#sans wants to stay close to you...

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - The Twins

You guys ready?! I don't think you are :3 @spotaus

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Are you guys ready? For this drabble of 5000 words? <3

Get cozy. Because we are finally here <3 The long awaited meeting.

*----------------------*

Nightmare rubs his arm as he glances at his dads. None of them look happy about what is about to happen.

Dust notices him looking and relaxes his face “You ready?”

Nightmare frowns as he rubs his arm again. Checking his own outfit again. He is wearing his favourite pants. They are wide and have nice ribbons on the side and they are a soft pastel pink. It goes nicely with his bat hoody.

Nightmare shrugs before walking towards Dust’s side and relaxes a bit when he feels himself be picked up. Dust nuzzles the side of his skull “Ready?”

Nightmare feels a lot less sure and mutters “What if this is a bad idea?” He has no idea how Dream will react to him. What if this is a bad idea? What if Dream just looks at him and walks away? What if… what if nothing is different? What is Dream still hates him? Still attacks him? Even after everything?

Sure Dream now knew that Nightmare did what he had to do to fix the balance. But Nightmare doesn’t know if Dream even knows why Nightmare attacked the villagers. They fought so often and he never wanted to listen… Nightmare still isn’t sure if Dream will listen to him.

Sure… Dream knows the balance thing now. But that is probably just because some other god told him. Maybe Error and Ink… Not Nightmare… Dream didn’t listen to him and never wanted to listen to him. What would change now?

What if Dream only likes him now because he is small again? Now that he isn’t the… the evil that took his brother anymore? Would Dream even accept that past as a part of him? Would Dream just always hate a side of Nightmare?

Could Nightmare deal with that? Could he accept Dream hating a part of him just to have some love from his brother? Finally after so much time?

Dust pokes his cheek and Nightmare sees the worried look on his face “Nightlight?” and he gentle rubs away a tear from his cheek.

Oh.

Nightmare is quick to rub the other tears away and mutters “What if Dream still hates me?”

Dust frowns and rubs his skull before pulling the hood on “Then… he is an idiot.” Nightmare blinks and stares at Dust. Dust grins back “You are our tiny adorable babybones. Maybe I am biased but I am unsure how anyone could ever hate you.” and he gets another nuzzle.

Killer grins and gives him his own nuzzle “Oh we are very biased. Our little boss is perfect and can do no wrong.” Nightmare feels himself get embarrassed as he looks away.

Cross sighs as he pulls Killer back “Kills, you will get more goop on him and he just had his bath.” Cross carefully checks his face before nodding.

Killer wiggles his eyebrows at Cross “Bet you don’t mind getting some goop on your face.”

Cross looks very unimpressed at Killer before grabbing his hand and giving Killer a half bow as Cross kisses his knuckles. Cross looks up and winks at Killer “Maybe later when we are alone. If you behave.” Killer sputters and glows bright red.

Dust rolls his eyes “Not in front of Nightmare.” and he gets another nuzzle which Nightmare happily leans into.

Horror returns to their side and checks his outfit before nodding “Should be warm enough.”

Killer sighs “It is still warm out…”

Horror hums “Better be safe.”

“Mh. If you four were planning on being safe you wouldn’t even be meeting with Dream and Blue with him to begin with.”

Nightmare looks up excited “Error!”

Error has appeared in their kitchen and shoots him a tiny grin before glaring at the others “It is an unnecessary risk.” He crosses his arms.

Cross frowns “It is actually necessary. If we don’t do this meeting on our terms in another universe it is a matter of time before we are found here.”

Nightmare doesn’t like that. It would mean hiding all over again. He pushes close to Dust “I don’t want to move.”

Dust hums softly and nuzzles him “I know. We don’t want to move either.”

Nightmare nods and looks at his hands “Is this a bad idea?” He knows it is.

Dust hums “Not precisely… we are just worried.” He nuzzles him again “We don’t want to risk you. In any way.”

Nightmare sneaks a look but Dust looks honest. Dust keeps looking at him “Do you still want to do this?”. Nightmare just stares at Dust but Dust looks serious “I mean it. If you changed your mind and don’t want to do this. We will blow this whole thing off.”

Nightmare frowns and looks to the side “Won’t that cause trouble?”

Dust shrugs “Maybe but we can fix that.”

Error nods “I am already working on relocating this universe to other coordinates. Meaning you will soon be hidden again.”

Dust nods and nuzzles him “Nothing has to change. We don’t have to go. You don’t own them anything.” He just looks at him “You have already had to do too much Nightmare. It is fine to just put yourself first.”

Nightmare frowns as he thinks it over before looking back at Dust “I want to see him.” because even if he is afraid. Even if he knows Dream will just hate him. Even if he knows this will just hurt him. He wants to see Dream. He needs to know for sure. Know for sure where they stand.

Dust nods and looks at the others. Nightmare can see that Killer and Cross clearly are not happy. Horror looks worried and rubs his skull “If you want to leave. We leave. No questions asked.” Nightmare smiles and leans into the touch.

Horror smiles at him before shooting Killer, Cross and Error a look “We are going.” Cross grumbles unhappily but gets his knife ready to open the portal.

They walk through and into a forest. It is still warm out with only a light breeze. The leaves are all a beautiful range of yellows, oranges and reds and Nightmare just stares in awe. It is so pretty out here.

Cross and Killer quickly check the area before nodding. Horror looks at them amused “We are still ten minutes away from the meeting spot. Lets go.” he shoots Error a look “You coming?”

Error considers and shoots him a look before speaking “I will keep an eye out. In case stuff goes south I will quickly move you to another universe. Any preference as backup?”

Nightmare speaks without thinking “Ccino’s.”

Error needs a moment as he types before nodding “Easy enough. If anything goes wrong I will send you there. In the meantime I will work on the relocation.” And he steps into a glitchy portal and he is gone.

Sigh. Error is so cool. Nightmare will figure out how to hold his hand one of these days!

Horror joins Dust’s side and mumbles softly “Do you want any of us to hold him?”

Dust frowns as he looks at him for a long time. Clearly not wanting to let go of him. Before he sighs and looks at Cross “Cross? Can you hold him and stay out of sight?”

Cross smiles brightly and nods as he is by his side within seconds “I will make sure they can’t see him until you give me the signal.” Cross’s hold is different from Dust. Dust’s hold is always tight and so close. Cross’s hold is more gentle but still steady. Unmoving in the way he holds him.

Nightmare hums and leans against Cross.

Cross takes a deep breath and nothing seems to happen but Killer gives him the thumbs up “Invisible to see.” Dust looks less happy and shifts his sight around clearly searching.

Cross must see it too because he takes Dust’s hand and helps him find Nightmare’s. Dust immediately relaxes. Cross smiles brightly as he speaks cheerfully “At least with the walk we can do it like this.”

Dust looks thankful and mutters that he is.

They start walking and Nightmare enjoys the soft sunlight and warmth around him. He lets himself relax as he feels Cross’s soul nearby. Safe and sound.

They enter a clearance and Nightmare looks up only to freeze. That are Dream and Blue. He feels himself sink closer to Cross and Cross pulls him closer as well. Dust has sadly removed his hand but Nightmare is still close to one of his dads and that is enough.

Dream looks up eagerly and looks between those there. Then he frowns.

Blue frowns as well “Euh… where is Nightmare?”

Killer grins as he holds up a knife “Just making sure we got some ground rules first.”

Dream frowns as he gets up himself “We already discussed those. No one will learn of this meeting. This stays between us all. No aggression and no making any move to remove Nightmare from you.”

Nightmare just keeps leaning against Cross. Waiting.

Killer nods along “Yes exactly. Those are the rules we settled on. But you know. You never said what you would gain from speaking to Nightmare.” he grins and waits.

Dream blinks and looks down. Messing with his shirt “I just… I want to see him… say I am sorry…” he looks desperate “You want me to beg?! Because I will! Just… Tell me what you want!”

Killer looks at Dust and Dust shrugs. Horror turns slightly and nods into their general direction.

Cross nuzzles his skull and slowly becomes visible. Much to the obvious shock of Blue and Dream.

Dream looks confused at them and mutters “Why take your child along?” as he keeps looking around hopefully. Blue however stares at him and Nightmare stares back. Nightmare can see when it clicks for Blue.

Blue takes a sharp breath and takes a few steps back “Nightmare?”

Dream looks at Blue and sees where he is staring. And he stares at Nightmare. Nightmare can see that it just takes one look for Dream to realise who he is. Dream takes a sharp breath and is already four steps closer before he even mutters his name “Nighty?”

Killer stands between them and has his knife aimed at Dream’s throat “Don’t.”

Dust has his own blaster out and aimed at them and Horror just stands between them and the stars.

Blue holds up his hands “Okay… let’s calm down…” he pulls on Dream’s shoulder and makes him take a few steps back. Dream however just keeps staring at him “Easy Dream… Easy… deep breaths. Just take a moment.”

Dream however is shaking as he keeps staring at him. He glances at Nightmare’s dads between staring “How… How is he… Why is he? What did you four do?!”

Killer sputters and glares “We didn’t do shit-” Dust immediately hits his skull.

“Language.”

Killer grumbles but nods “Yeah yeah I know. Nightmare don’t copy that.”

Nightmare rolls his eyes but leans against Cross more as Cross snickers into his shoulder.

Killer rubs his own shoulder as he speaks “Again. We didn’t do anything. All we know is. That one day his apple and god related magic disappeared. And what was left was Nightmare in his full glory.” Killer stops and grins “Well. His true form at least.” He grins a Dream and the grin turned sharper “After all… The apple thing happened when he was six… You had time to grow up once you exited the stone didn’t you? When exactly was Nightmare supposed to grow up?”

Dream is breathing shallowly as he takes it in. His eyelights small and staring at him. Nightmare can’t look away.

Blue is the one who speaks “You mean… the whole time… Nightmare was actually…”

Dust speaks calmly “Six? Pretty much.”

Blue just stares ahead and laughs as he rubs his forehead “A six year old managed to outsmart most of the other gods and stay out of trouble for almost 500 years… what the hell.”

Dust and Killer both freeze and Nightmare huffs as he crosses his arms “Not exactly… I had more like… thinking space and stuff… I was better able to handle the magic and powers in that form…” he leans more against Cross “Not anymore.”

Cross coos and nuzzles him “Our little baby.”

Blue gives a slow nod, huh he is holding Dream’s hand and squeezing his hand to reassure him? Blue smiles “And now… the apple magic is gone?”

As soon as he says it Cross pulls him closer and takes three steps back. Dream makes a pained noise as he reaches for him “please… please don’t go…”

Everyone is still. Dream takes a shaking step closer “Nighty? Please… I am sorry. I am so sorry. I am sorry I didn’t listen to you. I am sorry I didn’t hear you out before… When I first joined the multiverse. It was stupid of me to believe the words of those I just met over you. It was stupid of me to not even hear you out and I am sorry. I swear. I swear I have been working on fixing it. I made sure everyone knows it was my fault and that you helped them.”

Dream takes another step closer and Nightmare can hear all four of his dads growl at him.

Dream just continues talking “I am sorry… For way back too… I should have.. I should have stayed with you with the tree… I found a copy of our story… I know now… I swear. I swear I didn’t know. If I had known what they did I wouldn’t have left you! I swear!” he smiles.

Nightmare doesn’t know what to do. What to feel. It is… isn’t this what he wanted? Dream sees he is wrong. Dream is saying he would have been there for him if he had known… Then why does he still doubt it?

Nightmare frowns as he looks away from Dream and leans more against Cross again and speaks “You are just saying that because I am like this again…” there!

Dream shakes his skull “No! I swear it isn’t! I wanted to talk to you for this reason. To apologise!” he takes another few steps closer and Horror remains as a living wall between him and Cross and Nightmare. Dream stares desperate “I swear. I swear on my soul that I didn’t know and I was planning on saying all of this already.” He looks back at Blue.

Blue sees it and nods “It is true! He has been trying to find you for a year now. Well longer even! As soon as we found the storybook in Dreamtale. He has been wanting to talk to you. Before we even figured out the balance business! I swear and I promise this is the truth.”

Nightmare frowns as he stares at them both. Blue is a rather honest person… He looks at his dads for reference.

Cross sees him look and pulls him close as he mutters softly “I think he is being honest…” Cross did spend the most time with the Stars before he joined Nightmare…

He looks at Horror and Horror still seems calm. The fact Horror doesn’t have his weapon out yet says a lot about what he thinks about the situation. Killer and Dust still look unhappy but both of them are always unhappy when it comes to anyone being near him.

Dream rubs his hands and looks at them begging “Can I… Maybe… It would be amazing… And I get if you don’t want to but.” He takes a deep breath “Nighty… can I please hug you?”

Cross freezes and takes four steps back. A blink and a loud distressed noise leaves Dream as he looks around searching. Oh… Cross made them both invisible.

Dust growls as he stalks towards Dream. Lightning and electricity crackling loudly “You have some fucking nerve. After all the pain and problems you caused.”

Blue looks shocked as he mutters “Acolytes…”

Nightmare frowned. He isn’t sure what Blue means. They are just them…

Horror looks very unimpressed as Killer just laughs loudly “Really?! Still trying to steal him?! Like this?! You don’t even try to make it subtle.” And he shakes his skull.

Dream looks desperate “I am not trying to steal him! I just want to hug my twin!” he holds himself as tears leak from his optics “I miss him… I have missed him so much. All because I was too dumb and too blind to look at the facts. I just want to hold him. Hug him…” he looks at them begging “Just once. Please. Just… just tell me what you want!”

Killer huffs and looks unimpressed but Dust lets the electricity slowly shimmer down again.

Nightmare frowns before looking at Cross. Cross sees him look and looks panicked “You don’t need to.”

Nightmare rubs his arm and mutters softly “I want to.” Silence around them and yeah Nightmare figured everyone would hear.

Cross looks deeply unhappy but sighs before bringing their skulls together. Then he slowly walks over to Dream and Blue as Dream just looks so damn hopeful.

Killer steps between them “Yeah. We are putting in some insurance. Blue. Over there.” Blue blinks but nods as he walks to the side. Killer nods to Dust and Dust summons a loaded blaster aimed at Blue.

Blue freezes and looks a whole lot more nervous “euh….”

Killer grins “Insurance!” he grins widely at Dream “You make a single move to steal our babybones and your bestie will be turned into dust.” He winks cheeky “Understood?”

Dream looks horrified at Blue but so wishful at him “I… I… You can’t… Blue…”

Blue frowns as he looks up “You only shoot when he tries to leave with him right?”

Dust nods. Blue nods again and grins at Dream “It is fine Dream. Just stay with them and get your hug.”

Dream looks shocked but then so hopeful at him. Cross gets close and pulls him slightly away from him. Dream has his arms out and they shake lightly. Dream lets out a pained noise and Nightmare suddenly regrets giving that apple magic back to his cat version. Seeing as now the scars on his skull are very obvious.

One pass later and Dream is holding him. Dream just stares in shock at him “You looks exactly the same… except” tears leave his sockets and Dream just hugs him fully against him. Before he crumbles to the ground and Nightmare hears and feels Dream cry against him as he mutters stuff to him As he light as a feather strokes the scars on his skull.

“Nighty.”

“I missed you so much.”

“I am sorry.”

“I am so so so sorry.”

“I swear I will be better.”

“It is so good to see you.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you so much.”

“I love you.”

That is the one that makes him freeze and react “No you don’t.”

Silence and Dream pulls away from his hug to look at him. Not permitting him even an inch to move away. Nightmare just looks down “You don’t love me.” That he knows at least.

Dream shakes and shakes his skull “I do love you.”

Nightmare rolls his eye lights as he mutters “You only say that because I look like this… If I had still been an adult you would have still hated me.”

Dream shakes his skull and just holds him close “I always loved you. I swear. I know I haven’t been a good brother. I know I failed in everything that makes a brother a brother and I swear I will do better. But I always loved you Nightmare.”

Nightmare looks to the side “You tried to kill me.” He still has nightmares of Dream attacking him.

Dream sniffs and sobs “I know. And I am so sorry and I swear I thought it was the only thing I could do.” he pulls back and brings their foreheads softly together “It… it is okay.” he sobs but keeps speaking “It is okay… if you hate me… forever. I would… it would be deserved. For everything I did. But I need… I need you to know. I always loved you. I swear to you.”

Nightmare just stares at him. He isn’t sure what Dream sees on his face but it must be that Nightmare doesn’t believe him as he just keeps crying. Dream rolls up as far around him as he can and just sits there. Sobbing as he mutters more apologise and love declarations. Promises to be better and do everything in his power to prove it.

The hug… is very nice though. Nightmare is surprised by how nice the hug feels.

Most shocking is that his soul recognises Dream’s soulbeat. It is so much like his own but slightly off rhythm. But unlike with his dads. His soul doesn’t move to match it. They just beat together, slightly out of sync.

Dream seems to notice as well as he holds him closer and Nightmare can hear him try to do some of those breathing exercises to calm his soulbeat. Nightmare can feel how Dream’s soul starts to beat a slightly different speed but it doesn’t change much.

Dream sobs and laughs softly “Why… why don’t they match anymore? They… they should match. They always matched.”

Horror huffs “Because his soul has other bonds to count on now. Nightmare isn’t depended on you Dream. And he hasn’t for a long time.”

Dream freezes and looks up shocked. Dream’s eyes shoot between Nightmare’s dads before turning back to stare at him.

Nightmare isn’t sure what to say. He however makes eye contact with Killer and reaches a hand for him. Killer is by their side immediately and grins at Dream “Well time to return tiny boss to us!”

Dream shakes slightly and Nightmare feels his grip tighten on him but after just one more very close hug Dream clearly forces himself to let go of him. Nightmare is back in Killer’s arms within seconds and it feels nice to be near the other soul again. Nightmare immediately starts to relax and feels his soul start to follow Killer’s rhythm.

Killer coos and Nightmare feels him walk away a bit. By the time he actually takes a moment to open his sockets again he is already back by his dads and Blue and Dream are standing side by side.

Blue has this soft look on his face but Dream… Dream just stands there shaking and staring at him. His hands close to his chest and tears clearly in his sockets.

Nightmare frowns and turns to be close to Killer. Trying to hide. Killer notices and immediately hugs him closer and shifts his hold. Hiding him a bit. Nightmare relaxes as he feels a bit safer.

Dust hums and shrugs “Well. You saw him. Goodbye.” And he turns around.

Dream shouts “Wait!”

Dust glares at him but Dream doesn’t glare back. He just looks begging “Please… please… I can’t… please there has to be some way I can keep seeing Nighty?”

Dust raises a brow “And what exactly could you do for him?”

Dream flinches as he rubs his arms while hugging himself “I am his brother… his twin… We are gods I can… I know I can help him… I can take care of him… I actually got information from gods and know what is going on.” He smiles hopefully.

But Nightmare just feels cold. He doesn’t want to be away from his dads!

Dust just laughs before glaring “If you think for even a second any of us trust you with our babybones you are wrong.”

Dream blinks and glares “I am his brother.”

Dust laughs “And what a good brother you have been. What? Haven’t done enough target practise yet? Or did you already conveniently forget that you had been shooting arrows at Nightmare since the first moment you saw him after you woke up from the stone?”

Dream flinches and shakes his skull “Yes- I mean No! I know that but-”

Dust just walks closer. Electricity crackling “Okay. Then you forgot about the fact that you spread rumours and lies about Nightmare? How you assumed what he was doing and spread that misinformation around? Making his job much more difficult?”

Dream shakes his skull “I know! I told others I was wrong and have righted that wrong and-”

Dust grins sharply “Or better yet. At the very start. When you didn’t believe him when he told you those villagers hurt him. How your first instinct when you saw him after your mother died was to attack him.”

Dream flinches again.

“Dust enough!”

Dust blinks and looks over. Cross stands behind him and pulls on his arm. “Enough.”

Nightmare doesn’t get it. Why-

Oh…

He is shaking… and crying.

Dust sees it and slowly walks closer and rubs his cheek “sshh… shh… it is okay… none of that will ever happen again… we won’t let it.” Nightmare holds an arm out to Dust and Killer easily hands him over to Dust. Nightmare relaxes a bit. It is familiar and safe.

Killer sounds very calm as he speaks “You lost any right to take care of him or watch over him long ago Dream. The things you fixed? That were things that needed fixing. That was your job to fix as you ruined them to begin with. But just because you fixed your own mistakes doesn’t mean that we or Nightmare have to trust you.”

Dream looks to the side and Blue rubs his arm as he speaks “Dream just missed him. I know I know very rich coming from him but… even if it isn’t possible for Dream to take care of him and I get it. You guys have been through a lot.”

Dream looks ready to go against it but Blue just shakes his skull at him “You need time to actually process all of this as well Dream.” Blue turns back to them “But… wouldn’t it be nice for both of them to at least get the chance to see each other? To talk? To maybe slowly start to mend their broken bond?”

This time Nightmare can see all his dads exchange looks.

Blue smiles “Just… please just think about it… I know you wouldn’t do it or agree to it for Dream… But maybe it is nice for Nightmare? To give him the ability and chance to get this bond back?” Blue looks hesitant but keeps talking “I know a lot happened. And that will leave scars… But isn’t it better to at least be able to mend that bond a little? To at least feel safe near each other?”

Nightmare frowns as he pushes close to Dust. Dust nuzzles him.

Blue nods “It is a lot… and I get you need space…” he shoots Dream a look “You both need space. Time to think and consider. Which we will give.”

Dream looks up pained “Blue no! I searched for so long and-”

Blue smiles sadly at Dream “Dream I know. I know this hurts… And I know you want this so badly and you missed him. But you need to let him make his choice. You know he is safe. You know he is healthy.” And he looks at him “Isn’t that enough for now? Wasn’t that the whole goal?”

Dream looks lost before shooting him another look “Yeah… yeah it was… I am sorry… I just…”

Blue laughs and nudges their shoulders together “It is a lot. Your mind is going a mile per second and you are terrified of messing up again so you are trying to fix things right away. Take a moment Dream.” And Blue grins at them “We really are happy you guys are okay. Especially after everything came to light.”

Killer looks very mistrusting at them but gives a slow nod “Take a moment to process this.” He shoots them a look and Nightmare can see Killer stare at him for a moment. Then Killer sighs as he rubs his skull “Fucking hell.”

“Language.”

Most surprising. That came from five sources. Nightmare looks over and sees both Dream and Blue look disapproving at Killer.

Killer looks so unimpressed at them “Seriously?”

Blue shrugs “He is six… at least now…”

Killer sighs but nods “Anyway! We are going home… Take a moment to pull yourselves together and also don’t try to find where we live anymore. It is creepy… Also you don’t want to deal with the backstory we made up for us there.”

Blue looks curious “What is the backstory?”

Dust answers very unamused “Killer made it up. Nightmare is mine biologically and there was a bad ex.”

Horror looks highly amused “Which… you two caused quite the stir because well… There is no denying Dream and Nightmare look alike and red plus blue equals purple.” And he waits.

Blue and Dream look shocked.

Dust looks so done with everything “You still own me Killer.”

Killer grins and winks “Anything you want dear. Tonight fitting your schedule?”

Cross coughs “Anyway! We are going...”

Blue looks highly embarrassed “Thanks for the warning…”

Killer snorts “Not like it matters anymore. Error should be done with relocating the universe by now.”

Dream shoots upright “Error is doing what?!”

Killer grins and nods “Hiding us again to keep rude visitors out! Talking about Error. Hey dude ready to pull us out?”

A window in the sky opens and Error looks out unamused “Only emergency. Do it yourself.”

Dream however glares at Error “You knew?! You knew the whole time where he was?! That he was okay?!”

Error raises a brow at Dream “Obviously.”

Nightmare however is more focussed on Error “Error!” and he waves.

Error blinks and snorts but waves back “Nightmare.”

Nightmare beams.

Blue gasps “Oh that is adorable.” Dream however glares very angerly at Error.

Cross at this point cuts the universe fabric “Okay we are going. All through.” Dust goes first.

They appear back in their home and Nightmare pouts at Cross “Why did we leave? Error was there.”

Cross looks amused “Because you are still grounded so no hanging out with Error until the being grounded is done.”

Nightmare pouts but a yawn breaks through. Dust hums and nuzzles his skull “Nap time?”

Nightmare nods as he pushes closer to Dust. This is nice.

*----------------------*

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[supercantaloupe]

i wish i had a good excuse to just like go and spend 2-3 days in another city across the country

[geminiwritten]

domestic fantasy ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: your ex is coming back to collect some things he left behind and you accidentally tell him that you have a new boyfriend, so hangman accepts the role of your new (fake) boyfriend

notes: did i spent the last three days writing for 8-10 hours a day? yes... am i going slightly insane? also yes... but guys!!! fake dating!!! i don't know how i vomited this fic up so quick, jake is just so easy for me to write (i think it's because i love him but not in a soul-crushing way like the way i love rooster?) anyway, PLEASE enjoy and please, please let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, reader is shorter than hangman (just want to mention it), allusions to sex, and it's pretty horny so 18+ ONLY please! let me know if i’ve missed anything!

word count: 10937

“This weekend?” Your voice is unsteady, but you hope the crackling from the poor phone reception is enough to mask it. “I’m not sure if I can do this weekend.” 

Spencer sighs, clearly frustrated by your repeated attempts to keep him away from San Diego. “Look, I know you don’t want to do this—and honestly, neither do I—but it has to be done. I’ll only be in town for a couple of days. I’ll grab some boxes, hire a van, and get them shipped straight to my condo. Don’t you want your spare room back?” 

You gnaw nervously on your bottom lip as you glance out at the open-plan office space, hoping none of your coworkers are listening too closely to your phone conversation. 

You broke up with Spencer six months ago, after dating for nearly four years, and he left in such a rush that almost an entire room of his stuff stayed behind. It isn't anything important—mostly old sports gear and college memorabilia—and it’s not like he’s needed any of it. The breakup hit him hard, and he spent the following four months backpacking around Europe to clear his head. He’s only been back at his condo in Upstate New York for two months, and during that time, he’s been relentlessly bugging you to let him come pick up his things. 

It’s not like you want to hold on to anything that reminds you of him, but you desperately do not want to see him again. You offered a few times to pack up his things and ship them to him, but he flat-out refused. He even called it a violation of privacy now that you’re no longer together. So, about a month ago, you told him you’d find a free weekend for him to come by and collect the rest of his stuff—and you’ve done everything you can to avoid it since. 

“Okay,” you mutter, turning away from the office to face the window overlooking North Island Naval Air Station. “But you can’t stay at the apartment.” 

“What?” Spencer snaps. “Why? It’ll be so much easier. I’ll be in an out in three days, tops.” 

“Three days?” you echo. “Spence, that’s my whole weekend gone.” 

“There’s a lot of stuff,” he argues. “I could bring Harry with me, if-” 

“You are not bringing your brother, Spencer.” You stomp your foot, despite the conversation being over the phone. “Look, if that’s how long it’ll take, then fine. But you are not staying at the apartment. You can’t. My boyfriend just moved in last week.” The last few words slip out before you can stop them. 

Fuck. 

There’s a beat of silence before Spencer speaks again, his voice wavering. “Boyfriend?” 

You tip your head back and take a deep breath. “Yes, boyfriend.” 

Another awkward stretch of silence. 

“Okay... I’ll stay at the motel around the corner,” he says. 

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Good.” 

“See you Friday, then.” 

“See you Friday.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and tap the red button, watching Spencer’s caller ID photo flicker out before the screen goes black. With a sigh, your arms drop to your sides, and you lean forward until your forehead rests against the windowpane with a soft, dull thud. 

What the fuck did you just do? 

- 

Gravel crunches beneath your tires as you swerve into the parking lot of The Hard Deck bar. You pull up beside a familiar Ford Bronco, yanking the parking brake just a little too hard before practically stumbling out of the car. Your feet carry you across the lot and through the front door before coming to a stop as you survey the room, searching for the familiar face you came here to find. Across the bar, tucked into the booth closest to the pool table, are your friends. They’re sipping beers and chatting happily, blissfully unaware that an electrical storm of stress and anxiety is headed right for them. 

You weave through the tables and other patrons with determination, your breath coming and going in quick, anxious bursts. Your feet only stop when you reach your friends’ table, and their conversation quickly dies as they each turn to look at you. 

Jake’s brows pinch. “Hey, are you okay?” 

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down nervously, unsure how to reply. 

Javy, who was sitting next to Jake, stands up and nods toward the bar. “I’m going to grab another drink. Want anything?” 

You nod. “Whatever you’re having.” 

He gives you a cheeky wink before striding off toward the bar. You watch him for a few seconds before turning back to the booth and sliding in beside Jake, leaning into him and letting your head fall on his shoulder. 

Natasha sits across from you, her head tilted and a curious glint in her narrowed eyes. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Not yet, I haven’t,” you say, before letting out an exasperated sigh. “My ex is coming back this weekend.” 

She rears back and sits up straight, her brows raised. “Coming back to stay?” 

You lift your head from Jake’s shoulder and shake it softly. “Nah. He just wants to pick up everything he left behind.” 

Jake shifts beside you, his arm sliding around your lower back almost possessively—but you know he only means to comfort you. “Including you?” he asks, his tone playful but laced with a hint of uncertainty. 

You snort and turn to face him, a little startled by how close those piercing green eyes are. “Of course not. Or at least, I hope not. I mean, I think I made it pretty damn clear he wasn’t getting me back, even if he was planning to try.” You trail off, turning away, unsure how to bring up the real reason you came here tonight—the question that’s been gnawing at you since your phone conversation with Spencer. 

“Okay,” Nat says, “so, what’s the big deal?” 

You suck in a deep breath, filling your lungs as you gather every shred of dignity you still have left. “I told him he couldn’t stay at the apartment because… my boyfriend just moved in.” 

Natasha’s brows shoot up toward her hairline and her mouth pops open. Amusement dances behind her eyes, but she has the decency to hold it back as you drop your head into your hands and let out a groan. “I fucked up.” 

Beside Natasha, Mickey leans forward. “But you don’t have a boyfriend?” 

You look up at him and scowl. “No shit.” 

“Oh.” He nods slowly, fighting the grin that tugs at his lips. 

“So, what are you going to do?” Reuben pipes up from the other end of the table, looking just as amused as the rest of your friends. 

“Well...” You lean back, pressing your shoulder blades into the vinyl of the booth as you twist your neck to glance at the man beside you. “I was going to ask Jake if he could help me... pretend.” 

Jake’s smirk fades, and a flush creeps into his cheeks. His green eyes widen, the usual cocky confidence replaced by startled confusion. “What? Why me?” 

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant about asking the man you regularly fantasise about to be your fake boyfriend. “It just makes the most sense. I’ve known you the longest.” Your eyes flick toward the other boys at the table. “No offense, but Jake and I just have better chemistry—and Spencer knew it. He was always a little threatened by our friendship.” 

You shift your gaze back to Jake, who’s still looking stunned, his lips parted slightly. 

“Plus, I only broke up with Spencer six months ago. I couldn’t have met someone new and asked them to move in that fast. It has to be someone I already knew.” You widen your eyes and bat your lashes dramatically. “Please, Jake. I’ll do anything.” 

He blinks at you, cheeks still tinged pink. “Define anything,” he says, that cocky smirk slowly starting to return. 

“Whatever you want,” you reply, planting both hands on his thigh closest to you—oblivious to the fact that it makes his dick twitch in his jeans. “You know I’m good for it.” 

Jake coughs into his hand, shifting slightly, trying to hold onto his bravado while making sure your touch doesn’t creep any higher. “Alright,” he says, voice a little rougher than before. “I’ll do it.” 

You raise a brow. “That easy?” 

He lifts a finger. “On one condition.” 

You narrow your eyes, suspicious. “Which is?” 

He leans in, that cocky smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “I want a home-cooked dinner. Every night I’m there. Candles. Music. Maybe a little wine. You know... boyfriend perks.” 

Natasha snorts across the table. “You mean domestic fantasy perks.” 

Jake just shrugs, eyes still locked on yours. “Hey, if I’m going to play house, I want the full experience.” 

You swallow hard, but your mouth moves before your brain catches up. “Deal.” 

He grins wider, and this time you’re pretty sure it’s not just cockiness—it’s anticipation. 

- 

You pace in circles around your kitchen island, one arm tucked under your breasts, holding your opposite elbow as you anxiously gnaw on your thumbnail. Jake is supposed to be here any minute, and the cork in the bottle of nerves rattling around in your stomach just won’t stay put. 

You’ve known Jake for years. You met in college and, despite the distance with his deployments, have been metaphorically inseparable ever since. But physically? That was a little harder, obviously. 

You’ve always had a soft spot for Jake—a bit of a crush, but you were never foolish enough to think anything could come of it. You’ve been perfectly content being his friend, never pushing for more. But every single one of your boyfriends? They hated him. You can’t blame them, really—Jake has that effect on people. That cocky, irresistible charm that makes it impossible for anyone else to ignore him. 

Still, you can’t shake the guilt creeping in. Fooling Spencer into thinking you and Jake are together? After all those times you promised him there was nothing more than friendship between you and Jake? It feels wrong. Even if Spencer never really took your word for it. 

A knock at the door pulls you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you hurry to answer it. Jake is standing on the other side, looking even more irresistible than usual. There’s no uniform today, no flight suit or polished boots. Instead, he's wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, and somehow that makes him look even better. His hair is messy, not gelled like it usually is, and the scruff on his jaw—a day’s worth of stubble—only adds to the allure. He looks... delicious in a way that’s totally different from the polished, put-together fighter pilot you’re used to. 

“Hey, girlfriend,” he says with a smirk, “sorry I’m late.” 

Your brain and mouth have completely short-circuited, leaving you with no choice but to smile, nod, and step aside to let him in. He’s got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a box of random belongings in his arms—little odds and ends that someone might have lying around their apartment. 

Jake drops the box onto the kitchen counter and turns back to you. “What time is Spencer the Snob getting here?” 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “In about an hour. Do you think you can manage to be civilized?” 

“Yes,” he replies, his voice sharp as he props his hands on his hips. “Can he be civilised?” 

“Spencer is always civilized.” 

You walk over to the box and start pulling out items, mentally sorting them. But Jake isn’t done. 

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Spencer is not always civilized. He’s just really good at hiding what a complete dick he is.” 

You turn and lean your hip against the countertop, raising one eyebrow. “You only don’t like him because he didn’t like you first. And let’s be honest, that’s because you bought me lingerie for the first birthday that I was with him. He didn’t get the joke and thought it was way too suggestive.” 

Jake snorts, his jade eyes lighting up with mischief. “Yeah, that was a good one. I’ll never forget the look on his face.” 

You resist the urge to laugh and roll your eyes again, turning back to the box. “I’ll admit, Spence is a little snobby. But that’s just how he was raised. It’s not his fault he’s got money.” 

Jake’s expression darkens, and he narrows his eyes at the affectionate nickname. “Spence?” 

“Sorry,” you say, your cheeks flushing pink. “Force of habit.” 

The two of you move quietly around the apartment, slipping into an easy rhythm as you make space for Jake’s things. You tuck two framed photos of his family onto the bookshelf, nestled between your novels, and slide one of his official Navy portraits beside them—one you definitely wouldn’t mind keeping. 

He hangs a jacket and a couple of worn caps on the hooks by the door and drops two pairs of his boots beside your own lineup of shoes. You clear off a bedside table for him to clutter with his things, and listen to the soft clink of bottles as he unpacks his toiletries in the bathroom. 

Finally, you add a towel for him to the rack beside the shower. And for a moment, you let yourself imagine it: the two of you in there together. His hot, slick skin pressed to yours, the steam curling around your tangled limbs. His hands sliding soap across your body, rinsing you slow and thorough. He’d wash your hair too, fingers working into your scalp until your eyes fluttered closed—and then you’d return the favour, watching his mouth part in bliss beneath your touch. 

“Hello?” Jake waves a hand in front of your face. “Anyone home?” 

You blink rapidly and turn to face him, only to find him standing way too close with that maddening smirk tugging at his lips. Your eyes flick up to his, and the look he gives you is downright dangerous—curious, cocky, and just a little bit amused. 

“You good, sweetheart?” he asks, tilting his head. “You’re lookin’ a little hot under the collar.” 

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Instead, you let out a weird half-laugh, half-scoff and sidestep him like he’s radioactive. “I’m fine. It’s just warm in here. Is it warm in here?” 

Jake leans back against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed and eyes glittering. “Could be. Or maybe you were just thinkin’ about something real steamy.” 

You choke on air. “Excuse me?” 

He shrugs, all faux innocence. “Just sayin’... you’ve got that look. Like your brain wandered somewhere it probably shouldn’t have.” 

You grab a towel—any towel—and smack him in the chest. “Shut up.” 

Jake laughs, catching the towel with one hand like he knew it was coming. “Whatever it was, must’ve been good.” 

When he finally steps aside, you scurry past like lingering too long might scorch your skin. Only once you’ve turned down the hall and reached the kitchen—putting a safe stretch of space between you and him—do you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“Okay,” you say, planting both palms against the cool, marble countertop. “Spencer is going to be here in half an hour, so we have exactly thirty minutes to practice being a couple.” 

Jake smirks like this is nothing—like he’s been in this exact situation a hundred times before. “You tell me what you’re comfortable with, darlin’.” He steps up to the other side of the kitchen island and leans forward, mirroring your posture. 

You tilt your head slightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you narrow your eyes at him. “We need to look convincing. No weirdness, no pulling faces. Just... act natural.” 

Jake cocks an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “Natural, huh? So, no kissing? Not even a little peck?” 

You try to focus, but the way he’s leaning across the island—just far enough to make the space between you feel electrified—throws you off. “Uh, no. Nothing like that. We’ll start slow. Hold hands, sit close... you know, the easy stuff.” 

Jake’s grin widens, his gaze flickering down to your lips before locking onto your eyes. “Hold hands, sit close. Got it. But what if I make you want to kiss me? I’m really good at that.” 

You feel the heat spreading through your chest, but you refuse to let him see it. “You think you can make me want to kiss you?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to match his cockiness. 

He leans even further toward you and drops his voice low, the teasing edge still there but with a smouldering intensity you’re having a hard time ignoring. “Oh, sweetheart. I know I can. All I need is the right moment.” 

You can’t help but laugh nervously, your pulse quickening as he stays there, so close you can feel the heat of his presence even if the island bench is still separating you. “Well, we’ve got thirty minutes to see if you can keep your hands to yourself, Seresin,” you tease, but there’s an edge to it now—a hint of challenge. 

Jake leans in a little more, his gaze fixed on you, like he’s seconds away from crossing the line. “Trust me, darlin’. I can keep my hands to myself... but only if you can keep your hands off me.” 

Your chest rises and falls faster than usual, your head spinning slightly from all the extra oxygen surging through your blood. You part your lips, ready to fire back something just as cocky—something to keep the volley going—but the sharp chime of your phone slices through the tension, and both your gazes snap to where it buzzes on the countertop. 

You settle back onto your heels, and reach for your phone, huffing out a small, frustrated sigh before sliding the answer button and pressing it to your ear. “Hey, Spencer.” 

“Hey, how are you?” 

Your eyes slide toward Jake, who is looking almost as frustrated as you feel. “Fine. How far out are you?” 

Spencer chuckles, and something inside of you instinctively recoils, even though the sound itself isn’t particularly offensive. “I’m great, thanks for asking. The flight was fine, a little bumpy, but we made it. I’m just waiting at baggage claim, so I’ll be about twenty minutes.” 

“No worries,” you say, “see you soon.” 

You hang up before he even finishes saying goodbye, drop your phone face-down on the bench, and glance back at Jake. “Alright, let’s go over the details. We started dating three months after Spencer left. You asked me out, and I was a little surprised.” 

Jake frowns, already halfway to an objection, but you cut him off with a raised hand. “Just go with it, okay? It keeps my integrity intact. You have no idea how many times I had to convince him I wasn’t into you.” 

His frown fades fast, replaced by that maddeningly smug smirk. “Go on, then.” 

You roll your eyes, but continue. “I was surprised, but everything just... clicked. Being best friends made the relationship feel natural. That’s why things have moved fast. You were already here most nights, your rent went up, so you moved in two weeks ago.” 

Jake nods like he’s logging it all away. “Okay, but more importantly—how’s the sex?” 

You stare, deadpan. “Seriously?” 

He shrugs, hands raised like a saint. “What? It’s a legitimate question. Spencer might ask.” 

“I highly fucking doubt it.” 

Jake chuckles. “Yeah, fair. Still worth a shot.” 

With a long, theatrical exhale, you walk around the kitchen island and stop in front of him. “Alright, let’s talk touching.” 

His eyes light up, devilish. “Now you’re speaking my language.” 

You ignore him. “I’m ticklish, so don’t touch my ribs or ghost over my arms—I will flinch.” 

“I know.” 

You pause. “Okay…” You shake your head, ignoring the question trying to form. “I’m not huge on PDA, but I like lingering touches. Just small things, to remind each other we’re there.” 

“I know,” he says again, that smirk glued in place. 

The question in your head itches a little louder, but you push it aside. “And if we go out—which I really hope we don’t—make sure you’re always sitting next to me. I hate it when couples sit across from each other. I don’t want to gaze into your eyes, I want to feel your warmth.” 

Jake’s smirk splits into a wide, boyish grin. “I know.” 

The floodgates crack. “How the fuck do you know everything?” 

He leans in just slightly, voice soft but sure. “Because I know you. I’ve watched you with every guy you’ve dated. Just because I wasn’t the guy doesn’t mean I haven’t been paying attention.” 

You blink, reeling from the quiet truth in his tone. It hits you like a gust of wind—real, unshakable. You actually have to take a step back to steady yourself. There’s no teasing in his voice, no smug edge. Just Jake, earnest and open in a way that’s rare. 

And it almost wrecks you. 

Jake might be cocky and insufferable ninety percent of the time—but when he loves, he does it fiercely. Deeply. Fully. And you’ve always known you were lucky to be one of the people he loves. 

But for the first time, you let your mind wander somewhere dangerous. What would it be like to be loved by Jake Seresin—not just as a friend, but as his person? His everything? 

“So,” Jake says, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter, “where should I touch you first?” 

You close your eyes for a beat, reminding yourself that this is still Jake—insufferable, irritating Jake. “You don’t have to be weird and over the top about it. When he gets here, you can just sit on the couch, then I’ll join you and sit close. You can put a hand on my thigh.” 

Jake’s brows furrow, his face contorting with mild disgust. “I know you’re trying not to make him uncomfortable, but that’s not going to work. Think about it—your ex is coming over, and your current boyfriend is just sitting casually on the couch? Not buying it.” 

You roll your eyes again, hoping to avoid yet another pointless argument. “Jake, this doesn’t need to be-” 

“You told him you’re dating me,” he interrupts, poking his chest with a finger. “And if this was real, I’d be making damn sure I had a hand on you at all times.” 

You raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how your body reacts to his proximity and his words. Heat floods your chest and settles behind your hipbones, desire tightening in places you don’t want to think about right now. “You don’t need to stake your claim, Jake. Spencer isn’t here to win me back.” 

Jake steps closer, cutting the distance between you until there’s barely two feet separating you. “You don’t know that.” His voice lowers slightly, making the air between you feel thick and electric. “And yes, I do. If you want him to believe we’re dating, then you need to let me do exactly what I would do if this was real.” 

You’re not sure whether he’s just being cocky or trying to show off, but damn it, he’s making a good point. “Okay, fine. But don’t make him uncomfortable.” 

Jake’s smirk widens, taking on that familiar, smug edge. “No promises, darlin’.” 

You spend the next ten minutes pretending to clean—wiping already spotless counters, rearranging throw pillows, and dusting things that definitely don’t need dusting. All while Jake lounges on the couch like this is the easiest job he’s ever had. 

“It’s three days, sweetheart,” he says. “By Sunday, Spencer will be back in his overpriced New York apartment sipping single malt and Googling himself.” 

You snort but say nothing. Three days. Just two dinners and one brunch. You’ll keep the visits restricted to daylight hours, keep Jake close, keep your story straight—and by Sunday afternoon, Spencer will be out of your apartment and out of your life. 

That’s the plan, anyway. 

But as you glance over at Jake—sprawled out, so completely at ease in your space, looking infuriatingly good even in his most relaxed state—you start to question the rest of it. 

Because it’s not Spencer you’re worried about fooling anymore. It’s yourself. And when Jake turns his head and catches you staring, smirking like he knows exactly what you're thinking? 

Yeah. This might be harder than you thought. 

The intercom buzzes, loud and sudden, startling you from your task of rearranging the flowers on the dining table. Your heart launches into your throat, pounding like you’ve just jumped from a plane without a parachute. 

Jake chuckles and rises from the couch, strolling over to the intercom with infuriating confidence. He presses the button and leans in. “Come on up.” 

You force your feet to move, carrying you toward him and not stopping until you’re right beside him. You press yourself against him and the moment your body meets his, heat blooms under your skin. It’s not new—you've touched him before—but it feels different. More charged. More deliberate. Jake’s arm slides around your waist without hesitation, and his fingers curl into your hip, firm and possessive. There’s a subtle squeeze and the pad of his thumb grazes a sliver of skin just beneath the hem of your shirt. 

You feel it everywhere. 

He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “It’s showtime, sweetheart.” 

Your breath stutters. This is just pretend. 

Your heart pounds against your sternum, each beat like the tick of a countdown clock. The elevator dings. Footsteps echo down the hallway. Closer, closer. You draw in a deep breath and hold it, ignoring the sharp ache it sends through your chest. 

“Relax,” Jake murmurs, pulling you tighter against his side as he reaches for the doorknob. 

The second the footsteps stop, he yanks the door open—no chance for a knock. 

“Spence!” Jake beams, like they’re old frat brothers reunited. “Come in, buddy. How are you?” 

You nearly snort. The absurdity of his enthusiasm bubbles up in your throat, but you bite your lip hard enough to keep it down. 

Spencer looks good—but all it does is remind you how little you miss him. His perfectly coiffed blonde hair hasn’t changed one bit, but he’s tanner than you remember—courtesy of the European sun, no doubt. He’s not as tall as Jake, but he’s got that same overinflated ego. The difference? Jake’s cockiness comes from… well, let’s just say it’s probably anatomical. Spencer’s is inherited—passed down with a trust fund and a country club membership. 

He’s dressed exactly as you expected: a sky-blue Ralph Lauren polo, crisp white pants with a crease so sharp it could slice bread, and tan boat shoes—an ironic choice, considering he’s terrified of boats. 

But it’s his face that really seals the moment. Jaw unhinged, eyes wide, staring at Jake like he just opened the door to a ghost. Or maybe something worse: the ghost of his ex-girlfriend’s new sex life. 

“Jake?” Spencer finally says. “Your new boyfriend is Jake Seresin?” 

Jake’s grin is unbothered—like this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life. “The one and only.” 

You feel his hand press a little firmer into your waist, anchoring you there like you might suddenly run—and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted. 

Spencer steps further into the apartment, his eyes glued to Jake’s smug face. “I thought you said there was nothing going on between you two.” 

Your stomach twists, but you keep your voice even. “There wasn’t. Not back then.” 

Spencer glances at you. “You told me I was being paranoid. That he was just your friend.” 

Jake chuckles. “I remember you telling me about that.” 

You shoot him a look that’s supposed to say “not helping,” but he just smiles innocently and shrugs. 

Spencer looks seconds away from spontaneously combusting. “I trusted you,” he says, starting to sound like the whiny, private-school rich kid you always tried to ignore. “You promised me nothing would ever happen with him.” 

“Yeah, that was then, and this is now. Things change, Spence—and this has nothing to do with you,” you say, tone sharpening. If he’s going to act like a child, then you're going to treat him like one. 

Jake’s hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, his thumb sweeping in a slow, easy circle like he’s soothing a spark before it ignites. “People change, bud. Timing is everything.” 

Spencer folds his arms, visibly rattled. “So, what—he swooped in the second I left?” 

Jake tilts his head, eyes full of mock offense. “Swooped? Come on. Give me a little credit. She came to me.” 

You snap your head toward him, about to object, but his grin is wicked and the mischief in his eyes dares you to play along. 

“Well...” You drag the word out, buying a few precious seconds to stitch your story together. “Technically, yes. I was upset after the breakup, so of course I turned to my best friend for comfort.” 

Spencer’s blue-grey eyes narrow. “You broke up with me.” 

“That she did, pal.” Jake tries for a sympathetic look, but you know better—he’s enjoying this a little too much. 

“Just because I ended things doesn’t mean it didn’t rattle me,” you shoot back, trying to shift the focus away from Jake. “We were together for four years, Spencer. That’s a long time. I just had the guts to do what you didn’t. So, forgive me if I’m not in the mood to explain myself to you. I don’t owe you anything—and my new relationship? It’s none of your business.” 

You see his expression twist into an offended scowl, and anger flickers in your chest. The nerve of him, acting like you still owe him something just because you pulled the plug first. 

“For the record,” you continue, voice cool and firm, “yeah, I leaned on Jake. And somewhere along the line, I found something a lot deeper.” 

Then, without missing a beat, you glance at Jake—who’s already wearing that cocky smirk—and let one of your own curve across your lips as you look back at Spencer. 

“Actually,” you say, eyes narrowing with satisfaction, “I think it was Jake who found something a little deeper… if you know what I mean.” 

Jake snorts, slapping his hand over his mouth, but he can’t suppress the gleeful chuckle bubbling from his lips. Spencer, on the other hand, looks utterly humbled—his cheeks are bright red and his jaw is hanging open like he’s just been slapped across the face. 

You step away from Jake, waiting for his hand to drop so you can grab it. The second your fingers slide into his, a rush of warmth zips up your arm, and you try to ignore how good it feels, but damn, it’s hard. 

“Get your boxes,” you say to Spencer, keeping your tone cool. “Jake will help you pack some stuff this afternoon, but it’s date night, so you’ve got exactly two hours. You can come back in the morning.” 

Spencer's lip twitches, like he's about to argue, but then he stops himself. He nods curtly and unties the fancy cashmere sweater draped around his shoulders, hanging it carefully on a hook by the door. He hesitates when he notices Jake’s clothes tossed haphazardly alongside yours. After a moment, he huffs, shakes his head, and stomps out of the apartment. 

You fight to suppress a grin as you turn to Jake, but he’s already beaming at you. “You’re amazing, you know that?” 

You pretend to flick your hair off your shoulder with theatrical flair. “Oh, I know.” 

He chuckles. “I can’t believe you just told your ex I’ve got a huge dick.” 

You shrug, one shoulder rising nonchalantly. “You’ve got the ego to match, so I figured I could make an educated guess. Besides, it’s not like Spencer will ever know for sure.” 

His brows shoot up. “Oh, so you were just guessing?” 

Heat floods your cheeks, and suddenly his eyes are too intense to meet. “Well, obviously.” 

He leans in, his hand tightening around yours, voice low and teasing—laced with a challenge that feels dangerously not like a joke. “Want to find out for real?” 

Your breath hitches. Words abandon you. All you can do is stare at his face—too handsome and too tempting. 

“Because I’d go a hell of a lot deeper than that weasel. So deep, you’d be screaming-” 

The intercom buzzer cuts him off, and you’re hit with a wave of relief and frustration all at once. Your pulse is racing, your chest tight, and the thrum of your heartbeat fills your ears. 

Jake chuckles, clearly amused by the timing, and leans back, releasing your hand to press the button on the intercom. He glances over at you, winks, and casually strides toward the lounge, sprawling out like he owns the place. Like he’s some modern-day Adonis—there to wind you up and then claim your couch like it’s his throne. 

You force your limbs to move, opening the door for Spencer and helping him carry in the flattened cardboard boxes tucked under his arms. You lead him to the spare room—where all his abandoned belongings have been gathering dust for the past six months—and leave him to it. 

You don’t have to ask Jake to help. The second you return to the living room, he stands, crosses the space without hesitation, and steps right up to you. His palm finds the back of your head as he pulls you in, pressing a warm, gentle kiss to the top of your hair. 

You know he’s just doing what you asked—pretending to be your boyfriend. But the tenderness of the gesture feels heartbreakingly sincere. It sinks into your skin, fills your chest like warm water, and when he pulls away, he takes the comfort with him. 

Your eyes trail after him as he walks toward the spare room, and you shamelessly ogle his ass on the way out. Then you collapse onto the lounge where he’d just been sitting, curling up in the lingering scent of his cologne. You tug a blanket from the wicker basket beside the couch and wrap it around yourself, clicking on a show you barely register—because all you can think about is the way Jake Seresin touches you. 

This might not have been such a brilliant idea after all. 

- 

Spencer uses up his two hours like he paid for them, waiting until exactly 5:59 PM to dust off his palms on those stupid white pants—as if he hadn’t made Jake do all the heavy lifting—and announce that he “better get going.” 

You give him a tight smile as you hold the door open, already half-relieved just watching him walk out. It's not that pretending to love Jake is hard—you do love him. It’s the reminder that all the lingering touches, the soft smiles, the stolen glances—they’re just an act. That’s what’s draining you. 

The second the door clicks shut, you let out a long, theatrical sigh, like you’ve been holding your breath for the full two hours. “Oh, thank God. I don’t know how I’m going to survive a whole day tomorrow.” 

Jake chuckles, but there’s something tight about it—like he’s forcing it out through gritted teeth. “Am I that hard to love?” he asks, and though his tone is teasing, something flickers behind his eyes that doesn’t feel like a joke. 

Your brows knit. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...” 

He steps closer, invading your space like he’s done all day—and you hate how much you don’t mind it anymore. In fact, you kind of want him to stay right there. 

“What is it?” he murmurs, voice low and rough enough to make your skin prickle. 

You swallow hard, suddenly aware of how close he is, how good he smells, and how charged the air between you feels. “It’s just Spencer, you know? Having him around is... exhausting.” 

Jake’s lip quirks, but his eyes are sharp, studying you. “Oh? So you’re not struggling with this fake relationship thing at all? Not even a little confused? Frustrated? Having trouble remembering it’s not real?” 

You blink, stunned silent. You’re not sure how, but you’re starting to believe Jake Seresin might actually be a mind reader. 

“I-” The words catch in your throat, strangled by the weight of his stare. His piercing green eyes pin you in place, make you forget how to speak, how to breathe. 

Then, just when it feels like you might combust, his smirk cracks into a grin and he takes a step back, letting the tension snap like a rubber band. “Alright then,” he says, clapping his hands together, “what’s for dinner, gorgeous?” 

You inhale like you’ve just broken the surface of the water. Your lungs burn. Your head spins. This man is giving you whiplash. 

It takes almost a full minute to regain control of your body, and when you finally do, you walk straight into the kitchen without giving Jake an answer. You can’t even look at him right now—but he has no trouble looking at you. 

He watches you like he’s starving and you’re the feast. It makes focusing on dinner nearly impossible. 

You busy yourself preparing the meal you planned yesterday—Italian sausage spaghetti with a pull-apart garlic loaf. You don’t usually go all out for dinner, but you’re using Jake’s presence as an excuse to cook something hearty and delicious. Maybe after eating, you’ll both be too full to maintain this unbearable sexual tension. He can crash on the couch, and you’ll curl up in bed. Or maybe you’ll take a long, steamy shower and do what you need to do to unknot the tension pulsing behind your hipbones. 

Dinner comes together quickly, and after a few casual questions from Jake about the food, he drifts back to the couch, half-watching whatever show has been playing in the background for past few hours. You set the dining table just the way he asked—candles, wine, and soft music humming from the speaker on your bookshelf. 

Finally, you place two full bowls of pasta on the table—opposite each other. Because you’re not really dating, so why would you sit beside him? To feel his warmth? Let him rest a hand on your thigh? 

The thought alone sends a shiver down your spine. 

You try to shake it off and glance at Jake—only to find him already watching you. 

You clear your throat. “Lieutenant Jake Seresin, your dinner is served.” 

He grins like a kid in a candy store, pushing off the couch and sniffing the air like a Loony Tunes character. “Damn, I think Phoenix might’ve been right. This is a full-on domestic fantasy.” 

You roll your eyes and duck your head, hoping he doesn’t see the heat rising in your cheeks. “Just sit down and eat, Hangman. I’m tired and hungry.” 

You flick off the kitchen lights, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of the candles. The atmosphere feels far more romantic than you intended. Is this what Jake wanted? 

You don’t give yourself time to overthink it—because the food smells amazing, and there’s a very attractive naval aviator sitting across from you, looking like he was plucked straight from a dream. 

You spend the first few minutes eating in silence, both too busy shovelling pasta into your mouths and tearing into buttery garlic bread to speak. Somehow, Jake even manages to make slurping spaghetti look hot—and you hate when people make noise while they eat. 

“So,” you say, slowing your pace and setting your fork down, “did you want to stay here tonight or head back to your place?” 

He keeps his eyes on his plate, as if avoiding yours will mask whatever he’s really thinking. “Up to you, darlin’. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

“Well, Spencer did seem pretty suspicious about the whole thing… so I think it’s safer if you stay.” 

His head snaps up, and that signature smirk spreads across his lips. “Is that so?” 

“Yeah,” you say, fighting the heat rising to your cheeks, “he might sniff around tomorrow. Like, literally. He might be a creep and notice your towel’s untouched, or that your side of the bed hasn’t been slept in, and-” 

“You want to share the bed?” he asks, looking far too pleased with the idea. 

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “We’ve shared a bed before.” 

“Yeah,” he says, a low chuckle slipping out, “blind drunk.” 

His eyes are too pretty, too intense, and your chest feels tight under their weight. You look away, eyes darting around the table until they land on the wine bottle. 

“Well then,” you say, picking it up and refilling his glass, “drink up, Seresin.” 

Two bottles of wine later, you’re both loose-limbed and laughing—less awkward about the day’s chaos, and a lot less anxious about sharing a bed tonight. 

You giggle at one of Jake’s ridiculous jokes while clearing the table, and when he insists on helping clean up, you swat him away, telling him it’s all part of his domestic fantasy. He rolls his eyes but still hovers, drying dishes and pretending not to notice the way you keep throwing him side-eye glances every time he guesses wrong about where something goes. 

“Do you want to shower?” you ask as you finish wiping down the stovetop. 

His green eyes go wide, that crooked grin slipping across his face like sin itself. “Is this you offering?” 

Your stomach flips, heat crawling up your chest. “I meant—do you want to shower first?” 

“Oh,” he chuckles, almost disappointed. “Yeah, sure. If you don’t mind?” 

“Wouldn’t have asked if I did,” you mutter, turning back toward the lounge. 

You listen to his footsteps fade toward the bathroom, then collapse onto the couch, burying your face in a pillow that smells maddeningly like him. 

What the fuck are you doing? 

Yes, you’ve always had a little crush on Jake, but you’re not delusional. He’s out of your league. You’ve made peace with that. You’ve always been happy just being his friend. So why does all of this feel so good? Why is it getting harder to remember that he doesn’t see you the same way? 

He’s thrown himself into this charade like it’s more than just pretending, and it’s messing with your head. Does he want something more? Something casual? A few nights, maybe? Or... does he want you—the whole messy package? 

The shower starts, and you groan into the pillow. You’re confused. You’re also so fucking horny. Red wine was a terrible idea. 

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door creaks open. “All yours,” Jake calls, his voice smooth and casual as he walks toward the bedroom where he left his duffel bag. 

You drag yourself upright, every step toward the bathroom a battle against the mental slideshow of naked, wet Jake. You shut the door, strip down, and step into the shower, letting the hot water calm your skin and chase away the ache blooming low in your belly. 

You don’t have the guts to do what you really need to make that ache go away—not with Jake just a paper-thin wall away. The thought creeps in, bold and reckless, whispering what if you just called him in here? But then you laugh softly under your breath and shake it off. As if. The idea of Jake rejecting you would be a level of humiliation you’re not prepared to face tonight. Or ever. 

You shut off the water, swipe a towel from the rack, and give yourself a quick dry before wrapping it snugly around your body. The bathroom is thick with steam, your skin flushed and dewy, your pulse still thudding from thoughts you shouldn't be entertaining. 

You open the door to let in some air—only to nearly collide with Jake. 

He’s right there. Shirtless. Grey sweatpants slung low, a towel around his neck, and an annoyingly cocky smirk on his lips. 

“Damn,” he says, leaning one arm against the doorframe, eyes roaming blatantly. “I was coming to see if you drowned, but now I’m thinking maybe I should’ve brought more wine.” 

You try to step back, but he follows, slipping inside like he belongs here. You grip your towel tighter. 

“Jake,” you warn, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?” 

“Just enjoying the view,” he says casually, his eyes far too warm for comfort. “This your idea of torture? Walk out here looking like a damn dream and expect me to just keep pretending?” 

You’re not sure what’s pretending and what isn’t anymore, and you have no idea what his words mean. Is he just messing with you? He has to be. 

“I didn’t ask you to come in.” 

“And yet,” he says, grinning, “here I am.” 

The heat in the room is stifling—and it's not just the steam. Jake moves in closer, crowding your space, eyes flicking from your lips to your towel and back. His fingers reach up, slow and deliberate, and tug lightly at the edge of the fabric resting on your collarbone. 

“Think this is regulation towel length?” he teases. 

“Do you want me to report you to HR?” you ask, trying not to smile. Your voice wobbles on the last word when his fingers brush across the swell of your breast. 

“Only if HR gives out spankings,” he says with a wink. 

You laugh, then immediately regret it, because the movement loosens the towel just slightly—and his gaze drops. The air between you crackles. 

“Jake,” you murmur, breath hitching. 

He leans in, his lips brushing your temple like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. “Say the word,” he whispers, voice lower than a dare. 

You turn your face toward him, your lips just inches from his—and then: 

BZZZZZZZZZZZT. 

The intercom buzzes loudly from the living room, startling you both. You jump, and Jake curses under his breath. 

“Saved by the buzzer,” you mutter, half annoyed, half relieved. 

He takes a step back, eyes still dark with want, running a hand through his hair. “Or maybe cursed by it.” 

You give him a pointed look. “Shut the door on your way out, Hangman.” 

He backs out slowly, smirking the whole way. “You know I’m not going to forget this, right?” 

You roll your eyes and wait for him to close the door before locking it for good measure. After drying off, you go through your usual skincare and haircare routines, trying not to think about whatever the hell just happened between the two of you. But one glance down the hall as you exit the bathroom makes your heart plummet. 

Spencer is standing by the front door. And Jake—still very much shirtless—is looking smug as hell. 

“Hey, darlin’,” Jake drawls, turning to Spencer with a wink. “We just finished up in the shower, if you know what I mean.” 

You freeze like a deer in headlights, towel clutched to your chest. You feel like a naked model caught mid-pose in front of a life drawing class—except your ex is the one holding the sketchpad, and Jake is… well, Jake. 

“Spencer,” you bite out, “what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I-I forgot my sweater.” He holds up the creamy cashmere one he’d left by the door, eyes darting anywhere but your body. 

You raise a brow. “And that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” 

He opens his mouth, then shuts it again—clearly trying not to ogle you while very aware of the broad, half-naked man beside him who is allegedly your boyfriend. Jake’s green eyes darken the longer Spencer’s gaze lingers. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters. “I guess I didn’t think-” 

“Yeah, thinking’s never really been your thing, huh, pal?” Jake cuts in, clapping a firm hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Now if you don’t mind fucking off, I’d like to get back to round two with my very satisfied girlfriend. And just so we’re clear—if you show up before 9AM tomorrow, all you’re gonna hear is her screaming my name in ecstasy.” 

Your body lights up like a struck match. You don’t even look at Spencer as Jake all but escorts him out the door. Your focus is entirely on the shirtless man—the ridiculously hot, dangerously cocky, fake boyfriend who just made you feel completely and utterly claimed. 

You’re not sure if it’s the wine or the caveman behaviour, but suddenly, the idea of crossing that line doesn’t seem so dangerous anymore. In fact, it sounds like the best idea you’ve had in years. 

Jake shuts the door and flicks the deadbolt before turning those dark green eyes on you. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, darlin’, and you’re gonna make my dreams—and Spencer’s nightmares—come true.” 

His dreams? 

Your breath catches in your throat. Then, like a startled chicken, you turn and bolt to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Your head spins as you scramble to grab the pyjamas stashed under your pillow. Every inch of your skin feels hypersensitive, like Jake’s gaze alone has lit up your nerve endings one by one. 

Once you’re dressed and your face isn’t quite so scarlet red, you head for the bathroom. You hang up your towel—deliberately ignoring the sight of Jake’s hanging next to it—and start brushing your teeth. But the flutter in your stomach is relentless. 

Jake appears a moment later and joins you silently, his eyes finding yours in the mirror. You try to avoid them, but your gaze keeps drifting back, always checking, always wondering. And every time, he’s still watching. 

You rinse and spit, then flee the bathroom before your knees give out. You don’t bother with the rest of your night routine—you need sleep, or space, or maybe a total reset of your entire hormonal system. 

You crawl into bed and flick on the TV perched atop your dresser, the hum of background noise a small comfort. But it does nothing to quiet the static under your skin when Jake steps into the room. 

He flicks off the main light, shuts the door with a soft click, and then sits on the bed beside you. The mattress dips under his weight, and it feels like the whole room tilts with him. 

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just sits beside you in the dim glow of the TV, his body so close you can feel the heat radiating off his bare skin. 

You pretend to be engrossed in whatever’s on the screen, but your heart is thundering, and you can feel his gaze on you like a brand. 

Then his voice, low and rough, slices through the quiet. “You always wear shirts like that to bed, or is this part of the fantasy?” 

You try to scoff, but it comes out a little breathless. “You think everything’s about you.” 

Jake chuckles. “You’re sitting here braless in a tissue-thin shirt, biting your lip like you want me to devour you—and I’m the one with the ego?” 

You turn your head, ready to throw back some snark, but he’s already watching you with that look. That look that makes your insides clench and your breath catch. Like he’s starving. Like you’re the first real meal he’s had in days. 

“Jake…” 

His gaze drops to your lips, and his voice is rough around the edges when he says, “I’m not gonna make it through this night if you keep lookin’ at me like that.” 

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” you whisper, but even you don’t believe that. 

Jake leans closer. “No? Then why’s your chest rising like that? Why are your pupils blown wide? Why is every part of you screaming touch me?” 

You don’t answer. You can’t. 

He shifts toward you slowly, like a predator moving in, until his thigh brushes yours and his hand finds your jaw. His thumb drags lightly along your cheek, then down to your bottom lip, tugging at it just enough to make your breath stutter. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Just say the word.” 

You stay frozen, heart galloping in your chest. 

“Because if you don’t…” he leans in, voice barely audible now, “…I’m gonna lose every ounce of self-control I have left.” 

Still, you say nothing. Can’t say anything. 

Jake’s eyes search yours for a second longer. Then— 

“Fuck it.” 

He crashes into you like a storm. His mouth slants over yours, hot and possessive and desperate, like he’s finally giving in to something he’s been denying for far too long. His hands cup your face, then slide down, over your neck, your shoulders, gripping your waist like he needs to ground himself. 

You gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping in to taste you. It’s not gentle. It’s fire and tension and not just one day, but years of pretending finally snapping all at once. 

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging, pulling him closer. He groans against your lips and pushes you back into the mattress just slightly, moving over you, his body caging yours in without touching more than he has to. 

You arch up into him, chasing his heat, his weight. And when his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just above your waistband, your breath catches in your throat. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you—his pupils dark, his lips kiss-bruised. “Still pretending?” he breathes. 

You shake your head, dazed. “Not even a little bit.” 

- 

You wake up warm. Too warm. 

Jake Seresin is sprawled across half your bed, one leg tangled over yours and an arm wrapped around your waist like you’re his personal body pillow. His bare chest is pressed to your back and his breath ghosts hot across your neck with every slow, sleepy exhale. 

You’re painfully aware of two things: one, you’re very, very naked. And two, so is he. 

And then... you remember everything. 

The kissing. The touching. The downright Olympic-level sex. The way he looked at you like you were something he’d been starving for. 

Your body aches in the best way, but your brain is in full meltdown mode. You try to untangle yourself without waking him. Emphasis on try. Because the second you shift, Jake groans and tightens his arm around you. 

“Nuh-uh,” he mumbles, voice still rough with sleep. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.” 

You huff, trying to wriggle free. “I have to pee.” 

“Fine,” he says, releasing you with an exaggerated sigh. “But don’t even think about climbing out the window. You’re mine now.” 

You roll your eyes as you slip out of bed, grabbing the closest shirt—his shirt—and tossing it over your head. It hangs low on your thighs, smelling like him and sex and very bad decisions. 

By the time you return from the bathroom, Jake’s propped up on one elbow, watching you with the same hunger in his eyes as last night “Damn, you look better in my shirt than I do.” 

You scoff and head for your dresser. “Don’t you get tired of hearing yourself talk?” 

“Not when I’m this right.” 

You grab a pair of shorts, but before you can pull them on, Jake is already moving. He slides off the bed, all muscles and tan skin, and corners you against the dresser. 

“You know,” he murmurs, eyes dark and wicked as his fingers slip under the hem of his own shirt you're wearing, “you didn’t officially wake me up yet.” 

Your heart kicks up a notch. “Is that a thing now?” 

“Absolutely.” He leans in, brushing his nose along your jaw. “You gotta wake me up right, darlin’. Or I’m gonna be all cranky.” 

You arch a brow. “Define right.” 

He grins, lips brushing yours. “Tongue. Teeth optional.” 

You laugh into the kiss he gives you—hot, deep, and toe-curling. His hands roam down your back, tugging you flush against him. You can feel he’s already half hard again, the cocky bastard. 

But before things can spiral into round two, your phone buzzes loudly from the nightstand. 

Jake pulls back with a dramatic sigh. “If that’s Spencer again, I swear to God-” 

You smirk. “Jealous?” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Jealous? Sweetheart, I just spent the night making you scream my name.” 

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile, and he grins like he just won the damn lottery. 

To Jake’s great disappointment, it is Spencer. He’s on his way over, and the motel he’s staying at is only five minutes away. You both overslept—but can you really be blamed? No way. You were up most of the night tangled together, doing something that definitely didn’t feel pretend. 

“Come on, Romeo,” you say, tossing Jake his shirt. “Get dressed before Tybalt gets here.” 

Jake pauses, one brow arched as he tries not to stare at your naked chest. “Did you just imply that you used to date your cousin?” 

A light laugh bubbles out of you. “Not intentionally, but I’m surprised you know Shakespeare.” 

He grins, smug. “A little knowledge never hurt anyone. Helps win the ladies over, too.” 

He’s joking, you know he is—but the way he says ladies—plural—hits you like punch to the gut. That’s what Jake is: a ladies’ man. It was stupid to think this could be anything more than a bit of fun. Some stress relief between two friends who spent all day teasing each other until they snapped. 

If anyone can do casual sex, it’s Jake Seresin. It doesn’t matter how many pretty words he said last night—you can’t let yourself believe he actually meant them. 

“Hey,” he says gently, catching the shift in your energy. “You okay?” 

You nod a little too quickly, offering a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. Your nose starts to sting, and you blink fast, trying to will the emotion away. Who the hell cries after the best sex of their life? 

You gather your clothes and retreat to the bathroom, needing a buffer between you and Jake’s curious, overly perceptive eyes. You dress quickly, trying not to think about how good his shirt felt against your skin. 

It isn’t long before Spencer buzzes the intercom again, and you’re almost grateful. Jake doesn’t get the chance to press you, to ask about the look on your face that feels like it could crumble into a sob at any second. 

You’ve really fucked up now—because you let yourself believe it might’ve meant something. 

The two men spend the morning in the spare room, exchanging nothing more than grunts and sidelong glances while packing Spencer’s things into boxes. You don’t bother checking on them—you're not sure you can look at Jake right now anyway. So, you remain firmly planted on the couch, stuck in a spiral of your own damning thoughts. 

Around midday, you consider offering them lunch, but then you remember the mischievous glint in Jake’s eyes when he said that “it helps win the ladies over,” and you quickly decide against it. Instead, you grab your keys, tuck your phone into your back pocket, and head toward the door. 

“I’m heading out for a bit. Won’t be long,” you call out, not waiting for a reply before stepping out. 

“Wait,” Jake’s voice calls after you as the door swings shut. But you pretend not to hear. 

You stride toward the elevator, pressing the button more forcefully than necessary, but it doesn’t arrive fast enough. By the time the doors finally slide open, Jake is already in the hallway, his brows furrowed in concern. 

“Hang on a second,” he says, stopping right beside you, raising a hand to hold your jaw gently. 

When you step back, his face falls, confusion and dread flickering across his features. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” you answer, stepping into the elevator. 

But he follows you in, jaw ticking with tension. “Darlin’, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking I broke you.” 

You shake your head. “I’m not broken.” 

“Then what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?” His voice softens, but the underlying concern is still very present. 

You take a deep breath, averting your eyes to the floor of the elevator as you try to carefully assemble your thoughts. You don’t want to hurt him, but you also can’t ignore how wrong everything feels in your gut. 

“I just... I can’t do this, Jake,” you say, your voice almost cracking. 

He looks absolutely gutted, like you’ve just sucker-punched him. 

“I know it shouldn’t be a big deal. Plenty of people do it without any consequences,” you ramble on. “But I think there could be some huge consequences if we keep doing this. There’s just too much on the line. And while the sex was—God, it was mind-blowing—I just don’t think I can handle you doing it with other people while I’m over here trying to... figure out what this is.” 

The hurt on his face quickly morphs into utter confusion. “What the hell are you talking about, sweetheart?” 

“This,” you gesture between the two of you. “Last night. Us having sex and the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.” 

Now, he looks genuinely offended. His eyes widen, green irises flashing with disbelief. “You think that’s what this is?” 

Your heart races, the pulse in your throat thrumming. “Isn’t that what you want?” 

Jake lets out a short, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. He glances briefly at the elevator doors before locking his gaze on you, intense and unyielding. 

“Is that what you think?” he asks, his tone a low warning. 

Suddenly, you feel very small—not in a sad way, but in a vulnerable, exposed way. He steps closer, stalking toward you with predatory intent, and you instinctively back up against the elevator wall. His presence fills the small space, and the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable. 

You swallow thickly and nod. Just a small movement, but it’s enough to make him pounce. He presses his body to yours, trapping you between him and the wall, the metal rail digging into your lower back as he cages you in. 

“I thought I made it pretty fucking clear last night, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice low and almost dangerous. “But if I didn’t, then let me say it now.” 

He pauses, eyes burning into yours as you breathe in each other’s air, hearts racing in sync. 

“I want you. Only you. All of you,” he growls. “I’ve been waiting years to do what I did last night. And now that I’ve had a taste?” He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle. “I’m never letting you go. You’re mine.” 

Your mind goes blank. Your mouth is dry, and your heart’s thundering in your chest as his words hit you like a freight train. 

“Say it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours as he pulls you closer. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I’m yours.” The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them, but they feel right. Like they were meant to be said. 

Jake smirks, a wicked, cocky grin that makes his eyes sparkle with unspoken mischief. “Good.” 

And just like that, his lips crash into yours—urgent, fiery, and full of need. The kiss is wild and untamed, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance. His hands drop to the curve of your ass, lifting you effortlessly, forcing your legs around his waist as he presses you harder against the elevator wall. 

Every inch of your skin hums, the heat between you two scorching. You can’t get enough of him, his touch, the rawness of this moment. You claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours, and before you can even think, you're already lost in him, all logic and restraint flying out the window. 

But then, right on cue, your personal cockblock arrives. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Spencer stands there, completely flustered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Neither of you had pressed a button when you entered, but the look on Jake’s face suggests that it might have been intentional. 

“Sorry, pal,” Jake grins, his lips bruised and swollen. “I just can’t get enough, you know what it’s like.” 

Spencer’s mouth moves, but no words come out. 

Jake casually takes the box from Spencer’s arms. “Let me help you with that. Go grab another one. Let’s get you out of here before you see more than you’re willing to, hm?” 

Spencer nods woodenly, still staring in complete shock. 

You can’t help the giggles that escape you as you slip past Spencer and out of the elevator, back toward your apartment. 

There’s nothing fake about you and Jake anymore—not that there ever really was. And now, you can confidently say that Jake’s ego is as well-proportioned as the monster between his legs. 

END.

[sunny-knight]

TIMELINES MUST PASS

Time Will Pass @forgettable-au fan animation :3

Decided to practice some animation with this wonderful song/animation meme/trend???

Inspiration credit:

@mannawanna on Youtube!

@Sherrickmadds on Instagram!

heheheheheHEHEEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAHAHAAAAHAHAAHAHA I LOVE THESE GUYS SO MUCH AND THIS AUDIO JUST FELT TOO PERFECT FOR EM!!! ON WE GO TO THE ANALYSIS

The direct actions:

Sans smiles at Wingdings, who does not return it

Sans is bothered and upset by this, before closing his eyes and accepting it.

They go back to staring up at the ceiling, except Sans looks sadder now.

Wingdings continues to sing, content with this.

GASTERING TIME

Cut to the present day-post papyrus day,

Gaster is belting out happily while Sans is horrified at what his…brother??? has turned into.

Before they both come to a (reluctant on Sans’ half) acceptance at the situation.

What they’re supposed to translate to:

Sans encourages Wingdings to come out of his comfort zone. Instead of staying in the lab 247 and shutting out the rest of the world while still wanting to make it a better place with his inventions- why not grab some food at Grillbys?? (I just thought of how funny it is that Sans can’t get Papyrus to enjoy Grillbys either, for different reasons but still. CMON GUYS- GO GET SOME GREASY FOOD WITH YOUR BROTHER)

But he shuts this idea down constantly, no matter how subtle or direct Sans is, he can’t seem to stop his brother from going down an incredibly self destructive route. When he closes his eyes and looks back up at the ceiling…I wouldn’t call that “giving up on Wingdings” but definitely trying less hard. He cant force him to do anything so why try

(ofc Alphys comes in- BUT THIS IS A 24 SECOND ANIMATION, WE DONT HAVE TIME FOR THAT- CHOP CHOP!) (also just as an aside i love that when Sans realizes he cant force Wingdings outside he just brings the outside to him 😭😭)

But Wingdings is fully content with this “giving up”. He gets his way!!!

Thats when we see an interaction between these two, YEARS later. Sans is, needless to say, pretty horrified at whats happened to him (we’re ignoring lack of memories in this situation btw) but Gaster is thrilled and tells Sans that basically “I wont be here for long, i just wanted to say that despite my actions I promise I loved you” which Sans feels many emotions at- but “grief” bundles those all up in a nice trauma bow.

Gaster then goes on to say basically “this has been fun, but this is probably the last time we will ever interact because I have business to attend to, and you have Papyrus’ to attend to!!!” Sans reluctantly accepts this. Again. Gaster always staying within his comfort zone and Sans just going along with it because he cant force his stubborn as hell brother to do anything.

Basically long story short, Sans is not happy in either of these situations. Both times Wingdings puts his work above his brother.

[from-izzy]

[00:35] | ATEEZ CHOI SAN

“And if I do?”

pairing » ateez choi san x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship au, non-idol au

genre » very fluffy, falling asleep during studying and boyfriend san who is worried for you because you don't take the greatest care of yourself, (it really was supposed to be fluff all through the end) turns suggestive towards the last quarter of the story, reader is a bit playful, san is very in love with you, of course you are super in love with him too

word count; estimated reading time » 1032; ~4 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » quite suggestive at the end, indeed...a suggestive sentence at the very end, san lifts the reader up, reader wears glasses, reader implied to be smaller than san, san restrains reader's hands, pet names (bubs, baby girl)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

my ateez debut! here it is @jaehunnyy !! i really wanted to post smth for your bday so please take this as a late bday present 😭 thanks for proofreading a bit of this one and finding the pictures for the banners 🥰 you saved me a bunch of tears fr 😀 have fun with the second one (even though it's the same...😭)

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to be staying up late at night and for San to find you draped over your books and worksheets when he gets home. In fact, it’s becoming such a usual occurrence that San is making it a habit to open the front door with such gentleness that the click of the door opening would be too loud for his liking. In reality, your study desk at your shared apartment is quite a distance from the entrance of the apartment, so if San wanted to, he could enter in the same way as if you were awake.

But he didn’t want to.

In the rare case that you decide to snooze off on the couch, he doesn’t want to be the one to ruin your precious, peaceful sleeping time. Unfortunately for him, he would still be needing to do it one way or another if he ever finds you asleep on the couch or anywhere but your shared bed. The victorious smile from closing the front door quietly soon turns upside down, frowning at the sight of your head lying on your stack of handouts in the study room. The stack acted as your pillow, your arms around the rectangular pile. You look like you have been resting your body for some time now, given that San’s soft head pat didn’t faze you at all. With a slightly heavy sigh, San makes his way to the other side of the desk to get a better look at your face. He kneels on the floor, content with being more at eye level with you. 

He’s surprised to see that you must’ve been so exhausted that taking your glasses off might have been too much effort for you. The side frame completely rests on the paper, the nose pad of the glasses no longer resting properly on your nose. San hisses at how the hard plastic pushes against your nose, already imagining the pain when you wake up and realise tomorrow.

“Bubs,” he tests your consciousness with a whisper. “Your whole body is going to hurt when you wake up, you know?” Your breathing is still as even as before, and the no response from you deepens his frown. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to move you, okay?” 

San rises to his feet once again, grabbing the blanket drapped on your study desk that he has prepared. He’s told you multiple times to at least cover your body if you don’t plan to take a nap on the bed, but he should have known that when tiredness kicks in, all a person wants to do is to close their eyes. San spreads the light cotton across your back, kissing the side of your head and humming sweet melodies to avoid surprising you too much with his movement.

“San?” You slur sleepily, still unable to fully wake up. San clicks your desk light off and soon sees your content smile at his little gesture. “When did you get home?”

“Just a few seconds ago. When did you fall asleep?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” A raised eyebrow from your boyfriend is what prompts you to tell him the truth. “A little longer than that.”

San tuts disapprovingly, “You can’t keep slouching off on the table. It’s not good for your body. And this,” he takes your glasses off by the hinges, “it’s not comfortable for you.”

You hum at his loving lecture for you, beginning to straighten your back from the long nap. Truthfully, if San weren’t beside you right now, you would be sending complaints to your past self for dozing off at the table, your back cramping and sore. But Choi San knows you too well, and the creases between your eyebrows tell him everything.

“See?” He reprimands. 

You’re not given another chance to rebut when he swivels the chair around for you to face him. In a second, you’re in his arms, the back of your knee and back supported securely with his arms, and your shoulder pressed against his chest. San looks down at you, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead that you respond to by pressing yours along his jawline. Along the short walk to the adjacent room, you plant kisses all over his face, giggling at the way his cheeks grow red with every second. 

Just a few seconds before San would rest you gently on the mattress, you steal a kiss from his plump lips, arms wrapped around his nape and threading your fingers into the strands of his hair. San almost stumbles but soon regains balance when he registers the way you delicately take his lips. Along with the giggles and fabric rustling against each other in the small room, it’s not long until your head properly lays on a pillow. San doesn’t let you breathe after, climbing on top of your figure with his palms beside your head to support himself. His knees sink to the mattress beside your thighs, and you’re left breathless with the man before you. The remnants of his cologne are clearer now, and the proximity leaves you curling up a side of your lips.

Your boyfriend knows the meaning of your expression well from experience. “Don’t rile me up, baby girl…”

Just like he did a second ago, your eyebrow rises. Your pointer traces along the center of his exposed neck, feeling the gulp and his intense stare on you. You glide across his skin, tracing along his collarbones slowly, making sure that your touch lingers on his skin. When your finger slides down to the neckline of his fabric, it curls around his shirt to pull his tense expression closer to you. A quick touch of your lips is all you spare him before regaining eye contact with him.

“And if I do?”

Those words are enough for San to lose control, pulling the sheets to his palms as he fists them tightly. One hand leaves the bed, restraining both your wrists under his hold above your head. He dives closer to the crook of your neck, ragged breathing and warm breath against your skin.

“I’ll make sure you’ll sleep peacefully for days.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @blossomnet

@haneul-and-clouds @jaehunnyy @mars101

[peacheeeliz]

CASUAL

SYNOPSIS ⤏ when wooyoung, mr. "scared of commitment," finds himself catching feelings for you, his supposed friend with benefits, he struggles between keeping things casual or possibly ruining your friendship.

PARING ⤏ nonidol! wooyoung x fem reader

GENRE ⤏ smau, a handful of written chapters, rom-com, angst, established situationship, fwb to lovers, commitment issues wooyoung falls hard for reader

FEATURING ⤏ ateez, minho & hyunjin from skz, renjun from nct, karina from aespa, and ryujin from itzy

FACECLAIM ⤏ faceclaim for y/n purely for picture purposes!! (@ ggwonnaa on ig)

WARNINGS ⤏ no smut, but heavily nsfw/suggestive (they are so horny i fear), swearing, kms/kys & nsfw jokes, pls ignore timestamps 💔

PLAYLIST ⤏ casual, chappell roan | blind eyes red, minnie | selfish waltz, ateez | one more night, maroon 5 | party monster, the weeknd | heartbeat, childish gambino | meddle about, chase atlantic | after hours, the weeknd | les, childish gambino | commitment issues, tiffany day

STARTED ⤏ 4/24/2025

STATUS ⤏ complete ♡

NOTE ⤏ just thought i'd tease it before i disappear again 😭😭 this one is gonna take awhile to come out as i'm gonna be busy with school work for the next few weeks, but i will set aside time to work on it in my free time!!

PROFILES & CHAPTERS

hot mess express | pirate's melody

prologue. yes u horny freak

001. thunder storm (545 wc)

002. bros before hoes

003. the m word

004. PREGAME!!!

005. imagine being this down bad

006. 99z line

007. "i'll think about it"

008. ew

009. oh that sounded real bratty

010. well duh

011. need some me time

012. woo?? have FEELINGS?

013. i should be happy for her

014. skill issue

015. WOOF

016. sough rex

017. jung wooyoung (865 wc)

018. we need to talk

019. cara mia <3

020. I'VE GOT THIS

021. stay away from me (757 wc)

022. pirate's melody's princess

023. not that i care

024. still not forgiven (791 wc)

025. BEYONCE?

026. we do care :(

027. gatekeeping kitkats

028. u troglodyte

029. all-paid trip to japan

030. no lmao

031. fivesome..

032. i didn't know where else to go (469 wc)

033. you should know this too (846 wc)

034. hypothetical advances

035. she wants me so bad

036. u have no idea

037. under pressure (743 wc)

038. please (885 wc)

039. why does it ache

040. maybe a little biting (796 wc)

041. i have a choi san

042. BBY PLS

043. full time simp

044. boyfriend

045. public service announcement

046. a rockstar and his number one fan

☆©peacheeeliz, 2025

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist is closed!

[pacifistsworstnightmare]

PAY IT FORWARD — dad!touya todoroki

there will always be tragedy in loving someone as flammable as todoroki touya, but when the dust settles and what's set ablaze has finally burnt to nothing— you and the proof he loved someone will be there still, despite it all. despite everything.

a/n : know that writing this ruined my fucking life And that i have plans for this. pif verse write it down this is happening. also dee im SORRY and i LOVE you

m.list !

you stay in correspondence with shouto for a few weeks after he first reaches out, hearing little things about touya's recovery. about how he still hasn't woken up properly. about how his body is almost entirely burns now— sore, charred skin at least sewn and not stapled. about how he's lost his arm. how he almost entirely lost his life.

you feel like a dog, waiting at the beck and call of a seventeen year old as he updates you on touya's condition— going to sleep every night with your four year old daughter tucked under your arm on his side of the bed and feeling sick to your stomach as you clutch her close to your chest. because you know where dad is, know that he's finished work now. she doesn't, and you've told yourself you won't tell her unless you know she'll get to see him again.

but today is that day.

shouto had called late last night— not texted like he usually does— and talked you through the adrenaline rush and subsequent crash after finding out touya was alive. finding out he was awake. and that he was alone.

sayu— the girl as bright as the kanji of her namesake, the girl who has soothed more wounds than she'll ever understand— waits for dad even still. wanders around the new apartment with you, since your old one was destroyed when gigantomachia tore through most of shizuoka prefecture, holding tight onto your pant leg as you move to start making her breakfast. always wanting to be close to you.

the real clinging had started after she saw the video feed during the attack on jaku hospital, refusing the idea of daycare, and of staying with your parents. refusing to around anybody but you.

it hurts, watching her go from brave and adventurous with every step she took to so cautious and measured in every movement. you hum as she climbs into her chair at the little table in your kitchen, and you settle in next to her as you set her breakfast down in front of her— your own coffee warming your hands as you wrap them around the mug.

"we're gonna go somewhere today, bug." you start as she goes for the blueberries in her bowl first— a small victory, she normally rejects them for being sour because touya said it one time. you take a sip of coffee, nodding as you swallow before tacking on: "after you've filled up your tummy, of course."

she cocks her head at you, white tufts of hair flopping forward into her face as she does, and you push them back fondly. (it always makes something buried down in your chest claw and howl and beg for him back).

"where?"

"central hospital, near where obaa-san lives." the little frown that forms on her lips is almost instantaneous, and you have to swallow back a laugh.

"i don't want to see 'baa-san." you reach out softly to brush a little mess off her cheek, wiping it off with your thumb as you shake your head at her.

"no, we're not seeing her baby. we're actually gonna go into the hospital and visit someone." you watch the cogs turn over in her brain before she, with a mouthful of strawberry, asks.

"who?"

"it's a surprise, babe." sayu doesn't look satisfied with that answer, but you gesture to her bowl of fruit and yoghurt with your pinky as you hold your mug. "finish your breakfast and then we'll get cleaned up."

"hospital is where sick people are. i don't wanna go there." she's staring down at her bowl as she talks, pushing things around with the spoon held tight in her hand before she looks up at you again. "who's there for us?"

"eat, bug. i promise you'll find out when we get there, okay?"

cerulean irises meet yours, big lashes that make her eyes look larger than life batting at you for a second before she nods and goes back to eating.

"okay mama. my blueberries are too sour." so close.

before leaving you'd checked with shouto more than once— maybe more than necessary— that there was zero chance of endeavour being at the hospital, because there was no way you'd ever let him near your child after what he did to his own. not after everything you've heard and seen, the brutal and tragic aftermath in the form of the man you love.

he assured you that he wouldn't be there, that no one beside him from his family would be there. you'd never anticipated ever meeting anyone in touya's family, and you appreciate it not being put on you all at once.

you still feel awkward walking through the hospital, sayu held on your hip and her head on your collar— occasional whispers and questions you answer with soft kisses and whispers of your own before reaching the front desk. the receptionist looks up at you, tired but kind, and asks what you're here for.

"hi, we're, uh- checking in? as visitors, i think."

someone behind you says your name, purposeful and weighted, and you already know it's shouto before you've even turned around. you're sure he recognised touya in sayu before even processing that it was actually you.

"shouto-kun, hi." you hum softly, letting him guide you a little bit out of the way— grateful to be away from the midst of people traffic in the most popular hospital in musutafu. you let sayu down, fine with her leaning back against your legs in front of you.

"just shouto is fine." he nods at you, then his eyes drop down to your daughter, and she offers a shy, and quiet hello. he's already bobbing down to meet her eye with a soft smile.

"hi. i'm shouto. what's your name?" she stares at him with wide eyes as she brings a hand up to her mouth, something to self-soothe in a new environment with ever-changing variables.

"you look like my dad."

"oh." he makes a small noise that sounds like something inside of him deflated. or maybe broke entirely. "well, your dad's my brother."

"oh." she nods at that, like she fully understands the gravity, before breaking out of her shell a little. "my name is sayu, but mama and dad call me bug. you're not allowed, even if you're friends with my dad." he smiles at her, and as you watch them interact you're sure he sees someone entirely different standing in front of him.

"alright, sayu-chan. it's nice to meet you."

"i like your hair, s'got white like mine!" she's pointing at him, her free hand petting her own head uncoordinatedly.

"it does, yeah." shouto nods again, brushing a hair through the white half of his hair before looking back up at you— something unspoken, like grief (grief just like yours), swimming in his eyes. "she looks just like him."

sayu doesn't give you much of a chance to say anything, your mouth barely opening to answer him before she continues to prattle on.

"my dad's busy working, do you have a job?" shouto laughs, something soft and fond as he looks at your daughter.

"uh- no, not yet. i will when i'm a little bit older."

"should get one, my dad's a superhero! that what he does for a job, s'really cool, huh?"

another sad noise claws it's way out of his throat, and he stares at you for a second before nodding at your daughter with the same kind of pretend smile you offer people who ask how you're doing. your heart aches.

he stands back up to his full height, taller than you— probably taller than touya, much to his disgust— and clears his throat before gesturing to the elevator at the end of the hall.

"uh, you two can follow me— his room's up on another floor."

"right, yeah. lead the way."

shouto guides the pair of you onto the fifth floor of the hospital and leaves you in the hall after giving you the room number— wanting to give you space, to allow another family reunion that he's not entirely apart of yet.

"we're gonna go in this room, 'kay? you know why?" she shakes her head softly, looking up at you as she clings at the fabric of your pant leg.

"no mama."

"'cause dad's in there," you watch her perk up immediately, a thousand questions ready to be spewed from her lips before you shake your head and pet her hair gently. "but we've gotta be quiet 'nd calm 'cause we're still in a hospital."

"is he hurt? or sick? s'probably 'cause he's been working too much, mama." your chest feels tight, and you nod at her words. she's always been so intuitive, so smart, and you're infinitely proud even if it hurts. "you should tell him off."

you laugh, a soft and wet sound, as you brush her hair back out of her face.

"okay bug, i'll tell him off for you." she nods, sufficed at that answer, and you brush her hair out of her face again before continuing on. "and yes, dad's hurt right now— but he'll be okay after the doctors fix him all up, okay? so we're gonna be real gentle, 'nd nice and quiet."

"okay mama."

you feel odd as you knock on the door, pushing it open at the affirmative call from inside— the voice, so familiar but hardly recognisable all the same, makes your breathing stutter— and you stop in your tracks at the sight of him. whatever you'd prepared yourself for, it wasn't this, and your stunned silence doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"wouldja look at that, s'that my girl?" his voice is different, but still his— more hoarse now, like it hurts to speak. touya looks more like himself in that hospital bed than you've ever seen him, even with one arm, with no staples holding skin together, and no more black hair— enough towels had been ruined by his attempts to keep his identity hidden from the world. he looks like new, and he looks like home.

"touya," it's all you can say, really, while you stand there as the door to his hospital room clicks shut behind you— all your brain can supply is touya. touya, touya, touya. because he's here, and he's alive, and he's in front of you again.

"where's my other girl—?"

he cocks his head a little, white tufted hair flopping over against a stiff hospital pillow as he gazes at the little girl hiding herself behind your leg— his little girl, who's hiding from him.

he smiles at her, something kind and soft— nothing that the world gets to see, that smile is reserved for his girls— before shifting his expression to an exaggerated pout.

"why're you bein' so shy, huh? s'it scary in here with all the machines?" you feel sayu's fist curl into the fabric behind your knee as she leans her cheek against your legs, staring at her dad but not making any moves just yet. your heart breaks, shatters into a thousand pieces, and you know touya's does too.

you reach back a little, offering her a wobbly smile as you push her hair out of her face and try your best to sound reassuring.

"it's okay, bug, s'just dad— even with machines 'nd bandages. still just him." she looks up at you, leaning her head into your hand for a second before reaching up to grab for it— coming around to stand next to you rather than behind you, with your hand clutched tight in both of hers.

sayu stares at him for a second, like she can't decide what to say, before settling for:

"your hair's like mine now."

touya scoffs out a laugh, a genuine one, and raises his hand to drag his fingers through the white she's talking about.

"it is, huh? maybe i wanted to match you, 'cause you're so cool." she's smiling now, cheeks growing a little rosy as she bounces just a little on the spot.

"can i sit with you?" he's already patting a spot on the bed, shifting over a little to make room.

"mhm, there's a special spot for an insect right here," you clearly don't do a good job of schooling the apprehension in your expression, because he's already waving your concern away with his hand. "s'okay, she can't do any more damage."

"that's not funny, touya." you huff at that, like a child who's stomping their foot at not getting there way, staring at him with wet eyes and a wobbly frown— letting sayu go anyway, knowing she deserves time with her dad. she's waited this long, it's not fair to hold her back from finally getting a cuddle with him.

he grins over at you, sayu already curling up in the space his forearm would've taken up if it was there.

"is a little bit. c'mere, lemme have both my girls close, yeah?"

"i don't wanna be in the way or anything."

he sighs, long and suffering but playful all the same, before waving you over with his hand. you stare at him still, like if you look away he'll disappear and leave you alone again.

"would you just get over here? 'm finally lookin' at you again, just- indulge me, please?" you laugh softly, choked up a little as you finally do give up and move over to his side— not sayu's side, that's hers— and curl into him as best as you can while half standing and half kneeling on the edge of the hospital bed.

"only because you said please." he lets out a quiet, sad laugh at that, leaning over a little to kiss your head— to kiss the crown, your forehead, to nudge your face up to meet his own and kiss you properly.

"missed you so much, y'know that? shouldn't have left you alone— damn it." he mumbles into the top of your head, the both of you now sniffly and trying to keep that dam intact and not have a full blown meltdown in front of your daughter.

"'m so glad you're okay. i was so scared, you know that? stupid man."

"i know baby, i know— never leave you again, you hear me? never." he kisses your head again, arm wrapped around you and hauling you to properly get on the hospital bed— dragging you up to lay against his chest, giving you the perfect view of your daughter like this. and she's cuddled into his side with wide eyes welled up with tears, and when she sniffles quietly touya's head is already snapping down to look at her.

"you cryin', bug?"

"sayu—"

"dad i missed you." she lets out a small sob, and it's the beginning of the end for her holding any kind of emotion back— the rest of her words a garbled mess of sniffles and tears. "can't go to work that long ever again— not even as a superhero."

"okay baby, you got it. dad's not goin' anywhere." he nudges her gently onto his lap, letting her cry it out as he presses kisses to her head and face— and when she eventually calms down enough to be coherent again, she points at his amputated limb.

"where'd your hand go?"

"ah, fell off at the elbow 'cause i didn't eat my vegetables— s'just what happens."

"FOR REAL?!"

— 2025 © pwn. all rights reserved. do not repost, narrate, or translate my works. thanku!

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 53: Meeting the Family

Summary: You travel to Scotland with John and Johnny to meet his parents, your caretakers for the next couple weeks.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,190 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omegaverse, alternate universe, angst, emotions, language, a bit of PTSD and anxiety

A/N: The amount of time I spent looking at maps for this chapter is insane. I'm more acquainted with parts of the UK than I ever thought I'd be. Anyway, not entirely happy with this one but it's done. It's out.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re not ready to say goodbye.

It won’t be forever, but right now it feels like it.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Kyle says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You’re clinging to him tightly, not ready to let go yet. He’ll be retiring soon as well, ready to join you and John, but that will still take time, longer than it will for even John.

Despite that knowledge, you’re afraid to let go too soon, like he might change his mind.

“Just a few more weeks.” He says, patting your back. It’s warm today, but still you’re wearing a sweatshirt, a big one, one of Simon’s.

You’re not ready to face him yet either.

John pats your shoulder, reminding you you’ll have to leave soon. It’s a long drive to Scotland and you’re already leaving later than you know John would have liked to.

Finally you let go of Kyle, leaning up to kiss him softly. You’ll miss him a lot. You’ll miss all of them. You haven’t been without them since before you were kidnapped. That thought tickles something in the back of your brain, another irrational fear popping up.

You turn to Simon, his eyes almost sad as he looks at you. He’s sans mask, looking sickly under the bright fluorescent lights. You want to say something, tell him to get out and get some sun, but you can’t bring yourself to be sassy right now. He reaches out for you and you fall into him, pressing yourself close to his chest, wrapping your arms tight around him.

With him, it is goodbye.

Sure, you’ll see him every once in a while, but he won’t be coming with John to pick you back up once the paperwork is in. He’ll be staying here, running the task force, leaving to go on deployments with Johnny. The risk of losing him will still be there, the risk of something happening constantly flashing through your mind. The times you’ll get to see him will be bittersweet with the knowledge he’ll have to leave and go back to the dangers of this life.

Tears leak out of your eyes as you hold him, wetting his shirt. His face is pressed into your hair, breathing you in. You take the time to breathe him in too, committing his scent to memory. You’ll wear his sweatshirt until his scent is gone from it, until he disappears.

“I’m gonna miss you.” You say quietly, voice muffled against his chest.

“I know.” He mumbles. “We’ll be there as often as we can. Every chance we get.”

“Just come back.” You say. “Always come back.”

“We’ll do our best.” He bends down further, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll call as often as I can.”

“Good.” You sniffle, releasing him just enough so you can stare up at him. “If you don’t I’ll come down here myself and yell at you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t doubt that.”

He cups your face, leaning down to press his lips against yours. You kiss him hard, pouring all of your emotions, your fears into the kiss. You don’t want to leave him, but you know it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to leave for you. Not right now, not yet.

“I love you.” He breathes, pressing his forehead to yours.

You smile, another tear sliding down your cheek. “I know.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you before standing up straight. “Go on. I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, wiping the tears off your cheeks before turning around, facing the door. It’ll be the last time you walk out this door, the last time you’ll have to be inside the barracks. Once you step out, there’s no going back in. You’ll never see this base again, never have to step foot in it again.

It’s almost bittersweet.

This is where you got your start, this is where everything happened. This is where you thought you’d live for the next few years until John decided to retire, if he decided to retire.

Now here you are, getting a chance to leave it all. You’ve never been happier, but at the same time you’ve never been so sad to leave something...someone behind. Months ago you had been afraid of your pack fracturing, being driven apart by you, and now here you are, parting ways. You’ll be leaving, then John, then Kyle. Simon and Johnny will be left behind, a satellite to the rest of you. It’s not entirely uncommon, but with how close you know your pack is, it has an ache blooming in your chest. An ache that will always be there, a longing for your other alpha and his beta.

You step out the door, taking in a deep breath of warm spring air. It’ll be cooler in Scotland, Johnny had said. A good excuse for your sweatshirt. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take it off until the scent wears away.

You climb into the back of the car, making yourself comfortable next to the box of your belongings coming with you. John will bring your other things when he leaves, when the two of you set off for good to start your new life. Johnny climbs in the passenger seat, turning to look at you.

“Ye alright, kitten?” His brows pull together in a frown.

You wipe the tears spilling down your cheeks. “Yeah.”

“I know it’s hard.” He says, reaching back to squeeze your knee.

“I’m scared.” You say quietly.

“Don’t be.” He grins at you. “My folks will take good care of ye. Ma will love ye to death.” he makes a face. “Perhaps literally.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. That’s not what you’re afraid of, though the prospect of meeting Johnny’s parents has been a stressor for the last few hours. Johnny knows what you’re afraid of, and you know he’s trying to help you in the way he knows how.

John climbs into the drivers’ seat, letting out a quiet sigh as he leans his head back, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “Ready?”

You try to smile but you’re sure it comes across as more of a grimace. “Do I have to answer that.”

The corners of John’s lips lift in a smile. “No.”

The car starts, Johnny putting on his seatbelt as he settles in for the long drive.

“We’ll be there in six and a half hours if we make good time on the motorway.” John says, pulling away from the barracks. You turn, watching it disappear. Kyle and Simon have stepped out, watching the car drive away. You try not to let your emotions get the best of you, your hands hastily wiping at the tears still falling.

“Ma knows around what time to expect us.” Johnny says, passing over his ID as the car pauses at the gate. “No doubt she’ll bully us into staying the night.”

“I’ll be obliged to accept.” John says, pulling away from base. You don’t turn to look back at it, a weight being lifted off your shoulders as you leave that world behind. “I’d rather not drive thirteen hours today.”

“I can drive partway.” Johnny says, glancing at John.

John is quiet for a moment. “Like I said, I’d rather not drive that long today.”

You try not to smile. You know Johnny is notoriously ridiculed for his wild driving, though he was less wild than you expected when you rode with him and Simon into town that one time. Then again, he knew John would have his hide of anything happened to you. You can only imagine what he’d be like if you weren’t in the car.

Johnny doesn’t say anything, wisely holding his tongue as he settles into the seat, flipping on the radio. You lean your head against the window, watching the green outside pass by.

The green morphs into buildings as John drives, the car quiet aside from the radio. You pass through city after city, green and grey morphing back and forth. You want to sleep, but you can’t get your mind to quiet enough to allow it. You’re going to be exhausted after a restless night and a day of traveling, and no doubt you’ll sleep little tonight in a new place.

“We’re about halfway there.” John says as you stop in Lancaster for lunch.

“Another hour and we’ll be in Scotland.” Johnny grins excitedly. You assume he doesn’t get home much, given the distance. This chance at going home must be exciting for him. You know they haven’t seen their families in at least a year, the time you’ve been with them.

You wonder how long it’s been.

The drive quickly shifts back to green as you leave Lancaster, the towns becoming smaller and the hills starting to grow taller. You do manage to sleep for a few minutes, lulled into a nap by the quiet hum of the car.

“We’re officially in Scotland.” Johnny says, pulling you out of sleep. You’re passing by a town, grey on one side, green on the other.

You’re drowsy, eyes fluttering as you lay against the window, watching the green continue outside. You had no idea just how green England and Scotland were outside of the cities.

The hills shift, growing taller as John continues to drive, a quiet conversation happening in the front seat. You’re too tired to listen in, the emotional turmoil starting to wear at you. You’re ready for a bed and a long nap. It almost makes you miss the familiarity of the barracks. You’d probably be napping right now on the couch if you were still there.

You’d still prefer this, though. Anything to get away from that place, even if it does mean some initial discomfort.

“We’re close.” Johnny says, sounding excited as you rub your eyes. You had drifted off again into a hazy sleep for a few minutes. “Just twenty miles once we’re through Glasgow.”

You hum, sitting up straighter in your seat as the green starts to disappear. You rub your eyes, fighting back a yawn. You can’t attempt to sleep anymore. With your luck you’ll dose off as you’re pulling in the driveway. You want to be wide awake and alert, not that you think you have anything to worry about, but at the same time...your brain won’t let that nervousness disappear.

John and Johnny’s entwined hands rest on the center console, John’s thumb brushing Johnny’s knuckles as the beta nearly vibrates in excitement in his seat. It nearly brings a smile to your face, seeing him so excited to go home.

The trip through Glasgow takes longer than expected due to traffic, but soon you’re leaving the world of tall buildings behind. The world outside grows green again, sprawling hills made up of farmlands passing by as you get closer and closer to your destination. Excitement and nerves begin to bubble up as you get closer and closer to finally meeting Johnny’s parents. You’ve been a bit nervous since last night, since the reality set in that you’d not only be meeting one of your pack mate’s families, but also that you’ll be living with them for a couple of weeks.

It had seemed daunting at the time, but that fear has lessened a bit. You have wanted to meet their families eventually, you just expected to get a little more warning than you got.

“Welcome to Fenwick.” Johnny says as you pass through a small town, hardly more than a main street and a couple neighborhoods. “My parents live on a farm just outside town.” Johnny explains as John turns off the main road and onto a country road.

A farm? You should have guessed given the surroundings, but it’s still surprising to you. Then again, Johnny does act like he was raised in a barn sometimes.

The nerves intensify in your stomach as John turns down a private road leading up to a house. It’s cute, quaint and cozy looking. The door opens as John parks, a woman stepping out followed by a dog. Johnny is out of the car quickly, nearly running to envelop the woman in his arms.

This must be his mother.

John opens your door and you climb out. Johnny had been right, it was cooler here than it was on base. Funny how drastically the weather can change even in such a short distance.

A man steps out the door, John walking over to greet him. He greets him by name, shaking his hand. Of course they’d be familiar with each other’s families. John has probably even met Simon’s family. It was his duty as head alpha. And of course now he’s met yours, or at least part of it.

The woman, Johnny’s mother you assume, turns her gaze to you as she pulls away from Johnny. A big smile forms on her face, the same smile as Johnny’s.

“Look at ye.” She says, reaching out for you. You step forward into her grasp, nerves pulsing in your stomach. “Such a bonnie lass.” She cups your face, taking a long look at you. “Johnny’s been singing ye praises but he didnae do ye justice.”

You’re not quite sure what to say. Of course Johnny would talk about you to his family. They all probably knew about you, but just how much Johnny’s shared...you hope it’s nothing embarrassing.

“I’m Johnny’s ma.” She says, thankfully not letting you stand in silence for very long.

“It’s nice to meet you ma’am.” You say.

“Oh none of that.” She says. “Ye can call me Lily. Or ma.” She gives you a smile. “We’re so glad to have ye here. I’ve been wantin’ tae meet ye since Johnny told us about ye.”

“I didn’t even think he’d told anyone about me.” You say, your face warming just a bit under the attention.

“Oh he was right singing yer praises nearly before ye joined.” She wraps an arm around you. The soothing scent of beta fills your nose, along with the warm scent of spices. “I think ye could say he was excited.”

You giggle, imaging Johnny being excited about your joining the pack before you even arrived. He had been one of the friendliest at first, him and Kyle. You thought it had just been politeness, but now you’re questioning that.

The man approaches you, Lily steering you towards him. Johnny’s dad you assume. Johnny takes more after his mom as you study his face, though he has his dad’s ears.

“It’s an honor to meet ye.” He says, holding out his hand.

“I could say the same, sir.” You say, taking his hand.

“Call me Murray.” He says, giving your hand a firm squeeze. The scent of alpha is spilling off of him. You hadn’t put much thought into Johnny’s parents’ statuses. It makes sense though, that Johnny would come from an alpha/beta pairing. He’s always had that cocky confidence that comes from being around an alpha, even if he is a beta himself. “Been hearin’ about ye nonstop for a year now. Was wonderin’ when we’d get to meet ye.”

Your face warms at his words. Lily was right, Johnny really has been singing your praises for weeks. You had no idea.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” You say. “I wasn’t sure when I’d get the chance.”

“We’re so glad ye’ve finally made it.” Lily squeezes you before releasing you to turn on John. “John, give me a hug, boy.”

A smile forms on your lips as John hugs Lily. Out of everything you couldn’t imagine someone calling John ‘boy’.

The dog that had come out with them sniffs your feet, its tail wagging. Border Collie, you think.

“Who’s this?” You ask, squatting down in front of the dog.

“This is Storm.” Murray says. “Our old herding dog. Bron is our other dog. He’s out back still.”

“Hello, Storm.” You say, holding your hand out. She sniffs it before licking it softly. You pat her head, her tail still wagging. You hadn’t expected a dog, but then again, you hadn’t expected an entire farm either.

You push yourself back up to stand, Storm turning to head back into the house. Lily wraps an arm around you again. “Let’s go inside. Get ye out of the cold.” She says.

You let her lead you inside, warmth radiating through the door. There’s a fire in the fireplace, the door opening to the main room. It’s cozy inside, decorated warmly with photos all over the walls, well loved furniture, lots of blankets and pillows. It’s like heaven to your omega as she settles in comfortably. You’re going to like being here.

The three of you sit on the couch in front of the fire with mugs of warm tea on the coffee table. Murray has gone back outside to tend to the sheep while Lily bustles around, making sure you’re all comfortable.

“I assume you’re staying the night.” She says, putting a tray of biscuits down on the table. “Wouldnae want ye to drive all the way back so late.”

“If it’s alright with you.” John says, picking up his mug.

“Of course.” Lily says, taking a seat in one of the chairs. “Ye know yer always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” John says, giving her a soft smile before taking a drink.

Storm lays herself down at your feet, and you lean down to pet her head.

“She likes ye.” Lily says. “Have ye ever had a dog before?”

You shake your head. “No, my dad wouldn’t let us. We moved around too much and there were too many of us kids, he said. Of course, it was his fault there were so many of us.”

Lily chuckles. “Aye, if we didnae have the farm I doubt we’d have them either.”

“You had lots of children?” You ask.

Lily turns to Johnny. “John Lachlan MacTavish did ye tell her nothing about us?”

Johnny’s ears go red as he sinks back onto the couch. “I’ve told her a little…”

Lily rolls her eyes, shaking her head before turning her attention back to you. “Aye, five wee ones, including Johnny. He’s the baby of the family. Two oldest are girls, then a boy, then another girl.”

A lot about Johnny is starting to make sense.

“They’re all grown and off in their own lives. Johnny’s the only one that doesnae come home often.” Lily says, giving Johnny a look.

“I told ye I’m busy.” Johnny nearly pouts.

“Too busy to visit your poor old parents.” Lily shakes her head.

Murray comes back in, dropping his boots at the back door before joining you in the other chair, sinking into it with a sigh. Another dog follows him in, another border collie. Bron, Murray had said. “Got them all in fer feedin’.” He says. Lily gets up, pouring him a cup of tea as well. “What were ye talkin’ about?”

“How yer son is too busy tae come see us.” Lily says, taking her seat again. The other dog wags its tail as it comes over to the couch, sniffing at John.

“Aye off savin’ the world, right?” Murray says, giving Johnny a wink.

“Something like that.” John says, stretching his arm across the back of the couch.

“It’ll be nice havin’ someone here tae take care of again.” Lily says. “Been a long time.”

“I really appreciate it.” You say.

“Of course, hen. It’ll be a nice break from all those men.”

You giggle. “They are a bit much sometimes.”

“Hey!” Johnny says, offended.

“You know it’s true.” You say, turning to look at him.

He holds his hands up. “Yer right.”

“What about yer family?” Lily asks. “What were they like?”

You shrug. “As good as they could be, I suppose. We were a big family pack, lots of pups. I was the fourth oldest of eight.”

“Christ almighty, eight?” Lily shakes her head. “Yer poor mother.”

You smile. “She never complained. But then again I don’t think she could. We’re all purebred, mom was the omega. My dad was a traditionalist.”

“Traditionalist shite.” Murray murmurs.

“Murray.” Lily says exasperatedly, giving him a look.

“It’s true.” He says holding his hands up.

“Can’t say I disagree.” You say. “My dad was very strict. He had this vision of what his family had to be and that’s all we could be. He wanted all alphas so when I presented he didn’t like that very much.” John’s hand runs over your hair. “He sent me to an institute right away.”

“Ye poor deary.” Lily says sympathetically, tears in her eyes. “It’s not right being treated like that.”

“Couldn’t even imagine treating yer own children like that.” Murray says.

“I’m glad ye have the boys now.” Lily says. “They’ve treated ye well?”

“Very well.” You nod. “I’m lucky to have them.”

“Good.” Lily grins. “Don’t have tae smack some sense into them.” She pushes herself up to stand. “I’m going tae start on dinner.”

“Can I help?” You ask.

“Not this time, you sit and rest after a long day.” She says, Storm getting up from your feet to follow her into the kitchen.

Murray and John strike up a conversation as you lean into Johnny, resting against his side.

“I like your parents a lot.” You say as he wraps his arm around you.

“Good.” He says, kissing the top of your head. “They’re gonnae spoil ye rotten.”

You smile softly, already knowing that’s going to be the case. You can feel yourself starting to settle in, the warmth and coziness of the house soothing you into a state of security and comfort. You know that might change once Johnny and John leave, but part of you doesn’t think so. You’re going to miss them terribly, but at the same time, you feel you’ll be very much at home here.

“Ye can stay in Johnny’s old room.” Lily says, leading you down the hall. John is following, your bag in hand. She opens a door, turning on the light.

You step into the small room, looking around. It’s decorated as you’d expect a boy’s room to be. There’s posters on the wall of soccer players, old photos and drawings interspersed. The shelf in the corner is packed full of books and various nick-nacks, and on top are a few trophies, all for Soccer.

“I didn’t know you played soccer.” You say as Johnny steps in after you.

“Aye,” He says, his chest brushing your back as you pick up one of the trophies. “Was pretty good too.”

It almost makes you sad, thinking he gave up something like that to join the military. He had his heart set out though, given you know he lied about trying to join early, and he loves what he does. Maybe someday when he retires he’ll get back to playing recreationally.

You set the trophy back on the shelf, turning to face him. You stare up at him, those bright blue eyes hooded as he looks down at you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against his chest. His lips turn up in a smile as he stares down at you, something shining in his eyes.

“What?” You ask, looping your arms around his neck.

“Nothin’,” He says, shaking his head. “Just thinkin’ about how much I love ye.”

Warmth floods your face as you turn a bit bashful. “Well, I love you too.” You say, scratching your nails across the back of his neck.

He nearly purrs, leaning down to kiss you softly. You pull back as footsteps approach the room, Lily appearing in the doorway.

“I pulled out the old air mattress.” She says, setting a box down on the floor. “Figured ye’d all want tae sleep together.”

“Thanks, ma.” Johnny says, pulling away from you completely.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” She says, smiling softly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You say, giving her a small smile before heading for your bag as the boys work on the air mattress.

You head to the bathroom, getting yourself changed into your pajamas and ready for bed. You set your toiletry bag down on the counter before staring at yourself in the mirror. You look tired and worn out. It’s been a long couple of days. You haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since you arrived at the barracks, and you don’t doubt you’re in for another. You never sleep well in new places, even with two members of your pack here.

You have nothing to worry about, but at the same time, you can’t stop that nagging in the back of your brain. What if something happens? What if someone comes for you once you’re alone? Maybe it was a bad idea leaving the barracks. There was no threat there, only the one in your mind.

You don’t want anything to happen to Johnny’s parents.

Your hands are shaking as you leave the bathroom, heading back down the hall to Johnny’s room. They’ve got the air mattress set up in the middle of the floor and you have to step over it to get to your bag.

“You and Johnny take the bed.” John says, already changed into his pajamas. “I figure you’ll want more time with him.”

Right. Once Johnny leaves tomorrow you won’t see him for what might be months. He’ll be staying on base with Simon, still active in his duties. It’ll just be John coming to get you in a couple weeks.

You swallow down the emotions, climbing onto the soft bed. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but you’re used to that. No doubt you’ll wind up pressed against the wall as Johnny spreads himself out in the night. He likes to take up as much space as possible.

Johnny joins you on the bed, slipping under the covers. You both lay on your sides facing each other. Johnny’s hand slides down your arm before wrapping around your own. You lace your fingers with his, squeezing his hand lightly.

“You’ll be alright.” He says softly. “Ma and Pa will take good care of ye.”

“That’s not what worries me.” You whisper.

“There’s nothing coming for ye.” He says, squeezing your hand tightly. “There’s nothin’ out there that wants tae hurt ye. No one but us knows yer up here.”

“Yeah, but-”

“None of that.” Johnny interrupts you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “We’ll all be fine. Ma and Pa can take care of themselves if it comes to it, which it won’t.”

You sniffle, tears pooling in your eyes. Johnny kisses the back of your hand, slipping his other arm under your neck to pull you close.

“I’ve got ye.” He says, squishing you up against his chest. “Nothin’s gonnae happen.”

John enters the room again, closing the door behind him before shutting off the light. There’s a nightlight on the far wall casting a soft glow around the room. Whether that was already there or if John brought it for you, you have no idea. Either way it’s comforting, fighting back the horrors waiting for you in the dark.

John approaches the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s soft and sweet, chasing away the fears and the tears for now. He leans over to kiss Johnny softly before he backs away, laying himself down on the air mattress with a sigh.

You lay there awake as Johnny’s breathing starts to slow, ear pressed against his chest so you can hear the soft inhale and exhale, the steady beating of his heart. John’s breathing slows too, soft snores starting to slip through his lips. You’re going to miss this in your time alone, the sounds of them breathing, the knowledge that they’re close. It almost makes you regret leaving the barracks so soon.

Almost.

“Be good for them, yeah?” John says, running a hand over your head. You nod, trying not to let any tears fall. “I’ll be back to get you in a couple weeks.” He bends down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Time will fly and I’ll be here before you know it.”

You hope he’s right.

It’s cold out this morning, earlier than you would have liked, but Lily and Murray were already up by the time the three of you got up for breakfast. It’s cold and damp, the air biting through your sweatshirt, Simon’s sweatshirt. John had left a shirt for you bathed in his scent, something to offer comfort until he returns.

“I’ll miss you.” You say softly, leaning against his chest.

“I know.” He says, rubbing your back. “I’ll miss you too.”

A stray tear slides down your cheek and you hastily wipe it away. You step back from him, turning towards Johnny. He opens his arms and you slide into them, resting against his chest. He’s warm, fighting against the cold nipping at your cheeks.

“I’m gonnae miss ye so much, kitten.” He says, pressing his face into your hair.

“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” You say, frantically fighting the tears threatening to fall.

“We’ll come visit as often as we can.” He says. “I’ll even drive carefully.”

You can’t stop the laugh that escapes you. Of course he’d be the one to drive. You’ve never seen Simon drive, but you’ve picked up enough to know there’s a reason for that.

You hold Johnny for a long moment, breathing him in for what you know will be the last time in a long time. He’ll be going back to work, back to deployments and the world of danger you desperately wish they’d leave behind. You know that’s too much to ask. This is their life, their livelihood, the thing they’ve dedicated years to. It was a shock John decided to leave, and you know it’s going to take a lot more than that for Simon and Johnny to finally make that decision.

“Take care of him.” You say softly.

“I’ll try.” Johnny says, leaning down to kiss you softly.

You lean into him, kissing him like it’s the last time you’re going to see him. It is, at least for a while. Just like a year ago, you’ll never know if this kiss will be your last.

You don’t want to let him go but you know you have to. John wants to get on the road, get back to Hereford. He still has a job to do for the next couple weeks. You wonder how slowly they’ll drag on for him, how time will pass so different for the two of you. Him waiting for his request to be finalized, you waiting for him to come get you. Here at least you’ll have distractions. You’ll be comfortable, safe.

Even if you don’t entirely believe that.

You let go of Johnny, taking a step back. You watch them get into the car, waving to Lily who's standing in the doorway before starting the car. You watch the car pull down the driveway, standing there until it disappears around the bend.

NEXT ->

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[saetiate]

itoshi sae x f!reader tags: afab reader with she/her pronouns, jealous!sae, oliver aiku causes drama, oral f!receiving, hand around throat but not really choking wc: 1.6k

There are very few events you go to with Sae, few that he bothers to attend himself at all. It’s the first thing Oliver notices about you, that out of all the partners to his colleagues, you’re the one he’s seen the least of.

The second thing he notices is that even when you’re there, Sae barely speaks a word to you.

He wouldn’t think you minded if he wasn’t really looking. You’re kind and sweet as you make your rounds to the other players and their partners, much better at small talk and remembering things about people (how’s the new dog? Giving you any trouble? A new house! Let me know your address so we can send you a gift.) than Sae has ever been in his experience. But you’re careful to always keep Sae in your line of sight, like you’re always looking to him for something. Approval, or attention, or something that’s sort of like both.

Sae has his back to you, clearly begrudgingly involved in a conversation with Shidou’s arm resting on his shoulder. This is the first thing Oliver makes sure of before he approaches you when you’re alone at the bar.

“It’s been so long,” he comments as he slides in next to you. He makes it sound casual, smiles sweetly, and you respond so easily in turn.

“Aiku-san! It has, hasn’t it?” you immediately perk up at him, and it’s something he can’t help but find quite adoring. You’re quick to ask him about his life, and he lets you play for a bit until he decides he wants to pay it no mind.

“Sae doesn’t really stay with you at these things, does he?”

His voice almost sounds full of pity, it shocks you with how direct it is.

“Ah! Well- we spend a lot of time together, so it makes sense that he wants to spend time with his friends at these things. They’re a crowd! So he’s busy with them, you know?”

You smile nervously, and it’s that little feeling again that gets to Oliver – like you’re waiting for a validating response.

He could give that to you. But you’d have to give him something first.

Oliver taps the rim of his glass, condensation running down. “Mm. And is he busy a lot?”

“I…”

It’s at this moment that you begin to realize how close he is to you. In the hesitation, he cups one side of your face with his hand, your jaw in his palm and his fingers grazing over your cheek. You’re frozen, staring at him in shock. You’ve been Sae’s for so long, when’s the last time anyone has had the nerve to put their hands on you? His hand moves down to your neck-

Sae is quick to replace Oliver’s hand, wrapping his hand around your neck fully, gently and yet without the constraint or tentativeness Oliver had. You can feel the warm of his body behind you as he pulls you in, so close you can smell his cologne.

He’s got his characteristic neutral, nonchalant face on, save for one quirked eyebrow in Oliver's direction. But Oliver knows, he’s seen Sae on the field-

This is Sae when he’s pissed.

 “Happy to have you join us.” Oliver smiles, but this time it’s something a little more wicked. He knew he would come fetch you at some point, but he didn’t think it’d be this fast, that he’d notice this soon.

“You think this is some type of game?” If Sae was a lesser man, the sentence would’ve been spat in Oliver's face. It’s a near thing.

“Ha? Women are never a game.” Oliver pushes his weight off the counter, walks past Sae with a shrug. “Just didn’t think you liked her that much.”

Sae clicks his teeth, looking like he swallowed something unpleasant. He squeezes your neck a little tighter.

“Let’s go. I’m sick of this.”

~

“Sae-san, I-”

“Quiet.”

It’s not said aggressively, not like a command, but he still watches the way you go silent immediately in the elevator down. Even though you want so desperately to say something, to make things right. You are good to him. He knows it too.

“Oliver likes to mess around,” he sighs, one hand rifling through his hair, an air of exasperation. You don’t entirely get it, but it’s as close to it’s not your fault as it gets with him.

It’s in the silence of the car, darkness illuminated only by headlights and traffic lights, that Sae finally allows you to speak.

“Do you think I don’t like you enough?”

Your eyes go wide immediately, your hands waving in front of you. “W-well, it’s not- I know you’re really busy! And you barely go to these events, so you should spend time with your friends.”

You’re too nervous to notice it, but he watches, listens to you with full intent. His finger taps against the steering wheel.

When he parks and gets out the car, you don’t wait for him to open the door for you. Something in that irritates him, makes him frown. He throws his keys into the bowl in the entryway with a jangle, and when you turn around from taking your shoes off, he’s already in your space.

His hands are on your waist, pressing you against the wall. You try to protest but he silences it with his lips on yours, his hands on the back of your thighs and hoisting you up. Your purse falls somewhere on the ground. But you don’t care. You can’t care, because Sae is hot and heavy against your mouth and between your legs. He presses you into the wall further, grips your thighs tighter, holds you up easily with one arm as he wraps one hand around your neck and kisses the remaining exposed skin.

It's only for a moment before his hand moves back down to roam under your dress, pulling your panties down fervently, the way the fabric sticks to your slick already is something he doesn’t fail to notice. Makes him wonder if he really has been neglecting you.

He tucks them in his pocket and then he’s falling to his knees. You think you whisper his name but you can’t tell over the shuffling. Your feet never touch the ground, he lifts you until your legs are resting over his shoulders, holds you up like this. You try to tell him, “Sae, we’re gonna fall,” (he wouldn’t drop you, don’t you know?) but he doesn’t say a single goddamn thing. Just bunches your dress up and presses his mouth to your cunt.

The broken moan you let out is nothing short of song to him. There’s nothing to stabilize you except for grasping his hair in your hands. You’re a little scared, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand you. If anything, he presses deeper into your cunt. Swipes his tongue up from bottom to top. Makes you sob with the way he zig-zags his tongue up your slit all the way to your clit. He’s always like this – a tease, in control. He holds your arousal in his hands and on his tongue and he knows how and when to make you drip, in a way that ensures only he’s able to drink.

It's sickening, the way he makes your mind fog immediately, makes nothing exist but him in this moment. He does it a few more times before he relents. This is meant to be a reward, after all. An apology, maybe. He presses his tongue to your clit and kitten licks a few times. Envelops the bud in his mouth and swipes over and over, grips your plush thighs tight. You don’t know how long he does it because you feel like you can’t breathe, breath coming short, gasps that are like drowning. He watches you through it, your chest rising and falling, your hands shaking in his hair.And then he speeds up and your core tightens and your body comes crashing, first up, and then down. He holds you steady against the wall as you whine, your hot cum drooling into his mouth that he swallows up willingly, tight core finally relieving.

You heave as you come to your senses, nails scratching at the nape of Sae’s hair as he laps your oversensitive cunt, making you jolt. He licks you clean before he lets up, taking a deep breath. He kisses each side of your inner thighs, and then once more on your clit for good measure, smiling as he hears your broken whine once again.

He finally lets up. Holds you tight so you don’t slump to the ground. He kisses you deeply, lets you taste yourself on his tongue, makes out with you until you’re out of air.

Don’t think I don’t like you. He wants to tell you, but instead he wraps you in his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Why don’t you go shower first and get in bed, and I’ll meet you there?” His voice is gentle, actions soft, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

You look up at him doe-eyed. “Don’t you wanna-?”

“Mm. Later. You go first, okay?”

You’re too wobbly and wrung out to protest, so you go when he gently leads you both to the bedroom.

The words get stuck in his throat as he closes the bathroom door for you. I really do love you.  

He hopes you might already know.

author's note: sorry to make oliver a bit of a villain in this LMAO in his head he’s just tryna save you from what looks like a failing relationship! if anything he’s your knight in shining armor <3 too bad that didn’t work out how he wanted it to hm

[woogilicious]

offline messages ꒰ yunho ꒱

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pairing: streamer!yunho x gn!reader. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 1039 words. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ genre: angst + fluff. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ warnings: mild angst, emotional neglect (unintentional), feelings of being left behind, fluff at the end.

You were there before the follower goals, and fancy mic setup. Back when Yunho streamed from a wobbly IKEA desk and his only viewers were you and that one random bot that kept posting shady links.

Back then, his face would light up when he saw your name in chat.

"Yo!" he'd grin, headset slightly tilted. "You're here!"

Of course you were. You always were.

You modded his streams before he even asked. Built his discord server from scratch. Stayed up past midnight helping him troubleshoot lag while playing Valorant. You even tolerated the scream fest during Lethal Company session with San, Mingi, and Wooyoung―all chaos, max volume, all the time.

And when things took off―when Twitch clipped him into the algorithm and the chat exploded with new fans, you celebrated with him. You were proud. You really were.

But you also started feeling... invisible.

It started small. A joke you made in chat went ignored. Then another. Then another.

You chalked it up, at first. That's what growing meant―more people, more chaos. But then he stopped replying to your DMs. Took hours to answer simple messages. And one day, you noticed your mod label was gone. No explanation. No "thanks for everything." Nothing at all.

You watched one of his streams that night, lurking, your name is grey in a sea of neon usernames. Someone made a crude joke. You called it out. Yunho didn't even notice, until a stranger timed you out.

That was the last stream you watched live.

You muted the server. Turned off notifications. Closed the tab. He never reaches out. Not once.

Months passed.

One night, you're scrolling through your phone, brain on autopilot, when you see his name. Yunho is live: Unpacking + chatting. You shouldn't care. You don't.

But you click.

He's streaming Unpacking, of all things. Soft music, quiet atmosphere, just him and the sound of cardboard boxes being emptied on screen. There's no Wooyoung yelling in the background, no San whining about being scared―just Yunho. Focused. A little tired. His laugh softer tonight.

You shouldn't message him.

But your fingers move anyway, finding his name in your message app.

Are you okay?

You send it. Regret it instantly. Consider deleting it, but then―

yunho: wait yunho: wait wait wait yunho: is this real?? yunho: y/n... i thought u blocked me or smth

You stare at the screen, looking at his stream while his attention turns to his phone.

you: figured you wouldn't notice either way yunho: ... yunho: okay. i deserve that. yunho: i miss you. a lot.

You don't reply right away, and you close the Twitch app.

The next day, he sends you a message privately in discord.

yunho: can we talk?

You call. It's weird, at first. The silence between you used to be comfortable, easy. Now it's cautious. Hesitant.

But he tries.

"I don't know when I started messing it up," he says, voice quiet. "I think... I just got caught up in everything. I didn't mean to shut you out."

You shrug, even though he can't see you. "You kind of did, though."

"I know. I just... didn't want you to feel like you had to carry my stuff forever. You helped me so much and I kept thinking, maybe you deserved to just... live your life. Not babysit my stream."

You snort. "You took away my mod role without saying a word. The least you can do is tell me."

He winces. "Yeah. That was stupid."

"You think?"

He laughs. It's small, and it is obvious that he is nervous.

"Let me fix it," he says. "Please."

It's not instant. It's not perfect.

But you start showing up again. Not as a mod, but just as his friend.

He messages you in the middle of the night about weird games you'd both like. Sends you dumb voices notes of Mingi farting on call. You hop into discord during late-night gaming, and he still screams in panic when he gets chased in scary games, but now, he screams your name too.

And one night, he messages:

yunho: do you want to do a stream together soon? you: what would we even play? yunho: idc. minecraft? stardew? anything. i just want to hang out with you on stream.

You agree, and the next night, it's Minecraft night.

The stream starts slow, chill lo-fi music playing in the background. Yunho decides to do a member only stream, which means the chat is smaller, cozier. The mods keep it clean. No chaos whatsoever.

"Special guest tonight, their name is Y/N" Yunho says, grinning. "My oldest friend. Like actual old. We've known each other since middle school."

You laugh. "You're few months older than me."

Chat, on the other hand, explodes with excitement:

xXxgamerraccoon12: brooo you can see yunho smiling like an idiot fluffyhorsie: their voice sounds so soothing!! i love them already!! bananapie481: we need more cozy game with y/n!!

You two fish, farm, fight monsters, collect materials. It's easy.

Halfway through the stream, you forget the camera's even on.

"You're different when it's just us," you say quietly.

Yunho hums. "Different how?"

"Less loud, less performative. More... you."

He doesn't say anything right away, just smiling while mining some woods for their house. Then, softly. "That's because you bring out the parts of me I actually like."

Your chest tightens.

"You know I was really scared," he adds. "That you'd never message me again. That I lost you for good."

You exhale. "You almost did."

"I know."

Silence.

Then, your character walks over and gifts his character a flower.

It's just pixels, but Yunho makes a sound that's a little too real.

"What?"

"What do you mean what? Maybe I just like giving you flowers."

His voice is barely a whisper. "God, I missed you so much."

The stream ends with your character standing next to his inside your finish small cozy wooden house.

Chat's spamming hearts. Fan edit already being posted. People are begging for another duo stream.

Once he turns off his stream, he says, "Don't log off yet."

You stay.

His voice is warm through your headset.

"Let's play another day?"

You smile. "Sure, Yunho. I'll be here."

This time, you know he believes it.

And this time, you do too.

[moonchildstyles]

pomegranate

pomegrante part one: harry and y/n are roommates and she doesn't want him to feel lonely

wordcount: 14.2k+

—————

Harry's brows knitted together as he lifted his eyes from the avocado he was slicing, eyes flitting to the television from where he stood at his kitchen island. Truthfully, he didn't know why he kept watching this show when he never agreed with any of the contestants' decisions. More often than not, he came away frustrated when he watched these singles fumble budding relationships in favor of the near-mythical 'something better' they were convinced was out there. He couldn't understand why they prioritized sex with someone they didn't even know existed yet over someone right in front of them, that was more than enough. 

Shaking his head when he saw another shirtless, spray-tanned man with a head of permed curls on the top of his head pull a beautiful girl to the side for a "chat",  Harry directed his attention back to the strokes of the knife under his hand. His sushi bake would be out of the oven soon and he needed to get all of his fix-ins in order before the timer ran out. 

Just as he stowed away his slices of avocado and started on the edamame pods he planned on salting and marinating, the humming of the garage door rolling up rumbled through the house. A slight smile touched at his cheeks, already anticipating the clicking of heels he would no doubt hear before the door leading from the garage to the kitchen would be swung open with a huff. 

(Y/N) had been on a date tonight, and there was no way it had gone well if she was already home. Only an hour away didn't make for a particularly fun night. 

As expected, only moments after the garage had been closed and he heard the slam of her car door, (Y/N) trudged in from the extension with a tired expression on her face. 

"Hey, H," she sighed, already bending over to take her shoes off despite barely making it onto the tile of the kitchen floor.

"Hi, (Y/N)," he greeted, turning around with his avocado slices left behind, "Bad night?" 

He didn't have to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes. 

"The worst." She stood up to her full height—sans high heels, of course—with a flick of her hair. "I should've just stayed home with you. I wouldn't have been bored to near tears with you." 

For a second, Harry felt his heart sitting in his throat. Did she have any idea what it did to him when she talked like that—joked like that? Years into this friendship with no shortage of her sweetened comments, he doubted she did. He just hoped that she didn't notice his cheeks reddening and the way his hands suddenly didn't know what to do. 

"'M sorry," he murmured, "Was he nice at least?" 

(Y/N) shrugged, the silk straps of her top shifting over her smooth shoulders. "Nice enough—he just likes talking about himself, I think." 

Harry's lips thinned at her comment. He couldn't imagine being anything but the best listener for (Y/N); who wouldn't want to hear everything that was going on in her head and the piles of stories, however mundane, she could share? 

"Well, unless you're too tired, we could watch our show? Dinner will be ready soon if y'were still hungry." 

It was the way she seemingly inflated, light in her eyes with her hands brought to her chest all to match the bubbly smile on her lips, that had his heart springing in his chest. 

"You'd share your dinner with me?" 

You can have everything of mine, as long as you keep looking at me like that.

A mild smile curled his lips in hopes of concealing everything bubbling underneath his skin. "Of course. 'S a salmon sushi bake, if that sounds any good to you." 

"That sounds so good, H. You're the best, thank you." 

Her smile was dazzling when she turned it on him. Thank god he had set his knife down, or he would have lost a couple of fingers at this point. 

This time, he couldn't shake the smile that bloomed over his lips, however sheepish it was. "Of course—um, thank you." 

A peal of laughter left her lips as she traipsed out of the kitchen, heels in hand. "You're so sweet. I'm gonna change, but I'll be right back!" 

As if in a swirl of cherry blossoms and white lace, (Y/N) was gone. Along with her went the sparks that flooded his bloodstream and tremors in his fingers. 

God, he'd have thought knowing her since university days he would be used to her at this point. It was as if becoming roommates those couple of months ago did the opposite of acclimating him to her presence. He wasn't sure there was anything about her—the way she looked, the way she acted, the way she talked—that didn't hold even a bit of magic in his eyes. 

The sound of the oven timer going off brought Harry back to real life. Now that he was planning on sharing this dinner with (Y/N), he wanted to ensure everything was perfect. One of his favorite things about living with her was being able to take care of her through simple things like cooking dinner or making coffee in the morning. Every night she went out on a date or took a night off to go out for a girls night, he was there to get the rundown of her time away and feed her toast and water to lessen the blow of the morning hangover as much as he could. He was there for any and everything—even if he wasn't necessarily in the mood to hear about her feelings for another. He would rather be on her side even if she was on someone else's arm, than not be there at all. 

All while (Y/N) was readying herself for a night in with Harry, he was focusing on his knife strokes and mixing the different sauces to be drizzled over the bake. By the time she emerged with a set of pajamas on and her hair twisted out of her face, Harry had crafted the perfect dinner to be shared over an episode of their tropic reality dating show. 

He didn't wait for her before he was putting together her plate, dressed the way he knew she liked, sheets of nori off to the side along with a pair of chopsticks he taught her how to use years ago. 

"There's extra in the kitchen if y'want more," he murmured as he passed the plate to her hands, taking the spot on the couch at her side. 

"This looks so good, H," she beamed, looking at him with something he liked to think of as affection in her eyes, "Thank you again, really. You're already making my night so much better." 

"Good," he swallowed, dropping his eyes to the tip of her nose, "'M glad I could—um—make y'happy."

He could have cringed at the sound of his fumbling words, but that was only cut off when (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile and gave him a hug in the form of wrapping her arm around his own and resting her head on his shoulder for a lingering moment. 

"Wait! Wasn't he paired with Amber an episode ago?"

(Y/N)'s bubbled outrage was the perfect cover to the way his heart had landed in his throat. This way, he could concentrate on anything but himself and the reactions he was having over someone who was supposed to be just his friend.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, wrapping a bite of crispy rice and marinated salmon on a sheet of nori, "He pulled Lissa over for a chat at the start of this one." 

"Of course, he did," (Y/N) grumbled. 

While he would never wish anything but pure joy on her, Harry couldn't help the way his own happiness sprouted in his chest. He would never pass on a night like this.

—————

"Can I lay on you?" 

Harry blinked back to earth at the sound of (Y/N)'s voice over the familiar episode of a long ended reality show they'd already watched hundreds of times. Looking to her end of the couch, she was already slouched into the corner cushion, eyes heavy and hair tucked not a mess away from her face. 

He didn't think before he nodded his head, uncurling his legs to allow her space to lay her head. She murmured her gratitude in a sleepy voice as she stretched across the cushions to rest her head on his thighs. 

It was a familiar move, something that (Y/N) had done many times even prior to their roommate situation coming to fruition. She'd spilled to him more than once that she was a cuddly person—touchy-feely, was the way she put it—taking and loving all of the physical affection she was able to collect. Including from Harry, who always seemed to take the whole thing entirely too seriously. It was cute, she'd said, cute enough she couldn't help but to laugh. 

Tonight, she was already heavy-eyed and loose-limbed by the time she settled against his legs. Her hands were tucked under her cheek, a small barrier between his thigh and her cheek though he could still feel every ray of her warmth no matter what. 

He did his absolute best to stay relaxed despite the instinct to straighten his spine and tense his muscles at the affectionate way she laid over him. He wanted to be the best pillow he could be for her, and that wouldn't be possible if he resembled a wooden plank more than a fluffed case of feathers. 

Harry's win came in the form of a languid sigh that left her lips, (Y/N) practically going boneless against him. 

"You're the best, H," she murmured, just barely audible over the club music sounding from the television. "Thank you." 

Swallowing, he allowed his eyes to glaze over her form without her own watchful gaze on him. Hearing those words attached to that mouth from this gorgeous girl, was going to make him burst. 

"You're welcome," he whispered, urging his eyes to move on from the sliver of her midriff on display from the ruched hem of her top. 

As expected, a breathy laugh came from (Y/N). "You can touch me, you know," she said, twisting just enough to look up at him through flared lashes, "You don't have to keep your hands up like that." 

He hadn't even realized he froze with his limbs hovering over her, resting away as if there were a barrier holding him back. "Oh," he sounded, blood burning behind his cheeks, "Sorry." 

Could he be any more pathetic? Embarrassment surged through his veins. Was there any other way he could make it that much more obvious just how nervous (Y/N) made him? 

In a set of cautious movements, his hands floated back down to her form. He gently settled his palm on the cuff of her shoulder while the other rested near her head, where strands of hair brushed the stretch of his fingers. 

"It's okay," she said, the smile evident in her voice despite Harry not seeing the curl, "You're so silly, H." 

It was the way her voice trailed off, taking on a deeper octave than before, that showed him just how close she was to finding the other side of her eyelids. He instinctively began running his thumb along the ball of her shoulder, a circuit that had him skimming her soft skin with the sleeve of her top pushed out of the way. 

There was something about seeing her skin being dented by his touch, a touch that wasn't particularly strong or even rough at all. She wondered if she was able to feel the whorls of his print, the creasing of his knuckle. It was an innocent enough feeling, his hand upon her arm, but he felt his heart beginning to thump. His throat was thick enough he felt his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

This was another facet that only took on a life of its own, the casual intimacy that had been sparked between them now that they shared a home. Laying her head on his shoulder in a passing hug, resting her head on his lap, practically asking him to put his hands on her as she was lulled to sleep. Logically, he was sure this was supposed to get easier as it went, the more it happened the magic was supposed to lessen. But, that just didn't happen.

His heart still thumped heavily. His stomach tightened and pitted and warmed. His...  well, other parts of him appreciate the touching too, even if he resented focusing on those parts of himself.

It felt more than wrong to acknowledge his baser interests in her, not when she was such a kind and loving friend to him. If that boundary between them was meant to be crossed, there were plenty of times both during their university days and the years that followed, that gave perfect opportunities for that line to be wiped away and crossed in favor of something new. Instead, they were still just friends—best friends, even. 

You're not supposed to get hard over your best friend. Not when she was doing nothing but falling asleep in his lap. Not when she was relaxing in her own home in comfortable pajamas—even if they were comprised of a soft t-shirt and pair of shorts just a touch too small that rolled up at the hem, giving more and more skin for his eyes to feast upon. Without a bra, of course. A fact evident in the way her nipples would peak against the material. 

No, he was not supposed to be hard over that. Not to mention the glaring fact that she spent nearly every weekend on a date with someone or going out with the express purpose of having fun and meeting other people. 

There was also, of course, the most prominent issue: he's a virgin. Even if he somehow managed to see more than just a friendship in him, he would have no idea how to take care of her. (Y/N) was someone who had experienced enough physical affection that she no doubt knew what she enjoyed and what she didn't; there was little to no appeal to teaching the one you're in bed with how to do the most basic of acts.

So he would keep his distance, even if the rest of his body refused to get on the same page. 

"Are you okay?" 

(Y/N)'s mumbled voice shook Harry from his thoughts. Blinking back to the real world, she was tipping her head up to look at him with sleepy eyes. 

"Hm?" he hummed, aware of the way his hand had gone still on her arm and his bones had grown stiff. 

"Do you want me to move or something?" she murmured, "So you can get comfortable? Sorry if I made your leg fall asleep." 

Harry's skin warmed to a flushing red. Of course, he would grow restless when she was on his mind. Taking stock of his body, at least he knew he wasn't that hard; any longer in his mind and he may have had a problem. 

"'S alright, 'm alright," he rushed out, "Jus' think 'm getting tired. Sorry." 

She smiled up at him, her hair haloing around her head in his lap. "It's okay," she laughed, "Do you want to go to bed? We can keep watching tomorrow instead." 

That was what he needed at the moment: distance. Some peace and quiet and a moment to get his head on straight. "Let's go to bed," he affirmed, mimicking her soft smile. 

Her movements were lethargic as she moved off of his lap. A curling stretch had her raising her arms above her head, the hem of her top lifting just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistline of her shorts. Harry quickly retracted his eyes, settling his gaze to his feet instead. 

Turning to him, with eyes slightly hooded and limbs languid, (Y/N) gave him a smile. "Goodnight, H," she mumbled, "Thanks for making my night better."

Collecting him in her arms, Harry didn't have to think before he was reciprocating her hug. The scent of her perfume twisted around him, stray hairs tickling the tip of his nose. Her words echoed in his head. 

He made her night. She made his life. 

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he crooned, melting into her hug for just a moment longer before unwrapping himself from her hold. "'M happy I could help." 

Her smile was sweet as she turned on her socked feet towards her bedroom. "See you in the morning." 

He watched as she pushed open her bedroom door, her eyes glanced over her shoulder at him. Her pretty, pretty eyes. 

"See you in the morning." 

With that, the night ended as she closed her bedroom door behind her. 

Though she stayed just where she was on Harry's mind. 

—————

Harry wiped his hands clean now that the sink was cleared of all dirty dishes. The clock on the stove detailed the time as eleven thirty-two, a half an hour longer than he meant to stay up tonight. But, he supposed that's what happened when he decided to take a nap instead of cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. 

Quiet voices sounded through the living room from the show running on the television though Harry didn't pay it any mind as he swept through the space. (Y/N) was out for a girls night, leaving it Harry's turn to take care of the common spaces to ensure neither of them would have to tidy anything in the morning. Plus, he didn't think it would be very nice of him to leave her stumbling over his pile of shoes when she came home after a night of drinking and crashing on a friend's couch. 

He could still see traces of her scattered about the space in the form of stray glitters from her outfit, a pair of loose hair ties left on the table by the door, right next to her usual handbag ransacked with only a few random items left in it from the essentials she pulled from it to take out on the town with her. He hoped she was having a fun night—she deserved it. 

After cleaning up and turning off the television and lights, Harry retired to his bedroom upstairs. Turning on some music through his headphones, he started on his nighttime routine. It was definitely less extensive than the one he'd seen (Y/N) do night after night, but there were a few serums and techniques he'd stolen from her—including the lavender room spray he was addicted to misting through his room before laying his head down. It turned his dreams decadently sweet, he thought. (Or it could be because he always fell asleep with (Y/N) on his mind, the lavender scent reminding him of her every night without fail).

But, this time, when he laid his head on his fluffed pillow, delicate music filtering through the space from his bluetooth speaker, Harry wasn't ready to go to bed. He had known the evening nap he took wasn't the smartest idea, leaving his limbs restless and eyes wide open. As soon as he knew (Y/N) was home safe in the morning, Harry planned on running all of the errands he'd pushed off this weekend, and a late wakeup time wasn't going to be the most productive move. 

There were only so many things he could think of doing to tire himself out. Scrolling on his phone was a no-go considering how he knew the blue-light would only urge him to stay awake, his book was too riveting to be a useful bedtime story, and going for a run this late wasn't the best option. He just needed to tire himself out. 

Fitting his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry figured there was another option. 

He wasn't quite in the mood at the moment, he could put himself there he figured. He doubted it would take much work, really. 

As if this were a laborious task, Harry kicked his comforter from his hips with a sigh. He reached for his phone on instinct, opening up a familiar application to help color his imagination. Without much ceremony, he pushed his sweats down just enough to fit his hand down his underwear. He would do this quickly, he decided; fast and hard, to put him to sleep sooner rather than later. 

It didn't take long to feel himself harden in his grasp, photos and videos of various couples wrapped around one another and those in solo situations fueling his head. His breathing grew heavy in his chest, mouth falling open as a particularly titillating video of a woman with her hands between her legs filled his screen. 

With the audio still playing, Harry's head fell back against the pillows. His eyes fell closed, a sigh leaving his lips. Pulling his hand from his length, he brought the appendage to his mouth before spitting against his palm. With his hand now slick, the wet pumps of his fist along his cock now filled the air. His toes curled in his sheets, free hand tightly gripping his phone. 

While it wasn't something he wanted to do, it was terribly easy to let his mind wander to the pretty girl that had left him home alone tonight. The fit of her dress had been hard enough to process when he was clear minded, now that was a nearly impossible task. 

The dress was new, a silky piece with embroidered flowers and thick straps cuffing her shoulders. It was tight along the bodice, cupping her breasts and curve of her waist before flaring out along her hips. The hem cut off at the mid of her thigh, leaving the length of her legs on display down to the comfortable shoes she chose for the night. (The high heels from the weekend prior had been shoved to the back of her closet for the time being, the blisters on her feet enough to have her avoiding them at the moment). 

It was a terrible, horrible, repulsive thought to have about his roommate, but Harry knew that all it would have taken was a bend of her hips and he would have seen the curve of her bottom. If he had been bold enough to look, he was sure he would have caught a glance down the bodice of her dress when she came to him to say goodbye for the night. 

His cock twitched at the reminder of her body pressed against him when she hugged him goodbye. If he was a different man and they were in a different situation, he would have grabbed her hips and held her close. He would have found the line of her panties through her dress, felt the curve of her bottom over the silk. 

He liked to imagine she would hold him back, that she would lean into the angles and muscles of his body. He could see her tipping her head, leaving him the room to drop his lips over the curve of her neck and shelf of her collarbone. 

He liked to imagine her wanting him back. That he would be able to satisfy her and take her expertly, tying her to him as he pushed his hand between her legs—or, god, his head—and brought her to the edge. What he wouldn't give to know what the melody of her voice sounded like when steeped in pleasure.

Harry pumped his hand that much harder along his length, the put of his stomach growing tight like the thick bands of muscles on his thighs. His breathing was harsh, wheezing out against his clenched teeth. 

"Fuck," he panted, hips bucking against his hand when he thought of what could have happened had he pushed (Y/N)'s dress up to her middle. Precum dribbled from his tip, streaking down to his shaft and mixing with the slick of his spit. 

He was going to cum, he could feel it. His muscles were bunched tight, eyes screwed shut with his own personal pornography projected against his eyelids. 

"Harry, are you awa—Oh! Oh my god, bye!" 

In a second, Harry snapped from the throes of pleasure just to see the tail-end of (Y/N)'s silken dress flashing out of his doorway. Behind her, his door slammed shut, cutting her words in half. 

She wasn't supposed to be home. She was supposed to be spending the night at Rue's house. What was she doing here? 

Oh, god—fuck—she's home. (Y/N) came home and saw him jerking himself off to the thought of her. Shit, fuck, shit.

His movements were fumbling and disjointed as he pulled his pants back up and attempted to wipe his hand of the evidence against a dirty t-shirt that should have been in his hamper. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking? He was so lost in his head, he didn't even hear the door open? Didn't hear her footsteps stomping up the stairs?

Was he supposed to talk to her? Or were they supposed to avoid each other until someone inevitably broke the lease and they never spoke to one another ever again? 

The latter option hurt his chest, but the former cast his body in a sweat. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes trained on the floor beneath his feet. 

Why couldn't he have just gone to sleep? Why did he have to take that nap and leave him thinking he needed to tire himself out? Why did this have to happen?

Did she know he was thinking of her? He wasn't entirely mindful of his words, had he let out a call of her name? How long had she been home before she barged in?

Harry hung his head, shaking his head as he attempted to spool himself back in. If not for the fact that he was concerned about the fact she'd made her way home instead of staying with her friends, he's sure he would have spent the entire night hiding in his home. But, unfortunately, his heart still beat for her and he needed to know that she was okay, at the very least. 

Summoning the courage, Harry stood from his seat at the edge of her bed, his hands shaking before curling into fists. They were best friends—she'd seen him with his head hung over the toilet with chunks being hurled from his mouth, with greasy limp hair until he figured out the right products for his strands, the puffy-eyed, snot-nosed sobs he let out when he failed his first mid-term their entry year of university. There were few more embarrassing situations to be found in.

He was telling himself that, anyway. 

Steeling himself, Harry moved to push open his door and seek out (Y/N) only to be stopped in his tracks when he ran right into her. 

"Harry!" she bubbled, wobbling in her spot as she reached out to grab his arms. She steadied herself with the grip. "Are you okay? Sorry, I didn't know you were there." 

It was then that he noticed the slur to her words. Her eyes, ever pretty and with only remnants of mascara remaining, were glassy. More than being startled as she ran into him, she had reached for him to keep her steady on her feet. She smelled of perfume, a dark bar's worth of smoke and cologne, and the sting of alcohol. 

"'M alright," he mumbled, reaching for her arm across his chest as he scrutinized "Are you?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, blinking up at him, "Are you?" 

A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. She almost made it easy for him to forget what had happened just moments earlier. "'M alright," he repeated, "I didn't know y'were coming home tonight." 

"Oh yeah. I was supposed to," she sighed as if there was a length of story behind her words, "But, Rue got busy, so Kim said I could stay at hers, but honestly I just wanted to come back to you. I felt bad leaving you to have dinner by yourself, and I missed you so I just had her boyfriend drop me off here." 

God, had his blunder even happened? Hearing her say I missed you so flippantly all while clutching his arms and blinking right up at him was enough to bring him to his knees. She wasn't acting at all like she'd just walked in on his private moment. 

"Oh," he sounded, finding his words, "I hope I didn't make y'feel like y'needed to come back." 

She shook her head before he even finished talking. "No, no, no. I wanted to come home—I wanted to be with you. I wish you'd come out with us sometime, you'd have so much fun." 

While Harry was reeling over her words, the sentiments she was sharing so freely, (Y/N) traipsed past him. The ghost of her grip on his arms stuck around in the moments after she left him behind to approach his bed. He turned to face her with his lips rolled between his teeth in an effort to keep anything embarrassing from spilling off his tongue, only to see her slipping off her shoes. 

She left them in an unceremonious pile by his bed when she caught him looking. "What?" 

"What—um—what are you doing?" He hoped he didn't sound as rude as he did in his head. Truly, he didn't know what she was doing, beginning to shed the night while in his room.

Unabashedly, she looked up at him with a flutter of her lashes. "Can I stay here with you? Like a sleepover?" 

His heart stopped in his chest only to leap up to the base of his throat. "A sleepover?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, pulling at the hem of her dress, "Is that okay?" 

Logically, with how intoxicated she was, it was the safer option to keep her with him tonight. In case anything were to happen, of course. 

(There was everything else bubbling in his stomach, too. All the bubbles popping with whispers urging him on to keep her just where she was amongst all of his things, where he can take care of her.)

"Y'can stay," he murmured, offering a soft smile as he gazed at her. "Do y'want me to grab some clothes for you?" 

"Sure," she chirped, already blindly dealing with her hair, "Thank you, Harry." 

He gave her another smile before he left towards her bedroom a floor below. Somehow, within the confines of his home, fresh air entered his lungs and cleared his middled head. Being around her right now was making Harry feel just as drunk as she actually was. 

Maybe she hadn't seen what he was doing when she walked in? While he couldn't imagine he wasn't being completely obvious with his hand at his groin and head thrown back, she may have been too drunk to realize what he was doing. Otherwise, Harry just couldn't fathom how he was being so normal afterwards—asking if she could have a sleepover in his room, even. 

Pulling out a set of pajamas from the stack of laundry on the end of her bed, Harry tried not to dwell as he started back up the stairs to his bedroom. If she didn't want to talk about it, neither would he. (If he had any luck on his side, she might not even remember what she may or may not have seen. The memory might be one of the few that went fuzzy for her). 

Heading back into his bedroom, (Y/N) was sat crossed legged on his bed, eyes decidedly much heavier than when he had left her. Her hair was now tied up and out of the way of her face, shoes and socks in a messy pile on his floor. She perked up when he entered, eyes brightening though still glassy and tired. 

"You're back! You were gone for so long, I was scared you forgot I was home." 

Harry could only laugh at her declaration. How could he ever forget about her, let alone when she was asking to spend the night in his bed? 

"Couldn't forget about you," he admitted, his smile soft as he dropped his eyes from hers, "I hope these are alright to sleep in." 

He passed off the sleep clothes he picked for her, watching as she unfurled the pieces without even looking at them. "They're perfect, H. Thank you so much." 

Standing up from her spot on his bed, she didn't hesitate before wrapping him in a hug. Harry stood motionless for a brief moment, attempting to process the affection. All while clad in the tiny dress he had just been fantasizing about barely twenty minutes prior, the full of her soft body was pressed against his. 

Would he ever not react like a teenager with a crush when it came to her? How much longer would he feel with the racing heart and sweaty palms until his instincts caught up with the reality of her disinterest in him in that way?

Reciprocating her hold, Harry hugged (Y/N) to his chest. She all but melted into him, the effect of the alcohol in her system weighing her down (though he would like to imagine it was because she liked holding him as much as he did her). He was sure she could feel the rapid beat of his heart under her cheek—hopefully a distraction from the touch of his unsure hands hovering across her back. 

"You're so warm," she mumbled against the material of his shirt, the words slurred and nearly unintelligible. "You should've come out with me tonight; I forgot my jacket but I would have at least had you." 

Harry's fingers tensed over her back. The pumps of his heart throbbed down to his fingertips, his lashes fluttering in a blink. She had to stop talking like that; he was already well into losing his mind over her, there was no need to keep piling it on. 

"Sorry," he breathed, the word feeling lame as it fell from his tongue. 

He made no move to recoil from her until she did, making the first move to unwrap her arms from around his middle. His eyes followed her as she focused then on trudging to his bathroom and dressing for the night. She tossed a noncommittal promise to be right back over her shoulder before disappearing behind his bathroom door. 

Left alone, Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at the floor to where her mess of discarded accessories lay in a rumpled pile, a visible cue of her presence. 

She'd never asked to stay in his bedroom like this before. Even on other nights where she clamored home with alcohol in her blood, she'd never stumbled into his room with the intention of having a "sleepover" with him. 

But, of course, the one night she does, is when she walks in on him with his hand down his pants.

The reminder of the moment had a heavy sigh heaving his chest. He wished he was just as drunk as (Y/N), that way he had a chance of possibly forgetting the incident in the morning. Instead, he had a feeling he was going to be dwelling on it for at least another week, if not more. On the plus side, it didn't appear she had any intention of talking to him about it. 

In a clumsy string of movements, (Y/N) made her entrance back into his bedroom with a strong swing of the door. Her clothing was rumpled as she padded across the floor on bare feet. She only barely acknowledged him before she threw herself onto his bed. 

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "Do y'want anything to drink or eat before y'fall asleep?" 

"No," she moaned, wriggling her way into his bedding. "Tired." 

"Do y'need to take off your makeup?" he pressed, standing to help her adjust the layers of sheets and comforter over her form.

"I already did," she countered, tugging the bedding up to her chin as she gazed up at him. Truthfully, he couldn't tell if she really did remove her makeup given the shadows still around her eyes, but if that's the story she was going with, he wasn't arguing. 

"Alright," he sighed, knotting his hands together as he stood beside his bed as if it wasn't his own, "Y'really want to have a sleepover tonight?" 

(Y/N) didn't even blink before she was nodding her head. "Yeah. Your bed is bigger than mine." 

Harry hummed, now seeing the root of her new fascination with spending the night with him. "And y'want me to stay with you?" he asked, wanting to ensure they were both on the same page. 

"Duh," she laughed, turning until she was comfortable with her head on the pillow he'd just been laying against. "Lay down, we're supposed to talk before we fall asleep like a real sleepover." 

While he found humor in the whole situation, his hands still held a slight tremor as he turned down his side—his side—of the bed. 

Was this how he was supposed to do this? How did one share a bed? Other than true sleepovers as a kid, where he and friends would squeeze into beds too small after staying up way too late, there was never a time he'd shared a bed with another. Especially not so with someone he held... extra feelings for. Feelings that he hadn't quite shaken if the way his briefs were just a touch tighter than they should be was anything to go by. 

Working on autopilot, Harry slid into bed. He could feel the dip in the mattress from (Y/N)'s body, a certain warmth spreading across his sheets he'd never experienced before. The scent of her night still clung to her, though now the fragrance of fresh sheets and Harry's own cologne swirled between them. Sleepy blinks were offered to him as he stiffly laid among his bedding, (Y/N)'s tired eyes trained on him.

He swallowed, feeling the weight of her attention on him. "What are y'th—" 

His line of questioning was cut off when (Y/N) sloppily rolled towards him, lying flush against the line of his body. She molded herself to him with a sigh, her head snuggled into the cove underneath his chin. 

"What did you do tonight?" were her mumbled words, slurred and fuzzy against his neck. 

Harry, stunned for the moment, laid still. Those moments with her head laying on his lap or a press of their shoulders together could do nothing to prepare him for this. (Y/N)'s slight shuffle against him was enough to knock him back to earth, his limbs carefully laying around her in a delicate hold. 

"Um, what?" Harry asked, mind having been wiped of the last handful of minutes. 

"What did you do while I was gone?" 

"Oh," he sounded, aware of the way his arm fell across the curve of her waist and smooth planes of her back he could feel through her top, "Nothing really; jus' took a nap and cleaned the kitchen. Nothing exciting—not like you, it sounds like." 

(Y/N) hummed from her hiding place in his neck. "Nothing exciting at all?" she sang, a teasing lilt to her drunken voice. 

Harry swallowed. She wasn't hinting at anything in particular, right? 

"I mean, I started a new book before I took m'nap," he hedged, eyes stuck on the concert poster he had pasted to his wall. "But that's really it." 

She shifted in his hold, pulling out of his arms just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still swimming and glossy, but she didn't shy away from his gaze. There was a small tick at the corner of her lips.

"Are we not going to talk about it? Because we don't have to, I just want to know." 

His muscles wound tight as he listened to her. She kept her voice decidedly quiet, as if there was anyone else around that could overhear. 

Were they going to talk about it? That wasn't really a decision Harry wanted to make, but he couldn't turn away the option now that it was served up to him. 

"Um," he fumbled, his mouth lagging behind his racing mind, "I—Uh—I... 'M sorry." 

Canting her head, (Y/N) blinked at him. "Sorry?" 

His throat bobbed, tongue suddenly too thick in his mouth. "'M sorry, I... I didn't know y'were coming home, I wouldn't have... you know. I didn't mean for you to see or... hear." 

Please god, he hoped she hadn't heard a thing—that he said or thought. 

(Y/N)'s features cracked into a smile when she finally processed what he'd said. It only took a moment for that smile to bloom into a peal of laughter. 

"Harry, it's not that serious," she got out in-between giggles, "You didn't do anything wrong—it's not like I don't think you do that kind of stuff. I just didn't know if we were going to ignore that I walked in or if we were going to laugh about it. You're not supposed to be sorry for anything; I should have knocked, anyway." 

Harry's mouth went dry. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction this was. Was this only because of the vodka in her system? Or was she really this comfortable with the events of the evening? If it were the other way around, Harry didn't think he would be able to speak let alone laugh at the situation for at least a whole week. 

(Though that could be entirely attributed to the fact that he had that thorny crush on her stuck to the chambers of his heart). 

The lump in his throat cracked and allowed a breathy laugh to come through after a heartbeat. Maybe she was right, it wasn't that serious. It's not like she could have known he was thinking about her. They were both adults, people who were more than able and accustomed to pleasuring their bodies—there was no reason to be weird about it if she wasn't going to be. 

"Jus', should have locked m'door at least," he laughed, joining her as he sagged into the mattress. 

"Yeah," she pressed, settling against him once more now that the seal was broken between them, "I always lock my door, you're too brave." 

He hoped she didn't notice the way his hands pulsed when she so casually brought up her own moments in her bedroom. He wasn't strong enough to broach that subject just yet. 

"Maybe," he agreed, "Sorry, anyway. Not the nicest thing to come home to, that's for sure." 

"I mean," (Y/N) started, her voice breathy as she sunk into his arms, "It wasn't that bad. More embarrassing for you than anything else, I bet." 

The laughter from his chest died down then. His brain caught on her words. "Not that bad?" he parroted, unsure of what or why he was even asking. 

"I mean, you're cute, H. You know that," she said oh-so casually. "I feel bad I walked in and scared you, but I can't act like it was the absolute worst moment of my life or something." She spoke with amusement, a touch of laughter carrying out her words as if this was all so easy. 

"Oh," Harry started, swallowing around his dry throat, "Y'think 'm cute?" 

She rolled into him, tucking herself against him once more. Harry didn't doubt that she was well acquainted with the pounding of his pulse at this point. "Of course I do, you know that. You're, like, the cutest guy I know. I mean," she sighed, voice slurring even more with the dredges of sleep tugging at her words, "you didn't have to stop earlier, if you didn't want to. I could've helped." 

Harry's body stopped working in that moment. Time was moving too fast around him while he was seemingly stuck in that moment. 

What? Is that a normal thing to say? Is this what happens when you share a bed with someone, even if they were only a friend?

His palms grew clammy. "What do you mean?" 

"You know," she yawned, "Just... I know you don't go on dates or bring anyone home or anything, so I could help you if you ever wanted. You're too cute to be by yourself, H." 

What the fuck? What was even happening at the moment? Was he delusional? Or dreaming so intensely he couldn't be sure if it was real or not? But he swore, crossing his heart and all, that this was real and completely happening all while (Y/N) was tucked in his arms with her mouth hovering by his throat. 

And she was offering to jerk him off sometime. Because he was too cute to do it by himself. 

What the fuck? 

"(Y/N)?" 

Harry received no answer. Her chest pressed against his and receded in even paces, puffs of air fanning across the slope of his neck. 

Staring once more at the poster on his wall, Harry didn't feel a single sleepy bone in his body. If he had thought he was restless before, there was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. 

—————

Exhaustion shackled his limbs as Harry moved through the kitchen. Just as he figured, there wasn't more than an hour of sleep in his system, his mind running too fast to allow him any kind of relaxation. Not when there was the extra presence in his bed. 

By the time the sun cracked through his curtains and (Y/N) had rolled to show her back to him, Harry forced himself out of bed. He doubted she was going to have an easy wakeup after the night she'd had, and he was already in shambles, making breakfast essential for the both of them to get through the morning hours. 

That didn't make it any easier, though. A large part of him wanted to stay tucked amongst his sheets, cozy and warm with the best view he could imagine available just before him. Despite that urge, a smaller part of him was still drenched in the complication that came with the slurred words she offered just before dozing off. 

First of all, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be embarrassed that she noticed he'd never really dated before and definitely never brought home anyone. It was bad enough that he was well aware of his lack of dating and sex life, he wasn't comforted at the idea of (Y/N) taking note. Second, what did it even mean to be too cute to be by himself? It brought a flush to his cheeks, the implication. But, was it really a compliment to be cute? He'd never heard (Y/N) describe any of the people she was interested in as cute; they were always pretty, and glowing, and handsome, and—of course—hot as fuck. 

Harry didn't want to know where he placed on her scale of attractiveness. 

Then, lest he forget, there was the whole offer of her taking care of him. If he ever wanted, of course. 

Even just the memory of her words was enough to have his limbs going robotic as he moved through the kitchen. He was going to burn his croissant if he wasn't careful. It was enough to even overshadow the moment she had walked in on him, it was that monumental to him.

But, Harry had a feeling that she wasn't going to remember much of the night before, let alone a throwaway comment right before falling asleep. And that was going to be better for the both of them.

Once he had twin plates of scrambled eggs with cheese, buttery croissants, and cut up fruit, he was daring to step back up the stairs to his bedroom. He felt like an intruder, knowing (Y/N) was still asleep, wrapped up in his bedding. Even if it was to wake her for breakfast, he felt reluctant to pull her from much needed rest.

Though, as soon as he pushed open the door, Harry realized he wasn't going to have to worry about waking her up. Not when she was already looking at him, blinking the sleep out of her eyes with the creases of his pillow etched in her cheek.

"Harry," she sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at her eye, "You're awake." 

"You're awake," he parroted, "I didn't think I'd see y'until this afternoon." 

She nodded absently, missing the amusement in his voice. "Me neither. Where did you go? I thought you'd left me here." 

It was the pout on her face and the downward lilting of her voice that had him taking a step towards his bed. "'M sorry," he murmured, feeling guilt pinch at his heart, "I was jus' downstairs making dinner. I was about to come get you and see if y'were hungry." 

"Breakfast?" she chirped, waking up that much more at the offer of food. 

"Eggs and those croissants," he confirmed, words coming out in a song as he tempted her with the offer. 

"That sounds so good, thank you," she muttered, voice genuinely warm as her gaze wrapped around him from across the room, "Will you come lay with me for a few more minutes, though? I don't want to get up yet." 

"I can bring your plate up here, if y'want," Harry offered, though they both saw him taking those quiet steps towards her.

(Y/N) simply shook her head. "Just you." 

Those two syllables launched him back to the night prior, where she couldn't continue her night without telling him just how much she had wanted only him through her night of bar hopping. Just him—the one on her mind, supposedly. He was too cute to be by himself.

Harry didn't respond before he was slipping into bed beside her, taking up the dented spot where his body had laid stiffly the night before. She took her spot against his form wordlessly, as if it were a part of the norm to snuggle up to him in the morning. 

"Thank you for letting me sleep in here last night," (Y/N) murmured, her chest expanding against his as she peered up at him through her lashes, "I know I was kind of a mess."

"No, no," he shook his head, "Y'were jus' fine. 'M happy y'came home instead of staying somewhere y'didn't want to." 

A small peal of laughter fanned across his skin. "I think everyone was getting annoyed anyway," she started, "I kept telling them that I shouldn't have left you home alone, so I think they were ready for me to just go back." 

Harry could feel his skin going warm. With his eyes closed, he attempted to keep his breathing from hitching. She was going to kill him one of these days. 

"Y'dont' have to worry about me when y'go out, (Y/N)," he insisted, voice as quiet as the grazing of his hands across her back. "'M fine, you go have fun." 

If not for the fact he was hyper aware of her body and just how close she was, he doubted he would have noticed the small shift she made across the sheets to land further in his arms. 

"You're just," she sighed, pausing between her words, "I don't want you to feel left behind or lonely. You're a good friend and you deserve to have fun and feel good." 

Her proposition that he had pushed to the back of his mind was suddenly roped right to the front. Of course, there was the damper of being such a good friend to her that she felt this way, but there was the rest of the statement to contend with first. 

"I—um—'M fine, (Y/N). Really. 'M actually pretty good company, if y'ask me." He had hoped she would join him when he let out a breathy laugh, but he made the only sound in the room. 

The pause lasted just long enough Harry wondered if (Y/N) had fallen asleep again before he heard her voice: 

"Like last night?" His heart all but stopped in his chest. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, time seemed to stand still while everything in his body went into overdrive. 

She wasn't supposed to remember that. She was supposed to be too plastered to remember anything, let alone the one moment with her he's ever regretted. What was he supposed to say to her? Was she teasing him, was he disgusted now that she was sober enough to have an opinion, was this one big joke that he was going to hav—

"(Y/N), I—" He started unraveling himself from her before she popped up with wide eyes. 

"No, no, I'm sorry," she rushed out, "That wasn't—I'm not trying to—I'm not making fun of you or, I don't know. I just mean..." She looked at him with uncertain crinkles by her eyes, her lips pursed as if she wanted to speak but had to hold back. 

"'M fine," he started again, sitting up amongst the rumpled bedding, "'M sorry if I ma—" 

"Do you remember what I said last night?" 

As soon as the question tumbled from her lips, Harry swore the room became five degrees hotter. 

"Do you remember?" he attempted to joke, though neither of them cracked a smile. 

She gave a nod. "About... you know. I could... help, if you wanted. So you're not by yourself." 

His mouth ran dry. There was much more power to the offer in the light of the morning with (Y/N)'s clear eyes directed to him. There was no slur of alcohol to her voice or liquid to her bones. 

She was entirely serious. So serious, she was asking him again. 

"You don't have to do that, (Y/N)," he murmured, dropping his gaze from hers. This was too much, to have to decline her—decline her pity offer after walking in on him with his hand down his pants the night before. "Really, 'm alright. I have no problem being... by myself." 

(Y/N) looked away with her lips rolled between her teeth. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. You deserve someone to look after you the way you look after me." 

"I don't think I look after you quite like that, though," he tired again, his light-hearted tone attempting to ease the tension. (Y/N) didn't grab the lifeline. 

"At least let me set you up with someone then?" (Y/N) offered this time, "I want you to meet someone you care about, then. At the very least, then we could double date." 

"I really... I don't want anyone. I'm okay." Anyone, but her was the right thing to say, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit at the moment. 

"There's this girl I know, though," she chattered off, suddenly coming to life, "You would really get along with her, H. She's super pretty, she's tall, and I don't think she likes Italian food, but we could work on—"

 "'M really okay, ser—" 

"No, H, she always loves reading—it's actually kind of funny how much she talks about all these books and—" 

Harry felt his stomach beginning to twist and turn. She could be the nicest woman in the world, this friend of hers. But there were many reasons why he was never going to take (Y/N) up on this offer. 

Starting with the fact that the one girl he had his eye on was right in front of him, and ending with the glaring truth of his virginity. He doubted (Y/N) or any of her friends like her were going to be very invested in that.

"And, not to get gross, but she's super hot. Like her body, H, you have to see her—"

"I'm a virgin." 

A flush ran up his skin, blooming his veins and reddening his skin. Why did he say that? Why did he share that? Is he suddenly an idiot? Was he now lacking a verbal filter and had to say everything that came to mind?

At the very least, (Y/N) finally stopped. The many wonderful and hot attributes of her friend had stopped. There was only a blanket of silence floating between them now. 

His heartbeat sounded in his ears before (Y/N) had any kind of reaction

"Oh," was all that fell from her lips. 

Peeking through his lashes, he was waiting for her to recoil. To look at him a little funny—the way the few that had learned that information looked at him. That moment of questioning how someone could have avoided sex (as if that was what he was up to), then wondering if there was something wrong with him, if there was something hiding under his skin that he was unwilling to share. Most people tried to recover as quickly as they could, brightening and telling him that it was alright. Plenty of people were waiting until marriage, they couldn't blame him of course! 

It was an uncomfortable conversation, one Harry let the other party lead. He never really felt like getting into the why's and the moments that he decided to turn down a potential warm bed. Or why it wasn't within his capabilities to have sex outside of a relationship with trust in the mix, or the fact that he'd never been in a relationship that met those qualifications. 

But, (Y/N) didn't do that. She looked at him with appraising eyes, not in search of something wrong. She looked at him like there was so much to be seen, to the point she couldn't believe it just because he was... him. 

"I didn't know that," she muttered, canting her head, "I always just kind of figured that you weren't." Her eyes widened then. "Wait, I've said so many things, why did you never correct me?"

Harry shrugged, the sheets rustling around him. "I know 's not... normal, so I jus' don't really talk about it. 'S easier if I jus' let y'assume." 

Her expression fell a little then. "I hope I never made you feel like you couldn't tell me," her eyes were soft as she gazed at him, "You know it didn't change anything to me, right?" 

A small smile cracked his lips. "Thanks."

She relaxed a touch then, her muscles untensing from the tension he injected with his admission. "Is it weird to ask you why? Like, why you've waited and everything?" 

"I wouldn't really say I've waited," he clarified, "I jus'... I've met people I wanted to be with and all of that, and I've had opportunities but I didn't take them." He paused, rolling his lips between his teeth; this was one of the harder bits to admit. It sounded silly even to his own ears, even if it was something he believed in. "I've never had anyone I trusted enough to share that... experience with. So I've just never." 

(Y/N) listened intently, eyes clear with a cant to her head. God, even with the harsh beating of his heart as he exhumed his secrets, she really was the absolute prettiest. 

"I get it," she muttered, "It's easier to wait than to spend the rest of your life regretting it." 

"Exactly," he exaggeratedly murmured, "'S like y'live in m'head, (Y/N)." 

His attempt at joking was enough to pull a small laugh from her chest. (Y/N) relaxed further into his bed, carving a dent into his mattress just at his side. Finally, that comfortable silence he lived in with her returned. 

He couldn't believe he'd been so flighty about this whole thing. This wasn't one of the things he needed to be nervous about, not compared to what she had walked into last night. And even that incident was less earth shattering than he made it out to be. 

(Y/N)'s tone was much less trepidatious when she spoke again, a decided difference than even a moment before. "Have you done anything else, though? Or have you waited for the whole thing?" 

"Haven't done anything," he responded, with a heaving sigh, "'M waiting on the whole experience I guess." 

"With someone you trust." 

A small smile bloomed over his features. "With someone I trust." 

A beat of silence passed between them. (Y/N) fiddled with the comforter tangled at her waist. "Can I ask you one more thing?" 

Harry hummed an acknowledgement. He should have agreed to get back into bed with her, he was beginning to consider leaving breakfast for this afternoon in favor of a quick nap. 

"Do you trust me?" 

It was the way she said it less than the actual words she said that had a pang echoing through Harry's chest. Of course, he trusted her; she was his best friend. Though, Harry doubted that was what she was trying to get at.

He gave a small confirmation in the form of a quiet yes. 

(Y/N) twisted in the sheets, looking up at him with clear eyes. Her lips glistened, the tip of her tongue having grazed over the pillows. "I know you said you're waiting and everything, but if you wanted to... change that, and you trust me...we could do whatever you wanted." 

As startling as the proposition was last night, this one inspired a twist in his stomach. This wasn't a drunken idea gone rogue. She was looking at him with a steady gaze and lips worried between her teeth. She was serious. She wanted to "do whatever" he wanted. With him. 

Despite there being no visible traces of pity on (Y/N)'s face, he truly could barely fathom the idea of her offering herself up to him so willingly. Especially after learning that there would be little he could offer in return—his skills were more than lacking. 

"(Y/N), you don't want to do that," he started, "'M alright, I d—" 

"I do," she cut him off, the words tumbling from her mouth without thought, "I do want to, I mean. You know I care about you right, Harry?" 

His mouth ran dry. "I know." 

A small smile touched her mouth. "You don't have to, obviously. I just wanted you to know that if you ever don't want to wait or kind of just want to get the pressure out of the way, I'm here."

 Was Harry going to explode? Was he going to flick through the room like a balloon deflating of helium? Or was his stomach going to swallow him whole and leave behind only the sticky tar of his feelings? 

And she was being so casual about it. She offered it as if there was no gravity to her words. 

"You don't have to say anything, though. Just remember that," she said with a soft smile, sitting up in bed with eyes on the door, "You said break—" 

"I want to." 

As soon as the declaration choked out of his throat, Harry wanted to cringe. He wanted to retract every breath, every thought, every twist of his tongue against his teeth that brought him here. Sure, she was offering, but there was such a thing as being over eager.

(Y/N) paused, glancing back to him. A light graced the hue of her irises. 

"Really?" 

He didn't trust himself to say another word. Harry only nodded. 

"You don't want to wait, anymore?" she prodded, forgetting the cracked door and the food downstairs. 

Now wasn't the time to give her the full list of why this exact moment was a dream come true (just short of having her as his girlfriend and holding her hand as they went to the movies), but she had offered a few good points. 

"I mean," he started, swallowing as his eyes dropped to the tip of her nose in avoidance of her eyes, "I do trust you. If there's anyone I know I wouldn't regret sharing this with, 's you." 

"I suppose we are best friends," (Y/N) added, layering her voice with a smile, "But, you're sure?" 

"I am," he said without a moment of hesitation, "Maybe jus' not... everything? I think that might be a bit much for me." 

"Of course, of course," she rushed out, waving her hands as if to wipe the pressure out of the air, "We'll only do what you want." 

Maybe Harry was a bit too much of an open book, unable to truly hide whatever it was that was running through his head, but he couldn't help the way his eyes immediately dropped to her hands. 

Harry knew just how soft her hands were. He'd seen the hand creams she used every night, and felt the plush skin every time they grazed hands or she made the dangerous decision of just laying a hand on his arm every time he made her laugh just a little too much. There was even once, way back when they'd first started becoming friends, that she had him to compare hand sizes. Even now, he vividly remembered just how soft her palm was against his, the stretch of her fingers that didn't reach up to the tips of his own. It was a memory he held onto and one he couldn't get out of his head at that moment. 

He'd thought more than once what it would be like to have her hand on him instead of his own between the sheets. What the visual of her pretty manicured nails, digits of her fingers, the softness of her palm would look like fisted around his length. He didn't have to know to be certain he wouldn't last very long if he ever had the chance to find out. 

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the wide smile mold (Y/N)'s features. 

"Really?" she coyly asked, stretching out her fingers from the cover of her sleeves. 

"Hm?" he hummed, forcing his eyes back to her own. 

A peal of laughter fell from her lips as she crawled back to her spot at his side. "My hands. That's all you want?" 

His skin felt flush as he nodded, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. "Only if you want." 

She hovered above him, the tips of her hair hanging around them like a curtain. She looked like a dream there, only slats of light working across her face. Shadows sliced over her cheekbones and the length of her lashes with the pretty color of her eyes gleaming in the sun and the curve of her lips highlighted. 

He must be dreaming, but he was never this anxious in his dreams. Especially not one so lovely. 

"No one's ever done that for you before?" she asked, taking up a spot on the mattress at his side with her eyes grazing over his features. 

"Never," he confirmed, feeling his stomach stir at the feel of the heat of her body at his side. 

God was this really about to happen? 

"You're okay with me being the first?" Her voice suddenly had dropped a few octaves, a murmur in the air between them. 

He didn't have to think before he nodded. "I want you to be the first." 

Her eyes were bright, sparkling in the slat of light shining through her hair. "Right now?"

"Right now." 

She looked entirely too gorgeous to be normal when she smiled at him. "Just show me what you like, then. I'm all yours." 

His stiffening cock jumped at her words. She needed to stop talking like that if she didn't want him to embarrass himself. 

With that, (Y/N) wiggled her hand under his own on his abdomen, amusement in her eyes. Harry felt his breathing hitch at the simple touch. Just as soft as he thought. 

In an effort to preserve some semblance of his sanity, he closed his eyes before wrapping the length of his fingers around her hand. It was a moment, a full heartbeat pounding through his ears, before he pulsed his hand around hers in an affectionate squeeze and traced her hand down his middle. 

He could feel the tense of his muscles under his shirt, his legs spreading just that much wider. The ghost of her touch was a stark reminder that he never finished the job last night. 

Amongst his rumpled bed sheets, Harry couldn't be sure that this was even real life. Not that he spent any specific amount of time picturing what this first time would be like, but he could admit that he never really thought it would be like this. Not in sweatpants that had a stain from the eggs he had scrambled only twenty minutes prior. Not with his hand being the guiding force down to the waist of his bottoms. Not with (Y/N).

His cock stirred when their joined hands reached the elastic band of his sweatpants. Despite not even feeling her bare skin on his, goosebumps were raised. Was he going to embarrass himself by finishing within seconds? Harry had a feeling that was going to be the scenario at hand. 

(Y/N) wiggled her hand out from under his, hooking her fingers in the waist under her own volition. "You're still alright? With all of this?" 

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, his voice a hair above a whisper in hopes of disguising the tremor. 

"Okay," she said, looking up at him for a brief moment with a reassuring smile, "If you don't want to anymore, though, just let me know. We'll have breakfast and pretend nothing happened." 

His heartbeat sped up at her declaration. He knew he could trust her—with his body, with his delicate feelings, with his life, even. 

Harry didn't move his eyes from her even when she directed her attention to her hand. He watched her as she pushed his sweatpants down, the band falling just far enough down to hit the end of his boxer-briefs. His mouth fell open as he attempted to gain any insight into what she might be thinking, this being the first time he'd ever been this exposed to anyone before. Even with the layer of his underwear on, he'd never been in front of anyone in an undergarment like this. 

(Y/N) didn't give much away, only the cautious pace of her movements indicated the gravity of this moment. She skated her palm over the jut of his hip, easing him into the feel of her touch; he doubted she missed the way his cock jumped. His body reacted readily to each of her touches: goosebumps on his skin, bunched muscles in his abdomen, lungs squeezing in his chest, and the bruising hold of his teeth over his bottom lip. 

His hip was only the first step before she continued her path. She grazed the top of his thigh, nails denting into his skin in gentle pressures. His breath caught when she touched the lump of his cock, enough so that his chest shuddered. She lingered there, going so far as to give a slight squeeze, only causing him to harden more in her grip.

"I'm going to put my hand underneath, okay?" (Y/N) shared, voice quiet before he felt the first touch of her fingertips. 

"Okay," he answered involuntarily, tongue thick in his mouth. He was so gone for her in the moment, it was hard to think straight.

Harry lifted his hips to help her pull down his briefs, leaving them bunched at the mid of his thighs. His cock bobbed free, flushed and ruddy already. He doubted any other person in the world would have gained a reaction like this one. 

This time, he caught (Y/N)'s first real reaction. Her eyes widened, grazing over the length of him as she pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. She laid her hand on his abdomen for a beat, absently curling her fingers in the hem of his shirt she'd only pushed up and out of the way.  

Suddenly, she seemingly shook herself out of her head, looking up at Harry with a blink of her eyes. 

"Is it alright if I move a little?" she murmured, "I want to get more comfortable, if that's okay." 

She asked as if he had the power to deny her of anything, especially something so inconsequential. 

As soon as Harry nodded, she shifted at his side. Kicking the comforter off of her legs, she rolled to lay on her side next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm underneath her, his palm landing just between her shoulder blades. The cuddling felt a little more inconsequential now that she had a hand traveling down his form, even if the feel of her chest pressed against him was enough to have his blood pumping faster. 

Now that she was settled, (Y/N) resumed her ministrations with both of their eyes trained on the movement of her hand. Harry swore it was just the fact that she was looking at him at all that had the blurt of precum seeping from his head, a pearl glistening in the morning light. 

"Just—um—if I do something you like, tell me and I'll try to keep doing it," she spoke distractedly, a slight rasp to her voice he hadn't anticipated in his fantasies. 

His mumble of okay was lost as soon as he saw her bring her hand to her mouth. He watched on as she dragged her tongue across her palm, slicking the skin before wrapping her fist around his base. 

"Oh, fuck," he let out, barely audible over the heavy sigh that carried out the words. He fought to keep his eyes open, spying the way (Y/N)'s features curled into a smile with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. 

She did a precursory drag of her hand over his length, the pacing slow and aching. Harry could feel every crease and pillow of her palm. God, she was just as soft as he imagined. 

His chest shuddered as he watched her pretty nails sparkling in the light. The pink polish seemingly mimicked the flush of his head, glimmering and sparkling like the slick of her spit over his shaft. If that wasn't bad enough, seeing the fact that her fingers didn't even connect around the girth of him was going to kill him. Were her hands that small or was he bigger than he thought? 

As if hearing his thoughts, a mutter came from (Y/N), "You're so big, H. I had no idea." 

He wanted to say something (was it corny to say "thank you" to something like that?), instead only a rumbling groan came from his chest. The pillows under his head were the perfect cushions when he couldn't handle keeping it up anymore. He was already flushed and warm, muscles too tight for comfort, and stomach tightening into a burn. And she'd barely even started. 

Hearing his reaction was enough to spur her on, dragging her fist over and over his length. Periodically, she swiped her thumb over his crown, spreading the pearls of precum he let out. The slick passes of her hand rang out through his bedroom, competing with the puffs of his heavy breathing as the most erotic sound filtering through his bedroom. 

"Ti-Tighter," he choked out, his arm around her back holding her flush to his side. 

(Y/N) didn't respond, but he immediately felt the vice of her hand tighten that much more around his length. Another string of curses fell from his lips, his throat thick. 

"Is this good?" she asked, turning until she was looking up at him with wide eyes. Her pupils were dilated, darkening the hue of her irises. 

Harry wasn't able to think as he looked at her. She was his dream, the ultimate fantasy. Looking up at him with glossy eyes, her manicured hand squeezing around his cock. And for the first time, he noticed she was rubbing her thighs together as she took care of him. His free hand clutched the mess of his sheets; he wouldn't be surprised if he found holes in the fabric later. 

"So good," Harry breathed, the words broken on his tongue, "So, so good, (Y/N)." 

The smile she gave him was devastating.

Was she crazy? Was she trying to send him over the edge this quickly? He was starting to think so. 

"I was going to ask if you wanted it tighter, but I think we've found it," she teased, entirely too light-hearted for one of the most monumental moments of his life. 

"Y-Yeah," he answered, feeling delirious, "(Y/N), I-I'm close. 'M sorry." 

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, a pinch appearing between her brows, "This is about you, you don't have to be sorry. Cum whenever you want—as long as you feel good, I don't care." 

Her pace was unrelenting, the slap of her hand hitting his base mimicking the beat of his heart. 

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he muttered, voice strained, "Let me—I don't want to make a m-mess on you, I can grab—" 

She shushed him, shaking her head against his chest. "I can handle a little mess, H, it's okay. Stop thinking about me, this is about you." 

Stop thinking about me, as if that were ever an option for him. 

Still the sentiment stuck the same, especially her willingness to allow him to leave any kind of mark on her, including one so primitive. 

He spared a glance down at her. Her features were mostly hidden give the angle and the wisps of her hair in the way, but he could still see the flutter of her lashes as she watched herself getting him off, he could see the pinch of her nose and the gape of her lips. He could see her thighs squeezed tightly together, the shirts covering her modesty turning tight and especially short around her hips. 

God, this was (Y/N) on him. That was her pretty, soft hand on his length. That was her chest pressed to his ribs, only layers away from feeling the heavy beating of his heart. That was her wrapped up in the sheets holding his scent and so eagerly and happily fisting his cock. 

"Shit," he moaned, his voice rumbling and deep as he threw his head back, "(Y/N), 'm cumming, love." 

There was a void in the pit of his stomach that tightened and popped in that moment, unraveling him from the inside out. His balls tightened at his base just before the first rope off is cum spurted from his tip. The mess he'd worried about came to life then, white ribbons projecting as far up to the chest of his top, others dripping down his length and further wetting (Y/N)'s hand. 

Guileless moans echoed from his chest, filling the room as he came for the first time at the hand of another. His body urged him to close his eyes, the visuals before him being too much for his fragile psyche. But Harry fought the instinct. There was no way he was missing even a single frame of this; there was likely never going to be another time he had the privilege of laying with (Y/N) like this, he wasn't going to let anything get in the way. Including his eyelids. 

She didn't slow down as she helped him through the throes, her own breathing turning rough and off-kilter. Her toes curled in her socks, thighs pressed tightly together. 

Harry could have been up in the stratosphere for hours with the way he slumped against the bed exhausted by the time the final drop of his release slithered down his cock. (Y/N) slowed, though she kept going until the final aftershock left his spine and Harry had to pull her hand away before he burst into flames. 

His breathing came in heavy puffs, lips parted and swollen. He didn't need to see himself to know that his cheeks were cherry red with a nose to match, his curls pasted to his temples with sweat, and his eyes just a bit wild. 

Despite pushing her hand out of the way, (Y/N) didn't think before she laced their fingers together. Her touch was a bit sticky now, but there was no way Harry was going to complain. He kept his arm aprons her back tight, fingers denting the soft plane between her shoulder blades. 

He could have laid there for days, feeling the warmth of (Y/N)'s body and her soft hand in his. If not for the fact his cum had begun to dry and go cold. At the very least he needed to clean (Y/N) up—he doubted it was good bedroom etiquette to leave her to clean up after his mess. 

Forcing his eyes open, Harry blindly reached for the tissue box he kept on his bedside table (truthfully, it was for the hay fever he always seemed to have, but the sheets definitely had their convenient uses. Uses he would never admit to, of course). Reluctantly, he peeled (Y/N)'s hand out of his, wiping the streak of his cum marring her palm. 

A breathy giggle fell from her lips. 

"What?" he asked, his voice bubbled and cracked. 

"Nothing," she smiled, "You're just sweet." 

For some odd reason, he flushed harder than he should at something so mundane. 

"Thank you," he peeped, cleaning the stray strings that reached up to her wrist. 

As soon as (Y/N) was free from the traces of him, he took care of his own thighs and the streaks that hit his shirt. The pile of tissues he had to take to the trash made a little mountain on his bedside table by the time he had himself tucked away and sweatpants laying against his hips once more. 

"Um," he started, unsure of what to say after an experience like that. What even qualified as pillow talk, and how did one start it with someone that was just his roommate? "I'll be right back," he settled on, reaching for the mess of tissues, "'M going to cl—" 

"Harry." 

He didn't think before he looked at her. Her eyes were still full of dilated pupils with swollen lips, but the way she looked at him held more tenderness than he thought capable in a moment like this. 

"Stay with me for a second," she requested, her voice a soft coo. 

There wasn't a second thought to be had as he listened to her command. If he thought he was gone for her before, that was nothing compared to the endorphins coursing through him every time she looked at him in that moment. 

(Y/N) didn't wait before she was rolling to wrap him in a hug. It was a bit awkward, the way she had to stretch up to loop her arms around his neck and the way their legs tangled in the sheets. But it was more than worth it. 

Harry had always pictured himself to be the kind of guy that would want a cuddle after sex, but he never could have imagined just how vital this kind of contact would be after something so intense. Despite this being levels below the real act, Harry still clung to her. 

Every time his chest inflated with a whiff of her hair and sullied perfume, she deflated with a breath that fanned across his neck. Kicking free of the sheets, (Y/N) opted instead to curl her legs between his in a welcome tangle. Her warmth radiated through the material of her shirt, a soothing heat that brought him back down to earth. 

He didn't think before the words were being whispered into her hair: "Thank you." 

The smile on her face was audible when she spoke, "You're welcome, Harry." 

He couldn't help but squeeze her that much harder. "I'm sorry I can't offer anything in return," he admitted, a frown etching its way onto her lips, "I-I could try, I jus' don't think I'll be very good or—" 

She shushed him with a press of her lips to his cheek. It was an act that took his already fragile breathing out of pace once more. The tip of her nose grazed his skin, the plush of her lips hitting right where he knew his dimple to be when he smiled. 

"Stop talking," she laughed when she finally—regretfully—pulled away. "This was all about you, Harry. I'm just happy that you felt good, and trusted me enough to let me do this with you. That's all I need." 

He could only hug her harder. 

Harry would have laid there for hours, happily so, even when he could feel the strength returning to his muscles and the beat of his heart leveling out, but (Y/N) was the first to pull away. She pressed another soft kiss to his cheek before she untangled herself from him. 

Her eyes practically glimmered as she looked down at him. "You said there was breakfast downstairs, right?" 

That was enough to get a full laugh echoing from his chest, his lungs squeezing in the best way possible. 

He was never, ever going to be free of this crush on her. Not now. 

—————

pomegranates, an ancient roman wedding gift; the fruit hades offered to persephone to keep her in the underworld. with him.

ahhhhhhh thanl u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or anything please send them in!

[starmatzz]

𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝓪𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮🎀

San x gf!reader | smut, mdni

| nsfw tags

| cock riding, pet names, mentions of male and female parts

“Straddle my lap now, sweetheart,” San said with a soft voice, sitting on a bed as he leaned back against the bedpost. 

You had wanted to try riding for so long but could never find the right words or the right moment to tell San.

One day, though, you finally mustered the courage to share your desires with him.

Your cheeks were flushed as you obediently straddled his lap. Both of you got already worked up in a foreplay, dry humping each other lovingly. 

San was always patient and understanding, especially when you were trying something new, fully aware of how shy and self-conscious you could be.

He pulled down the waistband of his sweatpants just below his hips, his cock springing free. 

“You look nervous, bun,” he mumbled while being too focused on pulling down your panties. His tone wasn’t teasing like usual; it was genuine, a soft reassurance to make sure you were comfortable.

He paused, his thumbs gently rubbing over your hipbones, offering a moment of comfort before carefully positioning you above his tip. 

You hesitated, watching him grip his cock and align it with your already wet hole. 

“If anything feels uncomfortable, just tell me right away baby,” he looked into your eyes deeply, “now, sink down slowly.”

You held his gaze, your eyes locked with his as you slowly lowered yourself. The stretch burned, but you didn’t care—it only made the moment more intense.

It was worth it for the sight in front of you. 

San closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly, releasing a deep, steady exhale.

“You feel amazing, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips as he watched you.

You continued sinking down, focusing on the feeling of being filled inch by inch. Squeezing your eyes shut in agony, the sharp lines of discomfort etched across your features. But soon, the tension slowly eased, and your expression softened, the pain fading into something more bearable. 

Suddenly, he was all the way in, and you exhaled deeply, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you tried to steady your breath.

“What a good girl, I'm so proud of you baby,” San opened his eyes, his hands gently guiding your hips upward once more, his movements slow and deliberate.

You complied, flexing your thigh muscles to push yourself upward. Once you could feel only his thick tip inside you, you both looked down. 

The sight was breathtaking as you lowered yourself again, being able to see how San's cock was filling you up. It got you so overwhelmed, you got all shy and collapsed onto his chest.

“Aw baby, is it too much already?” He asked with a chuckle, his hand gently rubbing your back.

You nodded with a soft smile, and neither of you moved, silently agreeing to stay like this—his hands on your back, as you simply enjoyed the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

[emeraldserenade]

hiii i have a request!

bob floyd x reader who is also in the dagger squad, and the team goes to the beach to hang out and play volleyball and bob gets flustered seeing reader in a swimsuit

<3

Beach Bikini ~ Robert "Bob" Floyd

synopsis: All it took was once day at the beach in a bikini, but Robert Floyd was all yours

tw: fem!reader, reader's call sign is Star, reader wears a bikini, Bob throws reader over his shoulder (that man is strong and people can fight me over that), suggestive, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi!! I love this idea so much!! This is my first Bob Floyd request!! This is also somehow my shortest Bob Floyd fic???

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Staying in San Diego has it's perks, the constant friends were probably the best part. Yet, you guys never ended up at the beach since the first time with Pete. You were never one to suggest to go, but you had just gotten a new two piece and wanted to wear it. Plus, you'd get really nice tan lines. So you did the only thing you could think of to get everyone to the beach. "Hangman, get everyone to agree to go to the beach, and I'll wear a bikini," you told him after cornering him in a random hallway. He was literally against a wall with you standing so close the toes of your boots were meeting for a little kiss.

"Seriously?" He gave you a once over. You knew ever since he saw you in the tennis skirt and tank top you wore once to bowling, he wanted to see more. You also knew he knew that unless your endless crush on Robert Floyd just suddenly disappeared, he had no chance.

"Mhm, but everyone has to go," you told him, spinning on your heel to leave. You knew you would get to wear your new swimsuit and you couldn't wait.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You found yourself in your coverup walking down the sand to the group you called your friends. They had taken up residence by the volleyball net and you saw that the guys were already in a game. "Hey, Phoenix!" You called over, still a good couple feet away.

"Hey, Star!" Natasha called back.

You had a pretty smile painted on your face and Bob swore his heart stopped. Sure, he had seen you smile before but there was something different about this one. Maybe it's because you were being lit by the sun or maybe it was because Bob's infatuation with you was getting too hard to ignore. But the flowy sundress you wore to cover the swimsuit you were probably wearing and the sunglasses you had perched on the bridge of your nose, made Bob have less than gentlemanly thoughts.

"Yo! Bob! Pay attention!" Mickey yelled, breaking Bob from his thoughts.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You hadn't taken the sundress off since you were too busy watching the boys play volleyball, but soon you and Natasha were being added to the game. "Hold on a minute!" You yelled over, pulling your sundress off.

"Well, shit, y/n!" Jake loudly announced as you dropped the dress. You smiled to yourself, Jake had never called you by your given name.

"What? You like it?" You questioned as you walked over, the dark green bikini covered just enough to be tasteful but showed enough to be suggestive.

"Me liking it is an understatement," Jake told you as you walked past him for the other side of the net.

"Then don't get distracted," you shrugged. "Actually, do get distracted. I want to win."

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The game went by smoothly, you didn't catch Bob staring at you but you did catch Jake. You would laugh every time he missed the ball when you would purposefully place yourself in his eyesight. "I'm going to the water, have fun!" You called to the others as you left the game.

"I'll come with you," Bob said from the other side of the net, making the teams even again. You two walked down the beach together, your hands lightly brushing against each others. "You, uh, look nice," Bob said and you smiled over at him.

"Thanks, so do you," you returned the compliment, trying not to look at him.

"Seems like Jake likes you back too," Bob said it so casually it made your head spin.

"What? Jake? No!" You feebly argued, the heat and the stare from Bob making your brain slow down a bit. "I don't like Jake, I like you!" You slapped your hands over your mouth.

"You, you like me?"

"I thought it was obvious," you mumbled, toeing the sand. "I just assumed you knew and didn't say anything because you didn't like me back," you admitted, scared now that you didn't think you knew his feelings.

"What? No, I do like you," Bob argued back and you stared at him with wide eyes.

"So, do you like my swimsuit? I bought it specifically to show off to you," you admitted lowly, giving him a slow spin. You weren't even in the water yet, your skin still sun warmed. Bob just watched you with heavy lidded and lust filled eyes hidden behind his frames, there was a slow nod from him before he reached out and threw you over his shoulder. "Robert Floyd!" Your shout called the attention of everyone else. They watched as Bob walked with you over his shoulder, swooped down to grab your things, before leaving the beach with you.

"Get it, girl!" Natasha yelled at you as you placed your hand on Bob's lower back to push your head up to stop the rush of blood to it. Your nails slightly dug into his back and you heard him groan at it. You dug your nails even a little bit harder with a smirk on your face.

"You're going to pay for that," Bob threw you off his shoulder to pull you into a bruising kiss, the hoots and hollers of your friends fading into the background as he gripped your hips tight.

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Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[the-shedevil-writes]

Basic Chemistry (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: When you tag along with your best friend, Bob, to Hangman’s lakehouse for a few days, you expect sunshine, swimming, and maybe a few drinks. You don’t expect the suppressed feelings you've had to start bubbling up, especially when you're sharing close quarters and playing party games that blur the lines of friendship. WORD COUNT: 5.3k WARNINGS: Best friends to lovers, Drinking and drunken actions, slight jealous Bob, slight insecure Bob. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED?! (I can't believe I actually wrote this trope) NOTES: Inspired by the monologue Lewis Pullman has in Lessons in Chemistry- "When certain atoms collide, it is instantaneous and it is inevitable. It is basic chemistry."  MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Being invited to Jake Seresin’s lakehouse felt like a milestone reached for Y/n. She had been trying to gain more friends lately after facing the reality that she hadn’t had a solid group of friends since college, which felt like forever ago. All her friends had gone in different directions. Some settled down in the East Coast. Some moved out of the country and traveled through their years. Even the few stragglers who stayed in San Diego were now busy with their families and mommy groups. It felt like everybody had left her… except for Bob. Thankfully, her best friend since high school was often stationed in North Island. Even when he’d end up stationed somewhere else, he always somehow came back. 

Bob had introduced her to his current squadron, and she became at the very least acquainted with everybody. She was naturally closest to Phoenix, the only girl of his group and the pilot he backseated for. They quickly started texting and hanging out. Especially as Phoenix wanted to know all the embarrassing stories about Bob growing up. That’s how Bob ended up dumbfounded midair when Phoenix went-

“So Bob… We’re not gonna have any problems splitting your shorts, right? Cause a little birdie told me you have a track record.”

“I’m gonna kill her.” He radioed in.

She was so happy that Bob was trying to incorporate her more. But she tried her best not to overstep. She didn’t want to be that girl who was trying desperately to become part of the group. Though Bob was always reassuring her that they enjoyed her company. And it helped with the fact that it was obvious that some of the guys in the group were attracted to her. Hangman was his naturally flirty self, and Payback and Fanboy were always close behind.  

So the invite to the lakehouse felt like a solidification that they wanted her there. It was even better that she received the invitation directly from Jake’s number, and not through Bob. She had friends again.

Driving down the winding curves of the lake, she had her sandaled feet up on the dash of Bob’s truck. He swatted at her.

“Can you put those down? The thought of a crash freaks me out.” Bob said 

“Just drive better.” She teased, and Bob looked at her with a done expression, “Okay, okay! I won’t let my legs crash through your windshield.” She chuckled and put her legs back down.

“Thank you.” He said.

She looked out at the beautiful lake beside them. The surface sparkled in the sun, and the waves were calm and succinct. She’d never been to a lake, just the beach. With her window partially rolled down, it smelled different. Earthier. The air lacked its usual salt smell and instead had the scent of the pine trees surrounding them. Her hair whipped in the rush of wind, and she smiled, letting it hit her face. 

It was nice having some time alone with her best friend. She looked over at him and observed his relaxed face. He was focused on the road ahead, but his face wasn’t tensed like it normally was when he was concentrated. Now that was a face she had seen many times. From AP Calculus class to playing Space Invaders on his Atari, she had seen that focused face often. But at the moment, he looked calm. Probably because it was his first time in a while taking more than the weekend off work. 

She blushed and looked away. Yeah, she had always considered dating Bob. They balanced each other out, and they knew each other better than anyone else. But that’s also why they couldn’t. Their years of friendship meant too much to her. She couldn’t bear the thought of it being ruined over some petty relationship drama. 

“You excited?” Bob asked, almost sensing that she had been looking at him.

She nodded, “Yeah, I can’t wait for the ego boost I’m about to get.” She joked.

He rolled his eyes. She knew how much he hated the fact that his friends all hit on her. She figured it was just because he didn’t want the drama of his best friend and his co-workers. So she enjoyed holding it over his head that all his friends were playing for her. 

“So fun.” He mumbled sarcastically. 

“Aw, don’t be like that. You always come first in my book, Bobby.” She said with a grin, noticing his small blush.

He waved her off. “Yeah. Yeah.”

As they pulled up to the lakehouse, her eyes widened at the sight of the dark wooden cabin. The house had orange pillars and windows full of flowers. It looked gorgeous, and most of all, huge. 

They drove past the little pier that went into the lake. Accompanying it was a large deck that wrapped around the house. She could make out the figures of Rooster and Hangman already holding beers. Leaning over Bob, she waved out the window.

“GETTING STARTED WITHOUT US?” She called, capturing their attention.

Bob laughed at her usual antics and honked the horn to help. 

“Hey!” Rooster and Hangman waved excitedly. 

Bob pulled the truck into the driveway, and she got out to greet them as they came down the porch. 

“Holy shit, Jake. This place is nice.” She said, looking around.

“Thank you, my dear,” Jake said, pulling her in for a side hug. 

Rooster was next, and he asked, “How was the drive?” as Bob got out of the driver's seat.

“Good. Good.” He nodded, “Got a little lost, but that’s cause Y/n isn’t the best at navigation.”

She groaned with Rooster’s arm around her. “It’s not my fault it’s so tiny on my phone.”

“We missed our exit three times.”

They all laughed, and she reached over to shove Bob’s shoulder playfully. 

“Well, everybody’s in the back. Fanboy’s barbecuing.” Jake said about to lead them over, but then he turned, “Oh- and for room accommodations, you good sleeping with Bob?”

The wording of the question made Rooster almost spit out his beer. Jake shoved him. “In the same room, I mean.” 

She laughed at Rooster’s reaction and didn’t even notice how red Bob’s face got. “Yeah, it’s totally fine. We’ve bunked together before.” She said, turning around, “Remember our Arizona trip and how you snored so loud I didn’t sleep a wink.” 

Bob laughed, easing up at that story. “Sorry, I snore more when I’m drunk.”

Rooster walked over and patted Bob’s back. “Well, sorry, but we are absolutely drinking tonight.” 

She groaned, “Just make sure there’s enough to knock my ass out cold.”

They walked onto the porch and through the side to find everybody else. Phoenix was sitting in a lounge chair next to Payback as Fanboy manned the grill right next to them. Classic 80s rock played on a small radio. They all cheered upon her and Bob’s arrival. 

“Finally, my girlfriend’s here.” Phoenix joked, reaching out with grabby hands.

Y/n laughed and waddled over to her lounge chair, squeezing in next to her. Rooster came up from behind Bob and pulled out a Polaroid camera. The girls gave him a big smile as he snapped a picture. 

“Oh, that’ll come in handy for the next few drunken nights, I’m sure,” Y/n said

“No one is safe,” Rooster said, pointing his finger at the girls. 

After a few moments of catching up, Jake put his hands on his hips. “Well, everyone’s here and the sun’s about to set. Let’s set up that campfire.”

After the boys set up a campfire by the lake (something they deemed to be a four-man job), all of them sat around it, drinking and laughing. 

“Okay- okay- okay, Y/n, what is your best story about Bob?” Rooster asked, leaning on his knee.

“I already told you guys about him splitting his shorts twice in one day!” She laughed a little, tipsy.

“I said best. Doesn’t have to be funny.” He clarified.

Bob’s brows furrowed. “Why do you wanna know?” He asked.

“That’s exactly what I mean. You’re closed off. You don’t talk about your life very much. But ever since you started bringing Y/n around, we’ve gotten to know more Bob Lore.” Rooster explained.

“And Bob lore is great,” Phoenix added.

She sat for a moment thinking. She tapped her finger to her lips. 

Then she got it.  

“Well, for our senior Prom, I was so excited because I got asked out by this guy-” “Parker Rosenwood.” Bob groaned.

She smiled. “Yes, Parker Rosenwood. And he was a very popular, attractive guy. And well, I… wasn’t. I was in the engineering club with Bob and wore a sweatervest every day.” Everybody chuckled as she took a sip of her beer. “Well, Bob also managed to score a date with Janet Waters, who was also cute and popular. But the difference was that Parker stood me up. I waited on my porch in my big poofy dress for an hour, trying not to cry. Bob ended up seeing him at the dance without me, so he immediately apologized to Janet, and he… showed up at my porch as I was bawling my eyes out.” 

The whole group was silent, immersed in the story. 

“Wow. Good on you, Bob.” Payback commented.

“What about that Janet girl?” Hangman asked.

“She fucked Parker Rosenwood in the janitors closet that night,” Bob said, shrugging.

She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, “And that could’ve been him, but he was a good friend instead.”

The group was silent again for a moment. She didn’t notice Hangman and Rooster giving each other a side eye, and Phoenix widening her eyes at Bob. 

“We should tell her how many pushups we’ve gotten Bob to do in a week,” Fanboy broke the silence, making everybody erupt into cheers and Bob groan.

A few hours later, Bob and she walked into their new shared room. Only slightly tipsy. They wanted to take it easy, considering the lake was planned for the next day. When Bob turned on the light switch, he froze at the sight of one full double bed instead of two twins like they had assumed.

“Oh!” She exclaimed. She looked over at Bob. “Well, I misunderstood what Jake meant.”

Bob shook his head and walked in. “It’s fine. We’ve done this before, haven’t we?”

She nodded. “Senior trip to Vegas.” 

“Right, and I wanted to kill you because you kept taking the blanket.”

She walked in and set her stuff down on the left side of the bed. “Hey! You know I run cold.”

They started unpacking their things, and she very casually took her shirt off to change. She was still wearing a bra underneath, and Bob had seen her in a bathing suit, so it didn’t feel that big of a deal. Especially considering she was facing away from him. But because of that, she didn’t notice Bob’s face turning bright red and how he turned away to do the same, changing out of his sweaty shirt into a new one. 

“Mmmm, you think it’s safe to swim in the lake?” She asked, breaking the silence as she took her denim shorts off to put on pajama shorts. Bob did the same but with his boxers. 

“Yeah, that’s like why we’re here.”

“But I’ve seen all those medical shows where they always say that they got some sort of brain-eating amoeba from swimming in the lake.” She said, turning around to find the both of them fully changed now. 

Bob laughed. “Just don’t drink the lake water.”

“Damn it. That was my plan all along.” She said, heading towards the bed. He followed suit. They were so comfortable with each other. It was just natural.

“You’re on your own on this one,” Bob said, getting under the covers.

“BOOOOOOOOOO!” She did the same on her side, giving him a thumbs down. 

“Sorry, I didn’t come to Hangman’s vacation house to guzzle lake water?” Bob laughed out loud. 

She loved making him laugh, and he loved how naturally out there she was. It was the perfect give and take. 

They were laughing so hard that they didn’t realize they were lying across from each other. Their faces were directly in front of each other. 

“Goodnight, Bobby. See you in the morning.” She said, reaching over to grab the remote for the fan. She turned it off, and the room went dark. Bob took his glasses off and set them on his bedside table. 

“Night, Y/n.” He said softly, closing his eyes.

It was the middle of the night when she unknowingly rolled over, bumping into a sleeping Bob. He groaned a little, mostly asleep, and instinctively pushed her back. For the next forty-five minutes, she kept rolling around and unintentionally stealing the blanket. She shivered and curled up into a ball in her sleep. 

After one last final bump, Bob, frustrated and half asleep, wrapped his arm around her, holding her in place. She stopped. A sigh of relaxation came out of her, and he let one out as well. He was too tired from the drive and the beers to think too hard about it. To feel how close she was. To know how right it felt. 

When morning came, she had her arms wrapped around him, and he did her. She woke up groggy and confused. She looked up and saw Bob’s sleeping face, and she almost gasped. Why were her arms wrapped around him? And more importantly, why were his around her? After the initial shock, she just took the time to feel the sensation of being in his arms. She admired his sleeping face for a moment. He looked hilarious. If she could reach her phone, or better, Rooster’s camera, she’d take a picture of his face smushed against the pillow. His hair sticking up every which way. 

After a few moments, Bob woke up, and she quickly closed her eyes, pretending to wake up at the same time. Like she totally wasn’t watching him sleep and finding comfort in his embrace. She yawned.

“Uh- good morning, Mrs.” She joked

Bob’s eyes blinked in confusion for a moment before he looked down and noticed she was in his arms. “Oh, uh… good morning.” He said, his face getting flustered. His voice had that early morning rasp that made her heart skip a beat. But she quickly recovered. 

She laughed and poked his chest. “Relax. We must’ve just gotten cold in our sleep.” 

He shook his head. “No, I think it’s cause you wouldn’t stay still.” 

“Because I’m so cold. And you sweat through denim.” She teased.

“Oooookay.” He said, groaning and pushing her off of him, making her cackle again.

They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t bring it up to the rest of the group, knowing they would never live it down. It didn’t matter. It was a total accident. Even if both of them hoped this mistake would happen again later that night. They walked down the steps of Jake’s back porch down to the pier, where some of the guys had already started swimming and jumping in. 

Phoenix waved at her as she swam with most of her body submerged. She waved back excitedly. She immediately took off her tank top and shorts, revealing the dark green bikini she had bought recently. Hangman, coming out of the water, let out a “WOO!” at the sight. 

“I’mma push you right back in, Seresin!” She yelled back.

“Please do. I’m gonna need a cold shower after today.” He smirked, walking up to her. She rolled her eyes, but smiled at the compliment.

Bob awkwardly set up a towel on the rocky shore. He tried not to listen in, but he couldn’t help it. Fighting the urge to throw sand at Hangman’s face, he sat down and watched everyone else for a moment.

“Is the water cold?” She asked Jake.

“Come in and find out,” He said with a grin.

She smiled and nodded, but then looked back to find Bob sitting on the towel, still with his shirt on. She put one finger up to tell Jake ‘one second’, before running over to Bob. Kneeling onto the towel, she hovered in front of him. “Whatcha doing?” 

“Oh, just- just relaxing in the sun.” He stammered a little, nodding with his awkward smile.

Her head tilted towards him with a knowing look. “Bobby, come swim. You said this was the whole point of coming here.” She said. 

They both knew he didn’t exactly enjoy taking his shirt off, and it didn’t help when the rest of his squadron looked like they came out of an Abercrombie commercial. But she also knew that Bob was built. He was in the Navy for Christ’s sakes. He was forced to be whether he wanted to or not. He just had a leaner build than some of his buddies. 

 He shrugged. 

She poked at him. “Come on. We can get brain-eating amoeba together.” She sang, making him break into a smile. “We’ll have matching hospital bracelets, and you’ll get more time off work.”

“I don’t think they’ll let me fly with something eating my brain.” He chuckled.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” She said, almost repeating what Hangman had just said to her, “Come on, Bobby, please.” She really didn’t want him to feel left out. This was his friend group, for god’s sake. 

He looked at her and saw the pleading look in her eyes. The same pleading look he’d seen plenty of times, but was never able to deny. “Fine. Fine. I’ll go swimming.” He gave in. 

“YAY!” She squealed, hugging him. “Hurry and get your SPF one million on. We can jump in together.”

He shook his head with a bashful smile and grabbed his sunblock.

She walked back over and started talking to Phoenix and Hangman, who were urging her to jump in.

“Come on. It’s refreshing.” The blonde said, running his hands through wet hair.

“I’m waiting for Bob! Hold on!” She said excitedly. 

She turned around to find Bob shyly walking towards her. He did a little wave, and she noticed his body. Wow, he had gotten more built since she had last seen him shirtless. His torso was much more defined, and his chest was chiseled. He had a wider waist than she remembered. She always noticed his arms in tight shirts, but now his biceps were on full display. Naturally, he had taken his glasses off, and he looked completely different. She could see his cheekbones better without the shadow of his lenses. He was… how would she describe it?

Suddenly remembering where the hell she was, she swallowed and smiled. “Hurry up, slowpoke!”

He smiled and shook his head, running towards her. When they reunited, they walked up the boardwalk together. 

“I’m scared it’s gonna be cold.” She whined.

“It is.” Phoenix called out, “But just jump in. It makes it easier.”

She looked over at Bob, who was already eyeing the water. He looked over at her.

“Ready?” He asked

“I GUESS.” 

He reached out his hand, and she gladly took it. 

“1… 2…” They looked at each other and started running down the pier, “3!” They jumped and splashed in. 

She was immediately hit with a shock of cold lake water. It was peaceful and quiet for a few seconds before she remembered what to do. She swam up, and when she broke through the water, Bob was waiting for her, running a hand down his face.

“You good?” He asked, and she nodded with a smile. “It’s freezing!”

Hangman started swimming over, “Hey! I’ll warm you up!”

She splashed water in his face. “In your dreams, Bagman.” 

The grin that formed on Bob’s face at her rejection should’ve been photographed. Speaking of, Rooster walked up on the pier and squatted down.

“Hey, check this out.” He said, calling over Bob. He flipped a Polaroid around to show him a developing picture from behind Bob and her mid-jump. Their hands were entwined and up in the air. 

Bob climbed the lower shelf of the dock and rested his head on his forearms. “Could you make me a copy of that?” 

Rooster smirked. “Yeah. You can have this one too, loverboy.” He said lowly.

His eyes widened. “Shut up.” He said through gritted teeth.

Meanwhile, Y/n was luckily too busy in a splash fight with Hangman. Her squeals and screams drowned out their conversation. 

Rooster thumped his forehead. “Go get your girl, dumbass.”

“She’s not my girl.”

He tutted and shook his head, slapping the photograph against his hand.

“Whatever you say, Floyd.”

That night, after a long day of swimming and jumping off the dock, they ate some more barbecue and sat in the living room. Y/n, Bob, and Phoenix all sat on towels on the floor, while the rest of the guys sat on the couch. They all had their various beers and seltzers in hand. 

“Truth or Drink time,” Rooster said, shaking his beer.

Hangman groaned. “I think I got alcohol poisoning last time.” 

Phoenix laughed. “Yeah, cause you wouldn’t admit any names. So we all ganged up on figuring out which girls.” “I don’t kiss and tell.” He replied with raised brows.

Y/n laughed at that, and Bob looked at Rooster with wide eyes. As if he were begging him not to ask something specific.

“Alrighty. I’ll start.” Phoenix said with a mischievous smirk, “Rooster, where is the craziest place you’ve hooked up with a girl?”

Rooster groaned immediately. “YOU KNOW THIS! I hate you. You’re gonna get me in trouble.” 

Everybody started ooo-ing and drumming their laps. 

“Well, now you gotta tell us,” Y/n said with a grin. 

The man put his face in his hands before sadly muttering. “The F-14.”

“WHAT?” The entire group screamed.

“The F-14.” He repeated, “AND THIS STAYS HERE. I will literally lose my job, and I think Maverick would put me six feet under.”

Everyone swore to secrecy. Zipping their lips and throwing away the key. 

“Well, that’s a hell of a start,” Hangman said, leaning in. He looked around before his eyes landed on Y/n. She raised her brows and pointed to herself, surprised. “Y/n, have you ever had a… not-so-dry dream about anyone here? And who?” 

She shook her head. “Uh-uh. That’s two questions.” She pointed out feeling smart in her evasive play.

“Lemme rephrase then. Who have you had a sex dream with? Cause statistically… It’s gotta be one of us.” Hangman said bluntly.

Her face turned red, and the group started gasping and egging her on. She looked down bashfully. She knew. Bob had been her best friend for so long. Of course, she had one or two… fantastic and awesome and sheet gripping dreams with him as the star. It was natural. But she couldn't lie. She had the worst poker face in all existence, and with Bob watching her face redden right next to her, it only made it worse.

She quickly took a big swig of her beer. Opting to drink. 

Everyone booed, and she laughed. Hangman smirked.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know it was me.” He teased.

“Who’s to say?” She shrugged. She left the possibility of it being Jake in the air because she didn’t want anybody narrowing it down. But she didn’t miss Bob looking down at the floor after that, looking a little disappointed.

After around an hour, they had learned too much about each other. Payback’s most embarrassing moment was pissing his flightsuit his first time he flew- which made Hangman call him ‘Pissback’ for the rest of the game. Phoenix’s go-to flirting move was betting that men couldn’t do push-ups with her sitting on their backs. Hangman once pulled a muscle during sex. And that wasn’t even the half of it. All of them ended up with way too much to drink, giggling, and lying down across the living room. 

The questions became more rapid-fire now. Either answer quickly or drink. Y/n was lying back on her elbows, watching the whole thing happen. Not many questions were thrown her way because it slowly became a game of getting people to re-tell embarrassing stories they all already knew. The beers buzzed in her head, and her cheeks hurt from smiling. She was mid-laughter when suddenly Hangman went-

“Y/n, if Bob asked you out, would you say yes?”

“Yeah.”

FUCK. Her eyes widened. Did that just? Did she just? Bob’s head practically snapped off his neck at how fast he turned to look at her. She had said it so casually. As if she had been waiting for someone to ask. But the mortification quickly took over.

“I-I- mean.” She stammered, horrified now. “I mean, he’s my best friend, so if anybody were to-” What was she supposed to say? She was just digging herself into a deeper hole now.

The whole group watched her with wide eyes. It was a little too silent now. She took a bigger swig of her beer. 

“Do we have anything stronger?” She giggled awkwardly. 

Bob’s face was completely red, and he couldn’t stop staring at her in disbelief. 

“And I think that’s the end of Truth or Drink,” Rooster said with a drunken laugh.

Once everybody went back to normal, drinking and watching a movie in the living room, she quickly excused herself to get some fresh air. She stumbled out onto the porch, a little drunk, and grabbed onto the wooden railing. Inhaling the fresh air, she felt a little better. The sounds of the cicadas and lapping lake water gently mixed with the muffled sounds of people talking inside and the movie playing. 

Her heart still felt like it was pounding out of her chest. How the hell was she supposed to share a room with him after that? A BED even? 

She heard the sliding door open and close behind her, and she knew who it was. Who else would it be? 

“Y/n…” Bob started.

She didn’t say anything at first, just looked out at the nearby lake.

“Y/n, come on, talk to me. You know you can.” Bob said, looking back to see Rooster and Phoenix waving him forward. He walked forward and leaned on the railing right next to her. Their arms brushed, and she shivered. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the breeze or…

“Look, we’re both drunk. I- I didn’t… It was so fast and-” She started.

“Don’t give me that,” Bob said sternly, shaking his head, and that made her turn to face him. A small frown sat on his lips, and his brows were slightly furrowed. That focused face she knew so well. “We both know. We’ve both known for so long that… you mean everything to me.” He turned to face her now, “And it’s not just because you’re gorgeous or because you’re the funniest person I know, but because you simply are. And I know that I mean the same to you. You can try and deny it, but I won’t believe you.”

She looked up at him with widened eyes, completely stunned. He was much more capable of speaking than her at the moment. It was just about the sweetest thing any man has ever told her. Even in his firm voice, his hands shook on the railing. 

There was a silence that rang out louder than any other sound that could be heard. The tension between them was pulled so taut. It was a rubber band on the verge of snapping. 

“I don’t deny it.” She said softly. She couldn’t anymore, at least. 

He swallowed, as if what she said hit him like a ton of bricks. Reaching out, his hand so slowly went to hers on the rail. His pinky nudged hers, as if asking for permission. She nodded and watched as he gently took her hand in his. It felt different now. More electric than it had felt at the lake earlier. 

He took her hand and moved it onto his shoulder. The breeze hit again as she used it as a stepping stone to hold his face. Stepping forward, he wrapped one arm around her waist and used his free hand to cup her opposite cheek. They were exploring each other in a way neither of them had ever before. It was a guessing game to see what felt right, and yet all of it did. 

Tracing his thumb down her cheekbone, he let out a heavy breath. Her chest was tight as her heart pounded like a drum. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of looking into each other's eyes, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It started slow and testing. They were careful and methodical, but as soon as that spark hit, it felt like the start of a high. She wrapped her arms behind his neck and pulled him in. It felt like they couldn’t get close enough, with his hugged arms causing her to arch herself into him. The smell of beer and his mint aftershave was addictive, and she wanted the smell to drift onto her skin. He huffed an exhale through his nose, unable to pull himself away. She ran her fingers through the back of his sandy blonde hair. 

“How long?” She asked, pulling apart mere centimeters from his lips.

He looked at her with dilated pupils, drunk off the feeling of her. His face looked distraught, as if he was close to begging her not to stop.

“Since I’ve known you.” He kissed her again, then did the same to her. “How long?”

“Started getting funny feelings before you enlisted.” She kissed him again, not caring if the whole squad could see through the sliding door. But it didn’t seem that way. It was dark inside now, assuming they were all watching the movie. The only thing lighting them was the warm porch light. “I’m sorry we’ve wasted so much time.”

He shook his head, “No. Don’t say that. Becoming your best friend hasn’t been a waste. It just means I’ve gotten to know my favorite person more and more every day.” 

She couldn’t help but smash her lips onto his now. 

That night, they freely cuddled. Not even questioning whether it was right or not. They let themselves hold onto each other under the warmth of the comforter. And right as they were about to sleep, she smirked and pressed her feet against his calf. 

He yelped. “JESUS, Y/n. Your feet are freezing.”

“You’re such a good heater.” She hummed contentedly, putting her cheek against her chest. She could hear his steady heartbeat in her ear. The muffled thumping was already setting her on the path to sleep. 

“You’re the worst.” He said before kissing the top of her head.

“Oh, you love it.” Her heart fluttered at the kiss. 

“I do.”

The next day, they all set out for the lake again. Phoenix and Y/n moved the lounge chairs onto the shore and tanned in the sun. 

“Finally,” Phoenix muttered with her sunglasses on as she read her book.

“Shut up, Nat.” She laughed.

As if on cue, Bob came out of the lake, soaking wet. She felt free to completely eyeball his body now. She smiled and waved, but as he drew closer with a funny grin, she shook her head.

“Bobby. Do not. Do not-” But it was too late, he was already crawling up the lounge chair over her, dripping like a wet dog. “BOBBY!” She squealed, and he laughed as he shook his wet hair onto her. 

She reached up and cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss, which he gladly accepted. He pulled away and landed another on her forehead before pulling back. 

“Wanna jump in?” He asked 

A smirk appeared on her lips. “If you’ll jump in with me.” “Always.”

[robinminustherichard]

Fuck(ing) it Friday 😈

Rating: E | Bucktommy

The thing that convinces Buck to stay in LA is Tommy.

Or, to be honest, Tommy's cock. Buck just doesn't know that yet.

After Chim's big speech, nothing actually changed except for Buck being expected to move out with barely two weeks notice; lest he wanted Christopher to be homeless. So of course Buck leaves. He gets a temperature controlled storage unit that can't actually afford to waste money on, and he starts apartment hunting.

The realtor is nice and does want to help him, she tells him that her dad was a firefighter too, but he just can't seem to find anything he likes in anything she shows him. Too new, too shiny, too cold. So he tells her that he needs some time to think about it and starts looking at new cities instead.

He has his sights set on San Diego and he doesn't really know how to tell anyone, so he figures he can go practice by telling Tommy.

Except, that was an hour and two rounds ago, and Buck is now blinking sweat out of his eyes while he rides Tommy into the stupidly plush California king mattress that Buck could never admit to loving more than anything he's ever slept on.

"Fuck, Evan, please," Tommy bites out, not even a sentence. Buck has been moving torturously slow, feeling the burn in his thighs as he moves up, holds, down, holds, grinds, and does it all again.

Tommy probably doesn't deserve it, but Buck feels something harsh and powerful rise up in him when he sees how he's got Tommy begging for Buck's body--feels something click into place when he realizes that for the first time in weeks he's in control here, totally and absolutely.

Buck bites at his lip hard, closes his eyes and lets his head hang back for a moment. He sits up, Tommy's cock just barely popping through his rim. His eyes open when he hears the groan Tommy lets out, quickly followed by a hiss when he realizes that Buck isn't moving.

"Evan," Tommy says, trying sweet. It gets him nowhere, Buck just tilting his head and looking down at him. Tommy huffs, narrows his eyes and tries again.

"Evan, move." It's forceful this time, and it's closer to what Buck wants, but it just isn't enough. He holds his position and when Tommy moves to shoot a hand up and grab Buck's hips, Buck's hands grab at his wrists and pin them to the bed.

Tommy thrashes, and Buck knows the grin that takes over his mouth isn't exactly a nice one. He knows that Tommy can overpower him, that he's got a stronger core and a better eye for grappling, but he also knows that he can't fully get out from under Buck's hold without risking hurting himself or Buck.

"Evan, fucking move or I'll--"

"You'll what, Daddy?" Buck says, forcing his tone to go bored and unaffected. His thighs are starting to shake, but he's going to hold this until he goads Tommy into what he wants.

This was always the problem with you two, a voice in Buck's head says, never just saying what you want.

Buck's too far gone, too deep into feeling like he has a say in what happens to him right now, he feels drunk on it. Buck presses Tommy's wrists tighter and watches his eyes flare open wider.

"That's how this is going to be?" Tommy says lowly, dangerous in a way that excites Buck.

Nothing like feeling afraid of Eddie in kitchen that was only his for a month and a half.

Buck makes deliberate eye contact with Tommy, stares him down and slowly loosens his grip, trailing his fingers down Tommy's arms, skating his blunt nails down Tommy's chest, catching on his nipples. Tommy never looks away, and he doesn't move his arms from where they still lay where Buck pinned them.

"That's how this is going to be." Buck says, clearly and without hesitation, feeling like his whole body is shaking now.

"God, you--" Tommy says, cutting himself off with a harsh breath out. For a moment Buck thinks that he's read this wrong, that he's finally asked for too much, that he's gone and fucked up the last thing that could have made him feel okay, even for one afternoon.

And then he's flipped so fast that he doesn't even realize it's happening until his back hits the mattress. His breath rushes out of him, and he thinks he tries to say something, but any words he could have gotten out are stolen when Tommy grips his thighs harshly and yanks them up over Tommy's, cock sliding in with no resistance.

Buck lets out a long whine, keening and involuntary, and it takes him a moment to realize that Tommy is fucking into him with short and pounding thrusts that jumble Buck's brain and slam against his prostate repeatedly.

"Fucking hell, you come here and tell me you're fucking leaving and then this is how you act? By being a fucking brat?"

Despite how mean the words should be, Buck feels them settle over him like a blanket, like a lap bar on a roller-coaster keeping him in his seat, like the only thing that's tethering him to his body right now.

His orgasm hits him like a freight train, ripping a near-scream out of his throat, Tommy never stopping through it all. Buck thinks he whites out a bit, thinks he might be somewhere else for a moment before Tommy's biting down more gently than he deserves where Buck's shoulder meets his neck and letting out a vibrating moan that Buck feels in the walls of his heart.

"God damn you make me fucking crazy," Tommy is telling him before he's grabbed by the back of the neck and hauled into a kiss that barely qualifies as one, Buck unable to get his lips to do anything but form a perfect 'O' around the sounds Tommy is forcing out of him, "you can't just leave, Evan, how are you gonna get fucked this well somewhere else, huh? How are you gonna get this needy fucking hole filled hours away from me? Didn't even let me put a condom on and you think you can just leave after this?"

Buck thinks his mouth is trying to say something but only moans fall out of it, going breathy every time Tommy buries himself to the hilt. He feels wild with it, like he's just crash landed back into his ribcage and is ricocheting around in it.

Buck's floating for a long time after that, or maybe it was a few seconds, he's not sure. He feels good, so good in a way that he hasn't in months. Nothing bad can touch him there, only Tommy's hands, softer than before; gently easing Buck's legs off of his hips, rubbing down Buck's bad leg, reaching up to card through his too-long hair.

"--Evan?" Tommy's voice breaks through and Buck realizes he's probably been trying to get his attention for a while.

"I, uh, sorry," is all Buck can say, looking up at Tommy and swallowing thickly. His throat feels raw and his eyes burn.

"Yeah, that's what you've been saying. Why are you sorry, Evan?" Tommy's face is concerned, his eyebrows drawn together and mouth twisted.

"I said I'm sorry already?" Buck asks, trying to remember but coming up short.

"That's all you've been saying for about five minutes."

"Oh, so--"

"Don't say you're sorry. Tell me what's wrong."

Buck looks away from him then, feeling raw. He blinks a few times and feels mortification settle in for a moment when he realizes that he's been crying.

"I don't-don't--" Buck says, trying to come up with anything that will salvage this one last moment with Tommy, "I don't know. Nothing. Everything."

Tommy's hand comes up to cup Buck's jaw and turn his head, and Buck doesn't fight it even when it brings his eyes right back to Tommy's.

"I'm sorry, Evan. I shouldn't have asked you questions like that when you're coming out of a drop. I'm going to hold you now, and then I'm going to feed you, and then we can talk, and I won't be mad no matter what you tell me."

Buck waits for a flare of annoyance to bubble up in him just like it has towards everyone else who has tried to handle him lately, but it never comes. It's so different, it's to him and not about him, it's reassurance instead of patronization.

"O-okay," Buck manages, wobbly but there all the same.

Tommy makes good on his promise, he reaches into his night stand for supplies and wipes them both down gently and efficiently; then gathers Buck up in his arms and holds him with an arm across Buck's chest and leg between his knees. Buck feels panic flare and die in his throat almost simultaneously, and he lets himself have this for a moment.

[mimikittysblog]

♡08:00♡

Pairing: poly! Husbands! Yunsan x Fem! Wife! Reader (mentions of Poly! Ateez, takes place in The Princess universe)

Genre: Fluff, smut

Warnings: It’s a poly! Story so FxMxM, Vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex (f receiving), threesome, minor choking. ⚠️MDNI⚠️ Thats all honestly. If I forgot anything please let me know also not proofread.

A/N: ITS HERE! Yay! I am.. not good at writing smut so this might be shit 💔 I apologize dear friends. Hopefully you’ll still be able to enjoy the dynamic of Yunsan here cause theyre so Aksjsojsksjsksjs. Thank you all for always enjoy my works! It really does mean the world to me! Love you all!

Tagging: @stay-tiny-things @jaerisdiction @bee-gremlin @gae-ping-boosay @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity (if you’d like! You can join my Taglist!)

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Sunshine just started to seep into the room where 2 of the 9 lovers were cuddling. Here one of them started to flutter his eyes open. Right in front of him, the oldest of them all still sleeping peacefully and so beautifully. San smiled and let out a soft sigh. Relieved he finally gets to wake up in the arms of any of his loves again.

He leans in close and softly kisses Seonghwa on the lips before sitting up and stretching. He then carefully gets out of bed then tucks Seonghwa back in again. He puts on his slippers, boxers and fur coat before quietly leaving the room.

As per his lovers wishes he had started dressing like this more often. It was kind of a freeing feeling so he really didn’t mind. He soon made it to the kitchen where he finds you making their cups of coffee.

“Good morning princess.” He smiles.

“Good morning Sannie.” You reply back still turned away from him.

“Oh? How did you know it was me?” He asks amused before hugging your waist and pulling you to his warm chest.

“You think I wouldn’t recognize my husbands schedules, footsteps and voices?” You say cheekily.

“..I understand schedules and voices but footsteps??” He laughs.

“You all walk a certain way and pace! I’ve been with you for.. wow almost a decade now! I think I should recognize the sounds of your steps by now. And I do!” You giggle.

You then turned around softly and handed San his mug. He then thanks you with a kiss on the head before taking it.

“Almost a decade huh? Feels like longer. Feels like we’ve been together forever.”

“I know what you mean. Well we get to spend forever together now.”

“Hmm. Shall we go on vacation for our anniversary?” He asks wiggling his eyebrows.

“I always say we don’t have toooo but you all never listen so sureee” You say with a sigh.

He can only chuckle before taking a long sip of his coffee that you made to perfection. He then sighs content.

“I’ve said this a million times but I really missed this.”

“We know.. we missed you too our love.” You smile softly kissing his jaw as your fingers lightly traces the hickeys and marks left behind by Seonghwa. “Oh my, he really did a number on you.”

“Hmm you should see how I left him.” He chuckles.

“Owh don’t make me jealous now.”

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow as he sets his mug down. He then picks you up by the waist and sets you on the counter.

“No need to be darling. Just say the word. And I’ll do it all to you too.” He whispers against your lips.

“Please.”

“Good girl.”

He then quickly captures your lips in a searing passionate kiss. You pulled San even closer wanting to feel his touch all over you. You moan against his lips as he softly grinds against your clothed core.

“Take me to my room please?”

“Anything for my princess.”

He then picks you up and carries you to your room. There he lays you on the bed as he sheds his fur coat once more.

“I’ve missed you, my beautiful wife.” San groans as he kisses you again. Then begins to trail his kisses down. Leaving marks all over you like he said he would.

“I’ve missed you too Sannie. So so much. I’m so glad you’re home again.” You moan out softly as San begins taking off your robe.

“Me too.” San mumbles as he kisses the valley between your breasts before giving each some attention. Your yelps and whimpers are music to San’s ears.

“Have you gotten more beautiful while I was away darling?” San chuckles as he softly kisses down your body even more. Gripping onto your thighs before slowly taking off your soiled panties.

“I don’t believe so. Why would you say that my dashing husband?” You ask before running your fingers through his hair.

He kisses the top of your pubic bone as he feels your grip his hair. Groaning into your flesh.

“Because my heart is racing much more than it used to.” He says before giving your slit a kiss and a long lick. You moan out loudly before looking back down at him.

“Hmm must be just because you missed me too much.” You giggle.

“Maybe.” He starts before giving your clit a soft kiss. “But honestly, you really do get more beautiful whenever I look at you. It happens even whenever I blink. Like I blink and wow, you’re ten times more beautiful.” He chuckles before feeling you push his head into your awaiting cunt.

“Hush.” You giggle.

“Impatient.” His voices one last time, muffled. He then doesn’t waste another second before eating you out like how he always does. Like a starving mad man that hasn’t eaten in weeks. Which he probably is as this is the first time he’s tasted your pretty cunt in weeks.

Your loud moans and the sound of his tongue lapping you up are the only sounds that can be heard in your room.

“Ugh you’ve gotten so much sweeter too. God my wife truly has the best fucking cunt.” He groans out as he goes even faster and his tongue reaching even deeper in you. Before going back to suck on your throbbing clit.

You could barely hear him as unbelievable pleasure courses through your veins. You could only reply with a whimper anyway.

“Mmm. Well isn’t this a sight.” A voice suddenly sounds from the doorway.

Your head snaps up to see Yunho leaning against the now closed door.

“Y-yunnie..! Mmm! Good morning!” You giggle, completely ignoring the fact that your cunt is being eaten right now.

San simply hums to acknowledge he heard Yunho. Not even pulling away and continuing his ministrations.

“Good morning princess. I see San gets to have his breakfast early.” Yunho says as he walks up to you.

“First come first serve.” San muffles out. The vibrations causing you to moan out louder.

“Fuck sannie!!! My love I’m gonna cum!”

Suddenly without warning, you were being choked. Yunho leans down and kisses your ear as his hand stays on your throat.

“Cum for him.”

So you did. You almost screamed in pleasure as you came straight onto San’s tongue. The boy lapping up everything, swallowing what you gave him happily before pulling away. Kissing your core one last time.

“Fuck she’s so sweet..”

“Mmm let me have a taste.”

The hand on your throat quickly changes target. Yunho pulling San to him, smashing their lips together. Yunho hums satisfied, your taste and the natural taste of San’s lips coating his tastebuds.

“Yunho… fuck.. me…” San moans out as Yunho’s hand tightens around his throat.

“Aw? Princess and Seonghwa weren’t enough for you baby?” Yunho chuckles.

“You know I can’t get enough of all of you! And those weeks in that disgusting mansion was practically hell now both of you please! Just fuck me?!”

“No need to tell us twice.” You breathe out. Tugging onto San’s hand, you pull him on top of you once more.

“Is this okay sannie? Me under you and Yunho from behind?”

“Yes yes please!” San moans out desperate especially now he feels Yunho’s hands rubbing on his ass cheeks.

“Prep?” Yunho asks softly as he kisses San’s back.

“N-no.. I’m sure my night with Seonghwa is enough.”

“Okay, I’ll still go slow baby.” Yunho says as he quickly strips and gets some lube from your drawer. Rubbing some onto his dick to make sure he doesn’t hurt his husband.

“Sannie put it in..” You whine, also getting desperate.

With a groan, San positions is dick by your entrance before pushing in slowly.

“Oh fuck!” He groans even louder, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Ready for me Sannie?” Yunho asks one more time, kissing San’s spine.

“Yes Yunho baby please! I’ve missed your big cock so much please!” San whines out.

Yunho can only chuckle before slowly inserting himself into San’s hole. Making him sigh out in relief.

“I’ve missed your tight ass too baby.” He whispers into San’s ear before thrusting sharply. Immediately hitting San’s spot.

“FUCK! God yes!” San screams out before both men started moving in a fast pace.

Soon enough a rhythm between you three were formed. Heightening your pleasure immensely. San thrusting in you, as Yunho does the same to San. It really couldn’t get better.

“God fuck! Yes yes!! Ngh I’m so fucking close already!” San groans. Hearing that you claw into San’s shoulders before starting to grind your hips up to meet his thrusts. “OH YES!! Fuck me like that both of you fuck keep fucking me like that!”

“Shit I’m also close!!” You whimper.

Yunho groans and you both know he isn’t far behind.

“C-cum for us Sannie! Please come for us! Show us how you missed us yeah??” You say into San’s ear.

“Shit!! Yes! Ugh I’ve missed you all so fucking much! Ugh!! I’m cumming!! Yes!!” San screams out before giving you one last thrusts and paints your insides white with his warm cum.

The feeling of his dick twitching in you and his abuse on your clit makes the coil in your stomach snap. Your eyes roll back into your head as you scream out in pleasure cumming all of his dick. As finally the pure pleasure on your face and the feeling of San clenching does it in for Yunho.

“God!! F-fuck I’m cumming to shit! Fuck I’m cumming!!” And with that he pumps his cum into San’s hole.

You all take a breather before the men pull out and flop onto the bed. Still panting, you slowly roll over to snuggle up into San, as Yunho des the same on his other side.

“I love you both..” San pants.

“We love you too hubby.”

“I’m glad you three had fun.”

As you three look up, you see Yeosang standing by the door.

“Hi honey. Morning!” You exclaim.

“Good morning princess. Now all of you rest a bit, then go and take a bath. I already set it up for you in the master bathroom.” Yeosang explains.

“Oh how sweet of you darling. Thank you.” Yunho pants out still exhausted.

“No worries baby. Now rest up, after your bath come join us for breakfast. Also Sannie, my room tonight?” Yeosang asks with a smirk.

San laughs out a bit before giving his husband a wink. “Wait for me.”

Yeosang’s smirks widens and he blushes a bit before closing the door.

“Rest well my loves.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

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