i swear- i’m not a creep or anything. promise.” he puts his hands up, rambling.

“it’s okay, markie.” you flush at the accidental nickname. he definitely noticed it too, his cheeks burning a brighter pink than they have been the whole time. “i’ll see you then?”

he nods, watching as you take your belongings and make your way inside your house. once the door closes behind you, he turns and makes his way back to his own home with a smile.

𐚁𓄀✮⋆˙

it’s nearly 11 o’clock at night when you cross the street over to mark’s ranch. you’re most certainly freezing, the summer breeze sending chills up your spine, but it wouldn’t be cute of you to dress warmly. so, in your thin, tiny sleep shorts and tank, you make your way to the front of their home.

not knowing if you should knock, you stand there awkwardly for a few minutes, until someone comes from behind you and taps your shoulder. you spin around, nearly jumping out of your skin, until you recognize mark.

“shit- sorry- i didn’t mean to scare you.. it’s just, i had to walk out of the back door to meet you.. trying to be secretive, you know?” he chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

he tries to be respectful, but he can’t help himself from looking you up and down in your less than appropriate outfit. “..you’re cold. didn’t think to get changed, did you?”

it’s then that you remember you’re in your sleepwear, definitely going without a bra, and you immediately cross your arms over your chest. “sorry. didn’t wanna get caught either.”

you stand there for a moment, and since mark’s being a little shameless, you assume you can be too, so you take a moment to give his appearance a slow look up and down as well. he’s wearing the same bootcuts from before, this time paired with a thermal long sleeve. you can still see his shoulders through it, perfectly sculpted, and you’re about to let yourself zone out staring at them when a truck pulls up in front of the property. donghyuck jumps (gets pushed) out of it, stumbling before quickly collecting himself. as soon as he hits the ground, the car he came from speeds away, and he flips it off before jogging to meet the two of you.

“sorry, they’re-” he gestures to his ride who’s already long gone, “i don’t know.” he grumbles. giving you a judgemental look up and down, he sighs before sliding his jacket off his frame, tossing it over your shoulders.

“little skimpy for a farm visit.” he grumbles, sticking next to you as mark starts walking off somewhere around the farm. you both follow closely behind, bickering the whole time the other is trying to explain things to you.

“hyuck, dude, shut up. i’m talkin’ to her, and you’re being an ass.” he says, punching the boy’s shoulder, before gently grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him, where you can hear his voice better.

he takes you around the entire ranch, explaining every little thing in detail and answering all of your questions. hyuck stands on the opposite side of you, hands in his pockets, simply listening and chiming in whenever he feels like it. they take you to meet all their animals, even the cats and herding dogs running around as well. it’s really sweet, honestly, and you can’t even bring yourself to care about your little vendetta against cowboys anymore. your friends and family can shame you all they want.. these boys are not only hot, but cute. and way nicer than you thought.

eventually you make your way back to the farmhouse, way quicker than expected. time really flies when you’re having fun listening to two attractive country boys talk your ears off about dirty farm stuff you couldn’t care less about!

mark offers to take you inside, and you don’t waste a second accepting his offer, the three of you entering his house silently, making your way up towards his small wing of the home. he allows you to freshen up in his bathroom, the two boys waiting for you when you re enter his connected bedroom. they pat the seat in between each other, and although a little flustered, nervous even, you sit down.

donghyuck’s eyes are heavy, trailing all over your frame. mark takes his friend’s jacket off of you, hanging it over a chair in the far side of the room. “you’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?” he looks to mark, waiting for his opinion. he simply nods, climbing to the top of his bed and sitting back leisurely.

you nod, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. you feel both sets of eyes on you, and it makes you feel so, so small, but in the best way. you finally make direct eye contact with hyuck, and he simply tilts his head. mark comes crawling over, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“hey,” he starts, eyes carefully skimming over your features, “if you’re uncomfortable, you can leave if you want to. we won’t get upset, promise.”

you’re immediately shaking your head, looking into his eyes with your glossy ones, giving your best pleading look. “no,” you start, putting one hand over mark’s and the other on donghyuck’s knee, “i want to stay.”

he hums, smiling down at you. there’s a moment where his features soften, his eyes skipping from yours to your lips, and back up to your eyes, before taking your chin between his fingers and leaning in for his first of many kisses. your eyes close, his lips featherlight against your own, touch so gentle and comforting as you lean into him. after a moment, he pulls away, giving you one quick kiss before going back to his original seat.

suddenly, hyuck grabs you by your hips, flipping you so you’re facing him before pushing you up the bed until your back hits mark’s chest. once you’re laying how he wants you, he grabs the lower half of your face, crashing your lips against his way rougher than the other did.

he’s aggressive, kissing you like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. he bites at your lower lip, pulling it between his teeth and letting it snap back against yours. you grip the hair at his nape, legs wrapping around him to bring him closer, whining into his mouth as you feel his hardness start poking against you. his grip is firm, pinch fingers prying your mouth open to let his tongue in, covering every inch of your mouth, the rest of his fingers pressing at the side of your neck. you whine, back arching into his body, your clothed clit bumping into the roughness of his jeans just right.

he shudders, pulling away to run a hand through his hair. “fuck, you’re so- i can’t fucking wait anymore..” he stands up, frantically unbuttoning his jeans before nearly ripping them off and throwing them somewhere in the room.

he crawls back onto the bed, kneeling right in front of you. he’s about to take his boxers off, and you’re so close to seeing what you’ve been thinking about for ages when mark puts his hand out.

“ah ah ah, hyuck, slow down.” he starts, and you can’t tell if the younger is serious when he starts pouting. “did i say you could fuck her yet? did you even ask her? don’t be so greedy.”

hyuck slowly shakes his head, taking a breath and resting his hands on his thighs. reluctantly, you hear him mumbling, asking for permission. you look up at mark, and his look is so sweet, so affectionate, compared to how stern he was when scolding the other. one of his hands strokes your hair, the other wrapped around your torso, rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

mark’s expression he gives his friend finally turns to something less condescending as he gestures to your lower half. he’s already jumping for the opportunity, but freezes when mark speaks up again, “stretch her out first. don’t wanna hurt our angel, do we?” you squirm, thighs squeezing together. the hand not touching your head reaches between your legs, pulling them apart. he stays there, holding them until you finally stay how he wants you to.

with newfound calmness, he rests his fingertips against the waistband of your shorts. he stops, fidgeting with the elastic, looking up at you, with his eyebrow raised. you nod, and that’s all it takes for him to grab them and pull them off your legs, throwing them in the same direction his clothes went.

mark takes one of your thighs in each hand, holding them open while pressing kisses down your temple and anywhere else his lips can reach. one of his hands slides up your leg, pulling away when he reaches your cunt, resting it back on your skin when he reaches your stomach. he moved up, up a little more, until he could slip under your tank top and begin palming at your breasts.

hyuck is on his stomach, kissing and biting at the fat on your thighs. he’s not gentle either, leaving rough bite marks and purple hickies all over the skin. he doesn’t go any further than that, except for his fingers, holding your hips, thumbs grazing over your lips, never moving any further.

there’s so many things going on with your body at once, overflowing your senses to the point where it feels like there’s nothing in your head but white noise. you think mark’s whispering a question in your ear, but hyuck’s so close to where you want him, you just whine, nodding your head to whatever the hell he just asked.

donghyuck watches with a fixed gaze as mark slowly, teasingly pulls your top over your head. he presses kisses to your cheek and temple, apologizing for moving so slowly, but watching hyuck’s laser focus on your tits, desperately waiting for them to pop out, is too funny.

finally they do, and a shiver travels up your spine now that your body is fully exposed. mark’s hand pulls at your nipple, fingers pinching and twisting it, palms covering your breasts almost completely. your voice is timid, shaky as you sigh, leaning into the sensation. he continues, massaging you through your sensitivity. his lips are soft and gentle against the side of your neck, occasionally pulling the skin between his lips, tongue regretfully running over the marks that he leaves behind.

he pulls away, and gives you a soft smile before turning to the other. his demeanor changes from sweet to more demanding as he looks down at hyuck. “are you gonna sit there like a deer in headlights or are you gonna help her?”

“are you gonna shut the fuck up?” he snaps, ignoring mark and choosing to put all his attention on you.

he spits, saliva hitting your clit, dripping at a teasingly slow pace. every single muscle twitches at the sensation, hips twitching in response. he hums, running a finger along your slit, fingers smearing your wetness all over. eventually, his fingers fall lower, until he’s able to slip his middle finger past your entrance, immediately curling it into you. you whine, rolling your hips into him, a feeling so simple already driving you crazy. mark’s hand is soft, petting your hair, keeping it out of your face and away from the sweat beading on your forehead. hyuck spits again, using it to help yet another finger push its way inside you, wasting no time in stretching you out, fingering you with near impatience, his desire to stretch you out and fuck you too strong.

the noises spilling from you fill the room, your cunt nearly dripping as it had been since it was light out, sound downright embarrassing. your voice is whiny, soft moans breaking the strings of whines and whimpers that spill from your lips. it’s endless, your head feeling like it’s spinning with the way donghyuck works you. you barely know the guy, and hopefully that’ll change, but he’s touching you, fingers scissoring you open and thrusting into you so good that it feels like he knows you so well already. they curl into you just how you like it, just enough to have your eyes rolling back, and he goes at a speed that isn’t painful, but so so good that you know you’re already done for.

“it’s good?” mark asks, one hand holding your thigh, the other pulling at your nipple. “hyuck’s taking good care of you, isn’t he, sweetheart?” mark’s voice is so soothing, so sweet, and it makes you feel even smaller, frail almost, letting yourself sink into his arms and donghyuck’s touch.

you moan, a high pitched whimper escaping when your lip gets caught in your teeth. “so good.. gonna cum..”

mark kisses your cheek. almost simultaneously, hyuck’s mouth is attached to your clit, and your back arches impossibly high as soon as you feel his tongue. “go ahead then.”

he grabs hyuck by his hair, pushing him into you deeper, and your hand lays on top of his, your legs twitching and hips bucking at the way he works you. his fingers are still inside you, curling into you and pressing against the spot that has your brain feeling fuzzy. his tongue swirls, flicks, and rubs against your clit so perfectly, you’ve never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure in your life. it’s maddening, all your senses are being taken over at once. you feel mark pepper kisses along the side of your face, and hyuck hums into you, just once, before you give in.

you yelp before your body stills, the air stolen from your lungs as you reach your high. it’s so good, and it’s only the first of many, but you can feel every nerve tingling, exploding with nothing but pure ecstasy. hyuck lays his tongue flat against you as you ride it out, chuckling with a little too much pride as he takes in every last drop of pleasure that leaves you. when you and mark let go of him, his hair is all messed up, but it looks so good when he sits up, all messy and tousled, lower face glistening as he wipes it with the back of his hand.

he wastes no time in asking again, so desperate and impatient, “can i please fuck her now? i think i’ll actually die if i don’t.”

mark sighs, “do you have to rush everything all the time? it wouldn’t kill you to just take a breath, y’know.. we’ve got all night.”

he rolls his eyes. still, he listens, even if it’s subconsciously. he pulls his boxers off, but he doesn’t even try anything yet. he takes a moment to sit on his heels and watch you, hand holding his erection. it’s so pretty, slightly curved and flushed with an arousal that looks almost painful. if you could see yourself, you'd understand.. your hair is all messy, splayed all over mark’s chest. your cheeks are flushed, and your lips match the red on them with the little marks that hyuck left from biting at them. he could cum on the spot from such beauty.

he leans in close, lips inches away from yours. not only is he in your personal space, but also mark’s, being that he’s right behind you. he only gives the other a look, one that seems almost challenging, bratty, before dipping his head down to kiss you once again.

you can taste yourself this time, and you’ve never been the type like that, but fuck is it hot when hyuck does it. his clean hand grazes the side of your face, the other still gripping his cock as it slides against you. he doesn’t push it in, just lets it glide through your folds, catching against your clit with each gentle thrust of his hips. you can hear him fighting the noises hiding in his throat, shaky breaths against your lips, his body almost vibrating against your own. your whines are neverending, legs twitching with overstimulation, yet you still crave the feeling of his thick, oh so beautiful cock pushing into you, stretching you out so well because you know it’s been a while.

almost as if on cue, he finally pushes in, immediately gripping you by your hip to ground himself. “what.. the.. fuck,” he murmurs, thrusting into you shallowly, taken aback my the feeling of you, so overwhelmed that he can’t move in fear of cumming too fast.

“are you struggling, hyuck? maybe you should go home, let me take care of our girl.. you look unwell.” mark teases, knowing just how to make his friend crack, seeing the furrow in his brow and eyes slightly rolling back. is it the attitude or how far gone he is in you?

“shut the fuck up mark, i’m not fucking going anywhere.” he suddenly goes dead silent, both of his hands moving to your hips.

he leans down, pressing a kiss right between your tits, before he starts fucking you, using a force that pushes your upper half into the man behind you, shaking the bed. you can tell that mark ended up pissing him off. his movements are so sharp, rough, dick poking at your insides like he hates you, and it drives you crazy. your hand slides up the side of mark’s neck, going until you can grip his hair, pulling it tight to hold yourself together while hyuck fucks you, staccato moans spilling from your lips in sync with his hips smacking against your own.

mark groans lowly in your ear, and you feel his erection against your lower back, feeling so big, twitching against you as you get pushed against it. it makes you let out a long, shrill whine, hips bucking up against hyuck’s. it’s so fucking insane, thinking about how you have the two hottest men you’ve ever seen wrapped around your finger, moaning and groaning in your ear like you’re the best they’ve ever had (you probably are, look where you’re all living).

hyuck spits on your clit, roughly, watching it roll down and add to the ring forming around his shaft. “where you at, huh, baby? focus on me.” he holds your chin, gently compared to how forcefully he fucks you, and holds you like that until your eyes stay locked on him. he then leans down and kisses you with a satisfied smile, returning to fucking you how he had been.

you can see sweat dripping down his brow, his neck, every surface glistening with all the effort he’s putting into you. it’s so good, your legs locked around his back, hand still tugging at mark’s hair, the other already pulling the seam of the bedsheets below you. every nerve in your body is overridden by pleasure, and it’s so blinding, all you can do is let hyuck take you, throat getting raspy with the volume of your moans.

“hyuck, fuck-“ mark starts, getting impatient, willing himself to stop grinding against your back. “donghyuck! stop fucking moving..” he cusses, something catching both of you off guard. hyuck knows it’s uncommon for his mouth to be this foul, but you can just tell it is by his face.

he keeps moving, albeit a little slower. “why, markie, huh? are you feeling left out?” he pouts, cooing at him teasingly.

“i’ll fire you if you don’t stop being an ass. flip her over, now.” he orders, chest heaving and cheeks pink. even with such soft, pretty features, he’s so mean and authoritative towards hyuck, and it makes him all the more sexy when you’re turned onto your stomach, mark smiling down at you so differently to how he addressed the other.

hyuck’s still going behind you, holding you by your waist and pulling you into him, wet slapping filling the room, soft pants coming behind you. his hand cracks down on your ass, two, three times, chuckling lowly at the yelp you let out each time.

“oh, sweet angel.. you feel so good, don’t you? hm?” mark asks, thumb grazing your cheek.

“mhm, markie, i- fuck, fuck- i love it so-“ hyuck smacks your ass again, “so fucking much.. ‘s so good..” you mumble, laying your head against his thigh, sensibility overridden by hyuck’s cock, leaving you to nuzzle against mark’s leg, mumbling about god knows what.

he chuckles, slowly removing his belt as he does so, “a little too good, huh?” your eyes light up as he starts unbuttoning his pants and you rush to help him, “ ‘s okay. i’ll help you quiet down. you like that?”

you nod vigorously, unzipping his jeans and pulling his boxers down enough to pull his cock out. it’s just as pretty as hyuck’s, a little thinner, but so long, and pink with arousal. he holds it in front of you, presses it against your lips, and you take it gratefully, moaning around it as he pushes his way in. you watch his head fall back, a slow moan escaping his mouth, head thrown back in pleasure.

“fuck, mark, she fucking loves this..” he groans, pulling your ass to way he the way your hole clenches around him, “squeezing me so hard..”

“mm, i bet she does.” you moan around him, half humming in agreement, “so happy she gets to fuck her favorite neighbors, huh?” you look up at him, eyes teary with each of hyuck’s thrusts pushing mark further down your throat, “show us how happy, okay? cum on hyuck’s cock, show us how much you love it.”

it’s then that his hand glides over your stomach, reaching your clit and rubbing quick circles against it, shamelessly moaning in your ear when you start squeezing, pulsing against him. mark pulls your head off of him, spit connecting your swollen lips to him. he starts jerking himself off in front of you, fist gliding easily with the amount of drool you left all over him. it’s so hot, both the boys are so vocal, carelessly moaning out, and it makes your legs quiver. no man has ever felt so bold, and has been able to make you feel this good.

“mark, hyuck, gonna-“ you can’t even finish your sentence, voice raspy as you whine, gasping as your high gets closer and closer.

your lower stomach burns, it’s so hot with the feeling of your approaching orgasm, and it drives you crazy. your back arches, pushing yourself into the man behind you, eyes rolling back as he moves impossibly faster. in front of you, your tongue hangs open, marks tip rubbing against it as he fucks his hand.

“i know, angel, i know. go ahead, cum for us.” mark smiles, so sweetly, voice cracking and breaking as he speaks.

“yeahhh,” hyuck sighs, “wanna feel you cum all over me.”

he keeps going, using so much force, and all it takes is a few more thrusts for you to break. it’s like something in you snaps, and you nearly scream, body quivering as you reach your high. it feels so good, body on fire in the best way, and it feels almost as if your whole world has stopped. hyuck’s right there with you, pushing himself all the way in as he cums, a broken noise leaving his throat as his cum paints your walls. at the same time, mark reaches his orgasm, spurts of cum hitting your tongue and cheek.

you all take a moment to come down, hyuck pulling out and flopping on an empty space on the bed. you fall limply, still laying in between mark’s legs as your eyes fall closed. he watches you fondly, the both of you still coming down, chests heaving with deep breaths of air. your lips are in a pout, eyelashes long and pretty as they brush against the smudged mascara on your under eye. he looks around briefly before grabbing hyuck’s discarded shirt, close enough to reach, using it to wipe his cum from your face. there’s a soft smile on your face at his tenderness, and he can’t help but return it, even if you can’t see.

“that’s my fucking shirt!” hyuck complains, swatting at the man’s leg.

he laughs. “hm, sucks.” he looks at the clock hung up on the wall, “you have.. six hours until your shift starts. more than enough time to go home and wash it.”

mark sees the way his friend rolls his eyes, heaves a sigh, and watches over you with the most conflicted look. it takes a moment of careful consideration, but he sighs, getting his lower half dressed.

he grabs the soiled t-shirt, holding it with his pinch fingers im disgust, “i’m sleeping here, in the guest room. washing this here too.” he grabs his jacket, holding it over his shoulder before grumpily making his way to leave. you stretch, humming before scooting up to lay against mark’s chest. his hand automatically finds your hip, warm as it glides comfortingly against your skin.

on his way out, hyuck complains, “don’t go doing anything without me! i’m fucking serious! she’s mine too!” the both of you just laugh at him, and he rolls his eyes, complaining during his whole departure.

mark looks down at you, brushing your hair from your face. things are a lot more peaceful now, almost intimate, being that you’re both alone. your eyes are low, hooded with fatigue, but you still have a mind to smile up at him and lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. it feels so comforting, just as much as his entire presence was throughout this whole thing.

he pulls away, not after a few more kisses, gentle and sweet, “this can be whatever you want it to, okay? i won’t be upset no matter what that is. but we can talk later, okay? after you get cleaned up and get some sleep, how’s that sound?”

you nod, humming sleepily, and with the kindest, gentlest hands, he helps you out of bed. thank goodness the walk to the bathroom is only a few steps, because all of your weight is on mark as he guides you to it on your shaky legs. he sits you on the edge of his large bathtub, so luxurious you might even call it a hot tub with all the jets and things in it. he turns it on, warms the water, and puts enough soap for a layer of bubbles to hover on top of the water that begins filling the space. before helping you in, he wets a rag and cleans any mess that he and hyuck left, leaving kisses on your temple as an apology when he wipes at the sensitivity between your legs.

he then helps you into the water, and it’s so warm, so comforting, you relax into it immediately. he asks first before joining you, and when you nod weakly he removes his clothes, slipping in right beside you. he doesn’t say anything, he knows you’re tired and wants to give you the time to wind down. you relax against his shoulder, and he holds you to him by the waist, rubbing comforting circles into the skin. you almost fall asleep again, right there, enveloped in so much warmth and, dare you say safety. he doesn’t let you though, gently waking you up to help properly bathe you. you try to protest, tell him you can do it yourself, but he gently shakes his head and helps you anyway.

it feels like there’s so many borders being crossed right now. this is day one of speaking to the boys, also the first time sleeping with them, and here you are experiencing so much intimacy with one of the two. it’s weird, you have no idea what terms you guys are on, and frankly, you’re too spent right now to think about any of it.

even as he pulls you out of the bath, so zoned out you didn’t even notice that he had finished, he helps you dry up, politely and respectfully patting you dry over a towel. he even helps you re-dress, fingertips grazing your skin as he helps you into a new set of his clothes. he speaks softly the whole time, murmuring about the work he has to do tomorrow, something to keep you present, and keeping his mouth busy while he helps you. he asks if you want to go home, you say no.

as he helps you in his bed, sleep slowly taking over, he mentions briefly that he and hyuck would be more than happy to take care of you, help you get comfy in this new area. he makes it clear that he means that in more ways than one, gentle so as to not overwhelm you when you’re so sleepy. that doesn’t sound so bad, you think. you don’t give a fuck what your father, or anyone else has to say. it’s been a day, but mark already makes you feel safe and loved. hyuck does the same, even if he seems a little bit aloof. even with their short time in your life, they already make the country seem so much better, and you hope to see a lot more of them.

thank you so much for supporting! please reblog + share your thoughts! i’d appreciate it a lot ♡

city girl ♡ @dreamheil @yesohhsehun @nctdreamchaser @httpsxnox @ssweetreveries @oliviahyehyehye @sxmnc @haechanahceah67 @zhongzn @jaeminnanaaa17 @schatjze @mey-archive @minkyuncutie @barkbarkseungmin @sillypaperspyeagle-blog @seonghwastaar @imbyunchoi @markzmelons

nct 🏷️ @chenlezip @cinnayomiroll @prettymoles @jia127zen @polarisjisung @ikozen @tinkerbell460 @ninety-nite-99 @markkiatocafe

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rcvcgers · 5 months ago

Text

Rotten Apples ❦.ׂ

chapter eight: space or time

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

previous part | next part

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: it's the night of the summit's gala. revelations come to light and it's a night that you and caleb will never forget.

word count: 12k words

warnings: slightly proofread!

author's note: hi everyone! thank you for waiting so patiently! i hope you enjoy this part as much as i enjoyed writing it!

content warning: p in v sex, vulgar language, mating press if you squint, messy kisses, creampie, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT AND STAY SAFE), ANGST TRAIN HAS ARRIVED AT THE STATION, lmk if i missed anything

my rotten apples <3 : @militaryapple , @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexireads , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @i-messed-up-big-time , @motheraiya55 , @vvonunie , @1uv4jiya , @yuuuumii , @okumurarinsbabe , @mcdepressed290 , @luleck , @sanzy4 , @lucifers-silhouette , @crazygirl3001 , @april-likes-smut , @kazbrkker , @l1ttlebabyapple , @writersandroses , @kookie-my-little-sunshine , @curryexpress , @earthykitsunesrain , @raining4food , @chaoticbardlady99 , @young-adult-summer

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The hotel’s ballroom is lavishly decorated. Silvers and golds decorate the walls; lights hang from the ceiling at different lengths, adding to the splendor and beauty of the ballroom. Long tables are set up along the borders, with plenty of drinks and hors d’oeuvres, with a space in the middle where a few people stand and dance with one another. There is a stage where a band plays, the female singer’s voice fitting the slow jazz-like music. She has white hair and wears a long red dress with a slit up the side, the dress’s jewels glimmering under the spotlight.

Service men and women wear their formal and dress uniforms. They are neatly dressed, not a single hair or button out of place. They are the perfect representations for their respective country. Even a small group with hair that are unique shades of blues and purples blends in with the other military officers. Laughters and music fills the room. It is a lively scene, one that you find yourself hesitant to step into.

After a long day of sitting in a negotiation room with the Farspace Fleet’s General, the last place you really wanted to be was at the summit’s ending gala. You’d rather be on Caleb’s aircraft surrounded by burly and strong masked soldiers while flying back to Skyhaven than be stuck in a room full of people who want to either bring peace or destruction to the place you live.

You couldn’t leave, though. Your date — as you liked to refer to him as inside the delusional fantasies of your head — hasn’t arrived yet.

You stand just outside the open double doors. Inside, the gala moves on. The event’s music spills out and fills the entryway with the sweet sounds of a love song. The melody is nice and the singer’s sultry voice compliments the saxophone’s rich and brassy tone. They move in sync with each other, their notes complimenting the other. It puts you at ease.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

You turn on your heel, circling to look at Caleb who stands behind you. His white hat, which has a red line circling its circumference, tucks away his dark hair that is slicked back with a thin layer of gel, his usual bangs now out of his face. He’s clean shaven, the five o’clock shadow and slight stubble from this morning completely gone. His uniform is rid of its usual black color; his body is covered in the white dress uniform jacket, one that you have never seen him wear, matched with a black dress shirt underneath. With the white jacket, you can see the outline of the golden stitching that surrounds his medals and pins more clearly, the golden chain and rope contrasting against the black shoulder patches.

And god damn does it look fan-fucking-tastic on him.

Fuck.

You are so fucked.

You stare at him with an awestruck expression, mouth slightly dropped open. You gulp. He chuckles and shifts his weight to his back foot, purple eyes examining your body.

You wear a very simple black dress matched with a black pair of heels that are strapped at your ankle. The dress is a halter top that has a long silk tie that cascades down your back. The fabric hugs your body just right and flares out ever so slightly past your hips. The skirt stops halfway down your shins, sitting an inch or two below your knee. You don’t wear a necklace, just simple earrings that compliment the elegant dress’ simplicity.

“You look…so beautiful,” Caleb breathes out. His hat moves from his head to his hands. His gloved fingertips play with the rim, nervousness and anticipation bubbling in his stomach from the sight of your beauty.

“Thank you,” a blush creeps onto your cheek. You clear your throat and look away, scratching the back of your neck. “You look very handsome,” you add. He nods.

Caleb’s steps are measured, deliberate. His black boot connects with the floor, the soles of his shoes clicking against the marble floor. You tilt your chin up as he grows near. Your gaze takes a few liberties while he inches closer to you, inspecting the finer details of his white outfit, like how the holster strapped to his thigh is hidden behind the tail of his jacket, the way the navy and red lines mix in with grays on the cuffs of his sleeves, a slight bronze tone to the metal cufflinks. Your eyes snap to a metal strap around his right arm, a slow, pulsating red light oozing from the brace.

Caleb places his gloved finger underneath your chin. Your mind freezes. He tilts your chin to look up at him, eyes meeting. Your heart flutters, matching the crescendo from the music in the ballroom. The leather of his glove is smooth against your skin, the warmth from his touch making you want to melt into his arms right then and there.

“I was expecting your black uniform,” you fumble over your words, unsure of what to do or say. Caleb has, for lack of better words, absolutely fried your brain, rendering you useless. “If I had known, I would have—”

“Matched me?” Caleb interrupts you. You nod, breathless. He chuckles and his thumb creeps up your chin, tracing the outline of your bottom lip.

Have his eyes always been so vibrant? There are no bumps or blemishes on his skin, not even a scar from any skirmish he’s been in. He’s…perfect.

How can you go in there and do your job when he looks like that? It’s so unfair!

“The General thought it would be a good idea to…” Caleb tilts his head to the side, placing the hat back on his head, his hand never leaving your chin, “show off. He wants us to be better in both our army and fashion.” A hint of amusement can be heard in his voice.

“I wonder where he got that idea from,” your eyes flit to his. He raises his eyebrow, the corner of his lips perking up.

Caleb’s gaze darts away from yours, his hand leaving your chin. He clears his throat and straightens his back, ankles locking together. His arm raises then bends at the elbow, his fingers making themselves at home at the corner of his eyebrow. You step to his side, turning just as the General and other Colonels approach.

“Sir,” Caleb grunts. The General waves his hand at him and Caleb falls into his at ease stance, hands clasped behind his back. The General turns his attention to you. You smile at him and nods your head. A grin forms on the General’s face, his serious expression lighting up.

“Ah! We meet again!” he chuckles, the sound raspy and coarse. The sound catches you off guard, causing you to laugh alongside with him while the Colonels look on with stoic faces. Caleb’s eyes attach to the side of your face, lips tugging down in a confused frown. “You look beautiful tonight, my dear, an absolute vision,” the General begins. He turns to Caleb, his smile slightly faltering. “She is a spitfire!”

“Is she?” Caleb hums, turning his attention back to his superior.

“I heard that she was good at her job and wanted to test her out, see if we can get her out of the cubicle,” the General smiles. He sandwiches your palm between his meaty hands. His smile is bright as he looks at you. If Caleb didn’t know any better, he would think that you put a spell on the burly man; a man who was seen many horrors in the Deepspace Tunnel and in wars that have been waged decades ago.

“She is very good, yes,” Caleb holds back a smile.

He always knew that your talents were being wasted in the office in Skyhaven. You deserved to live a good and thrilling life, one that leaves you feeling fulfilled from excitement. Caleb would like you to stick by his side, though, instead of the General’s. Only he can keep you safe…no one else.

“You are one lucky man to have her at your side tonight,” the General releases your hand. You smile at him and push your hair behind your ear, cheeks heating from the constant compliments. “We’re all stuck with the other translators who would rather spend their time gossiping about wine and who is…what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Cute?” you lean in with a smile. The General’s smile brightens even more, beaming at you.

“See? Even she can translate my thoughts for me!” His laugh booms down the hotel hallway. The older man leans in and lowers his voice, “If he gives you any trouble tonight, send him my way. I’ll whip him back into shape!”

“I will!” you laugh, covering your mouth. The General’s toothy grin covers the entirety of his lower face. Caleb rolls his eyes, unamused.

“Save me a dance?” The General asks. You nod. “Wonderful! We will see you two in there!”

The General and his men leave your side, entering into the vibrant gala. You smile and watch as he walks away, the older man already commanding the room with his presence. He’s fun, really, outside of the uniform. He even made sure that the assistants in the meetings today got your coffee order right. What a sweet man.

“I better be your first dance,” Caleb’s spiteful voice snaps you back to him. His purple eyes are fixated on the inside of the ballroom, following the General’s white uniform. Another laugh flies from your lips, shaking your head at him. Caleb’s brows furrow, hands resting on his hips. “What? What’s so funny?”

“I think it’s sweet that you find an eighty year old man to be competition,” you glance at him and give his shoulder a quick pat, beginning to walk towards the entry doors.

Caleb watches you, his feet unable to move for a second or two. His eyes are captivated by the way your dress sways with every movement you make, the long silk fabric teasing him as they swing back and forth, grazing against your backside. He sharply inhales, quickly pulling himself together and steadying his heart, and follows you inside the ballroom.

The music is louder than before, the singer’s voice more clear. She sings in a language that Caleb cannot understand but judging by the look on your face, the lyrics must go along with the upbeat melody and notes that come from the small orchestra’s instruments.

“So,” you look up at him, watching as he falls in line at your side. You hold your hands behind your back, painted fingernails toying and scratching the inside of your palm, a nervous tick you picked up from your less than desirable childhood. “How many people do you need to meet and make small talk with?”

“Hopefully none,” Caleb admits. He places his hand on your lower back, the tips of his fingers ever so slightly curling around your side. He draws you out of the way, the two of you bowing your heads as a sign of an apology, before moving to a new area in the ballroom. Goosebumps form where his hand sits. Your hip bumps into his, slowly locking yourself at his side, using the crowded room as an excuse to be so close to him.

“What?” you ask with an amused smile and quiet giggle, “are they supposed to come up to you?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Caleb flashes his canines at you, the sharp point of his tooth reminding you how it felt at your friend’s bachelorette party just over a week ago.

The purple hickeys on your neck have disappeared over the course of the week. Caleb noticed, of course, and wondered when the next time will be when he can place fresh marks against your skin for all to see, although, he will miss the turtleneck sweaters you wore this week to cover them up.

“Oh, wow,” you raise your eyebrows, playing into his boosted ego and confidence, “look at you go. Mr. Popular…am I going to need to fill up your dance card just so we can have a conversation?”

“You can have all the spots on my dance card, pretty bird,” the man squeezes your hip. You push back a blush, yelling at your pounding heart to calm down, to leave you alone for the night.

You need a night where your body doesn’t react so viscerally to Caleb’s touches and words. You should be used to it by now, right? Right! He’s just a childhood friend that you just so happened to reconnect with and let him bury his face between your legs in a nightclub’s bathroom.

You step away from him and he watches as you approach a table lined with champagne flutes. The golden alcohol stares at you, your stomach churning remembering the hangover you had a week ago. Caleb comes up from behind. He plucks two glasses from the table, passing one off to you. You sigh and look up at him, raising your glass.

“To a good night?” you ask.

“A good night,” he nods.

Your glasses clink together and you sip from the flutes as the song changes tempo. It’s much slower. A few lone couples make their way to the dance floor, couples that you assume are married couples due to their age and the rings on their fingers. You smile at the sight, watching as even a few younger couples join in the middle of the room.

The man beside you takes the glass from your hand, placing it back onto the table. He steps around you, your eyes trained on his broad shoulders. With his white uniform, you can now see the red, silver, and bronze lines that descend from his shoulders to the bottom of the jacket. Caleb turns around, extending his hand to you.

“Come on,” his eyes burn into yours, “you owe me a dance.”

Your heart skips a beat. You stare at his hand, slowly accepting it, your fingers lacing together with his. He steps backward. The crowd separates around him, watching as he guides you, his beauty and his love onto the dance floor.

Caleb draws you to his body. Your chests rest against reach other, no space separating you. He places his hand on your waist. His thumb massages your hipbone, fingers tingling with submerged delight. His touch is tender, intimate. You draw your arm up and rest it on his shoulder, brushing against the metal chain that hangs from the jacket. Your fingertips rest against his hairline. They delicately play with the tips of his hair. Your hands remain connected, Caleb being quick to lead the dance. Your breathing falls in step with his, the two hearts falling into rhythm.

The piano’s notes flutter, taking its time to build up. The band members and singer watch, waiting for their cue to join in. The singer brings the microphone up to their lips, the other instruments remaining silent.

Caleb lowers his head, your temple coming into gentle contact with his cheek. He relaxes into you, not caring whether his colleagues see how close he holds you, the way your bodies step in sync, anticipating the other’s movement. You watch as Caleb pulls you into the middle of the floor, using the other couples as a way to hide from the rest of the world, their prying eyes being blocked by the other happy couples.

The skirt of your dress sways with the movement, flowing with every step. Caleb’s hand is warm under the leather glove he wears. A part of you wishes he would take it off so you can feel the calloused skin of his palms, the tough skin against your own, a feeling that you have grown to miss.

Caleb turns you, your skirt picking up from the sudden twist. The faces of the crowd blur, but you catch on to Diana’s shocked expression. You suppress a smug smile. Caleb tugs you into his chest again, drawing your eyes back to his.

“What is the song about?” he whispers into your ear. You sigh, feeling your head pull away from his shoulder. You look up at him, his purple eyes soft and full of devotion. Your fingers give his a gentle squeeze.

“It’s a song about regret…the singer is mournful of letting her one true love getting away,” you quietly respond just so he can hear. Caleb nods, eyelashes fluttering, tearing his gaze away as he focuses on the woman’s singing. “I love you in a place where there is no space or time,” the translated words roll off your lips just as the singer sings them.

The two of you freeze. The lights shimmer from above, the golden hues making Caleb’s eyes pop. Your skin looks even more warm under the colors. The lights make your eyes flitter, the individual flickering lights being captured so beautifully in your eyes.

Caleb wishes he could stay here in this moment with you. He wishes that you two were alone with nobody to bother you. He wants you to stay in his embrace, to never leave his side ever again.

Little does he know that you wish for the same thing.

You take a step back from Caleb, your hand leaving the base of his neck. Your hands remain connected, the man keeping you at an arm’s length as the singer sings of sorrowful regrets and misdeeds. He draws you back in. Your hand slips from his embrace, fingertips sliding up the smooth material of his jacket, your arms wrapping around his neck while his hands make themselves at home on your waist.

No space separates you.

You do not push him away. There is no more hidden angst or remorse. You willingly enter his embrace. You’re allowing him to walk through your mind’s castle gates, surpassing every wall that you have built since childhood. There is no more resentment you hold against him, your mind and body being sucked into the warmth of his love and adoration for you.

No longer do you feel rotten. No longer do you feel discarded. You are no longer a second choice, the lone girl standing in the middle of your high school’s gymnasium.

Your once decomposed core, the place where your soul used to live, blossoms.

A single apple tree breaks through dead and dry soil, a miracle of life in the no man’s land that has been barren for years.

“I love you,” Caleb breathes out. The music swells. Your heart skips a beat. “I love you in a place where there is no space or time.”

Caleb leans in, your hands dropping from his neck. One rests on his chest, feeling the unsteady and heavy beats of his heart, while the other stays on the side of his neck, fingertips caressing his jawline. His grip on your waist tightens yet remains gentle. The tip of his nose presses into yours, sliding down the side as his mouth grows closer to yours. The brim of his hat obscures your face from one side of the room, shielding you from the public eye as your lips graze together.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

You and Caleb freeze in your spot. Your breath mingles with his, your lips just about to meet. You stare into his eyes and feel the heat radiate off of his body. He pulls away, gaze remaining on yours, and keeps you in his arms. You break your gaze away, his hands tightening on your waist, to see the General standing beside you.

“Hello, General,” you greet him. Caleb turns his head away, quietly groaning. “Would you like to dance with me? Colonel Caleb was just telling me that he needed to go to the bathroom.” Your excuse is less than ideal but it’s believable enough for the General to easily accept. You slip from Caleb’s grip, the heat from his touch lingering on your skin, and are transferred to the General’s hands.

The music switches from the slow song to something more upbeat and positive. You keep a respectable distance between you and the older man before you. Form the corner of your eye, you watch as Caleb disappears from the floor, leaving your line of sight. You cannot help but sigh, turning back to the General.

“Tell me, my dear,” he begins, “is there something between you and the Colonel?” The smile returns to your face, cheeks heating. The man’s smile grows and he nods, moving you around the dance floor. “I knew it! He was so adamant to have you as his translator. He is never so serious when it comes to events like this!”

“Oh? Really?” Your smiles grows. The man nods.

“He looks at you the same way I looked at my late wife, Amara. That’s how I knew,” he sighs, his hands slightly tensing on your side. You gone his shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze, watching as his eyes gloss from tears.

“She sounds like a lovely woman,” you quietly coo. He smiles at you, a saddened chuckle coming from his mouth.

“She was…the light of my life. She would have loved you.” The General tears his gaze from yours, looking at the other dressed officers and world leaders. They laugh and smile, completely unaware of how turbulent the outside world is, that a man in this building has lost his North Star.

“Let’s keep her memory alive, then,” you smile. He turns back to you. Hope shines in his eyes. “I’m sure we can figure out a way to dedicate something to her. Maybe we can petition to rename a part of the building for her…as for now, though, let’s share a dance in the honor of her memory.”

You always knew the right things to say to someone who who grieving. You do not know how long ago the General’s wife died, nor will he tell you, but you know that comfort and solace in the future, knowing that their name will be remembered for the rest of time for all to see. The dance is a temporary solution for now, yes, but it is a good way to distract the elderly man’s shaky hands and the way he fumbles over his words. You are happy to fill in the hole in his heart, even if it is for a few brief moments.

The song comes to an end and you pull away from the General. The two of you smile and clap alongside the other guests. The General looks to the side and claps his hands together, resting his hand in-between your shoulder blades.

“Ah! There is someone I would like you to meet! I’m sorry to make you work on a night like this, but we have one last person to talk to. Would you be so kind as to help me?” The General asks. You nod with a sweet smile.

“Of course. I would love to,” your response is sweet, radiating the helpfulness that you have come to be known as having. He nods and leads you away from the dance floor. You take one last look over your shoulder, scanning the area Caleb disappeared into, before sighing and following the leader.

“Allow me to introduce you to a good friend of mine, Professor Lucius,” the General steps to the side, his arm up. Your eyes follow where his hand gestures to, the smile on your face slightly flattering.

It’s the man from the hotel lobby when you first arrived. He is much taller up close, his white hair blending in with his pale and almost translucent skin. He has a few aged spots across his skin and his bony fingers, with his knuckles vastly prominent, wrap around the knob of his wooden cane. He smiles at you with pale yellow teeth, one of them gray in color. He holds out his hand to you. You hesitantly take it, shaking it.

His touch is ice cold. There is no warmth in his grasp. What makes things worse is that his handshake is limp; it’s almost as if you are meeting a monarch where you are meant to kiss his ring.

You draw your hand back to your side and clear your throat.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Professor Lucius’ voice is a complete opposite of what you expected it to be. Part of you was ready to listen to an old shriveled voice, one that lacked any strength. His voice is actually quite strong for his age. A complete 180 from what his appearance is.

If anything, it makes you feel even more uneasy in his presence.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Professor Lucius,” you push the words through a gritted smile. He nods his head and inches closer to you. You’re frozen in place.

“The General said that you would be willing to help us with one last meeting, yes?” You nod in response. His sickening smile grows wider. “Wonderful. Please,” he holds out his frail arm to you, “follow me.”

You link your arm with his against your better judgment and take one final look of the ballroom. Caleb is nowhere to be seen. You hold your disappointment inside your chest and feel the professor begin to walk you towards the exit of the ballroom. He rests his free hand on top of yours, leaning into you like you are his walking stick. As soon as you step out into the hallway, his voice breaks through the uncomfortable silence.

“I work for Ever,” he starts, “and we have been working with the Farspace Fleet for many years now. A long partnership that I have had the honor of seeing for the entirety of its fruition.” You smile at him, feeling his hardened nails slightly dig into your skin. “At Ever, we aim to help aid people in their lives. We want to take away stresses and allow people to enjoy life!”

“That sounds like a good mission to have!” you muster up as much cheer as you can. Professor Lucius smiles at you, nodding at your apparent excitement, stroking his already boosted ego. It doesn’t hurt that a beautiful woman is on his arm too.

“We’ve helped the Farspace Fleet with their…obedience problem as well.”

Caleb enters the ballroom, his hands clasped behind his back. He looks to the dance floor to try and find your familiar head of hair but you aren’t there. He looks towards the drinks. Again, you aren’t there. He sighs and takes a lap around the room, weaving through the endless military personnel and drunken lower ranking officers.

He spots Liam from across the room. He rushes towards the officer, urgency in every step he takes. Once he is close enough to his right hand man, he barks a question: “Where is she?!”

“Colonel,” Liam turns to him and nods his head, a quick and formal greeting.

“Don’t make me repeat my question,” Caleb growls through gritted teeth. His fists ball at his side. Anxiety bubbles within his chest, his heart moving in deep, slow pumps.

“The General and Professor Lucius have asked her to help translate for a meeting. They left a few minutes ago.”

Caleb immediately turns on his heel. He feels an itch form in the middle of his brain, a dull ache beginning to form. He slowly inhales and exhales, getting control of his heightened emotions as he rushes to the doors of the ballroom. He leaps out and into the hotel hallway, rushing down the impeccably decorated passageway. He bursts into the hotel lobby, out of breath, and notices a flash of your dress disappear behind a turn.

He runs through the empty lobby, ignoring the employees’ yells for him to walk and to not cause trouble. He doesn’t care. Nothing matters.

As long as you are in the Professor’s hands, your safety is the only thing that matters to him.

For the past two months, Caleb was able to keep you away from Ever. He was able to hide your job with the Farspace Fleet. Caleb hid you behind the closed doors of his mind, keeping you away form the black hole that is the Toring Chip. The Professor was none the wiser, believing that his heart still belonged to the girl he grew up with, the girl that Josephine stole away from Ever.

Professor Lucius could not have been more wrong.

The Colonel slides across the floor, the bottom of his boots scuffing the white marble. You stand at the end of the hallway, sandwiched between Professor Lucius and the General. They stare at you with widened smiles. It makes Caleb sick to his stomach.

Chills and goosebumps overtake his body. The hallway feels never-ending with you being pulled farther and farther away with each passing second. He claws at the air, watching as you duck behind a wooden door.

Your body is rigid. The General guides you inside a large meeting room where three other people sit. You recognize one of them, having been in a room just like this, only a few hours ago. You smile at them and sit down in a chair that the General has pulled out for you. The chair is comfortable but it feels like you are sitting on a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

“Hello,” you greet in their language with a small wave. “This is Professor Lucius and the Farspace Fleet General. Thank you for taking the time to have a meeting with us today.”

You watch as the translator does their job. The man, who sits beside them, wears a green and red uniform, his hair neatly pushed out of his face, scars covering the side of his neck and face. He smiles and reveals a golden front tooth.

Tension settles into your bones, chilling your body. You bite your bottom lip, rolling it back and forth between your teeth. If you were to add any more pressure, you lip would surely bleed.

The meeting starts slow. It’s a conversation between you and the other translator, working through formalities and thank you, before anyone important in the room speaks up. You smile and bow your head, watching as the man’s translator exits the room. Once it is done and over with, you tilt your body to the side, looking at Professor Lucius, who rests his hands on his cane hatstands between his legs.

“The Farspace Fleet and I have been working on a chip that we think can help you with your problems with your soldiers,” Professor Lucius matches the other man’s smile. They both nod, the man turning to look at you as you translate what the Professor said to the man.

He slowly nods, digesting the information. After a minute, he opens his mouth to speak.

“The Thing Chip, right? We heard about it through friends of yours. How effective is it?”

You translate his sentence to Professor Lucius. The smile remains on his face, the cane rocking back and forth at a steady and fluid pace. Before he can respond, the doors to the office burst open. You flinch in your seat, unable to bring yourself to see who has entered.

Is this it? Is it your time to go? Has someone discovered a meeting that is, well, unconventional? That is being held in secret?

“Ah! Colonel Caleb. How pleasant of you to join us. My dear, will you please tell the Captain and Ambassador that Colonel Caleb here is a shining example of the Toring Chip’s effects on soldiers?” Professor Lucius’ words makes your body go cold.

The General stands from his chair, offering it to Caleb. He’s regained his composure now. He takes his hat off of his head and nods at the Captain and Ambassador. He glances at the General and sits in the chair beside you, his hat resting next to your folded hands.

Tears sting your eyes. You fight them off but know that you may break when you see Caleb. Truthfully, you have heard whispers of the Toring Chip and its effect on Farspace Fleet soldiers. Men who were once known to be reckless, disobedient, and too emotional have suddenly become cooperative and compliant. However, they have become void of all emotion. They act like emotionless beings who live to serve for their leader.

Caleb turns to face you. He notices the tears that brim your eyes, the way your mouth slightly opens. His heart breaks at the sight of you, his heartbeat slightly palpitating, before it goes steady once again. You slowly turn to look at him. His face is unexpressive, cold. You blink away your tears, finding the strength to go on. Caleb raises his eyebrows at you, a silent plea to continue.

“Sir, this is Colonel Caleb,” you turn back to the Captain with the gold tooth and the Ambassador who wears too much cologne. “He currently has the chip implanted in his mind. Professor Lucius would like you to know that he is a shining example of the Toring Chip and its effects on soldiers.” You gulp.

“Good job, child, now tell them this…” the Professor leans in, his hand resting on your thigh. Your body goes cold from his touch. Caleb notices the man’s touch. He slowly inhales, keeping his breathing steady, watching as the Professor feeds you words to say.

“The Toring Chip can be surgically implanted into a soldier’s mind or, due to recent advancements in technology, it can be implanted through the arm and controlled that way through the solider’s nervous system.”

Your throat goes dry as you speak. You push through the words, flashes of pain striking your heart. It aches for Caleb, for all of the pain he has been forced into. The Caleb you knew wouldn’t have done this willingly…but the Caleb you have come to love has always been under the Chip’s influence.

“Once the Toring Chip is implanted, it will regulate and monitor the soldier’s emotions. If their heart rate gets too high, it will calm them down. Their emotions will be suppressed and—”

You choke out a cough, unable to bring yourself to say the next part with neutrality. Caleb’s body doesn’t move despite him wanting to reach out and hold you, to console you while the truth he’s been so desperately trying to hide from you comes to light.

“—and it will come at the cost of the solider’s memories. A price that they must be forced to pay if they wish to rebel and push against your commands. The less they remember about their life, the less they have to lose, making them more willing combatants when it comes to war. If they sustain injuries, we can always repair them for you and enhance them to be their better selves. Modifications to the body can also serve as a reminder to them to stay in line, that you can take away what you have given back to them.”

You tear your gaze away from the diplomat and military leader, looking at Caleb when you say the last part of the sentence.

“They become the perfect weapon.”

The Ambassador and Captain turn to look at each other. They deliberate in silence.

Caleb looks into your glossy eyes. He can watch your heart shatter into a million different pieces through your dejected gaze, the way your shoulders slouch ever so slightly. Your hands tremble in your lap. He scantily shakes his head, making sure that neither Professor Lucius or the General catch on to his silent messages for you.

You release a shaky sigh and turn away from him. You look at the General, who wears the same warm smile on his face. You match it despite feeling dead on the inside.

“Sir? May I be excused? I think I had too much wine from earlier and need to go lay down. I can have the Colonel escort me to my bedroom.”

To your surprise, the General nods. He stands from his chair, Caleb rising as soon as he does, and helps you from your chair. His puffed up hand feels heavy in yours. You are unable to shake away the feeling of dread that seeps into your skin. Nausea sweeps over your body. You stand and smile at the men in the room, suddenly becoming aware of your involvement of the erasure of men and women’s memories and livelihoods. Quickly, you exit the room and step into the hallway.

Caleb salutes the General and moves to leave, but Professor Lucius grabs his wrist, nails digging into his skin. Professor Lucius looks up at the young man, eyes narrowed in a razor sharp glare.

“Remember what is at stake, boy. Do not make me erase what is left of the identity I have so kindly let you keep.”

You stand in front of the elevator, rapidly pressing the button that calls the metal box. Tears fall down your face but your hair shields anyone from seeing, your head hung low. Loud footsteps come from behind you. The clicking of military boots causes more tears to fall. The elevator’s ding is a relief to you and you step inside. Caleb follows you and presses the button to close the door before anyone else can get in.

“Is it true?” you ask just as the doors close. You lift your chin, strained eyes meeting his. “Is it true that you have a god damn chip in your body?!”

Caleb breathe out your name but says nothing else. You slowly nod and swipe your tongue over your teeth. You tear your gaze away from his. He takes a step closer to you but you hold your hand out to stop him.

“Don’t.”

He obeys your command like the good soldier he is. Isn’t that what he’s been made to be?

You bury your face in your hands and let out a muffled yell. It is filled with pent up frustration, sadness, confusion, and the sharp ache that slices into your heart. The apple tree that once bloomed to big and high in your heart begins to wither and fade away, the lies and deception of his loyalty to the Farspace Fleet coming to light.

He was never yours to begin with, so what made you think that you could claim him now?

Tension fills the elevator. The air feels heavy, tough to breathe in, weighing both of your chests down. You remove your hands from your face and stare at the man before you.

He has the face of the man you love. He wears his skin like it is his own. Have his words been true this whole time? Or has the imposter inside Caleb’s body been spoon-feeding you with lies and false promises that the man he is pretending to be actually cares for you, that he actually loves you more than her?

Ding.

You stare at the opening doors then back at Caleb. You push past him, your skirt whipping his clothed leg from the speed you pass him with. You storm down the hallway, unsure of where you’re even going, vision blurred and body trembling. Your legs turn to jelly and you slow down. Your hands attach to the wall beside you, your heart slowly giving out on you. Caleb is quick to pull you into his arms, sweeping your legs from the ground, rushing in the opposite direction to his suite. You gaze up at him, taking in the worried expression on his face.

Maybe this is your Caleb. Maybe your Caleb is trapped inside his own body, trying to fight and claw his way out back to you. Or, alternatively, that is just your delusions speaking to your hidden desires.

“Caleb…” his name slips from your mouth. He looks down at you, using his Evol to unlock the door to his room. “I want to know…everything.”

“You know I can’t do that.” A bitter taste fills his mouth. You purse your lips and look away, the door locking behind the two of you. He walks inside the suite and heads for the small living area. He sets you down on the couch, kneeling in front of you.

Moonlight spills in from the windows. The full moon is as bright as ever and on any other night, you would be outside staring at it with awe and wonder in your eyes. Tonight holds different plans for you, though, and the moonlight serves as a reminder of everything that has been forced into the shadows of yours and Caleb’s minds.

He places his leather gloved hands on top of your thighs, holding you in place while also providing as much comfort as he can. He runs his hands up and down, the fabric of your dress shielding you from his touch. You stare at him, silent tears flowing from your eyes.

“What…what did he mean by…modifications,” your voice trembles. Caleb’s hands stop. His eyes slowly move from your legs, trailing up your body, before meeting your eyes. His silence tightens the rope around your neck, squeezing it until no air can enter or leave your esophagus. “C-Caleb.”

“I…pretty bird, please,” he puffs out the words as if he’s ashamed to be asking for leniency from you. “It’s too much—”

“Don’t you think I deserve to know the truth?” Your eyes follow his, grabbing his chin whenever he looks away, forcing him to stare at the mess you find yourselves in. “What you said earlier…was it a lie? Do you not love me? Was it something that the chop made you—”

“Of course I love you!” Caleb raises his voice, interrupting you. His hands squeeze around your knees and for the first time, one hand feels cooler than the other. “I love you so much,” his voice wavers, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. But this? This is a world that you need to stay out of!”

“Why?” you lean forward. Your faces near each other. Caleb can see the way your muscles move under your skin, the pain in your voice making him want to reach into his chest and rip his heart out, to offer it to you so you can see that his heart is yours and yours alone.

“I have to keep you safe. That’s why.” He spits the words out harder than he expected to. His emotions slip away from him but your touch to his hand brings him back down to earth.

“How can I be safe if I don’t know what we’re up against? Caleb, talk to me, please,” you plead, “don’t ice me out!”

“What if the Professor decides that he wants to ‘work’ with you next, my love? What then? You can’t become like me! Like…like a dog ready to obey every command they have!” Caleb shakes away the pain in his head.

Your vision blurs and the rapid blinking isn’t enough to make the tears go away. You close your eyes, tilting your face away so he can’t see the despair that contorts and twists your face. Not even your vivid and wild imagination can come up with an idea of what Ever and the Fleet have done to Caleb.

Was his death real? Did they fake it so they can experiment on his mind and body? Has he been a willing volunteer the whole time or has he been a victim to their torturous plans and devices?

“What did they do to you?” you whisper.

Caleb shakes his head. He wishes that tears could fill his eyes like they do in yours but nothing comes. He cannot bring himself to fully express the sadness that he feels, the pain and turmoil that he is sure to be causing you right now. All he has to show for himself is a racing heart and sweaty palms.

“Baby…” his breath is shaky. You stand from the couch, looking down at him.

Piece by piece, you begin to tear away the armor he’s built into his Farspace Fleet uniform.

First, you throw his hat to the side. Then, you force him to stand up, ripping the jacket off of his body. It falls to the ground, the metal pins making quiet clanking sounds. You grab his tie, loosening it, but his right hand grabs your wrist, pulling it away from his body.

“Caleb! Please!” You unconsciously raise your voice at him. “What have they done to the man I love?!”

Your pained cry reaches his ears. His grip on your wrist loosens and you fight through the tears. The black tie slips off form his neck, plummeting to the ground. You attack his shirt buttons next, plucking them each one by one. The black shirt pools around his feet.

His bare chest stares at you, mocking you for being unable to to find the modifications that Ever has given to him. You wipe away your unsteady tears with the heel of your hand. Caleb looks down at you, shame written all over his face.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Caleb’s quiet question tickles your ears. You nod.

You plaster your hands onto his chest, moving them around as if there is som magical button that will show you all of the experiments they have done to him. Caleb stands still, too scared to move, and watches you with a close eye.

Your touch isn’t one of intimacy or desire, not a touch of lust or passion, but is one out of anger, pure spite and hatred towards Ever. Your nails drag across his skin, leaving red lines in his wake. You circle him and move Caleb around like a puppet. He closes his eyes, unsure if he should reveal it to you just yet. The skin on skin contact leaves you both breathless. You end up behind Caleb, defeated by your vain attempts to unveil the horrors he has gone through. You place your forehead in the valley between his shoulder blades, your tears trickling down his back. With one movement to the side, your hot forehead feels cool against his right shoulder. Caleb sucks in a breath, feeling you pull away from him.

The palm of your hand flattens across his skin. Times from before when you’ve touched him here, he’s had the protection of clothes to shield you from the truth. Your hand travels down his bicep, the heat from your hand being the energy that warms his body, not the other way around. Shivers run down your spine.

“Show me.”

“Pretty bird,” Caleb coos in one last attempt to keep you in ignorance.

“Caleb, please,” you choke, “I need to see what they have done to you.” You close your eyes, an elongated sigh escaping your mouth. A faint whir fills your ears. Caleb’s muscles tighten under your light touch, your hand settling itself over his heart. You can feel the frantic beats through his bones. It shakes you to your core just how scared he is to show you.

“I’m not a monster.”

Caleb’s words suck all of the oxygen out from your lungs. You open your eyes, looking at his tanned skin, before slowly pulling your face away.

You stare at the distinct line between flesh and metal. The dark surface heavily contrasts between the robotic arm and his skin. Your fingertips graze the fine line where man meets machine, unable to tear your gaze away.

Caleb shudders under your touch. He can’t bring himself to look at you, to see the way you stare at him. He can’t help but allow his mind to drift to anything negative that can come from this. Perhaps you’d believe that he is a broken man, a broken toy that is not shiny and brand new. He has scars and scuff marks from being beaten from over the years. He can’t bring himself to even blame you for wanting to walk away from him and his constant reminder that he will never be whole again.

Your touch is light, gentle. He can barely feel the way your fingers move up and down the metal. The blue lines catch your eye, the light breaking through the dim light. The metal has some scrapes in it. There is even a large screw that you cannot even imagine how painful it must have felt to be drilled into your skin.

Your silence is deafening. It makes Caleb’s ears ring. His fists ball up as a single tear rolls down his cheek, falling onto the floor.

“I’m a monster.��

“No…” your whisper tickles his ear. “You are not a monster.”

Your hand slips down the metallic surface, your fingers catching onto the rough and smooth spots, traveling over semi-loose wires. The arm jerks, a quiet whir emitting from the artificial joint.

You step closer to him. The material of your dress grazes against his bare skin. Caleb sighs and shakes his head, his warm hand covering the one that is over his heart. His fingers lace into yours, squeezing your hand because his sanity depends on it. He opens his mouth to speak when he feels a portion of your lips on the skin of his shoulder.

You kiss the border between the mechanical part and his body. With every kiss, Caleb quivers, the upper half of his body leaning forward, shoulders slumping, head hung low.

“Your arm does not make you a monster,” you whisper. You circle around him, taking your place in front of him. You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, pushing his head back up. Your lips brush against each other but don’t fully meet. You slip your hand into his robotic one. The metal is cool to the touch.

Caleb pulls his head away from yours, his purple eyes plastered on the way you hold his hand. Your two hands bring it to your mouth. You kiss each finger tip, your eyes looking into his when he comes back to you.

“All I see…” you breathe out.

Your stomach flutters when his metallic fingers dance with yours.

“All I feel…” you continue.

You watch as his hand slips away from yours, the chilled metal now clinging to cup your face.

“Is you, Caleb.”

You lean into his touch, hoping that someway, somehow, he is able to feel the love and adoration that you feel for him. You hope that whatever god is out there is merciful enough to allow Caleb to feel your skin under his metallic touch, to bask in the light that is your contact.

The two of you stand in silence. Neither one dares to break it, uncertainty of what to say filling the room.

His hands slowly move to the side of your face while your fingers rest on his muscular chest. Your breaths mix into one, bodies drawing closer to each other. Caleb leans in, closing the distance between you and him. His lips press into yours.

The kiss is slow and tender. Your body comes back to life, arms wrapping around his neck, drawing his head down closer to yours. His hands drop to your waist. With one quick tilt of your head, the kiss deepens, the faint taste of your salty tears mixing in with your saliva

Caleb’s fingers sink into your body. There is an underlying feeling of desperation to his touch. You play with the bottom of his hair, your hand dropping to his shoulder. A light touch caresses the line where his flesh is formed with the metal. Chills run down his spine. He slightly pulls away, leaning his head into yours, both of your breaths heavy and labored.

“I love you, Caleb. I love all of you.”

Your kiss with Caleb turns fierce, filled with hunger and longing.

Caleb and you senses sharpen; the taste of your tongues massaging into each other, the mixture of his woody and musky cologne with the fragrant scents of apple cider and vanilla of your perfume, the way your skin tingles under his touch. It’s overwhelming, making the two of you drunk off of your touch and body warmth.

Caleb’s hand hooks around to your back, caressing the curves of your body before his fingers snatch the metal of your dress zipper. In one slow, agonizing motion, Caleb draws the zipper down. A quiet sigh of content leaves your mouth and into his, the chilled air striking across your skin. You pull away for a brief moment and stare at him, the moonlight gentle across his face.

Your dress falls to the ground. The soft material pools around your feet. A pool of warmth forms between your legs, your lower stomach aching for him. You’re left in your bra and panties, nipples pebbling under the thin material. Caleb cups the back of your jaw, metal fingertips slipping into your hair, drawing your lips back to his.

The kiss isn’t rushed. The two of you take your time to melt into each other, the slow and sloppy kisses bringing your bodies together. Your fingers slip up into his hair. You give it a gentle tug, earning a frustrated groan from Caleb’s lips.

He steps forward, gently pushing you towards the bedroom. You stumble over your feet and Caleb is quick enough to pull you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his torso, your throbbing core hovering over his tented pants. The Colonel kicks the bedroom door open, the bed neatly made with a towel swan on the bed. He lays you down and immediately latches on top of you.

He moves his swollen lips away from yours, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down the skin of your neck. His teeth rake over your neck, leaving a bite here and there, covering it up with a sweet kiss as a silent apology. Your knee drags up his side. His metal hand slides up the side of your leg, hooking around your thigh, squeezing the plushness of your inner thigh. Caleb continues to trail kisses down your body, his lips taking his time when he reaches your collarbone.

Quiet puffs of air leave your mouth, just on the cusp of being a moan, filling in the silence of the room. Just his touch alone sends shocks of electricity throughout your body. Every touch, every kiss, every bite leaves you wanting more.

Caleb bites down on the sensitive spot where your collarbone meets your throat. You gasp, back arching up and chest pushing into his lips. His hand snakes under your back, quickly unhooking your bra. Caleb leans down and grabs the fabric between his teeth, biting into the flesh of your breast, pulling the bra up with him.

The man, breathless and hard, rests his weight on his knees, his hands resting on the tops of your thighs, pushing them open. Your bra hangs from his mouth, the material having slipped off your body with ease. He takes the bra from his mouth and tosses it to the side.

His purple eyes take their time looking at your gorgeous body. Your chest slowly rises and falls, deep and heavy breaths overtaking your body as you try to clam down. Your nipples are hard under the moonlight, a few fresh hickeys adorning your neck and collarbones. Your lips part ever so slightly, legs threatening to close on him. His Evol holds your thighs down, keeping your soaking wet panties open for him to see.

Caleb’s hands reach for his belt. His eyes remain on you, never leaving, never faltering. You hear the soft clicks of metal, the leather slipping free from the fabric loops. Your mouth opens more, a shudder overtaking your body as he flicks the belt to the side, his pants unbuckling before being pulled down alongside his tight boxers.

His cock springs from its confinement. He is much bigger than you anticipated, his tip already swollen and twitching. He strokes himself, slipping off the bed to kick off the leftover clothes. He comes back close to you, pressing passionate and loving kisses from your knee up to the inside of your thigh. His metal hand caresses your skin as if it is a work of art, leaving chills in his wake. You roll your head back and sigh with every kiss.

Caleb’s hand rests on top of your clothed pussy, the pad of his thumb running up and down your covered entrance in long, agonizing strokes. You whine, looking down at him. A smirk forms on his face. You watch as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs in one fluid motion. The friction from the fabric against your legs causes you to shiver, sparks of electricity causing your hips to push up. He’s quick to push you back down, his hand flattening against your stomach.

Caleb positions himself on top of you, one hand resting to the side of your head. You’re quick to reach down and curl your fingers around his hardened cock. His eyes close and his head drops, a gratified moan escaping his lips as you slowly begin to pump him. He slowly raises his eyes to look at you, his purple irises shining through the spaces of his dark hair.

Your thumb swirls around his tip, spreading across the pre-cum that spills from his head. Caleb dips his head down. Your lips connect in a fiery kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, melting into yours. He rubs slow circles into your clit while you pump him. You swallow each others moans.

Caleb hooks his arm under one of your legs, pulling it up, your thigh resting against his side. You squeeze his length and he groans, hips jerking into your touch. You guide your other leg to wrap around the side of his torso. You hand is pushed away from his twitching cock, your arms hooking under his, hands attaching themselves to the back of his shoulders.

Your nails dig into skin and metal while Caleb rubs his tip along your entrance. He presses some of his weight into you. Your kiss slows. Caleb slightly pulls away, a string of your mixed saliva connecting you two.

“Say you’re mine,” Caleb breathes out. He leans his head into yours, body heavy from lust and desire. His tip slightly pushes into your entrance before slipping out. A quiet moan leaves your mouth. Your hips roll up into his, pushing his tip into your soaking pussy. He pulls it out, teasing you, leaving you dangling on the edge of a dangerous line that you want to cross. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe out. Your hands move to his cheeks, yanking him down into a breathless and fiery kiss.

In the midst of your passionate kiss, Caleb lines his stiff cock with your entrance. He slowly pushes in, a gasp fleeing from your lips as he buries himself deep inside you. He shudders as your nails drag down his back, leaving red lines in their trail.

“Fuck, pretty bird,” Caleb stammers against your lips. He kisses you, neither of you able to catch your breath. “You feel like perfection.”

His cock twitches inside of you. He fights every urge to not thrust up inside you with all of the force in the world. A quiet, shaky moan leaves your lips. You adjust yourself to his size, your pussy already clenching around him.

Caleb draws his hips back, leaving you feeling so empty, clenching around nothing, before he drives his body back into yours. Your head rolls back, a wave of bliss coursing through your body. Caleb’s cock slides in and out of you with ease, his tip kissing your sweet spot.

The Colonel sets a slow and steady pace. He fully draws himself out of you, just his aching tip remaining inside, before he thrusts back into you, your bodies colliding, haggard moans fleeing your lips as Caleb groans.

Your legs tighten around his torso, hips eager to meet his, taking in every inch he has to offer. Your nails drag up and down his back, tearing into his skin as your moans increase in volume. Caleb’s slow yet brutal pace leaves you a rambling mess. The sound of skin slapping against each other mixes in with your pretty and breathless moans.

Caleb’s head dips down to your neck. His lips attack your skin, biting down and sucking, leaving deep purple and red marks in his path. You whimper and cry out his name, his pace slowly picking up every time his name leaves your lips.

It fries his brain. Your raspy moans and cries, the way you give into him so easily, the desire you feel for each other burning with such intensity, pushing the two of you towards orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, his hips crashing into yours in another devastating thrust. A loud cry flies from your lips. His muscles flex with every thrust while you come undone beneath him. Your breasts are trapped against his chest, your back arching, pushing up into him as you feel the knot in your stomach continue to tighten.

You feel his muscles tighten and flex against yours. His thrusts become slightly jerky, desperate. His lips come back to yours and he melts into you, sloppily kissing you, sucking the air from your lungs. One of your hands move from his back and up to his hair, grabbing a fistful at the roots, balling your fist. Caleb whines, slowly losing control of himself under your touch.

Your moans go silent as your eyes roll into the back of your head, just about to tip over the edge when Caleb’s hips stop. A gasp fills the room and you stare at him. His chest puffs up and down, eyes closed.

Caleb pulls away from you, back straightening. He buries himself deep inside you, the tip of his dick pressing against your cervix. You look up at him with bright pink cheeks your hair a mess. Your heart flutters, pussy tightening around his cock from pure pleasure, watching as he hooks his arms underneath your knees.

Your legs push up as he buries his fists into the mattress beside you. You’re pressed into the mattress with inches separating your beating hearts. Caleb’s eyes darken, licking his lips.

His Evol keeps your legs in place. You watch as he grabs your hands, placing them above your head. Weight falls on top of them, a tingling feeling as the pressure builds a lock that you cannot escape from.

“Caleb…” you breathe out, slowly coming down from the ecstasy you were about to reach. Caleb places his hands back on the mattress. Your wet cunt flutters around him and an exasperated breath leaves his lips.

Without warning, he slams his hips into yours. Your head rolls back but he’s quick to grab your jaw, yanking your face back to his.

“Eyes on me, pretty bird,” he growls, his thrusts growing with power, “I want you to see what you to me…I want to see you come undone on my cock.”

Holy fuck.

His actions are ravenous, filled with nothing but lustful desire. Your hips eagerly meet his, adjusting when his cock leaves you feeling empty, the man entering at a new and deeper angle if it were even possible. You cry out his name and fight against his Evol, wanting to desperately touch him.

To touch his fiery skin. To caress his cheeks as he pounds into you. To drag your nails down his back to make him bleed some more.

His amethyst eyes glance down, watching as your breasts bounce up and down with every thrust. Your hardened nipples ache under his gaze and the man has to fight everything in him to not dip down and take one of them into his mouth, to prolong your night together.

But the two of you know that won’t be possible. You’re both chasing a high that will permanently brand you as each others for the rest of your lives.

“C-Caleb! I-I’m—” you stammer, blabbering nonsense as your eyes remain on his, struggling to stay open, desire weighing your eyelids down. Caleb presses deeper into you, bruising your cervix at this point, and presses a thumb to your clit, mercilessly rubbing circles into the swollen bud.

Tears fill your eyes. Overstimulation pushes you further and further. Your legs tremble against his side, tightening around his waist. Caleb’s thrusts become jerky, erratic and choppy. You bring yourself to look at him, the strained expression on his face showing you that he’s just as close as you are.

“F-Fuck, pretty bird,” you whine at his nickname, “be a good girl and cum for me!”

Obeying his command, the knot in your stomach snaps. The blissful heat of your orgasm crashes throughout your body, your cunt tightening and taking in every last inch of his hardened cock. Caleb buries himself inside of you, his own orgasm ripping through his body as he empties his cum inside of your pussy. His body drops onto yours, his full weight being pressed into you. He rolls his hips in slow and short pumps, easing you two down from your high.

His Evol releases its grip on your wrists. Your hands fly to the back of his head, pulling his lips back down onto yours. Your kiss is slow yet intense, the two of you greedily exploring each others mouths, tongues moving back and forth against in a steady dance.

Caleb slowly pushes himself up, the metal parts in his robotic arm clicking and whirring in the silence of your heavy breaths. He looks down at you and gently pushes some of the hair out of your face. A small, tired smile spreads across your face. Your hand attaches to his cheek and he leans into your touch, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin of your hand.

“I love you,” Caleb admits into the palm of your hand. Your heart skips a beat.

“I love you too, Caleb,” you return his affection.

The words feel right coming out of your mouth. After so much pain and anguish, it feels right for you to speak the words into existence.

Caleb’s softened dick slips from your pussy. You whine from the sudden feeling of emptiness. Your eyelashes flutter at him as he admires your body, leaning down to pressing relaxed and unhurried kisses along your chest and collarbones. He admires your breasts, dragging his nose against your skin as he inhales your perfume and sweat, a low growl forming in the back of his throat.

His purple eyes look down at your glistening pussy, his white fluid freely flowing from your entrance. The sight of it is borderline pornographic, his desire for you burning even more intensely than before.

He slips off of the bed and is quick to slide his arms under your back and knees, hoisting you out of bed. You relax into his chest, barely able to hold your head up as he pushes the bathroom door open, flicking the light switch. Keeping his arm under your knees, he reaches inside the shower and turns on the water. He places you on the counter.

You smile at him, tired and muscles already sore. Your hands rest on his shoulders, the once cold metal now warm under your touch. You lean backwards, making Caleb hold your back to keep you from falling. The two of you smile stupid and loving smiles, quiet giggles and laughs threatening to escape from your throats. Caleb presses his temple against yours and you lean into him, hands gliding up and down his chest.

“You are…everything and more,” he whispers into your ear, pressing a languid kiss onto your cheek. You blush and wrap your arms around his. The palms of your hands graze over the fresh scratch marks you’ve etched into his skin.

“I’m sorry about your back…”

“Don’t be,” Caleb peels his head away from yours, cupping your cheek. “If I could get them tattooed, I would.”

“You’re…utterly insane,” you laugh. Caleb picks you up in his arms again and carries you to the shower.

The hot water tingles against your skin, soothing your aching and numb muscles. Your hair dampens after a few moments. Caleb’s hands remain on your waist, keeping you steady, and watching you as you navigate your way through the large shower. You grab the hotel’s shampoo bottle and turn around, smiling up at him.

“You’re gonna have to come down here,” you tease. Caleb chuckles and complies, leaning down, tucking his chin on your shoulder. Your fingers slide into his hair, massaging the shampoo into his hair.

The shower goes on his this for a good hour. The two of you helps the other wash up, pressing sweet and loving kisses to different body parts. You hum while you massage his scalp. Caleb continually compliments you while using the body wash to clean up your body and the juices that turned sticky on your skin.

Every so often, your lips were captured in a sweet kiss underneath the shower head. You had to be the one to push away because if you didn’t, you would have stayed in there for an eternity.

Caleb helped you step out, wrapping you in a towel. You dried yourself off, mentally cursing to yourself that none of your hair care products are with you, needing to shower in your own room tomorrow to combat the knots and frizz that is bound to form throughout the night. You didn’t even notice Caleb slipping away while you lamented over your misstep. He comes back in, shirtless with just a pair of sweatpants hanging from his hips.

He holds out a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts. You take them with a smile, the towel dropping from your body. Caleb watches you from the doorway, obsessing over the image of you wearing his clothes.

“You look so beautiful,” he coos from his place.

“Oh, shut up,” you roll your eyes, a blush heating your cheeks. Once you slip the shirt on over your body, the fabric swallowing you whole, Caleb wraps his arms around your waist. He places his chin on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror.

“I mean it,” he smiles, leaning into you. Your hands rest on top of his, matching his smile. “You are breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” the words come out just above a whisper yet loud enough for him to hear. He nods and kisses your cheek, turning your bodies to the door.

You walk out like normal but Caleb waddles behind you, his long legs adjusting to your much smaller steps. He guides you to the extra bedroom, opting for clean and neat sheets compared to the mess you two made earlier. He steps around you and flings the sheets open, jumping in like he’s just won the lottery. You throw your head back and laugh, rolling your eyes as you crawl to his side.

The sheets close around you and Caleb is quick to pull you to his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, tucking you under his chin. You drape an arm around his waist, pulling yourself even closer to him. His heart skips a beat, a large smile on his face. You yawn and nuzzle into him, closing your eyes.

“Do you want me to turn on the TV and click through a million different channels again?” Caleb jokes. A hearty laugh booms from your mouth and you pinch his waist. He fakes a surprised squeal and slightly rolls over, pressing half of his weight onto you, keeping you trapped below him.

Your heartbeat slows, falling into rhythm with his. His breathing is calm, the man counting every second that you have been in his arms for.

This…this is nice. This feels right. Caleb’s arms feel like home, as if you were meant to be inside them the entire time. Time slows around you. Your body grows heavy as slumber quietly sweeps you away, the sound of Caleb’s steady heartbeat filling your ears like a lullaby you’ve been craving to hear since childhood.

The apple tree in your heart blossoms again. Will it bear fruit or decay?

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