#HOW DO I TATTOO THIS ONTO MY EYELIDS

[hyuckmov]

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 1 of 3

wc: 22k (!!!!!!!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: loss of virginity, very soft sex (hand-holding during sex), lots of kissing, protected sex, haechan fucks...a lot, fingering, oral (f receiving), very faint corruption kink, JEALOUSY, possessiveness (marking, signing on your body), handjob, car sex, cumplay, spit, exhibitionism (!), slight dumbification, slight degradation, titty-sucking etc, sweet aftercare a/n: i worked a lot on this and i really hope u like it.... i really hope it's hot... i hope u like rockstar haechan...please let me know what u think... (fic playlists) | browse the fic tag :)

he's been staring at you all night.

the bass thrums insistent in your chest, overriding your heartbeat, as you cling onto the barrier between the stage and the crowd. lights flash before your eyes, almost blinding you with how fast they blinked, and you can barely make out the faces of the boys onstage as they play their last song of the night. the air is damp, excitement riding high over the crowd in waves of endless screams that never seem to stop. 

and the boy on the far right, fingers moving deftly over the strings of his electric guitar, hasn't taken his eyes off you for the last five minutes. 

a sharp smile tugs at his lips, smokey makeup making his gaze ever more piercing as he looks down at you through his overgrown bangs, hairs at the nape of his neck unruly and wild. the lights throw the features of his face into high contrast, the tattoos curling on his neck and hip screaming for attention, as do the glint of jewelry scattered everywhere on his body. you feel smaller and smaller under his gaze, something lewd about the way he runs his tongue over his lips, eyes practically undressing you. he never seemed to stop moving his body as he played, bouncing on his toes or letting his body lean away from the sound, the music fuelling and becoming one with his movements as if he were a dancer.

as the music crashes and swells towards the end of his solo, his eyes slide over to yours with a practiced precision, as if he had memorized your position in the crowd. swaying his hips from side to side, his eyelids droop just slightly into a half-lidded stare, as he ruts his hips playfully against his guitar. 

the screams of the other fans are deafening, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of your heartbeat in your own ears.

haechan finally looks away, a small smile on his face as he signals to his bandmates towards the song's ending. you feel almost empty as the weight of his attention lifts off of you, pressing yourself up against the railing on tip-toe to try and catch his eye again before sinking down and feeling like an idiot. 

he was just doing fanservice for an audience member, nothing more. you try not to find his actions endearing as he slings his arm around the lead singer, mark, his surprisingly boyish laugh making your heart flutter in your chest as he waves towards his fans one more time. 

people are leaving the venue, the sounds of their excitement getting further and further away, but you stand there, reeling, clutching onto the metal barrier, sure that if you took your hands off it you would fall. finally, glancing up at the stage one last time, you're just about to leave to find your friend, the only reason you were even here, when –

"leaving so soon?" 

the boy is sitting on the stage right in front of you, leaning forward so you can see his face clearly. up close, he's even prettier than before, delicate almost doll-like legs wrapped under ripped skinny jeans, leading up to thick and toned thighs, his slender waist shadowed under his large leather jacket ridden with buckles and straps. without the bright stage lights, you can see the moles on his skin, tracing a dangerous path under the collar of his shirt. 

at your lack of response, he raises his eyebrows. "i asked if you were leaving, princess." 

"i have to find my friend," the words come out rushed. "um…jaemin? your band hired him tonight as the photographer." 

"i remember," he nods. "so…you're not a fan?" 

"no." he nods, silence filling the space between the both of you. you can see him start to formulate a goodbye, his heart-shaped lips parting, but you don't want the conversation to end, you don't want him to stop looking at you. "- but…i really enjoyed your show." 

he looks a little surprised, and a genuine smile spreads sweetly across his face. "why?" he challenges. 

"what?" 

"what did you like about our show?" his eyes glint, and you know he's teasing you. 

"the songs were good," you mumble. 

"yeah?" he licks his lips, a slight hint of nervousness showing on his face as he clears his throat. "who was your favorite member?" 

"huh?" 

"your favorite band member," he repeats, tilting his head to the side. "jeno, he's our drummer, mark's the lead singer, jisung plays bass and i…" he waves his hand absentmindedly towards his guitar, on the stand, still onstage behind him. "i'm haechan," he adds. 

if you wanted to get to know him, it wouldn't hurt to show a little of exactly how much you liked him, would it? "you were my favorite," you admit. "you…you have really good stage presence," you blurt out. 

"stage presence?" 

"yeah. when i'm in the crowd…i can't really pay attention to anything else. and you…" you swallow, heat burning up your cheeks, but the way his eyes were looking at you with curiosity making you finish your thought. "you make the audience feel like they want to please you." the unspoken truth, that you, as part of the audience, wanted to please him, hangs in the air. 

your embarrassment, at saying something so suggestive and raw, is quickly washed away by the smile tugging at the corner of his lip, a smirk that quickly spreads across his face into a grin. you're so mesmerized by it, that you're taken aback by the way he suddenly shifts, hopping down the stage lightly and standing in front of you. 

"princess," he says, softly, placing his hands on the railing next to yours so the sides of your fingers barely brush. "do you want to come to a party?" 

you resist the urge to immediately say yes. "what party?" 

"there's one after every show. jaemin will have been invited, he can take you." the venue has emptied out, even his bandmates have left the stage. and yet, his voice is pitched low as he leans in, body warmth radiating off of him, and you are so close, you can see the smudged eyeliner on his lower lash line, can make out the grey of his colored contact lenses. "you can find me there." 

"but…" you feel lost. "why can't you just take me?" 

"if we show up together, it'll seem a little like we're dating, no?" his voice is quiet, but firm. 

hurt and confusion blossoms in your chest. was it really that serious? keeping your voice as nonchalant as possible, you ask, "would that be so bad? for…for us to date?”

but you know it's the wrong thing to say. 

he exhales slowly, a brief look of pain flitting over his features. he hated doing this, hated reaching the point in conversations where rules and boundaries had to be discussed. nights where he found his girls at the party were the easiest, letting body language and long glances do the talking, as few strings attached as possible. 

but today he couldn't stop looking at you, in the front row, couldn't help sliding his eyes over and checking to see if you were watching him, a pleased thrum burning in his chest every time his gaze found yours. it seemed logical, to spend his time with you tonight. but if he'd known you'd felt like this, he never would have waited onstage. 

"what's your name, princess?" 

"y/n."

"y/n, i'm not making you my girlfriend," he states, bluntly. "i can't, and i don't want to. you can meet me at the party later, but we'll just fuck – nothing else." 

his words make you feel small, his tone harsh compared to his previous meandering way of speaking. even then, the thought of letting him walk away, to never see him again, to end this story on this moment, made you feel worse than anything.  

at the look on your face, he softens slightly. 

"i'm sorry if you thought this was going to be more," he says, quietly. "you don't have to do anything you don't want to." 

"i do," you correct him. frustrated, he sighs, and you rush to clarify. "i'll meet you at the party. just…nothing else." your end off hesitantly, unwilling to echo his crude words.

"are you sure?" you think you see his gaze darken, the tension suddenly heightening as he places one of his large hands over your own. his guitar-calloused fingertips are rough as they slide against the back of your hand, drawing shapes that burn into your skin like tattoos. you nod, but he shakes his head — slowly, sweetly patient. "i need to hear you say it," he murmurs, and the words go straight to your gut. 

"i'm sure." your voice comes out as a whisper, but he doesn't seem to mind. he leans in, and just when you think your lips are going to meet, your mouth parting expectantly, he tilts his head and kisses you softly on your cheek. 

"make sure no one sees you, princess," he murmurs, low in your ear, before straightening up. "don't make me wait too long, hm?" 

—

"did anyone follow you up here?" 

haechan sits with his legs hanging off the edge of the roof, arms slung over one of the lower rungs of the railing. he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes another drink from his bottle of red wine, knowing that you're hanging onto his every word. 

"no," you reply, voice barely louder than a whisper. you repeat yourself again, louder, hating the way your voice shakes with hesitance. "no, i don't think so." 

he exhales, shrugging off the leather jacket that hangs large over his frame, his shoulderblades moving under his white shirt, veiny arms pushing the bottle to the side as he shifts himself backwards fluidly so he's further away from the ledge, his long legs stretched out. 

"well?" and now he turns to look at you, dark eyes framed with makeup searching for yours, his gaze heavy. the piercing on his eyebrow glints in the moonlight, and when he leans his weight back on his hands, his shirt rides up so that you can see just the hint of a tattoo curling low on his hip. "are you ready?" 

feet unsteady, you shuffle over to him, standing over him as he watches you through hooded eyes. unsure, you start to sit down next to him, but a hand quickly reaches out to touch your knee, dragging his touch up the back of your thigh, the cold scrape of his rings on your skin feeling rough and claiming all at once. his lips part almost mockingly, commanding you without words to stop. 

he flicks his gaze down to his lap, eyes flickering back up to yours. eyebrows raised, as if in a challenge.

slowly, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands hesitantly grasping for his shoulders. his arms come to steady your waist, slipping under your shirt and touching bare skin, feeling the way your body shifts and moves. it's only because your body is pressed up against his, his hands are roaming up and down your thighs, that he notices something which makes him halt his movements, licking his lips. 

"you're shaking," he murmurs, now brushing the hair out of your eyes, tucking a strand behind your ear as he studies you, taking in the way you're all tensed up, the uncomfortable way your legs are folded, goosebumps erupting every time his fingertips brushed your skin, muscles trembling.

you swallow. "i've never done this before," you admit. 

his eyes widen, now removing his hands from you entirely, letting them fall. "you're a virgin?" 

you nod, heart pounding in your chest. he's looking away, his jaw set, his gaze hardened. did he hate that you had no experience? or would he enjoy that? "i can…" the words come out in a jumble, "you can teach me, i want… i want to-" 

"no." with surprising gentleness, he motions for you to move off his lap, and you follow his actions mindlessly, docile under his touch. 

"do you think i won't be good enough?" you ask, hating the way your voice comes out wounded and achy, hating how weak he made you. 

he pauses, tongue poking into the side of his cheek, and you think you can see a flash of something deep in his eyes. 

"y/n…i can't be your first time." 

"but i want –" 

"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." despite his words, his voice is cold, and clear. "i don't do that." he dusts off his jacket, shrugging it back on as he takes another drink from the bottle, eyes closed, unwilling to look at you for another second. "go home, y/n. i'll see you at the next show." 

you don't move. you kneel there, next to him, eyes desperately searching for his. 

"go home, y/n," he repeats, harshly. 

"i want to stay here," you bite back, stubbornly, hurt making your voice brittle. 

"then you'll have to watch me fuck someone else." lazily, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone, and you can see him scroll through his messages, faces and names blurring as you barely decipher him type out another message. his fingers moving across the keyboard, as the anonymous responder sends a series of heart emojis, eagerness palpable through the screen. he locks his phone, the click sound startling you out of your daze, and he puts his phone down on his lap, the action somehow mocking.

"so?" he's still not looking at you, staring straight ahead into the night. "do you want to watch?" 

and as you make your way down the stairs, shame burning at your neck and tears burning hot down your cheeks, you can swear you feel his eyes follow you all the way down. 

—

the feeling of embarrassment curdles in your stomach, and leaves a sour taste in your mouth every time you look in the mirror. it's what leads you to skip the next show, making an excuse to jaemin about 'having other plans'. and then the other, and then the other. and then it's been a week, and your friend has finally managed to drag you to one of their after-parties, pushing you through the door with a little too much enthusiasm. he knows something is bothering you, and he wants nothing more than to help take your mind off of it — but he has no idea that the something is currently leaning against the archway leading off into the living room, nursing a bottle of beer in his hands, and brushing his hands around some girl's waist in a way that made you feel sick. 

jaemin introduces you to mark, out on the balcony. mark is sweet, and friendly, a regular boy-next-door who happens to have face gems twinkling next to his eyes and leather pants tight around his thighs. he asks you about college, and work. he talks about the songs he's writing on his guitar. he catches your drink when you almost drop it over the railing, an easy smile on his face when his fingers brush yours passing it back to you, and a shy grin when he reaches out to lace his fingers with yours properly.

"i'm really busy, but i'd love to talk to you more," he says, sincerely, as he takes your phone from your hands to key in his number. he texts himself so his contact is at the top of your messages, making you promise to text him when you get back. he looks at you meaningfully, squeezing your hand before dropping it to go back to his party. 

there's a moment, where you think to follow. 

but then all of it – every touch, every glance, every speck of light you counted reflected in marks' wide eyes, — all of it is wiped clean the moment you hear a familiar low voice.

"trying to get with my friends now, princess?" 

when the light illuminates his silhouette, hurt registers before anything else. 

hickeys bloom across the side of haechan's neck, trailing down to his chest. only a simple mesh top lies underneath his leather jacket, and you can see the shadows of a few more bruises on his torso when his arm shifts, tugging the jacket open just slightly. his hair is a mess, tugged this way and that by desperate hands, and you think there may be a smear of bright pink lipstick at the corner of his lips. you can smell the reek of flowery perfume, cloyingly sweet, all over his clothes, as he leans back against the railing, eyes turned towards the party happening behind the sliding glass doors.

"i thought you said i was your favorite band member," he murmurs, a mock expression of sadness on his face. "mark's nothing like me." 

"why do you care?" you will yourself to sound more confident, letting the hurt dissolve into defiance. 

"i don't." the pout has melted off his face, a burning intensity now in the way he stares at you, making you shift uncomfortably. a moment passes, where he studies your face, eyes flicking across your features almost methodically. "so am i?" 

"what?" 

"am i still your favorite?" his voice is bitter, as if he knows the answer before asking and he doesn't like it. 

"are you seriously asking me that?" 

"princess –"

he's interrupted by a chime from your phone. the both of you glance down at it at the same time, the text and the sender unmistakeable on your otherwise empty lockscreen. 

mark <3 : thanks for talking to me today :) let me know when you get home safe! 

there's a pause. 

"mark has a girlfriend," haechan blurts out, his voice coarse. 

"what?" you look up at him, trying to figure out if this was a joke, but his face is impassive. 

"he cheats on her all the time with girls from his parties. it's his thing." haechan's still looking at your screen even though your phone has turned off, resolutely not meeting your eyes. 

it takes you a moment to gather yourself, every one of mark‘s actions and words suddenly flashing before you like a flipbook, sweet memories crumpling into dust. "are you lying?" you ask, shakily. 

"why would i?" he finishes his beer, veins shifting on the back of his hand as he crushes the empty can, the crunch of metal dissonant against the warm summer night. his next words are just as rough. "whether or not you get with mark means nothing to me. i don't care. i don't even know you." 

his words ring true, as he pushes off from the railing, leaving you alone on the balcony without another word. the abrupt end to the conversation has you turning, eyes following him as he steps back into the party, looking away a little too late as you see him gesture someone over with a flick of his fingers, her long hair covering both their faces when their lips meet. 

jaemin finds you crying on the balcony, but he can't figure out the reason. you delete mark's contact off your phone the moment you get home, and jaemin promises you he's never taking you to any other show or party with the band ever again. 

—

"there should be an empty room somewhere." the man lets go of your hand, at the foot of the stairs. "can you wait for me inside one? i'll find you in a minute." 

it's only when you're halfway upstairs, when you realise that you're really about to give yourself to a stranger for your first time. 

he has a bright smile, sweet dimples showing each time his lips turn upwards, each time he calls you baby. he's not much older than you, but there's an easy authority in the way he takes your cup from your hands and tells you to stop drinking, getting you glasses of water instead. his body dwarfs yours in size, and when you put your hand on his thigh, you see something shift in his expression that tells you he may not be as gentle as he seems. 

and when you tell him he'll be your first time, his throat bobs as he swallows, eyes dragging up and down your body with a newfound hunger. 

you've never really cared about who you lost your virginity to, not considering it a big occassion or anything to make a fuss over. your mind flits back to two weeks ago, when some boy had cared way more about it than you did. 

"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." 

anger flares in your chest at the thought of it, as you climb up the stairs two steps at a time, and it's just when you're just reaching the first landing, when you suddenly coming to a crashing halt because —

the sound of microphone feedback makes you put your hands over your ears, instinctively, the shrill sound piercing the air. 

a loud bass suddenly starts up, vibrating under your feet. did they hire a live band? the song that booms from downstairs is familiar, and with a jolt, you realise that you know it a little too well. 

that honey-sweet voice, the bitter bite to his words soothed over by the sweetest of tones – drifts up from the speaker, a haunting melody that echoes up the empty staircase, punctuated by a screaming crowd.

as if to further prove it was him, he lets out a laugh at the end of his line, the tone of it dark and sarcastic, the crowd going wild at the sound of it. 

was it a studio recording? it must be, because there was no way this band was downstairs, performing live at this random birthday party, there was no chance…

… except now mark is speaking into the microphone, greeting the audience, asking for the birthday girl. unease stirs in your stomach as you trace your steps back down, a dread that fills you up as the makeshift stage comes back into view, where the DJ had been just a moment ago. 

to where haechan stood, guitar on its stand, eyes already trained on yours, an expression of white hot anger on his face. 

—

"him? really?" 

you can still feel his touch on your arm, from how he dragged you into the bedroom. 

you're frozen on the steps. 

haechan signals to mark, ignoring the questioning looks from the members and protests from the boy as he steps off the platform, making a beeline for the stairs. his brows are furrowed, his teeth gritted as he glares at you. 

"you wanna go upstairs that bad?" he murmurs. "lead the fucking way, princess." 

he starts towards you, and you take a step back, body colliding with the door. the sound seems to ground him, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down, finally turning away to sit on the bed, the space allowing you to relax just slightly.

"i thought," he starts, patiently, swallowing hard. "i thought i told you to find someone to take care of you, for your first time."  

the reminder of his words feels like a stab in your chest. "i thought you didn't care," you shoot back. 

he ignores you. "did you come here with your friends? where's jaemin?" 

what the fuck was wrong with him? "who are you to tell me what to do?" 

his lips part, but no words come out. sighing, he rubs his face with his hands, still trying to calm down. "y/n," he starts again, voice pained. "i don't want to see you get hurt."

"how do you know he would've hurt me?" 

his eyes meet yours. "did you tell him?" he asks, quietly. 

"tell him i was a virgin? yes." anger seeps into your tone, as you glare at him. "he reacted very differently from you." 

"y/n that's not a good thing!" he stands up, his voice raised. "are you that desperate to get fucked?" 

you step back in alarm, tears forming in your eyes. fear, of the situation you almost put yourself in, of the boy in front of you, makes your throat close up, and you can't help the way your body tenses. the cruelness of his words settles in a little too late, an acidic burn in your chest. 

haechan feels the tips of his fingers go numb as you start to cry, guilt flooding his mind in a way he rarely felt. his face crumples, and he does't know what to do when you curl in on yourself, every sound you make feeling like a punch to his ribs.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, reaching for you tentatively. when you don't pull away, his arms circle around you, and he makes sure to leave enough space for you to breathe or break free if you wanted to. "i'm sorry," he repeats again, as you sink into his chest, needing his warmth as much as you hated his presence. 

"take it back," you mumble. "take it back right now."

"i take it back," he says, immediately. "i didn't mean any of it. i'm sorry." 

"you don't get to reject me," you start, voice shaky, "and control who i choose to be with."

he sucks in a breath, gripping onto you a little tighter. "y/n –" 

"it's…it's fucked up," you hiccup, fisting at the fabric of his shirt, crumpling it in your fists in frustration.

"i know," he breathes. "i know." 

his hand comes up to stroke your hair, and you hate how it really does manage to comfort you, your breaths steadying as he pats your back clumsily. when you think you've calmed down enough, you place your hands on his chest, and he backs away instinctively, looking down at his feet. never meeting your eyes.

"i'm tired, haechan," you whisper. "i don't want to play whatever game you're playing." he doesn't respond, so you continue. "you don't want to fuck me, but you don't want anyone else to." 

"i do." his response is so quiet, you barely catch it.

"you want other people to fuck me?" 

"no, i don't." he lifts his head, his expression conflicted. "i…i want to be your first time." 

"what?" 

when he doesn't respond, you sigh, agitated. "haechan, i already told you i don't want to play your games anymore –" 

"not a game," he cuts you off, softly. "i'll take care of you." the gentleness of his voice makes you feel small. it's almost overwhelming, the way he looks into your eyes, without his usual apathy and bitterness. 

"i thought you said you don't do that?" it takes you all your willpower to not give in. 

"i don't," he breathes. "but with you i will." he's starting to think he has no choice – that there's no one else in the world who's going to take care of you the way he knows you need. he doesn't know when he decided to give in, in between watching you place your hand on that man's thigh, and you standing in front of him now. all he knows is that he either had to do this, or make you disappear from his life entirely. 

the words hang in the air. even now, feeling so torn and hurt and tired, your body can't help how much you want him, hyper-attuned to the little details in his appearance: the messy black nail polish scrawled on his nails, smoky eye make-up that makes his gaze all the more intense and devouring. there's a heady smell hanging onto his skin and clothes, rich and indulgent vanilla and musk, filling up your senses with a giddy desire. long legs in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, his thighs stretching out the fabric in a way that almost looked like it hurt. 

"okay," you mumble. his lips part, but you answer him before he has a chance to ask. "please take care of me." your voice is small, yet each word seems to catch fire, incinerating the air between you. 

his tongue darts out, wetting his lip. "yeah?" 

you nod. finally giving in to the pull of your body, you take a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. 

"i'm sorry…about all of it." he murmurs. "thank you for trusting me, still." 

you can't think of anything to say, so you nod again. it feels like your heart is in your throat. 

he swallows. "do you…you shouldn't…" his eyes dart around the room. "we shouldn't do it here. in…in some strangers bedroom." gently, he touches your arm, looking at you hesitantly. "would you feel comfortable if we did it in your apartment? or i could bring you to my shared apartment with the band…they wouldn't be back yet. but we might have to be quick…"

your head feels like it's spinning. 

at your lack of response, he rambles on, eyes focused on yours, trying to discern your thoughts. "w-what do you think? or…if you really want to get comfortable i don't mind booking a hotel, it's a little last minute but-" he bites his lip. "do you want to meet somewhere else or i could take you in my car? i haven't drank much, i swear, but if you don't trust me-" 

"stop," you blurt out. 

he freezes, the hand grazing your arm dropping to his side, fingers playing with the rips in his jeans. 

"i'm sorry," he says, softly.

"no, i mean…stop asking me questions." you exhale. "i trust you," you repeat, softly. every word of it was true — despite everything, you were still the same person sitting on his lap up on the rooftop. "just…take care of me, however you want." 

he swallows. "you sound…" exhaling, he shakes his head to clear it. "okay. is your apartment empty?" 

"yes," you whisper. "jaemin's away for tonight." 

"i'll drive," he murmurs. and now he takes a step closer to you, until he's all you can see, the room melting away. "but before that…can i kiss you first, princess?" you nod, transfixed by him, as he leans in. 

haechan kisses soft. 

his lips are plush, and soft, taking your bottom lip between his own sweetly. he tilts his head slowly as if he's afraid he'll overwhelm you by moving too fast, his lips parting as he invites you to do the same, his hands going to the back of your head to guide you. a soft sigh escapes the back of his throat when your lips part and he can taste you, and you can taste him — vanilla like how he smells, with the slight bite of alcohol. your hand comes up to touch his round cheeks, surprisingly soft too, and he smiles into this kiss. 

he's the one to break apart from you, with a patience that feels rehearsed. he's taking care of you, as he leans in so your noses brush, your breaths mingling. 

"haechan…" he hums, encouragingly. "i…you know this isn't…my first kiss, right?" 

a pause. "i know," he murmurs. 

"so… so you don't have to be gentle." you squirm slightly as his touch grows heavier, eyes darkening at the implications behind your words. 

he backs away from you, hands pulling you with him as he sits down on the bed. his eyes flick down to his lap as he lowers his gaze, before dragging them painstakingly up to yours again. 

"sit, princess." 

this time, when he feels you tremble against him, your knees caging in his hips as you straddle him, all he does is lean in and kiss you — just as sweet as he did the first time. 

"i'm gentle with you because i want to be," another kiss, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip. "not because i have to." his fingers guide your chin upwards, baring your neck to him as he leans in and leaves a kiss on a spot under your jaw. and then a longer, more lingering kiss. and now he's making his way down your neck, each press of his lips on your skin longer and rougher than the last, and now you're sure he's sucking marks onto your neck, especially when you feel a slight sting of teeth. 

you're shifting against him restlessly, body hardly your own as you fall under his touch. you don't know how long you spend there, in his lap, as he works on your neck, taking breaks to kiss you on the lips, his sighs echoing into the cavern of your mouth as it falls open with need. it's when he sucks lightly on your tongue, almost boyish in the way he backs away with a small smile, when a soft sound escapes your lips. 

"yeah?" he murmurs, leaning in again, letting the tip of his tongue brush against yours gently. "you like that?" 

you nod. 

"you sound so pretty," he breathes, as he slots his lips with yours again, humming against yours as you let out another small whimper. 

"haechan-" you mumble, and he draws away, looking at you expectantly. "i think i'm ready." 

"really?" his hands on your waist give you a light squeeze. "you want me to take you home now?" 

you're still giddy from the heat radiating off his skin, your lips craving his contact again now he's stopped kissing you. you nod, and he smiles, gently guiding you off his lap as he unlocks the door. 

he's gentle the whole way down – as he leads you away from the main staircase so you wouldn't be seen, the crowd still distracted by the band. he cradles you carefully against his side all the way out of the back gates and into his car, and when your breath catches as he leans over to buckle your seatbelt for you, he's gentle even as he presses into you for a spur of the moment kiss, tongue licking into your mouth with more fervor. 

it's not a song that plays in the car as he drives and you try to remember the way to your apartment, but rather it's a low and sultry beat — bluesy harmonies stretched out over pulses. part of you wonders if he played it on purpose, because imagining his voice set against it already had you melting against the leather seats.

it would all be rather sweet – how gentle he's being, the soft way he smiles at you in the dim lights of your lift lobby, the way he holds your hand and lets you lean against him as you head higher and higher, the space around you feeling like a vacuum of trapped adrenaline and lust. 

but there was also no denying the fact that he jolted at the slightest sound, his grip on you tight and slack all at once, the tenderness in his eyes here one second and gone the next. a hurt you could almost taste on your tongue, that you were holding onto something so fragile, and that to him it seemed the worst thing that could happen would be if he were found with you.

—

but all of it changes, when you're alone in your room. the weight of his attention, that you'd felt even as one person amidst a screaming crowd, seems to intensify tenfold as he lets his jacket slide to the floor, eyes on you. 

he reads the apprehension in your body, the way you hover near your bed, waiting for him to guide you. 

"let me know if it's too much, okay?" he murmurs, as he pulls you in for a hug first, feeling you warm against him as you cling on to his embrace. "you can tell me to stop whenever, and i will." his hands rub circles up your waist, teasing on the silver of skin between your top and your skirt. 

you nod, but he shakes his head – a thumb brushing across your cheek. 

"use your words," he murmurs. "so i know you mean it." 

"okay," you breathe, now guiding him to the bed yourself, curiosity getting the better of you. you had almost forgotten, in the midst of everything, why exactly you went to the party, and the familiar need sparks back to life in you. 

haechan sits down against the headboard, pulling you into his lap, the movement feeling even more natural now. he can see that you're nervous and eager at the same time, hands fumbling with the soft material of his shirt, unsure what to do as you shift around on top of him. 

"can i kiss you?" in the soft lamp light of the room, the sharp-cut edges of his face seem to blur, large doe-eyes looking up at you kindly. it makes you want to lean in, so you do — slotting your lips with his boldly, kissing him the way you wanted from him. it surprises him, the way you press your lips against him harshly, the gentle graze of your teeth against his plush lip. 

he lets out a small laugh, and kisses you back just as fiercely, the atmosphere in the room melting as temperature skyrockets, until it's almost unbearable to be separated from you by layers of fabric. 

"may i-" he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, and when your voice chokes out an affirmative, he's quick to yank it over his head, movements rough, exposing beautiful skin, his body warm and solid under your palms as you lean into him. 

your cheeks warm, and he notices – a small smile on his face as his hands cup your cheeks, and he gives you a sweet kiss, abruptly different from the others. suddenly, it's almost too tender, the way he looks up at you with endearment in his eyes, kissing you chastely, and you sink into it a little guiltily, enjoying the innocence of it. 

when you feel your heart reach its boiling point, your own hands go to the hem of your shirt, and you pull it over your head. you don't mean to slow down your movements, not meaning to tease or entice, but the way his eyes darken looking at your body made you wish you did it on purpose. 

"pretty," he praises, head dipping to press a kiss between your collarbones. and another one, lower done, almost reaching your cleavage. the bra you had chosen mindlessly that morning was a thin bralette, and it did little to hide how aroused you were, your nipples poking stiff peaks through the fabric. 

but still, he doesn't make any move to remove it, peppering kisses on your bare chest, over the slope of your breasts, almost slobbering at your skin, lips dewy and wet. his arms are firm around you, meeting each one of your movements and steadying you, helping you rock your hips into him as desire surges in your body. 

"haechan, –" his name had never sounded so breathless falling from your lips.   

"yes, baby?" 

the term of endearment makes you feel smaller in his lap, the only thing making you feel better was the way he was just as heated as you, his breaths coming hard and fast. he wanted everything to be perfect, he never wanted to rush you into anything you weren't comfortable with, his hands staying firm on your lower back. 

you tug at the bralette covering your chest impatiently, the fabric never feeling more uncomfortable on your skin. 

"you want me to take it off?" he asks, head nuzzling into your neck as his fingers wander up your back. you feel it loosen around you, his finger expertly fiddling the clasp open, dragging it down and accidentally brushing against your hard nipples, making you hiss.

"i'll make you feel good," he promises, softly, lowering his head, kissing down the slope of your breasts. he makes eye contact with you, searching your eyes for any form of discomfort.

"be gentle," you murmur, nodding for him to continue. "they feel sensitive." 

"of course," he mumbles, before starting to lightly kitten-lick at your nipple, the feeling all at once new and arousing, making you pulse against him in his lap. he circles his tongue around your areola, being as gentle as possible, opting not to flick at your nipples but rather suck one into his mouth, heart-shaped full lips sinful against your chest. the heat between your legs is overwhelming, as he switches to your other side, his hand coming up to knead your breast, warm palms moving over skin and making you giddy. 

"please," you whimper, as he laps at you. "please, i need you, please –" 

"you have me," he murmurs, one of his hands reaching out for yours blindly, scrabbling against the back of your hand from where it's pressed against his chest, flipping it over and interlocking your fingers. "i'll take care of you. lie down for me?"

he moves you off his lap, guiding you onto your back, propping up pillows you can rest against. the familiar feeling of your bed is only faintly there, your senses filled with the sweet heady smell of haechan, from the perfume and lotion clinging onto his skin, as you watch him remove the numerous rings on his fingers, placing them carefully on your bedside table. 

haechan kisses his way down your body, suckling on your skin, leaving longer, lingering bruises on your hips, finally reaching your thighs as he lowers himself down. he guides your hips up with a heavy hand, sliding a cushion carefully under as he situates himself between your legs. you're so sensitive, that the feeling of his long hair against your skin has your thighs sliding together, squeezing around his head accidentally. 

"you okay?" he murmurs, as he kisses your thighs again, patiently easing your thighs open. 

you suddenly feel shy, knowing he was about to see you so intimately. even when you had agreed to let him take care of you, even as you trusted him completely, you had never imagined seeing him in between your spread legs like this, somewhere you hadn't even explored much yourself. would he be disappointed or disgusted? what if he didn't like what he saw or felt? 

"baby…." he rubs a hand carefully on your thigh, tips of his fingers slipping just under the hem of your skirt. "is this okay? do you want to stop?" 

"i don't want to stop," you admit, and you find that its true. 

haechan looks at you, studying your face. after a moment, he crawls back up your body, brushing the hair out of your eyes before he brushes his lips against yours softly, as if asking for permission. you grant it, lips parting as his warm mouth meets yours, a welcome taste in your mouth that's become familiar. you kiss for a while, his hand finding yours in the mess of sheets and intertwining your fingers, until you feel confident enough to slip your other hand to the zipper of your skirt. 

you tug it off your legs, haechan breaking away from the kiss to help you, moving down your body. 

"i'll take care of you," he whispers, his hand never letting go of yours. "these are so pretty, baby," he whispers, a finger tracing over the lacy pattern on the front of your panties. you've never been more aware of your own arousal seeping out of you, as he places a kiss low on your hip, and then another just on the waistband of your panties, and suddenly, you want nothing more than for them to come off. 

your fingers tug at them impatiently, and he takes hold of your hand, kissing your fingertips lightly. "let me," he murmurs, and you hear something low and raw in his voice, something that maybe wasn't there before. sitting up slightly, he pulls your panties down your legs, assuming his position as quickly as he'd left it once the fabric was out of the way, rearranging your legs so they're spread open for him. 

the tension in the room fills your lungs up like smoke. you barely mumble his name, beg him to do something, before you feel a soft touch against your clit, making your hips jolt and you let out a sharp exhale. 

"let me hear you," he encourages, gently, as he starts to rub circles into your sensitive nub, dipping down to your entrance and spreading your wetness all over your cunt. your hips keep shifting around, so he pulls his arm around to press down into you, keeping you still for him as he slowly pleasures you.

"t-this feels…" you start, lost in your own head. you've touched yourself before, but the sensitivity seemed to be heightened to an exaggerated amount once it was someone else touching you. he looks up at you, face still wickedly beautiful, the gentlest look in his eyes laced with something like desperation.

"can't believe i got so lucky," he murmurs, suckling a kiss close to your heat, high on the soft skin of your thigh. your legs clamp around his head, and it makes him groan, breath heavy against your cunt. "you're pretty everywhere, baby. can't believe i'm the only one." 

the words flood your veins with a dark thrill, the idea of being his, of him taking all your firsts. "hypocrite," you mumble, cutting yourself off with a moan as he applies more pressure to your clit. 

"maybe a little," he admits, shyly, as he dips his head back down and flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, his fingers sliding down to your entrance instead. 

you cry out at the foreign feeling, the wet muscle of his tongue stroking your clit expertly while his slender finger slips past your entrance. his name, strung along by curses, echoes from your mouth as he teases his finger in and out of your entrance, tongue lying flat and wide as he laps at your clit in a way that made you feel like you were already close. 

stiffening his tongue, his flicks your clit with the tip, humming into you just as he curls his finger against your walls in a come-hither motion. he knows when you cum — back arching as you seemed to chase for stimulation above you, your walls sucking tightly around his finger and kneading it eagerly, making him groan as he imagines the feeling of you tight around his cock. he lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, his nose bumping your clit and eliciting another drawn out whimper, tongue teasing your entrance. 

when your hands push at his head, he backs away easily, once again making his way up your body to check on you, the warmth of his bare chest against yours making you feel safe. 

"good?" he kisses you, tongue moving against yours, inviting you to take a taste. "did you like that, sweetheart?" 

you nod, gasping. "haechan…"

"you did perfect for me, baby." his hands run up and down your sides as he kisses down your neck, enjoying the way your body wraps yourself around him, arms pulling his weight down into you. 

"i still need you," you murmur. the pleasure from before had only satiated you for a little bit, and the feeling of his hard length poking at your thigh was making your head spin with a whole different level of desire, as you grapple for his belt. "please, i've been good-" 

"you're perfect." he comforts you with a kiss. 

he guides your hand away from him gently, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants slide onto the bed as you lie back down on your pillows. tugging his underwear down, you swallow as he squeezes his thick length, the pink tip leaking clear liquid. he watches you watch him spread it on his length, pumping himself slowly, drawing out the pleasure as he moans, a sweet tenor sound that rings lewdly in the air. you watch, mesmerized, as he thrusts his hips forward a few times, stroking himself with a slight twist of his wrist before letting go abruptly, letting his cock slap up against his lower stomach. 

fishing around in the pocket of his discarded jeans, he takes out a condom wrapper, opening it quickly and rolling it onto his cock. you're sure you're making a mess of the sheets, you can feel your arousal and his saliva on your thighs, can feel another gush of wetness seep out of you as he lowers himself over your body and slides his cock against your folds. 

he grinds himself on you, hoping to get you wetter so it may be less painful when he enters you. his fingers find your clit again, this time he rubs it urgently, with just the correct amount of pressure to have you shaking and lifting your hips into him. 

"stop me anytime," he reminds you, as he lines himself up to your fluttering entrance. "you have to relax for me, baby." he pitches his voice lower now, and you can't tell if he's comforting you or if he's slowly being pulled under by lust too. he makes soft shushing noises, nipping at your lips with gentle kisses as you whimper, feeling the bulbous tip of his cock slowly stretch you open, his fingers resuming his movements. the head of his cock still feels shallow inside you, when it suddenly brushes against a sensitive spot, and his fingers on your clit glide just right, making you cum, hard. he feels you clamp down tightly around his tip, and he hisses, eyes squeezed shut. his mind wiped clean for just a second as pleasure thrums through his entire body, an aching pain that makes his mouth hang open.

"'m sorry," you whimper, tears prickling to your eyes as you interpret his expression as annoyance. "i'm so sorry, it just felt so good —" 

"baby…" he looks at you, his face morphing into panic when he sees the tears in your eyes. "don't apologise, please, you have nothing to be sorry for." 

you still look unconvinced, so he reaches for one of your hands, holding it in his and kissing your fingertips. "you are so pretty when you cum," the filthy words sound sacred the way he says them. "and you felt so fucking good around my cock," he murmurs, voice sinking low again.

you begin to relax again, sniffling slightly as you adjust your legs around his waist, feeling him slide a little deeper into you. he coaxes you into taking more of him, kissing you sweetly as he slips in further and further, until finally the both of you are groaning, his body shuddering slightly against yours as he feels your warm gummy walls tight around him. 

"so tight," he groans, cursing again under his breath as he circles his hips, drawing a moan from you as your thighs tense. "how are you so tight?," he panted, tone still teasing despite him trying desperately not to buck his hips into you. "has no one ever fucked you before or something?" 

you don't have it within you to tease back. 

"only you, haechan." the words are reverent, hushed. it strips him of any of his cockiness, his teasing, his boldness — his features softening at the way you look up at him, trying to maintain eye contact even as the ache between your legs drove you insane, not wanting to waste a single moment of this, in case it never happened again. 

"haechan…" your nails rake against his back, drawing him out of his daze. "please fuck me." 

"fuck," he breathes, as he slowly starts to move in you, obsessed with the way the words sound in your voice. his thick length drags against your walls, heavy inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal seeping into the room. you feel full and stretched out, sated by having him so close to you, it feels like you can feel him deep in your gut the way he's thrusting into you, especially when he hikes your legs higher on his waist, drawing a long moan from you as he manages to stimulate a spot inside you that has you seeing stars. 

he changes his pace, now barely pulling himself out of you as he nudges the head of his cock against your sweet spot. licking a long stripe from your neck up to your ear, one hand tangles itself with yours, while the other ghosts over your sensitive nipples. 

"i'm cumming," the words come out rushed as you barely hold onto your senses, cumming harshly for the third time, your body thrown into pleasure as your muscles tense. he succumbs to the feeling of your walls kneading his length and squeezing tight around him, eyes going unfocused and hazy as his lips part, a moan drawn out from his lungs without conscious thought. he's aware of the way your muscles tense as he fucks both of you through your highs, relishing in the sting of your fingernails on his back as he slows down his movements. he draws out both your highs by leaning in and sucking on the mark he'd left behind earlier that evening, letting his moan buzz and fizzle on your skin. 

you feel dazed and tired, arms never letting go of him, legs unwilling to unwrap from his waist as you cling to him. he rolls you both onto your sides, caressing your body sweetly and stroking your hair, mumbling questions and concerns that you can't register, nodding to everything in a blur. the weight of him feels good, his body warm and solid against your back, and once again that feeling of safety, that feeling of complete trust, washes over you. it makes you feel whole even as he pulls out of you with a wince, discarding the condom in the trash by your bedside. 

you cling to him, and he knows you need it — so he doesn't let you go, heavy hands patting your back clumsily, slightly rough and out of rhythm, just like the way your heart beats against your ribcage.

when he feels your arms loosen, relaxing finally after the high of hormones and adrenaline, he slips away quickly to the bathroom, putting on his underwear as he goes. he grabs a towel, turning your tap on to warm water and checking the temperature with his wrist as he washes his hands, his face, cleaning himself up. running the towel under the water and squeezing it dry in the sink. his movements methodical, as he slips out of your room and into the kitchen, looking around for a glass of water. 

he immediately races back the moment he hears a sound from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him just as you sit up, your expression clearing once you see him again. pulling his shirt from where it's discarded on the floor, he slides into bed, kissing you on the cheek. 

he cleans you up with soft strokes, the warm towel soothing on your skin even though he hadn't really been rough. he makes you drink from the glass of water, watching you drain it carefully. finally, slipping his large shirt over your frame, swallowing at the way it envelopes your body, a feeling stirring in his gut that he ignores. 

"y/n? are you with me?" when you don't respond, wide eyes looking up at him, he touches his fingers to your cheek. "baby?" 

each brush of his skin against yours felt like trails of fire, lingering warmth even after he pulls away. every look he gave you through his lashes, the slight pout to his lips when he broke away from a kiss, made you feel like you were caught in a riptide, your pulse out of your control. you wanted to crawl into him and make a home in his chest. you never wanted him to look at you again with his shuttered eyes, to have to dream yourself into the skin of someone else as he touched them. 

you had to tell him. "haechan…haechan i…" you reach for him, and he pulls you into his embrace, shushing you softly. you try to speak again, lips parting, but he envelopes your lips in a gentle kiss, nipping at your mouth each time you part, swallowing all your sounds with the sweep of his tongue. 

"princess…" his voice sounds raw, and coarse. "don't say anything you don't mean." 

"but-" 

"you don't know me." was it regret in his voice, or your wishful thinking? "you don't know me at all. what you're feeling right now…" he touches a hand to your chest, brushing a kiss on your cheek. "it's because of the sex, alright?" 

you shake your head. 

your next words come out slurred, your eyelids starting to droop as sleep begins to tug at your mind, threatening to pull you under. "but…why can't i know you?"  

he takes a deep breath. "i don't want you to."

"but i don't want this to end." 

he holds you tighter against his chest at your words. 

"this?" he questions, quietly. he keeps his voice light, but it still pierces your heart like a shard of glass. "there isn't a 'this' princess. this isn't happening again." 

"why?" 

"i don't want you to get attached." he cradles you even more carefully against him, freckling mellow kisses onto your forehead, the contrast between his words and his actions ringing dissonant in your ears. "besides… why would i spend the night with the same girl twice, hm?"

sleep softens the hurt from the words he's saying. his voice fades slightly, his touch against your skin roaring ever louder in your ears. "you know i won't be here when you wake up, right?" his fingers brush against your forehead lightly, pushing hair away from your eyes. 

you knew. 

but you still cried in the morning all the same — the golden-orange sunrise beautiful and terribly cruel, just like the boy you were perhaps falling in love with. 

—

you spend the weekend alone. 

you spend the weekend wondering if haechan thought of you at all, after he left. thinking if what he said was real, and it was just adrenaline and lust, then why did your heart ache at the thought of him? at his face on posters outside the small concert venue, inviting you to a show next week? why did you always turn at the slightest hint of his voice? 

you try to forget him. you try to tell yourself he wasn't worth it. but deep down all of it, a part of you still hopes, which is perhaps why you were letting jaemin drag you past the poster of haechan, into the alleyway that led backstage.

"are you sure you need me there?" you pull at jaemin's sleeve, your other hand holding onto his spare camera carefully as he guides you into the venue.  

"i do," he insists, pushing through a set of doors leading to the stage. "mark wants extra photos for their social media page and i can't be doing all of that at once." 

you can hear the boys talking just around one of the curtains, sprawled out onstage, a cacophany of sounds as they absentmindedly plucked at their instruments. you were going to see haechan again. you can't tell if it makes you want to run towards them, or go back home. that familiar sense of hope, the kind you experienced in the crowd that first night, on the balcony, in the bedroom and in the moonlight, fills you up slowly, sweet and light. maybe, if he just saw you again…

"y/n-" jaemin puts a hand on your arm, stopping you gently before you could rush onto stage. 

"yes?" you prompt. 

"i know i dragged you here, but if you're feeling uncomfortable," he starts, and you start to slip away, but he only tightens his grip. "let me finish — if you're feeling uncomfortable, or if any of them are hurting you, let me know okay?" 

you hadn't told him about haechan, something close to shame seeming to rise up and choke you whenever you tried to bring it up. all jaemin knew was that the last two times you had come into contact with the band it had upset you badly, and as your best friend and roommate he never wanted to see you crying on the balcony again. 

"what would you do? beat them up?" 

"i would leave." his serious tone doesn't change, unaffected by your attempt to lighten the mood. 

"but the money –" 

"no job is more important than you being okay," he insists. "i don't want to work for them if they hurt you. okay?" 

"okay." 

even though he looks unconvinced, his grip on your arm loosens and he takes your hand instead, pulling back the curtain with his other. 

you can hear him say something to mark about today's shoot, hear him greet the rest of the members. you guess that mark is rising to greet him, hear something like jisung and jeno standing too, but everything fades to white noise when the sight you're looking at clicks in your mind, the one member of the band who's voice you hadn't heard, who hadn't bothered to turn around at jaemin's arrival.

or rather, the one boy who was too pre-occupied to — considering he had his tongue in a pretty girl's mouth. 

haechan was facing away from you, away from the rest of his bandmates, you could really only see his broad back under his denim jacket, but the careful tilt of his head as he kissed her was all too familiar, as was the movement of his arms around her waist. and when she shifted in his lap, his hands pulling her hips down unto his, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a sharp pain searing at your chest in emotions you couldn't pinpoint. 

"fuck, sorry about that –" mark's voice is flustered, and now a tall boy, the bassist, jisung, is stepping in front of you, blocking your view of him. 

"sorry," he echoes, and you're momentarily caught off guard by how deep his voice is - husky and quiet. you blink up at him, fog slowly clearing in your mind, and he smiles shyly. "he doesn't usually do that." 

"who?" 

"um, haechan…" he looks back briefly, and you see haechan helping the girl to her feet, her body crumpled into his like she couldn't bear to be separated from his touch. you feel a wave of second-hand shame again – was that what you had looked like? 

and then jisung turns back to you, towering over you again and blocking everything from view. "he usually only does this after the show, but today…" 

"it's fine," you say, faintly. 

jisung looks at you, carefully. "you're jaemin's friend y/n, right?" 

you nod, half your mind still on what could be going on right now. behind jisung, you see mark pull haechan, now alone, towards a corner of the stage, whispering angrily at him. haechan is slouched lazily, picking at his nails with all the look of someone who couldn't care less about what was going on. 

"i saw you at our last show," jisung continues. "i was going to…i was going…" he breaks off, a little embarrassed, fumbling with his words. "are you sure you're okay?" 

"i'm fine, jisung." you repeat, your voice a little more firm, as you finally look back at him.

he blinks. "you know me?" 

jisung still looked worried, but there was something sweet about the way he shrunk a little under your attention, eyes darting all over your face and around his surroundings, blush tinging his cheeks.

this you were comfortable with – something completely different from the way haechan's eyes always tried to drink you in, or the way your vision would go blurry at the edges when he would stand in front of you. talking with jisung was easy, the confidence that haechan drained from you seeping back and settling in. 

he had meant it, when he said you shouldn't get attached. you just had to learn it before it brought you more hurt you couldn't justify.

"jisung," you emphasise. "of course i know you. you play bass, right?" 

"y-yeah," he stammers, pointing unecessarily at his dark blue bass guitar on its stand. "i don't know, i guess i always thought people didn't really know me even if they knew the band." he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, black hair falling over his eyes. "people usually choose to stand where haechan or mark are." 

"you usually stand on the left?" 

he nods, bashfully, and a smile tugs at your lips. 

"i'll make sure to stand there, later during the show." 

"wow, okay." he pauses for a moment, steeling himself. "how about after?" 

"what do you mean?" 

"would you want to meet…after the show?" he hesitates, voice soft. 

your brow furrows slightly. "do you mean the party?" 

"we don't have to go," he blurts out. "i don't mean…i don't mean like what haechan usually does after the show."  

his name is an unwelcome sting, but the way jisung sneaks glances up at you from where he looks down at his feet makes it a little easier to forget. "then what do you want to do?" 

"w-we can get something to eat." he says it like he just suggested robbing a bank. 

oh. "like a date?" 

mortified, his lips part, and you can tell that he's frantically trying to read your tone, trying to figure out if the idea of it made you uncomfortable, whether you were suggesting because you wanted it. it's so endearing, watching him start his sentences and stop them, the hem of his shirt crumpled and worn out by his nervous fingers. 

eventually, he takes a deep breath, and settles for a question. "d-do you mind if it's a date?" 

did you? 

was there any hope in waiting for haechan, when he had made it so clear that you would never have him again?

jisung is still looking at you like you have all the power in the world to hurt him. 

"i don't mind," you say, softly, feeling a hum of satisfaction in your chest at the way it makes his lips part in blissful surprise. a beat. "do you want it to be…?" 

"yes," he blurts out. "please," he adds, shyly. 

the awkward silence between the two of you feels good, the lightness of it familiar and giddy, like a schoolgirl crush. jisung can't stop smiling, biting his lips slightly as he turns to face mark, who's crossed to the front of the stage to speak to them. 

" — jisung, jaemin will start with your photos first. we'll just be shooting the rehearsal process today, so there's no need to-" he breaks off, brow furrowing. "jisung why are you so red?" 

"i-it's w-warm in here." 

"well you should cool off before jaemin takes your photos." jisung nods, flustered, and he walks offstage with jaemin to prepare. jeno too, strolls away with a wave to mark, leaving him alone at the front of the stage. 

with you. 

mark glances over at you, his eyes darting over your face, trying to read your expression. you can almost hear haechan's voice from that night, the ghost of the hurt still palpable in your bones. but the moment you take a step back, thinking that you should find jaemin and jisung, mark seems to have made up his mind — his face set, he starts to walk over to you, and you find your own footsteps falter.

"um, y/n, can i speak to you for a second?" 

you take a deep breath. "is this about the photos for later?" 

"no…not exactly." he clears his throat. there's a pause, as he seems to pick his words. "y/n, did i do something wrong?" 

you blink at him. "what do you mean?"

"i mean, i know it was a while ago, but i thought we were getting along fine at the party," it feels like he's rehearsed this to some capacity, or perhaps it was just the confidence of being a lead singer. "but then since then every time i saw you…i feel like you've been avoiding me." 

"i haven't been avoiding you." you take a deep breath. "mark, do you have a girlfriend?" 

his eyes widen. "are you…are you asking me out?"

"what?" you balk. "no!" 

"oh." his face falls. "i mean…i just thought…"

"that's just too bad, markie." 

it’s practically deja vu.

haechan stands behind you, his body radiating warmth, and you inhale sharply. surprisingly, he doesn't smell saccharine, the way he always does with the girls he chooses — his skin smells like baby powder and fresh linen. your body is doing that thing again – where you hone in on his presence and the whole world dissolves, and you're hyper attuned to the way his arm hovers near yours, his breath on the back of your neck. anything you were about to say to mark completely lost in your brain. 

exasperated, mark runs his hand through his hair. "haechan…don't be difficult." 

"i'm not." you feel almost numb when his hand touches your elbow, sliding down to hold your hand tight in his grip. "y/n and i have to talk about something." 

"can't it wait?" 

"it's urgent," haechan says, sarcastically, giving you a sharp tug towards him. your feet stumble as haechan starts to walk off, and you turn one last time to see mark standing there, looking a little forlorn, suddenly small under the bright lights of the stage. 

"sorry, –" you mumble out. mark frowns, starting towards you. 

but now haechan really pulls you along, yanking curtains aside and accessing a short flight of stairs. you can feel the intensity of his emotions radiating off him in waves, making it a little hard to breathe as you try to keep up, afraid of what he'll say if your hand slips from his grasp. 

he guides you along a corridor and through a doorway, stepping into the warm light of a dressing room, the door slamming shut behind you as haechan pulls you in. 

you're almost afraid to look at him, but you do anyway. 

he's slightly breathless from the walk down, stooping slightly to lock the door with careful hands. when he straightens and steps towards you, the lights hitting his features, you can see that he's covered up the hickeys on his neck with makeup. something mark made him do, no doubt. 

"haechan -" 

"park jisung? really?" he sneers, backing you into the dressing table. 

 "what?" 

"don't lie to me," he demands. "i saw you." 

"really?" you fold your arms across your chest as he moves in closer, planting both hands on the table on either side of your hips, caging you in. "you looked busy. where did she go, hm? did mark send her away, or did you?" 

haechan rolls his eyes. "that's none of your business." 

"jisung said you don't usually bring girls to the rehearsal," you continue, watching the way his tongue pokes into his cheek in annoyance. "what happened?" 

"you two talked about me?" he demands. "what else did you do? make plans to fuck after the show?" 

"i'm not a virgin anymore," you remind him, your voice laced with a warning. "i thought you only cared about my first time." 

haechan groans. seeing you talk to jisung out of the corner of his eye, seeing your hands brush and his friend's head duck shyly to the side, gave him a weight on his chest which grew heavier each time he took a breath, each time he had to hear one of jisung's small laughs. 

"if you want to have mediocre sex then i couldn't care less," he snaps. "just know that you're going to have to fuck a lot of people before you forget me." 

you can see that you're losing him, the familiar closed-off look coming back to his face, anger dissapating into indifference. 

"what is there to forget?" you ask, hurt and anger making your voice shake. 

haechan is staring at you, his face now so close to yours if you leaned in just slightly your lips would brush. 

"you don't mean that," he says, quietly. 

and just like that, all the fight drains out of you. 

"haechan, jisung just wants to take me out on a date." his features tense, and he bites his lower lip harshly. "would you ever ask me out on a date, haechan?" 

he doesn't respond.

"would you?" 

"i told you," he breathes. "i don't do that." 

"you told me you didn't want to be my first time, and you took it back," you remind him, quietly. 

"that's different." you can't help the disappointment that wells up inside you, and you know he can see it from the way his face falls too. 

"don't look at me like that, princess." he sinks into your touch easily, warmth once again circling your body.  

you don't know if you wished haechan was a liar, or if you wished he wasn't. if he was telling the truth about everything, it would be easier to let go of him, to walk away from someone who could only cause you pain, from someone who played with you over and over again. 

but maybe if he was lying it would all make sense – the way he said he didn't want you and yet kept showing up, the jealousy and the conflict in his voice, all of it would have some sort of plausible reason, one that would mean that maybe he cared for you. 

"i don't want to do this anymore," you mumble, hands placed on his chest. you only push at him lightly, but he backs off all the way to the opposite wall, your words feeling like salt in his wounds. "i can't do this with you, haechan."

"y/n-"

"you have a show soon," you mumble, turning around to look in the mirror. you comb your hair with your fingers, trying to calm yourself down. behind you, haechan's eyes flash with frustration, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows drawn together as he looks up at your reflection. 

"i'm trying to talk to you." 

"are you?" it's a genuine question, and it makes him falter, a response half-formed on his lips. when it's clear he won't finish his thought, you close your eyes. 

"you need to go," you say again, quietly.  

"will you be there?" 

you don’t respond, and he repeats himself, urgently. 

"will you be there? at the show?" 

"i will," you say, hesitantly. 

"i'll see you then." his voice is controlled, and steady. somehow it feels like the calm before the storm. 

but before you can turn around to try to talk to him, persuade him to calm down, ask him what's wrong, he's already left the room, the sound of his heeled boots echoing down the hall. 

—

"is everything okay?" 

"why are they taking so long?" 

"are they late?" 

unease settles in the pit of your stomach as you stand in the crowd, the voices all around you whispering anxiously. it had been 15 minutes since the show was scheduled to start — but the lights on the stage were dim, and the pre-show playlist had just restarted for the second time. you had situated yourself on the left side of the stage, where jisung usually stood, and you bounced on your toes, hoping that everything was alright backstage so jisung could come out and see that you had kept your promise. 

and then there's a low rumble, as lights finally flood the venue, the crowd sighing with relief as jeno and mark appear – jeno waving at the crowd, his drumsticks in one hand, while mark smiles reassuringly, walking over to the mic and checking that it's at the correct height. he apologizes lightly for the delay, looking to the side of the stage nervously as he murmurs a quick introduction of the band into the mic.

haechan strides onto stage, electric guitar slung around his neck, as the crowd's screams reach an all-time high. he stops abruptly at the left side of the stage, right in front of where you stood, nodding at the crowd and cocking his head from side to side, as if preparing for a fight. he keeps his face level as his eyes find yours, that same burning intensity you felt in the dressing room unwavering as he held your gaze.

and then jisung appears, footsteps faltering where haechan stood, the grip on his bass going slack.

"haechan." jisung's voice is soft, you can barely hear it from where you stand so close to the stage. you can tell that the crowd behind has no clue what's going on, but some fans are looking at each other confusedly, pointing at the two boys, and the position on mark's left where haechan usually stood, now empty. 

"yes?" haechan's not looking at jisung, fingers running phantom chords up and down the fret board. 

"w-why are you standing here?" jisung whispered, embarrassment evident in his tone. "aren't you supposed to be on mark's left?" 

haechan's eyes briefly flick up to yours. "not today." 

distressed, jisung makes a sound. "haechan." guilt fills up your lungs like smoke, making it difficult to breathe, a twist in your chest as jisung looks over at you, lost. 

"run along, jisung," haechan murmurs, softly. "don't want to keep the fans waiting." 

mark, not wanting to draw attention to them, keeps smiling at the crowd, starting to ask them a few questions. jisung only tries a few more times, haechan resolutely ignoring him, before finally accepting defeat, casting his eyes over to you — his gaze wounded and confused, as he walks off with his bass. he assumes haechan's position, and the crowd cheers encouragingly. the boy manages a smile. 

when mark starts to introduce the first song, haechan finally looks up, a faint smile playing on his lips as his eyes lock with yours again. just like the day you met. 

and just like the day you met, you felt yourself fall under his spell, yet again. 

—

"haechan, i think we —" you gasp out, in between the kisses that haechan is pressing to your lips. 

he gives a non-committal hum, his legs framing your body as he holds you close to his chest. his lips are warm and soft, tasting slightly of cherries, as he opens you up little by little, chaste kisses turning into open-mouthed ones, his tongue darting out and gently licking into your mouth in a way that was intoxicating. 

you grip onto his arm harshly, trying to ground yourself, and he inhales sharply, breaking away. 

"haechan –" you pant. "we should-" 

but then he's kissing you again, smothering your words with his lips and his tongue. his hands rub at your lower back, guiding your movements as you shift against him, his hips grinding upwards almost lazily. 

"jisung, –" you start, but now he gives a groan, rumbling through his chest almost like a roar. slumped back against the car door, he glares at you, touching the corner of his wet mouth with his thumb.

"you did not just fucking say my bandmates name while you're on me." 

"we should apologize to jisung," your words come out in a rush. 

"for?" he catches the look on your face, and rolls his eyes. "fine," he mumbles. "i'll talk to him." leaning up towards you, he starts to pepper kisses down your jaw, sucking a little harder on the mark he had left before. "kiss me?" he mumbles, and you have to stop yourself from caving in. 

"haechan," you press on, as haechan licks boldly at your collarbone. "haechan –"

"keep saying my name," he murmurs, hands roaming up your shirt, teasing over the clasp of your bra. 

"mark, —" 

"fuck." breaking away agian, haechan tips his head back, lips stretched out and puffy as he tongued his cheek. "you want me jealous princess? is that it? because it's fucking working –" 

"haechan, we keep hurting people." you place both hands on his chest, trying to calm him down. 

"what?" 

"today we hurt mark too. although, i don't really know why–" you break off, thinking about how he looked as he tried to follow after you and haechan. how jisung's cheeks burned red as he walked across the stage. "haechan, they're your friends." 

"you wanna hurt jeno too?" he raises his eyebrows, his own hands now mindlessly scraping against yours. "you can lead him on, and then we can fuck while he watches. although he'll probably like that –" 

again, he takes in the way you frown. "fine. sorry. jeez." 

"i don't want to hurt people because of us," you say, softly. 

"well," he exhales. "they're only hurt because they can't have you, princess." he tucks your hair behind your ear from where its come loose. "there's nothing we can do, hm?"

you shake your head. "you're not being fair," you whisper. 

"how so?" his hands slide down. there's something possessive in the drag of his palms, the way he squeezes your waist. 

"you don't call me yours…but you also don't let them near me." your voice is small, but it rings loud in the silence of the car all the same. the streets outside were empty and deserted, and you think you can hear your heart beating in the still air as your palms stay pressed on his firm chest. "haechan…i need you to choose."  

it's a long time before haechan responds. he's tired from the show and all the adrenaline, you can feel it in his slow breathing, in the way his eyes blink slowly up at you like an afterthought. but his eyes are what give it away – his gaze is sharp and calculative as his eyes roam your body, his touches not quite as drowsy as he appears, fingers tingling against skin. 

you wait, your heart in your throat. you wait and you hope. 

his full lips part, his eyes meeting yours. 

"so…this is our last time together?" 

of course that's his choice. the disappointment spreads like cold, an ache deep in your bones. "if that's what you choose." your voice is flimsy. "haechan, —" but nothing leaves your mouth, just a wounded sound. everything rushing up inside you like a waves breaking over the shore, memories flooding your senses. 

the hurt on mark's face. haechan's hands on your skin. the blush that burned at jisung's skin as he watched haechan pull you to his car, his figure growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. haechan's lips against your ear as he held you. 

"shhh," his arms hold you against his chest, smoothing down your spine as he comforts you as if you were a baby, you clinging on tight to him as if he were going to disappear. "it's okay," he murmurs. "we'll just have to make it count, hm?" gently, he guides your face out of his chest, relieved when he realizes that you're not crying yet, at least. kissing your cheek gently, he brushes his thumb against the apples of your cheeks. "are you alright? do you want me to take you home?" 

"s-stop it." you manage to steady your breathing enough to repeat yourself. "stop being gentle with me, haechan. stop leading me on." 

"stop getting hurt," he replies, a little teasing, but his tone aches. 

"kiss me?" 

this time you do, letting him guide your movements, as he pulls you down into his body as if he were trying to pull you all the way through him. 

his kisses are slow and sweet, tilting his head almost shyly, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as he leans up into you. his tongue carefully slides over your bottom lip, before he's nudging your lips apart with his own again, tongue gently moving over yours, pulling away with a small smile when you chase after him, tongue stuck out slightly, chasing the warmth of his mouth. 

"cute," he mumbles, and you pull your shirt up over your head just so he won't see the way your cheeks burn in the dark. 

his movements become a little more urgent as he unclasps your bra, letting it slide to the floor of his car as he surges towards you. his lips begin to suck marks onto your chest, hands now squeezing your soft breasts, mapping your body indulgently. his tongue licks slowly around your right nipple, before giving it a gentle flick with his tongue, your body shifting restlessly against him as it sends a wave of arousal down to your core. he hugs you against him to steady your movements, lapping at your nipples and guiding each roll of your hips down into his. 

your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him away from you. before you can tell him to stop teasing, he's kissed you again — placating. sweet like he knew everything you were about to say, before you even said it. 

you raise your hips as his hands smooth over the pleats of your skirt, before flipping the soft material upwards. you hadn't worn anything special, not having the courage to, but the way he looked at your simple white panties, thumb running carefully over the pink bow in the middle of the waistband, made you feel warm all over. you hurry to pull them off, just to break the moment, but he catches them right before you tug them off your ankle. 

"can i keep these?" his doe-eyes blink up at you. you can see the brown in his irises, almost gold in the light. you nod, and he lets out a laugh, kissing you through his smile as his fingers wander up your thighs. 

he starts with slow circles on your clit, stroking the nub gently, feeling the way your hips shift at the feeling. when he speeds up his motions, fingers teasing along your slit and catching at your entrance a few times, your hips begin to pick up a steady rhythm, rocking into his hand. 

"do you just want to cum like this?" he asks kindly, placing a bit more pressure on the tips of his fingers. he wants to be inside you badly, his erection almost painful from the lack of contact, but he knew that it might do more for him than it did for you.

this was how he wanted you to be taken care of for your first time, for your second time — this is why he didn't want you to slip away from him into rooms with men who wouldn't know what you needed, wouldn't care what you wanted.

or at least — it's what he tells himself to keep him sane. 

"'m close," you mumble, your movements uncoordinated, neediness driving your hips into his hand, pleasure that you didn't quite know how to handle. "feels so empty, haechan, please –" 

he slows down his movements, a hand sliding over your waist to rub at your lower back, eliciting a warm sound from you that radiates into his chest. he slides a finger into your tight entrance, feeling the way you tense around him, slowly slipping the finger in and out, curling against your walls carefully. his thumb comes up to press your clit, and you inhale sharply as the pressure in your abdomen builds. 

"more…" 

"baby, you're doing so well," he praises. freckling careful kisses on your neck to distract you, you feel another finger catch against your entrance, his hand breaking its rhythm to carefully slide in, stretching your hole out even more. with a lewd suck on the base of your neck, he curls both fingers against your walls, a slick finger slipping on your clit, and you feel yourself crash headfirst into your high, thighs clamping around his hand in sensitivity as you moan. he murmurs praises against your ear, kissing your jaw sweetly between each one. 

he removes his hand from your core with a wet sound, and you drop down into his lap, feeling weak at the knees even though you weren't standing. he lets out a groan, feeling your wetness and warmth through his jeans, and he can feel his cock twitch under the fabric. but still, he waits until your breathing evens out, using his cleaner hand to stroke at your sides, humming lightly under his breath, the reassuring sound filling the car. his breaths sync with yours as you come down from your high, and together you let out a shaky exhale. 

"do you mind?" he asks, quietly, hands going to his belt slowly, trying not to startle you. "we don't have to have sex. i just really need to take care of this now…" you nod, flustered, crawling backwards down his legs, and he leans forward to kiss the crown of your hair. against the soft sounds of your breathing, the sound of him unbuckling his belt, letting it drop into the shadows, and the rustle of fabric as he tugged his jeans and underwear down as much as he could, were endlessly arousing. you felt yourself begin to pulse with need again, your thighs squeezing together when he pulls out his cock, thick and heavy against his palm, the tip blushy and leaking. 

he gives himself a tentative stroke, spreading pre-cum over his length before squeezing the base and hissing at the feeling as he tries to stop from cumming too soon. as if in a trance, you reach out towards him, your hand curiously wrapping around his shaft. he groans, low, as you give him a tentative stroke, although the sound is cut off by a high whimper when your fingers rub the head of his cock, silky under your fingertips. 

"baby, you don't have to –" he's cut off by another moan as you squeeze his length, applying more pressure as you stroke. "fuck, jus' like that," he mumbles, weakly, as you twist your wrist a little on a downstroke, palm slippery with pre-cum. after a few more strokes, watching haechan's head loll this way and that, twisting with pleasure, you pay more attention to his tip, thumbing just under it, fingers rubbing his slit. haechan's hips are restless, thrusting into your hand, his body shaking and the muscles on his abdomen clenched tight. you give him a few more strokes, and his whines fill up the car, raspy and sinful in a way that made you crave him even more. 

mimicking his movements, you slide your hand back down to his base and squeeze. he blinks hazily up at you, lips still parted, panting breathlessly. 

"baby…" 

"i need you," your voice feels broken, desire pulsing through each syllable. "please haechan," you add, as he swallows harshly, his cock twitching slightly against the warmth of your hand. 

pulling you towards him, he kisses you again, fingers wandering down to your heat and stroking your folds. "so wet from touching me, baby?" he teases, smiling against your lips as he slips a finger in, and then another, your walls sucking him in easily. he finds your soft spot immediately, your thighs shaking around his hand as you whine. it's a sound embarrassing to your own ears, but it's like music to haechan's ears, as he lets out a low groan. 

"it's too bad it's your last time with me," he murmurs, lightly, as he takes a condom out from the glove compartment, his hands moving swiftly as he tears open the package and rolls it onto his cock. "i would love to record your pretty sounds…" your voice lets out another small whimper, as if proving him right, as he adjusts you on his lap so the head of his cock lines up with your entrance. slowly, you sink down on him, clutching onto his body for support as you feel him fill you up tightly. 

"breathe," he coaxes, letting his own head sink back against the seats, the hazy feeling of you wet and warm around him intensifying as you take all of him inside you. he continues on, trying to distract you by peppering gentle kisses all over your cheeks. "would you like to hear your voice in a song, sweetheart? all the girls in the crowd wondering who's pretty voice is on the track, wondering who's making her feel this good…" he hisses, when he feels you pulse around him. "you want that?" 

your lips part, stuttering out jumbles of half-sentences, yes-es and nos. "'m just teasing, baby," he coos, as he thrusts his hips upwards experimentally, bouncing you on his lap. you lean into his body, feeling muscle firm under your palms as you raise your hips and grind against him, sensitivity making your thighs shake as the movement stimulates your clit. 

responding to your need, his arm loops around your waist while his fingers wander towards your clit, stroking and rubbing it expertly as he continues to thrust up into you, the car jolting with his movements. his strong thighs tense as he moves, barely pulling out before stuffing himself into you again, your walls kneading his length in a way that makes his body feel hot with need, chasing his climax. your soft sounds each time his tip grazes your soft spot are an aphrodisiac, and he feels himself growing impossibly harder inside you, so aroused it almost hurts. 

"haechan, i'm cumming," you moan, and his fingers put more pressure on your clit, as you bounce on him, eager for release. 

"keep saying my name," he breathes, pulling you close, your bodies moving frantic and unsteady against each other, as you cum, mouthing his name against his skin. he empties himself into the condom soon after, hips still jolting as he helps you ride out the aftershocks of your climax, your breaths echoing loud in the car.

you almost wanted to ask for round 2 — and you were sure he would give it to you, if you had asked. instead you stay silent, feeling emptier than ever as he pulls out, your body draining of his warmth as he cleans you with wipes from his glove compartment, kissing you sweetly whenever your eyes met. the water bottle he procured from the passenger seat of the car making you wonder if this was his plan all along, as you sipped quietly, as he put your address in his phone to take you home. 

—

you can feel him slip away from you on the drive back. 

a sea of red and green lights move across the planes of his face as you watch him drive, one hand on the wheel and the other touching your hand softly on the centre console. you give his fingers a faint squeeze and he smiles, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a light kiss to your fingertips. 

when you reach the next intersection, he pulls his hand from yours and puts it back on the steering wheel. 

when he makes his next turn, his shoulders start to tense and the easy, relaxed expression on his face morphs into a stony one. 

and when he finally pulls up in front of your apartment building, turning to face you, the glowing streetlights illuminating the outlines of his face do nothing to soften the blow of seeing him like this again — looking at you with half-lidded eyes, almost lazy in his power. 

"are you coming to the next show?"  

"i want to," you respond, your voice small. "...should i?" 

"it doesn't really matter to me." his fingers tap against the wheel, restlessly. "i just hope you know you shouldn't wait around afterwards." 

you bite your lip. "i know." 

he nods. "so you know this is over?" 

"i know." 

"good girl." it feels like a punch to the stomach, and you inhale, sharply, hands gripping the handle of the car door. waiting for him to dismiss you, as he always did. 

but then he's speaking again, breaking the silence. his voice is softer, a little more hesitant – "do you need me to walk you up?" he's not looking at you, eyes trained on his dashboard. "will you be okay?" 

it's cruel, the way your heart stutters in your chest. you take one last look at him, trying to memorize everything — the sharp line of his jaw, his collarbones, the joints of his fingers, the way his pinky finger crooks slightly to the right. the faint smell of vanilla and something darker, mixed with his warmth. you try to memorize it because you're sure this is the last time you'll be so close to him again, both in proximity, and in the way his voice aches with something close to tenderness. in that moment, you know if you told him you needed him, he would turn off the engine and open your car door, holding you safe against his chest and walking you up to your apartment. but what for? for him to shut off on the way up the elevator, and turn into a stranger at your door? 

"it's fine," you murmur, and you don't wait for a response before stepping out into the warm night. 

—

your ribs press against the barrier, and you wince slightly. the crowd screams loud in your ear, as the boy in front of you looks up from his guitar at the crowd in front of him, dark gaze sliding over faces, tongue poking at his cheek and puffy lips stretched. 

his eyes briefly meet yours, and your heart skips a beat. 

and then he's looking back down at his guitar again, lips pursed in concentration. 

the next time he glances up, the familiar glint is back, eyebrows drawn together. there was something strange about the way he was looking at you, not exactly meeting your eyes. was he looking at your clothes? your hair? or… 

"oh my god!" 

you shoot a brief glance back, at the girl who's just let out a squeal. she claps her hands over her mouth, eyes shining as she stares adoringly at haechan, unblinking. you don't have to check to know he's staring right back — you know the look on her face a little too well. 

the disappointment and jealousy weighing on your chest is entirely unjustified, but you feel it heavy in your bones, anyway. 

he had meant every word: it was truly over. 

–

"did anyone see you?" 

"no," you whimper, as he mouths over the seat of your panties, tongue lapping at your folds through the fabric. 

"good girl," he pants, letting out a satisfied groan when he tugs them down your legs, burying his face in between your legs with a lewd moan. 

but if it was truly over, why did he find you after the show last week, – slipping by you to tell you to meet him in the upstairs master bedroom, where he fingered you open in front of the mirror?

if it was truly over, why did a stagehand stop you from leaving after the next show you went to, passing you a note that told you to wait at the back entrance of the venue? 

"fuck fuck fuck-"

and if it was truly over, why was he currently in between your spread legs, his mouth and chin covered with your juices as you lay on his bed?

"need you now, princess." his fingers brush your clit, and your thighs shake with overstimulation. "are you okay? i can wait-" 

"don't wait," you plead, pulling him towards you. he follows, propping himself up on his arms as his face reaches yours, his lips gently nudging your own apart, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you. his sticky hands stroke your sides, leaving trails on your skin. "haechan –" 

he interrupts you with another kiss. freckling more kisses down your neck, he smiles against the mark he left days ago, fading slightly now. "i missed this," he murmurs, and your heart stings, a collection of memories surfacing in your mind – of his eyes avoiding yours at shows. of him waiting onstage for someone else. of him smiling at you cordially, face blank as if he were greeting you for the first time when he talked to you in front of other fans. 

"did you really?" 

he doesn't respond, latching his lips to your skin with a hum, hands cupping your breasts in one swift motion, fingers teasing over your nipples and making your body arch into his touch. 

"haechan…"  

"what do you want, princess?" he wanders lower, licking at your cleavage. your mind threatens to blank when he circles a fingertip around your areola, puffy wet lips closing around a nipple and sucking wetly. "hm?" 

"want you to fuck me…" your voice is shaky, but you press on. "like how you were gonna fuck that girl."  

his hands still for just a brief second. you can see your words hit him, understanding and lust flickering in his responding laugh. he focuses his eyes back on your face, hands now coming up to brush your lips, caressing your cheek, smoothing over your skin almost lovingly.

this is how he was going to fuck her? 

"open up," he murmurs, fingers pressed to your bottom lip. as if stuck in a trance, your lips part. 

a wet mess of saliva, still mixed with traces of your arousal, drips down from his tongue into your mouth, connecting your lips with his in a glossy sheen. his lips tug into a smile as he sees your blown-out pupils, arousal completely overriding his every thought. 

his fingers trace your jaw. "swallow," he commands, sweetly, and as always you do exactly as he says. 

you feel something shift against your upper thigh, your hips rising on instinct to buck against his hard length, still trapped behind his ripped jeans. 

his low groan is interrupted by a sharp rattling of the doorknob, followed by a thud against the door. both of you still, eyes focused on the locked door, straining your ears to hear the voices outside. 

"are you sure no one saw you?" haechan asks, quietly. "did jisung see you? mark? jeno?"

"i don't think so," you mumble. 

that was the arrangement you had come up with a little over a week ago, discussed in heated kisses and bliss-induced haze. you could keep seeing haechan, as long as you never saw the rest of the band again. on nights when he knew he wanted you, you would slip through crowds like a ghost to make your way into warm beds and cold bathrooms, saving him from the jealousy, and saving you from the questions. 

of course, there were a few nights where no message would find you, where he wouldn't grab your wrist as you brushed past him in a hallway, his hands distracted with someone else. those nights used to make you cry, your entire being aching for his attention, his indifference just as bruising as his care. 

the doorknob rattles again, and there's a knock on the door. 

"haechan? are you in there?" 

mark's voice. 

"they're back early from the party," haechan mumbled. to your shock, he ignores them and tugs off his shirt roughly, revealing delicate tanned skin dotted with moles, looking soft-to-touch. 

"haechan," mark's voice is exasperated. "i thought we agreed not to bring girls to our apartment." 

haechan rolls his eyes as his hands go to his belt, ridding himself of his pants and underwear. you can see the muscles in his thighs tense as he makes his way up the bed, hands holding your hips.

"you wanted me to fuck you like the other girls?" he murmurs, low so only you can hear. "well. on your knees." 

"but mark is –" you break off, seeing the way his eyes narrow, something dangerous flickering in his pupils. "but…but they're outside," you whisper. as if to prove your point, mark bangs on the door again. 

and then jisung's voice, low and urgent comes through the door. "who is he even with? the girl he left the show with was alone when i saw her."

"god, are they all outside the door?" haechan grumbles, focusing his attention back on you when you let out a small sound of distress. "forget about them," he soothes, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. his mouth moves over yours searingly, possessive and all-consuming in the way he pushes his tongue into your mouth. "on your knees," he commands, quietly, against your mouth. "i won't ask again." 

a thrill runs down your spine as you flip over, his large hands adjusting you so your back arches, head pressed into the pillows as he holds your hips up. he presses a kiss to your back as he reaches off the bed for a condom, rolling it onto his hard length with a soft groan. you look over your shoulder, see him stroking himself, mouth hanging open. 

"hurry," you plead. you can feel slick on your thighs from the way he ate you out earlier, growing wetter from anticipation. "please." 

he ignores you. "can you be quiet for me?" he mumbles. outside, you can hear the boys discussing something heatedly, voices low so you can't make out the words. "don't want anyone else to hear you."

"yes," you promise, meekly. 

"good girl." he lines himself up to your entrance, reaching around to rub your clit as he runs the tip of his cock against your folds. you let out a shaky breath at the feeling, trying hard not to let it catch your vocal cords. 

one hand on your hip and the other stroking your lower back, he pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to his girth. you feel a sting as he stretches your walls, filling you up deeply while burying himself inside you. he murmurs for you to relax, listening to you take shallow breaths, the way your hole flutters around his length making him want to thrust forward, relieve his own ache. 

"haechan, are you asleep?" 

there's a sharp rap on the door, and haechan curses as it makes you tighten around him, gummy walls gripping him like a vice, as if begging for his cum. 

"you liked that, baby?" his voice is low, and mocking. you whimper. "you like the idea of them coming in and seeing you like this? letting me take you like a slut?" 

"haechan, we know you're in there." now it's jeno's rough voice, devoid of its usual warmth. "we saw the shoes at the door. we need to talk." 

haechan pulls out until only his tip is still inside you, and slams back in aggressively, filling you to the brim. he starts to build a rhythm, thrusting deep and slow inside you, letting you feel the drag of him against your walls as he strokes your clit with his fingers. he was taking his time with you — pausing to lean forward and press kisses to your shoulders, mouthing messily over your skin. 

"haechan, please -" you try to keep your voice quiet, but he chooses this time to fuck you a little harder, picking up the pace, and your mouth hangs open as your aborted whimpers turn into drawn out moans.  

"hm?" he prompts, faking nonchalance. but you can feel that the pace is affecting him too, his breathing growing heavier as he speeds up a little more. 

"harder," you mumble, words feeling thick and slow in your mouth. "faster. fuck," 

a bang on the door. the loud sound makes you jolt, and haechan hisses as you clench down on him harshly again, your thighs inching closer together, creating a tighter fit around his thick cock. 

"i wonder why they're not coming in yet." his voice in your ear is low, sultry. the kind he uses on-stage when he's teasing the crowd. 

"i-isn't the door l-locked?" 

"sure…but it's a really old lock. i know mark could open it if he really wanted to. he's done it before when i'm late for rehearsals, ah fuck-" he's slamming himself into you, barely pulling out before pushing in again, wet sounds filling the room. "fuck, you must really like that. how do you just keep getting tighter and tighter, hm?" 

"haech–" 

"maybe i'll ask them to come in…" he muses, his tone sickly sweet. "i just know you'll cum hard on my cock when they open the door, right? let them see how filthy you are?" 

"don't –", you choke. 

"should i tell them not to come in?" 

"no," you gasp, and he laughs, darkly. 

"no, i should tell them to come in?" he asks between breathless pants, pace unrelenting as the lewd sound of skin against skin fills the room. "you want me to talk to them baby?" 

you let out an incoherent mumble, no longer sure of anything. 

he coos at that. "dumb already, princess?" his hand wanders up to your chest, blunt nails haphazardly scraping across your nipples. your hips push back onto him instinctively, fucking yourself onto his length, your hips chasing pleasure from the sensitivity as you cum. 

"haechan, i'm not leaving until you open the door." another thud, as mark sits down. 

"fuck…" haechan's only half listening to mark as he throws his head back, murmuring curses as he feels you clench around him, milking his cock. it takes all the self control he has to place his hands on your waist, stilling your movements as he pulls out of you. he's so hard that it hurts, and he knows his release is close, but he still shifts your body until you're lying on your back, and he can see your tear-streaked face, drool smeared all over your chin. 

you mouth his name soundlessly, fresh waves of tears gathering on your waterline as you see him move away from you, and you try to sit up to keep him in your line of sight. 

"haechan, –" 

"i'm here," he murmurs, one hand immediately finding yours and squeezing, the other grappling for the water bottle on the bedside table. he unscrews the cap with one hand as he moves towards you, helping you prop yourself up against the headboard. "drink." 

he holds the bottle up to your lips, but you shake your head. "want you," you whisper, even though your mouth feels warm and sticky, your throat dry from moaning. you can't focus on anything except for the emptiness inside you, your clit throbbing whenever you shift your thighs together slightly. you're focused on his hard length, the slope of his shoulders down to his slender waist. you shake your head again, knocking the bottle against your lips and spilling a little bit of the water onto the sheets. 

"don't be a brat." his voice is low, a dangerous sort of patience in his tone. "drink, or i won't give you what you want." 

you swallow, his voice washing over you, pulling you under. this time when he raises the bottle to your lips, you hold it with shaky hands, letting water trickle down your throat. his own hand comes up, touching two fingers to your neck gently, making sure you were drinking instead of pretending by feeling for the movement of your throat.  

"done?" he watches you lick your parted lips, dewy with water and saliva, and takes the bottle from you, placing it back on the stand. "do you want to keep going?" 

you nod, slowly. 

"use your words," he commands, quietly. 

"please don't stop," you plead, shuffling towards him. it feels like the fog has cleared slightly in your head, the water making the heat haze dissipate. vaguely, you're sure that mark, jisung, and jeno must know what you were doing – must have heard the headboard thumping against the wall, haechan's low groans and your breathless whimpers. 

you wonder what mark is thinking now, outside, not leaving and yet not breaking in like haechan said he could. it sends a wave of arousal down to your core, some part of you wanting him to see the way you break for haechan, completely and wholly his. your way of rejecting him without having to see his face – your way of explaining why you ignored him whenever he caught your eyes during shows and after-parties. 

haechan reads you easily, observing the way your eyes flicker to the door. he's torn between opening the door himself — letting mark see you on his bed, fucked stupid by him, or stepping outside and telling mark to leave because no one should see or hear you like this but him. 

"do you want me to tell mark to leave?" 

"n-no," you hesitate. "don't."

he raises his eyebrows. "why?" 

"w-want him to know that i'm yours," you mumble, a hand wrapping around his thigh and squeezing. 

haechan's eyes darken. “mine?” he echoes, quietly, almost gently.

you're so focused on the shift in his features – the set of his jaw, the way he tenses, that you barely notice he's sliding off the bed and picking you up effortlessly so that you cling to his upper body, legs gripping his waist. his lip curls into a smile, head tilted mockingly as he starts to walk, strong arms holding you up.

your back hits solid wood, and you gasp. 

"haechan?" mark's voice is crystal clear on the other side of the door. 

haechan adjusts his grip, pushing you against the door as he slides his tip along your dripping cunt, making you squirm in his hold. 

"be good, hm?" he whispers, as he pushes into you, eyes squeezing shut and jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls sucking him back in, pulsing along his length and making his cock throb. when he opens his eyes again, his gaze is unfocused, hazy, and you can see that this situation is heightening his arousal, causing his thrusts to be sloppy and unfocused as he chases his own high. each time he pushes into you, the weight of his hips snapping against yours pushes against the door, and you hear it jolt a little, the lock jiggling.

mark's shouted expletive rings against your ears, mirrored by haechan's own as he captures your lips in a kiss. the feeling is familiar and new at the same time, his tongue sliding languidly over yours, swiping against your bottom lip. at the sight of your parted mouth and wet lips, he moans again, and without hesitating he spits into your waiting mouth, sloppy and messy, causing it to dribble past your lips and down your chin. 

the rhythm against the door is unmistakable, and you can hear footsteps as mark runs off. haechan laughs, a pleased hum in his chest that vibrates against your own as he leans into you, and he mouths down your neck, biting at your shoulder and letting his low groan scrape against his throat as a growl. you cum when your stiff nipples brush against his chest, the tiny bit of stimulation just enough to throw you over the edge into your orgasm, your thighs clenching around him as you sob, your core aching. 

the feeling of your walls rippling around his length is too much to bear, and he barely lets you ride out your orgasm on him before he's pulling out of you and carrying you back to his bed. haechan tugs off the condom urgently as you lie there, tired and spent, watching as he strokes his length, fast, eyes fluttering open and shut with lust, his hips thrusting forward uncontrollably. his thumb ghosts just under the head of his cock, and then he's cumming all over your stomach and chest, sticky white spurts pooling on your skin. 

you watch him out of half-lidded eyes as his breathing slows, collapsing next to you in a heap. the high from the sex hasn't faded yet – the consequences of being heard by all his bandmates hasn't hit you, as you bask in the temporary glow of being his. 

a finger traces along the cum on your stomach, haechan transfixed by the sight. curious, your hands grab for the small mirror on his bedside table, and he comes out of his daze, handing it to you wordlessly. 

in the moonlight, the marks he's made on your skin blur with the shadows. no part of you looks untouched — your tear-streaked face and kiss-swollen lips, bruises on your hips and the sting of the bite mark on your shoulder. your hands tremble a little as you focus the mirror on where his fingers play with his drying cum on your skin, tracing lines and curves. 

"'m yours," you mumble out. 

"yeah?" he chokes. "mine?" 

dazedly, you point to your neck. "yours." 

he groans, just watching you, eyes roving over your body. "you're beautiful," he whispers. you think he means it.

"more." your voice is quiet. 

"no more, baby," he murmurs, looking up at you with concern. "it's too much for you." 

you shake your head. "these could be from anyone," you point at the marks on your neck. his body tenses, hands stiff on your skin. "i want to be yours." 

slowly, your words settle over him. he looks at you with an unreadable expression, the kind you see right before he strikes his first chord, the moment his eyes find yours in the crowd. a dark sort of determination, in the way his holds your gaze. 

he reaches over, and opens a drawer. you can hear the sound of things knocking around inside as he roots his hand around, finally emerging with an eyeliner pen. through the mirror, you can see his hands splayed out over the space just under your breasts, pulling the skin over your ribcage taut. his tongue pokes out into the lower corner of his mouth as he places the tip of the pen to your skin. 

he loops once. skids the pen downwards. jerks it up harshly, ending off with jagged motions, each brush trailing ink on your skin. 

when he's done he leans backwards, raising his eyebrows, asking you wordlessly if this was finally enough. his signature on your body, next to the bruises and marks and last remnants of his cum on your skin. 

—

"haechan?" 

he doesn't respond, but a part of you expects it already – you've memorized the way he leaves. 

"why didn't you fuck that girl tonight?" 

he takes his time, taking a long sip from his bottle of wine. from where you lie on the bed, you can just see the broad frame of his back, his side profile as he looks out of the window and at the moon, bright in the sky, the milky glow illuminating his skin. without his makeup, he looked like just a boy – pretty features almost dainty on his face. it's his hands which break the facade, calloused and rough, with veins that make your head spin when you think about them for too long, holding the bottle up to his lips. 

"didn't feel like it." 

you think about his answer, blinking slowly from the sleepiness. "why did you fuck me?" 

he faces forward, away from you. "felt like it."  

"why?" 

"i'm beginning to question that too," he replies, bluntly.

hurt aches in your bones, as silence rings loud in your ears. "if you don't want me here i can just go," you say, softly, and you're sure your voice sounds as wounded as you feel. "you've cleaned me up. i can leave if you want." 

you can see him stiffen, his shoulders tensing up. 

"where's jaemin?" 

of course. sitting up, you wince at the ache between your legs. "he's probably asleep," you answer, bitterly. "but i can just call a cab –"

his back muscles tense, and then he's shifting from where he sits on the edge of the bed. sliding into the space next to you, he rests back against the headboard, legs stretched out over the sheets. a hand wraps around yours. 

"ask me easier questions," he mumbles, turning your palm over so he can lace your fingers together, giving them a reassuring squeeze. 

your breath stutters. 

"what did you talk about? with the band?" 

after cleaning you up and tucking you into bed, haechan had finally stalked out of the bedroom to talk to mark, jisung and jeno. he hadn't said a thing when he returned, holding a bottle of wine, placing it on the bedside table before stepping into the bathroom wordlessly to remove his makeup. 

haechan blinks down slowly at your intertwined hands. "they asked me what was going on." 

"what?" 

"i've been losing focus," he mumbles. "during shows and during rehearsal. and jeno noticed i kept ditching girls at parties, said it wasn't like me to not be fucking around at all." 

a beat. 

you bite your lip. "you're…you're losing focus?" 

but he just shakes his head. "they're wrong." 

you can see that the topic is upsetting him, so you rush to ask another question. "do you write any of the songs that the band play?" 

he raises his eyebrows. "so you care so much about the band now? does that mean you're a fan?" 

he ignores your mumbled excuse, squeezing your hand again to let you know he was teasing. "mark usually writes the songs," he answers. "i don't have much to write about." and then, with a little more force, "ask me questions about me, not the band."

"what does this tattoo mean?" you place the tip of your finger just below his ribcage, where there's a small doodle of a bear paw. 

"people say i look like a bear," he mumbles, a little shy. even in the moonlight, his pouty lips and round cheeks are evident, his shoulders broad as he slumps against the headboard. 

"i see it," you confirm, and a smile flickers on his face. 

"yeah?" he looks over at you, and his free arm loops around your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. his affection buzzes in your veins, as you try to divert his attention with another question. 

"and what does this tattoo mean?" your other hand comes up again, now to trace at the sunflower peeking out from the base of his neck, trailing down to his shoulder. 

he takes a deep breath. "my sister picked it." 

"sister?" 

"baby sister," he adds, softly. "she just turned six. this is her favorite flower." 

"oh." 

"why?" he tilts his head, bumping your own gently. "do i not seem like an older brother?" 

"i think…" you hum, contemplating. "not when you're onstage," you decide.

"do you think i'm different? from when i'm onstage?" 

"i don't know you enough to judge," you say, truthfully. aside from the sex, and from the brief moments right after when it felt like he was truly there, holding you, the haechan you knew was mostly the one flooded with stage lights, the kind of boy you had to beg to earn his attention. 

haechan goes quiet, his hand on yours stilling, and you turn to look at him. tension is filling up the room, slow and thick like a fog, and you can't breathe against the weight of everything — the weight of his gaze, the almost boyish way his eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet yours. 

"do you want to?" 

you bite your lip. 

maybe two weeks ago your heart would have leapt, maybe you would have begged for the opportunity to have him closer. 

but your body has already had time to learn disappointment, to defend yourself against his callousness and his cold, learning the art of slipping in and out of intimacies. every line crossed, every boundary blurred. 

"do i want to?" you echo, and you see him falter. 

maybe his own words held more weight than he'd anticipated. 

"you don't?" 

or maybe he was just scared to hear your answer. 

"will you let me?" you reflect the question back to him. his fingers twitch against your shoulder where he's still holding you.

there were some nights where it felt as if he was taking his adrenaline out on your body, or where he was making you forget the fear of being caught by overriding your senses with pleasure. there were others when you fell so deep into a headspace, that he would care for you gently, something romantic and tender in the negative space between your bodies. 

and ultimately all of these nights ended the same – the same curl of his lip, his face closed-off, his voice too steady and unfeeling.

"how would you let me know you?" it's only when he flinches when you catch the harshness to your tone, your own words leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. "by barely letting things slip every night?" 

"y/n…" it's not meant as a warning. your name is spoken softly, with an ache in it that makes goosebumps rise up your arms. "i thought you were fine." 

"i am," you insist, feeling defensive. "i'm fine with you pretending you don't know me, or when you disappear on the drive home." 

"y/n, –" 

"just…don't say things if you don't mean them," you finish, mumbling your words to mute the hurt in them. 

there's a long silence. 

and then, his voice, so delicate and fragile, like he was afraid his words would bruise the space between him and you. 

"we're playing at a bar this friday." 

you make a sound of confusion, and he continues on. "it's only for a few fans who won some sort of a lucky draw. they get to talk to us and get autographs." 

"i didn't enter," you cut in, but still he continues on, as if he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve.

"i'm inviting you now. and….and afterwards i'll leave with you and we can go to my place." he swallows. "my real apartment. not this one i share with the band." he lets out a shaky breath. "i don't… i don't usually bring girls there, if you can't tell."  

"but…" the wheels in your head are turning slowly, as you try to catch up with what he's saying. "but if i'm there… and it's such a small crowd…the band is going to see that i'm there. 

"they will," he confirms quietly. 

"they're going to know you invited me. because i'm not a fan." 

his lips twitch. "but you like me, no?" 

"i do," you concede, absentmindedly. "but i thought you said…the band…" 

"i don't think i really care about that anymore." his thumb dips low, brushing over the space under your ribs where his name is temporarily tattooed against your skin. "i…" he hesitates, before his thumb swipes against your skin again, and he takes a deep breath. "i told them about you. just now." 

you feel like you're falling – a sense of vertigo making your head spin.

"what did you say?" 

"just that…there was a you," he finished, lamely. "that we see each other more, but it's nothing." his hand squeezes yours, a gentle pulse. "nothing yet, anyway."

"i'll take it," you murmur, holding his hand clasped in both of yours and kissing him lightly on his fingertips. his face crumples, his chest caving in on itself with the weight of the tenderness he feels for you in that moment, and he leans in, tilting his head, eyes fluttering closed. 

he kisses you like it's a promise, close-lipped and earnest. it feels almost like the two of you are finally on even ground. 

— 

"what are you trying to do?" 

you jump, as the light in the small kitchenette flicks on. dirty dishes pile up in the sink, mugs scattered over the countertop, and the boy leaning against the fridge focuses his gaze on you. his voice is gentle, a mellow sort of sweetness undercut by the deepness of his voice. not in the way jisung's was deep, but a bass to it that gave it authority, one that the boy seldom had to use. 

"what do you mean?" 

jeno tilts his head. "y/n, do you know why haechan likes to fuck girls after his shows?" 

the sweetness on your tongue from haechan's kiss decays into bitterness. 

jeno doesn't seem to care. "he gets high off the feeling of the crowd. it's something he doesn't want to let go of, so he finds someone who adores him and makes them prove it." his eyes bore into yours, unblinking. "he doesn't care who he's with, y/n. he just likes the way they sound, screaming his name." 

"but why doesn't-" you choke. it  feels almost like you're betraying him. "why doesn't he date?" 

jeno raises his eyebrows, and you feel pathetic. it’s a long time before he finally answers.

"all the girls are only after the version of him onstage. it's him they like, and haechan's just extending the performance. would you want to date someone who only liked one side of you?"

"but i don't just like that side of haechan," you protest, weakly. even then, you don't know what other sides you're alluding to — was it his gentleness with you? how he always held you after? the one who let his baby sister pick his tattoos?

"y/n?" 

a soft voice sounds out from the corridor leading off into the bedrooms. sleep-ridden syllables mumbling out into the still air, calling your name. 

"where are you? is everything okay?"

jeno's looking at you with someone like pity in his eyes, the way your body turns towards his voice like an instinct. "haechan isn't even his real name, did you know that?" 

he crosses over to you, and places his mug into the sink behind your back. "try not to get too loud," he murmurs. "we're all tired." 

and as haechan pulls you into his warm embrace, palms wandering over your skin, you bite your tongue and keep as quiet as possible.

—

haechan's head snaps up as he sees the door swing open again and more girls wander into the bar. there are excited squeals and shouts as they spot the band, he can hear mark's warm laugh and see jisung's wave out of his peripheral vision. behind him, jeno's methodically checking on his drum kit, and haechan can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, as if he knew. 

his eyes scan the crowd again, praying he was wrong. but deep down he knows he would recognise your voice anywhere, be able to spot your features even in total darkness. 

and right now, you weren't there at all. 

his body goes on autopilot, muscle memory kicking in as he plays the chords, does his solos, nods along to the music. the crowd is frenetic, watching the way his eyebrows are drawn together, tonguing at his cheek, his lips downturned — the anger tense in his body making them whisper to themselves, wondering why this was part of his performance today. he keeps his expression slack as he signs autographs, nodding curtly towards fans as they bid him goodbye timidly, intimidated by his stormy gaze. 

he doesn't understand why it makes his insides twist, each time he searches the crowd and darts his eyes back to his guitar. maybe he'd just gotten used to seeing you front row at his shows. maybe that was all this was — and you were a bad habit he should have broken. 

it's what he tells himself as he lets his hands brush against the girl's as she holds her poster out to him, smiling a close-lipped smile, eyes dragging up and down his body excitedly. he lets her think it's a part of the performance, as he rails her in the bathroom of the bar, his eyes squeezed shut as she moans his name into the sink, trying to ignore the way her body didn't react at all like yours did, that his hands couldn't find purchase on her skin at all, and her voice made him want to crawl out of his skin. 

you were a bad habit he should break — at least that's what he tells himself to keep him sane.

-> part 2 here!

taglist: @neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @simpforarmihn @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @smwhrinthehaze (sorry there were q a few i couldn't tag!)

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter Five

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, size difference/kink, praise kink, breeding kink, alcohol consumption, tattooing, blood, sexual tension, masturbation, fingering, p in v, mating/bonding, mentions of knotting, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 11.3k (i know i said it wouldn't be long, i'm so sorry i literally do not have an excuse)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Cheers to the final chapter of this series, guys. Thanks for coming along for the journey! 🤍🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

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When he finished the bottle, he was woozy enough to crawl back into bed with you and snuggle behind you. His eyes finally closed when the first rays of sunshine beamed through the marui pod, shining on your face – waking you up.

----

The heavy, quick thump of your heart pounds in your ears, drowning out the waves that crash onto the shore outside your marui. Whilst the first rays of sunlight shine on your face, heating it up and making your eyelids flutter. Smacking your dry tongue against the roof of your mouth, the need for water becomes exigent.

You try to swallow whatever saliva you could pool in your cheeks, but it’s not nearly enough to clear the dryness of your throat. Looking to your left, you see Ralak sleeping soundly, head propped up on his makeshift bedhead with a hand resting on your inner thigh. He fell asleep mid-checking on you, wooziness of the fermented fruit getting the best of him.

As you sit up slowly, the soreness of your pelvis becomes undeniable. You take your time scooting back, leaning into the headboard as you catch your breath. Everything feels delayed, like pandora is spinning at an even slower pace. And that’s when the headache hits. Like you had just gotten in the middle of herd of stampeding 'angtsìk (hammerhead titanotheres).

You groan, ball of your palm rubbing a tight circle into your pulsing temple. A gust of wind blows the flap of your marui open, prickling your skin from the coolness of it. You feel your nipples harden into peaks on your chest, a hand quickly moving to cover them.

Oh.

Ralak had taken your iknimaya top off sometime during your sleep and hung it by the entrance of your marui to dry. It’s blood red leaves make a rustling noise as the draught of wind breezes through them, little rays of sunlight shining through the slivers of space.

Gently removing his hand from your thigh, you get out of the bed and make your way over to the swaying top. There’s a wobble in your step, dizziness swirling in your head making it hard to walk straight. When you finally get your hands on the top, you contemplate whether you should even put it on or not.

“As much as I love seeing you with nothing on...” A raspy voice startles you as two large hands slide down the sides of your waist, “...I love the way you look in that.” Ralak nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, rubbing his nose into the suppleness of your skin. “So, take care of it.” He mumbles, pressing his warm body against you. “And if you are cold... come back to bed.”

Is this my Ralak? You think, turning around to confirm if this talkative man is indeed your mate.

And that’s when you see that inebriated stare – the same gaze he had during his flashback a little over a week ago. Except, this time there’s a smug look to his face, corner of his lip curling upwards into a smirk. When you inspect a little further, you see the darkness under his eyes and the dampness of his hair.

“Lak. How long did you sleep? Are you–” You lean in to get a whiff of him, only to regret it a second later. “Eywa.” You mumble, looking at the shelf behind him to see the empty bottle of pxir. “Did you finish that last night? By yourself?”

“Mmm. Perhaps.” He hums, curving his back to snuzzle into your neck once more, snaking his arms around your waist to pull you in close.

“I see. So, it takes a bottle of pxir to get you to talk, hm? What else does a bottle of pxir do to you?” You tease, hand smoothing over his morning bulge, hard as rock and sheathed.

“Ah, tanhì. I am not that drunk.” He reaches behind you to retrieve the top. “...I would not do that before you are healed.” He pulls away from you, “I hurt you last night.” His voice falters as he slips the top over your head, securing the back with a quick knot.

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, purse your lips and shake your head. “Is that why you couldn’t sleep? Kept drinking? Ralak. I’m fine. Really.” You cup his cheek, trying to show him the sincerity in your eyes.

“I gave your father my word.” He utters, breaking eye contact.

Brows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try look him in the eye. “Your word?”

He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours. “To never let anything happen to you.”

For a moment, you feel those butterflies in your stomach, fluttering away like they did the first day you laid eyes on this man. It’s sweet. Seeing such a big, strong man feel this way over a little blood. Because that’s what it was – just a little blood. Surely, other na’vi experience something similar during their first time, too. You move your hand to cover your mouth, feeling a scoff making its way up your throat.

“Pfft. So that’s what you two were talking about?” You ask with raised brows, and when they pinch together you let out a chuckle. “You were trying to fuck me, not kill me Lak.” You jester, but he didn’t find it as funny as you did, glaring down at you with a deadpan expression.

“Look, I wanted it. I still want it.” You grip his jawbone, pulling him in to look at you in the eye. “And I feel fine now.” You tell a white lie, hoping to make this gentle giant feel better.

He shakes his head, letting out a long sigh. “No. You do not. You still smell... wounded.” He utters the last word with a wince. “And I have been checking.”

Nothing gets past this man. Not when he has mastered the ability to tune into his body and all his senses. You gnaw on your bottom lip, little pointed canines nicking the thin flesh. The metallic taste of blood floods your tongue, setting off a spark in your brain. You scan his bare, sinewy torso and catch sight of his shoulder. Taking a quick breath in, you understand what he means by a ‘wounded’ scent.

“Well, I hurt you too. So, we’re even. Okay?” You insist, hand grazing over the scabbed-up bite mark on his shoulder.

He cocks his brow and scoffs, quickly glancing at the dark red indentations before looking back down at you like you just told the joke of the century. “That little scratch?”

Your drop your hand from his jaw and straighten your smile, mirroring his blank expression from earlier. Ralak and his word infamous word ‘scratch’. And most importantly, why didn’t he find your actual joke funny? Maybe you should make the best of this situation, then. Your eyes become beady, peering at him with limited vision.

“Fine. You hurt me.” You state, shrugging your shoulders a bit. His brows exchange a peck, ears twitching and jaw clenching. Hearing the confirmatory words made his heart sink. “But there is one thing you can do to make it up to me.”

You walk behind him towards the shelf of different sized and coloured bottles – some dusty, some not – and grab the fullest one. When you spin around, he has the guiltiest expression on his face, prepared to do anything to remedy the situation. It almost makes you want to stop with your little scheme and cradle him close into your bosom until he knows it’s okay. But not after his little scoff.

“My tattoo.” You sing, voiced feigned with innocence. 

He exhales a sigh, smile slowly creeping up on his face once he’s figured you out. “Alright, little one.” He chuckles, stretching over you to grab the drinking bowl from the top shelf – far out your reach. He plunks it into your hand and takes the bottle from your grasp, popping it open with his back-teeth. With a few glugs your cup is full, prompting him to nudge it to your lips.

“You drink. I get everything ready.” He says before turning his heel to walk out of the marui pod. As he’s lifting the flap to the door, he projects his voice, “It will help with your head.”

It feels like an eternity since Ralak left, leaving you with nothing but you and this drink. You rotate the cup, whirling the iridescent colours of the pxir. It smells much better than the bottle you shared last night, and tastes better too.

It’s sweeter, with a slight bitter aftertaste. You knock it back as if it were a medicinal concoction that your grandmother gave to you, wincing as the burn trails down your throat. You let out an ah and lay back into the cot, waiting for Ralak’s return. It’s been almost an hour now, and yet –

Still no Ralak.

You get up with a huff, pacing around the marui as you fidget with your thumbs. The nerves are setting in knowing that you’re about to get your first tattoo. But what makes it worse is where you’re getting this damn tattoo. Anxious – and thirsty – you pour yourself another cup, downing it in one go. Then another. And another.

At this point, it’s got no aftertaste at all. Just pure sweetness.

Once you swallow and go to put the cup down for good, you see Ralak standing by the marui door, hands above his head holding onto the stilt. It’s as if he were there watching you, waiting patiently for you to become aware his presence.

Unclothed and exposed right in front of your eyes.

The same drunken eyes peer back at you, ocean blue with a glint of gold, slightly lidded and glazed with something deeper than just lust. He stares at you longingly, wet hair plastered to his chest, right between his erect nipples. The more your gaze trails down his body, the more you realise how strong this man really is.

Each dip and ridge of his muscular physique is on full display, crossed ribs protruding from the stretched position he’s assuming. It’s like he’s posing like this just to... tease you. Because when you wonder down a little further, counting the stripes of that tattoo, he clears his throat. Loud. As if to say, ‘eyes up here’. 

No sort of grating noise could avert your gaze from this. His cock.

Its thick. Veiny. So heavy that it hangs down, resting against his thigh. His balls stay firm underneath it, sides of them barely peeking out around his girth. His head is barely sheathed, just the tip poking out – glistening with a tiny bead of precum. You swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth, reminding yourself to breathe.

“See something you like?” His voice is deep and gruff, hands falling from the stilt to his sides.

“Mmm. Perhaps.” You repeat his words from earlier in a similar tone of voice.

“Ah.” He says with a slight smirk, bending down to reach for the small woven basket. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.” You hum, smile growing wider as he approaches you.

At this point, you’re all woozy in the head – bubbly yet heavy. Your shoulders bow, weight of your body increasing as the minutes pass. And soon your eyes are so lidded that you can barely see the man in front of you. Letting out a slow breath, you blink lethargically, leaning in to see what’s in the basket.

“Been a good girl for me, I see.” Ralak husks, observing your less than sober state.

“Only because you took so long.” You retort, hand darting to grab onto his bicep for support.

Hand missing his arm entirely, you lose your balance and start stumbling towards the basket. He catches you, body slumping into his as he steadies you. He takes a quick glance over to the half empty bottle on the shelf, before looking back down at you with wide eyes and a growing smirk.

“Well, my little rou tanhi [drunk freckle/star]. I had to hunt for squid, didn’t I?” He says, dipping his hand into the basket to retrieve the squids’ ink sac. 

“That’s – that’s what you’re putting inside my skin?” You hiccup, examining the black, blubbery sac. It looks like a vein, with a more bulbous end.

Ralak nods as he moves quickly, setting up the area as best and clean as he can. He pulls out two low stools from the corner of his marui. Laying a thin cloth over one stool, he carefully places the delicate ink sac on it, reaching back into the basket to retrieve the other items.

Sitting on the other stool, he pulls out a bowl, blackened by the ink from his own tattoo, and a wooden tool. It’s lengthy, with the bone-white tooth of a skimwing lodged into it. Their teeth are needle-like, piercing the skin with ease and precision. Using the tooth, he pierces the ink sac and pours all the contents into the stained bowl.

“Where?” Ralak asks nonchalantly, taking out a similar tool, without the pointed end.

You close the distance between you two, resting a hand on his shoulder and pushing your crotch into his face. His head snaps up, eyes directly in front of... you. Your exposed skin. Your soft folds, touching one another to hide your clit. His eyes widen a bit, gaze coming to a standstill to take it all in.

“See something you like?” You giggle, breaking him out of his trance.

He swallows thickly, eyelids fluttering as he tries to peel his eyes away from such a... delectable sight. They trail up your body, lingering at your crimson-coloured top, before landing on your downward gaze. He cocks a brow inquisitively, quickly glancing back down to your bare pelvis before locking eyes with you once more.

Ralak places a gentle hand on your lower abdomen, “Here?”

You smile, nodding your head slowly. “Just like yours.” You say quietly, hand momentarily lifting from his shoulder to tie his hair into a loose, messy bun. “Exactly... like yours.”

It’s the way you said the words that sent a shiver down his spine. He tries to fight the curl of his lips, denying himself the pleasure from you wanting a tattoo just like his. There’s something about you with a matching tattoo that makes him feel loved, special – horny.

“Are you sure, tanhì?” He asks through a low, steady voice, peering up at you achingly.

“Yes. It is special to me.” You gulp, nodding slightly. “To us. To mark the beginning of our life together.”

He gives you a firm nod, dropping his head to smile his growing, beaming smile. Hand falling from your abdomen, he fetches a small cloth and a jelly-like substance from the basket. Your stomach tenses when he smears the cold substance on your skin, rubbing it in until it evaporates.

 After cleaning the area, he readies himself with the pointed tool, dipping the needle-like tooth into the bowl of ink. Barely grazing the skin, he traces out the design of the tattoo on your skin, providing himself with a pattern to tattoo with precision. That alone hurt.

“Wait. I-I need more.” You say quickly, voice laced with anxiety.

Ralak takes a glimpse at the nearly empty bottle on the shelf and continues with his task. “Give it more time.” He mutters, dipping the pointed-tip of the tooth into the ink, positioning it carefully over the pattern.

Tip of the needle hovering a millimetre away from your deep blue skin, he waits patiently for your body to tell him to start. After a few moments, he senses you relaxing, taking it at his cue to start the process. With the end of the blunt tool, he taps the end of the pointed tool, penetrating your top of skin with the tooth.

Ralak’s gazes snaps up to yours as soon as he removes the needle, “hurts?”

The sting is barely noticeable, feeling more like heat than pain. You shake your head with a wobbly smile and tighten your grip on his shoulder. He continues with the tattoo, piercing your skin continuously until your little nails sink so deep into his skin it draws a little blood.

“Sorry.” You utter out a strained apology, realizing you’ve practically mutilated both shoulders now.

He lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head a bit as he pricks you once more, gently blowing on your reddened skin. The cool air helps a bit, but at this point, it’s welted and raised – stained with a sheer layer of blood. He’s only just finished one of the 6 stripes on the left side of your navel, and the first eclipse is already starting. Resting your free hand on your hip, you take a few deliberate breaths, doing your best to slow your galloping heart.

It’s such an intimate, overwhelming experience.

“A break? With some more pxir, yes?” He suggests, already putting down the tattooing tool.

“Yes... please.” You groan with trembling lungs, legs going all wobbly from how long you’ve been standing.

You go to lay down on the cot, spreading your legs just enough for him to see. He tries his best not to look, immediately dropping his head and fixating his gaze onto his darkened fingertips. But with a little, filthy moan of ‘pain’, his gaze flies up, landing right where you want it to.

Legs spreading a little more, he becomes mesmerized by the little show you’re putting on for him. He stares through lidded eyes that become glossy with greed and desire. Like he wants to pin them down and devour you on the spot. He huffs out a sigh, reluctantly slamming his eyes shut, denying himself the pleasure.

“Tanhì. Do not tempt me. You now have two wounds to heal from.” Ralak utters the words in a low voice.

Oh, right. Choosing to have your tattoo in this particular spot would definitely make things... a bit more painful. You close your legs, accepting your failed attempt to seduce your mate and lie back into the soft pillow. The ceiling is spinning, but not nearly as fast as it should be for this tortuous process to be over with.

Rolling your head to the side, you look at Ralak, whose eyes are still closed. “Lak.” You whisper, prompting him to look at you. “I could use more pxir now.”

Ralak stands up and walks over to the shelf and retrieves the bottle. He pours the rest of it into two cups, one for him and one for you. Handing you your drink, he sits next to you on the bed, resting his hand on your inner thigh. You sit up and take the cup, chugging it before he can even put his to his lips.

“Another.” You mumble, handing him back the empty cup.

“Easy, my paysyul.” He chuckles, pouring you another drink.

----

It’s been a week since you got your first tattoo, which took two days to complete, leaving you dumbfounded at how Ralak was able to tattoo himself. Since, you’ve not only added three beads to your songchord, but also a piece of the cork from the bottle you shared after your... eventful first time together.

You had pretty much healed three days after your iknimaya night, but your tattoo remains irritated. Nothing you couldn’t handle, just a little inflammation with an itch you couldn’t quite scratch. Not when Ralak’s watching, at least. He’d be quick to shoot you a scowl, instilling some level of obedience in your little, defiant body.

Despite his continuous repudiation of your attempts to become intimate, he would do his nightly... examinations. Insisting that you still smelled ‘wounded’, he’d spread your legs during your slumber and ‘check on you’. Or maybe it was more so to check you out. To see your plump folds and the way your little nub peeks out between them.

Sometimes he’d let his gaze linger a little too long to be considered an act of benevolence. But rather, an act of greed and lust. But he just couldn’t help it, you look so... perfect. So untouched. Soft and supple. Like silk under his calloused touch. It’s maddening, taking everything in him to look away and close your legs.

Truth be told, he was unsure of what he was really looking for, all he was going from was your scent. He knew it was radiating from this specific area, and truly didn’t want to take any chances and accept your advances if you weren’t fully healed and ready. At that point, you had just accepted the way things were and let him get along with whatever he needed to do to feel better.

And you’d pretend to be asleep, enjoying whatever little touch you could get from him.  

Other than that, Ralak has been nothing but sweet and patient with you, as he usually is. Bringing you breakfast in bed was one of his favourite things to do, other than cooking the meal itself. Meticulously diced fruits and freshly caught fish, plated perfectly, and presented by the chef himself – in all his naked glory.

That was another thing.

After mating, Ralak seemed to have lost his tewng [loincloth] altogether. Always walking around with nothing but maybe his cumberband or chest piece. At first, it was fun and tempting, putting a shy smirk on your face whenever you’d see his heavy cock laying freely between his thighs. But now, it’s just downright torment – teasing at its finest.

No matter how many times you ‘accidentally’ flashed him, bent over a little too much, or just straight up went naked too, he would continue with the task at hand, completely unbothered. You could look, but you couldn’t touch. Until you grew so fed up when you saw him in the most torturous pose of them all.

Until tonight.

----

Ralak sits comfortably on his knees in the soft, wet sand, sharpening the point of his spear. He’s so focused on his task that he doesn’t even realize your stare, nor the little strand of curly hair in the centre of his forehead. Even kneeling, this giant remains... a giant. Thick and burly, muscular physique defined from the way the last rays of sunshine on his skin.

His freckles twinkle, darker blue swirled and striped patterns moving with how his muscles tighten and untighten as he presses the waterstone against the blade. Every now and then he would dip the stone into the water to rewet it.

You watch him intently, counting the number of times he rewets the waterstone. How many times he swipes the blade. How many abs pop out as he leans further back to get a better look at the entire length of the spear. How many stripes in that tattoo that started it all. All of which, turn out the be the same number.

Six.

And once you got to the sixth stripe, your eyes trail down its length, catching sight of the singular dot right at the base of his cock. Swallowing the excessive saliva pooling in your mouth, your lidded gaze pierces into him, taking in every small detail of his cock. Barely sheathed. Thick. Slightly veiny and darker towards the glossy tip.

Then, he chucks the spears over his shoulder as if they were little twigs back from hometree, making a clunking noise so loud you couldn’t help but avert your piercing gaze upwards. You bite your lip from the motion, so touch deprived you begin to fantasize about being his little vultsyìp [stick; branch] again, draped over on his shoulder as he carries you back up to the marui.

Yet he remains focused on anything but you, trying his upmost best to maintain what sliver of composure you allow him to have left. The restraint is visibly plastered on his face – gathered brows and a tensed jaw. You slide a hand behind your back, untying the knot of your loincloth, allowing it to drop to your feet.

“Mind having a look? It’s a little itchy.” You ask, voice feigned with innocence.

His concerned gaze snaps up to your tattoo, eyes darting in all directions to scan the inking properly. After seeing that it’s just fine, his features soften upon realizing what you were actually doing. “Looks fine.” He mutters, eyelids fluttering a few times, landing his gaze upon yours.

And when you meet his ocean blue eyes, you swear they lustre over with something of wanton – of greed. Silently telling you how badly he wants to pin you down into the sand and slide himself inside you. To fill up your little body with every single inch of himself, until you’re moaning nothing but his name. You can feel the flutter of your stomach – excitement from thinking your attempt at seducing this overly-patient giant was finally a success.

Then he looks away.

As if he didn’t just fuck you with his eyes. As if he didn’t just worsen the sexual tension that’s been brewing between you two for over the past week, and honestly – few months. Eywa, that makes you frustrated. Fuck – no, it makes you angry. So upset to the point you huff out a ‘hmmph’ and walk away to prepare yourself for an early bed.

“Tanhì!” Ralak shouts after you, shuffling to his feet with the spears still on his shoulder. “Y/n!”

You ignore his calls, storming up to the marui pod. You sit on the end of the bed, face buried in your hands as you try to calm down. But the more you sit here, the bigger the flame grows in your chest. It’s obvious that you’re ready to try again, yet he’s blatantly ignoring your advances. At this point, you may have to try and pleasure yourself.

Keyword being ‘try’.

You’d never been able to make yourself feel all that great, let alone cum. But at this rate it seems like you have no other choice. That’s it. You’ll make yourself cum. No need for him, right? Right. You knew Ralak wouldn’t follow you when you’re this upset. He’d let you come to him when ‘you’re ready’, rather than invading your personal space.

You hype yourself up, lying flat on your back and closing your eyes. You allow for your wandering hands to barely graze your body, hardening your nipples into peaks almost instantly. Parting the red leaves of your top, you expose your breasts, thumbs giving them both a flick.

Listen to your body. Ralak’s voice echoes in your mind – an intrusive memory resurfacing all on its own.

Rather than scaring you, his voice arouses you, back bowing against the bed in response. A hand slips down your stomach, finding comfort between your thighs. You squeeze your hand with your thighs, fingers pressing into the softness of your folds. You let out a breathy, soft moan, tips of your digits now parting your pussy lips.

The cool air hits your exposed bundle of nerves, having you clench around nothingness. Pressing the pads of four fingers onto your sensitive nub, you rub slow, loose circles into it. Little shocks travel through you in jolts, spasming your thigh muscles. It feels like too much, but not enough all together.

You grunt, level of frustration doubling by the second. Dipping into your core, you slicken your fingertips, gliding them back up to your clit. You try tighter, faster circles, and apply a little less pressure this time. And fuck, did that make a difference. The wetness of your fingers had them gliding effortlessly over that little nub, making it stiffen beneath your fingertips.

Head sinking into the softness of his makeshift pillows, your mouth hangs agape, breathy moans losing their softness and turning into little mewls and whines. Your hips lift off the bed, chasing your building orgasm. You try to zero in on the feeling, but it feels so weird, but oh-so fucking good at the same time. It’s almost like the flame in your chest spread throughout your body – heat pooling in your core.

“What are you doing?” A thick, accented voice pierces the air, gruff and monotonous.

You’re too into the moment to stop – to even bat an eye. You can hear your mate’s voice, but what you’re doing feels so good that you can’t even tell if it’s just another intrusive thought or if its real. You feel your toes curl, hand working even faster as your stomach muscles tense up. You’re so, so close.

And Ralak could tell.

He stands there, beads of water from the ocean rolling off his body, dripping through the cracks of the woven marui floor. Hair plastered to his chest; he stares at the sight unfolding in front of him through lidded eyes. He grits his teeth to hold his tongue, but he couldn’t deny the way seeing you do this to yourself makes him feel.

Aroused. Frustrated. Jealous. Possessive.

“I said. What are you doing?” Ralak growls low in his chest, thick fingers gripping your wrist to put a stop to your frantic movements.

“No. Don’t.” You huff out, fighting his grasp to pick up the pace of your fingers. “Trying to – fuck. Trying to c-cum!”

“I can see that. But why?” He asks through another growl, letting go of your wrist.

“’c-cause – ‘cause you’ve given me no other choice! You won’t even – haah ah – you won’t even touch me, Lak!” You whine loudly, desperately trying to re-establish the perfect movements and pace you had before.

Ralak does nothing but stand stock-still for a few moments, watching his numeyu [student] work hard to make herself cum for the first time. Pride swells his chest, seeing you so close – yet so far away. And for a second, a pang of pity clenches his heart, brows creasing as he watches you squirm about. Has he really been that distant? Distant enough to make you resort to self-pleasure when you have a perfectly capable mate right here?

“Touch you, hm?” He hums lowly, resting his hand on your sweaty thigh, “like this?”

“N-No. Y-You know what I want.” You barely sputter out, shaking your head side to side.

“Say it. Say the words.” He growls, fingertips sinking into your skin.

“Oh. Please, Lak. Please touch me. It’s been too long!” A frustrated, desperate groan falls from your lips, legs snapping wide open.

His eyes widen at the sight of you so vulnerable and exposed; puffy, glistening clit on full display. Gaze flying up to yours, he sees the utter state of desperation plastered all over your face. You already look so fucked out, brows pinched, and lips parted – eyes so lidded he can barely see the glint of gold in them.

“Here?” He breathes, sliding his hand up your thigh and barely brushing his three fingers against your sticky clit.

“Mmm – please.” You pant, grabbing his wrist to position his hand properly. “Right h-here.”

“Ah.” Ralak finally takes a seat on the edge of the cot, eyes fixed on your carnal expression. He presses right into the bundle of nerves, sending a jolt through your legs. “And what next, my numeyu?”

Grip tightening around his wrist, you move his hand erratically, hips moving along with it. You hear the click of his tongue and look up to see the slight shake of his head and curl of his lips. That same smug face he makes when you’re not quite getting something right.

“Karyu. [teacher]” You moan softly, doe eyes peering up into his, lashes fluttering as you blink repeatedly.

His brows jump at the word. It’s been a while since he’s heard it fall from your lips. Your flushed, swollen lips. He looks back up to your little fucked out eyes, glossy with tears and want. He hates to see you cry but for some reason the tears you’re fighting back are only making him hornier. Is that how bad you want his cock? Bad enough to cry about it? His hung cock springs from his thigh, jumping up to slap his stomach.

“Must your karyu teach you how to cum again?” Ralak growls, sliding a finger down to your slickened entrance. “Hm? Were our lessons not enough?” All you can do is mewl and claw at his wrist, lolling your head from side to side. “Answer me.” He says roughly, prodding at your hole with very tip of his digit.

“Yes! Fuck – yes. Please, t-teach me.” You beg breathily, rolling your hips down onto his single digit. Having one last, quick glance between your legs, he clenches his jaw as he slides his finger inside you. And when it comes to a hilt, a moan of relief evades your agape mouth, head sinking back into the soft pillow.

For a fleeting moment, he remains completely still, ensuring that you’re alright. Ralak stares at you, eyes darting in all directions to detect even a hint of pain etched into your features. A brow jumps when he realises that all you’re feeling is pure ecstasy. Taking this as his cue to continue, he pulls his finger back a bit, lining it up with the gummy part of your heat.

“If you want to cum...” He roughly curls his finger, applying a blissful pressure to your sweet spot, earning him a sudden whine from your lips, “...you touch right here. Understood?”

“Mhm. Mhm.” You frantically nod as you hum the words, feeling an itchy feeling brew in your core. You need to scratch it. So. Fucking. Bad. And his finger just isn’t enough. “Mh – more!”

“More?” He smirks, swiping his thumb over your clit. “Like that?” His voice is gruff, and anything but innocent. Like he takes joy in seeing you in such a desperate, needy state. “Or is it her –”

“For the love of Eywa, Ralak. Just fuck me, please!” You cry out, tears now rolling down your cheeks. If he didn’t take care of you now, you’d just lose it. He lets loose a loud chuckle, predatory gaze boring into your innocence. As if your little pleas and begs were entertaining him – getting him off.

“Take all three, then I think about it.” He teases with a cocked brow, pulling out of you tenderly to realign two digits at your opening.

“Y-Yes – Just, hurry Lak.” You whine, tugging at his wrist to sink his fingers inside you. “Oh, shit.” You exhale a sigh of relief. The stretch is divine, filling you up and just barely scratching that itch. To have his two thick fingers buried inside you is like ice on a burn, soothing all your pent-up frustration.

Ralak groans at the way you’re squeezing his digits, pussy so soaked they slip in and out with ease. As badly as he wants to let you know you’re being such a good girl for him, he decides to hold his praise for the bigger stretch. His last finger. Waiting patiently for your body to tell him you’re ready, he uses his free hand to massage your clit.

He fingers you roughly, pussy walls clenching and unclenching around him, telling him to go even deeper inside. Your whole-body squirms around, hips stuttering from your unadulterated desperation. The little, sweet cries and mewls escaping your lips are like music to his ears, sinking him deeper into his state of arousal.

Ralak situates himself between your legs, preparing you for the next stetch. Last time, you took it well, and perhaps if you hadn’t used your mate’s word against him, you would have had more time to adjust to all his fingers. The desperation you feel now is nearly as intense as your iknimaya tonight, but you find the strength to bite your tongue and allow Ralak to take over completely.

With your body now in a state of pure submission, Ralak leans in to kiss you, slowly sliding his last finger inside you. Your moan of pleasure is muffled by his soft lips, last knuckles meeting the softness of your plump pussy lips. He pulls away from you, moving his wet kisses up to your ear.

“That’s my good girl.” He whispers in a gruff voice, bottom lip brushing against the lobe of your ear. Angling his wrist to prod right into your sweet spot, he pumps all three fingers in and out of you.

“Feels... s-so – so good.” You pant quietly, rolling your hips into him. He can feel your body opening even more for him, sweet nectar dripping down to his wrists. After two more pumps of his fingers, you push him away from you, causing him to settle into the dips of his feet.

Both of you pant for air, chests heaving wildly, fully exposed and on edge. You can see the way his cock twitches to be sunk inside something – anything. It’s throbbing and so hard it must be painful, bead after bead of precum just oozing from his slit. It’s almost as if he enjoyed depriving himself of the pleasure of your tight cunt around his cock.

But tonight, there’s a glint in his eye.

A predatory, rapacious one. And when you exchange glares, there’s a silent understanding between the two of you. The understanding that you both want it just as bad as the other. The understanding that his patience has been stretched thin – so thin that all he needs is a little push.

“My body is ready, Ralak. I want you inside me, please.” You beg pathetically, looking him deep in his eyes.

Your sensitive pussy walls ache to know what it feels like to tighten around him, all gummy and slimy from the slick your body won’t stop producing. It’s like it’s in overdrive, sensing how big your mate is, and doing what it needs to accommodate his sheer size. Your legs spread wider, glistening pussy on full display – acting as bait to lure him in.

Ralak repositions himself closer between your legs, staring intently at the soft flesh, flushed red with arousal. Gaze darting up to yours, he sees your eyes gloss over with want, more tears of desperation threatening to roll down your heated cheeks.

He can tell you were ready, body completely submitting itself to him and his touches. He’s never seen you this needy, not even in heat. This past week has been tortuous for the two of you, waiting patiently for you to heal fully before touching you in the way you want.

“You must tell me if it hurts. Please tanhì.” He says low in his chest, rubbing his crown of his cock between your slickened folds.

“I will. Please.” A breathy whine parts your lips, hips shimmying down towards his. Left leg loosely resting on his thigh, you hold your right leg back, knee brushing against your shoulder.

He looks as if he were in pain, grimacing from the anticipation of possibly hurting you again. He ensures to take his time, aware of how well-endowed he is beneath his loincloth. He begins rubbing soft, loose circles in your swollen, sticky clit. It’s all red and puffy, making wet, sloppy noises with each stroke with his tip. He lingers there for as long as he can, playing in your wetness in hopes it’ll make it less painful for you.

Now with your verbal consent, he leans in, supporting his body weight with his hands nestled by your sides. His hips snap, throbbing, veiny cock sliding over your tender clit. You feel his warm, swollen tip poke into your lower stomach, pearls of precum leaking into the dip of your navel. He pulls back, trying to line his cock up with your entrance once more, hips stammering to sink himself inside you.

Fat tip bucking against your tight hole, it slides between your pussy lips and over the bundle of shot nerves again. You can’t help but moan, the sensation of his warm cock rubbing against you only makes the need to be fucked grow stronger. His breaths turn raggedy, huffing and puffing hot air as he snaps his hips back a final time. You reach down with a trembling hand and grip his girth, positioning him at your entrance.

“Relax for me, tanhì.” He grunts, shuffling his left knee closer towards you. “Let me in.” He feels you loosen up, releasing the breath you weren’t aware that you were holding. “A little more. There you go.” He hums, point of his tip now slowly breaking the resistance.

He pushes gently. Carefully. Slowly. Your chins meet your chests, both watching as his tip pops inside you. You take a sharp, shaky breath, feeling the immense pressure of something so thick bury itself into your tight opening. Eyes flicking up to yours, he searches your face for any kind of discomfort.

“Oh Lak. ‘ts s-so big.” You whimper under your breath, hand flying up to grip his forearm. “D-deeper.”

Inebriated eyes struggle to widen at your words, just like he struggles to fight against his urges to slam the rest of his cock inside you. He takes a deep breath, mesmerized by the way your cunt sucks him in another two inches. You’re so tight that he can’t help but grimace, brows tightening from the way you’re pinching him.

He stops, wanting to let you adjust to what’s inside you so far, only for you to wrap your slender, soft tail around his thigh. You know that it drives him crazy, it’s one of his favourite parts of you. A gruff grunt vibrates in his throat, hips bucking on their own to sink another couple inches inside your wet, tight cunt.

“Deeper. Deeper.” You blubber, grip on his forearm tightening as he obliges. You want all of him, every, single, fucking inch of him to stuff you until you feel queasy. Until he couldn’t push anymore. Until he can’t do anything but grind himself inside you. “Deeper!” You cry out a pathetic whine, just as his mushroomy head presses intp your cervix.

Ralak continues to push against the resistance, biting down on his bottom lip from the way you squeeze him so tightly. He bottoms out in your slippery pussy, his tattoo finally kissing yours. They align so perfectly, each line pressed against one another with precision.

He’s so deep inside you, that it feels like he’s in your tummy, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your mouth hangs open, tongue relaxed against your bottom lip as saliva dribbles down your chin. Brows kissing in fervour, you stare into his eyes while you relish in the sensation of your mate all the way inside you for the first time. He watches as the colour in your face turns almost purple, nails sinking so deep into his skin that they draw a little blood.

“Breathe for me, tanhì.” He huffs, easing up on his pushes. With his reminder, you gasp for air, salty tears flowing onto your tongue. “You are doing so well. You know that?”

“Oh – Ralak.” You let out a sweet, little cry, nipples hardening into stiff peaks from his extra hoarse voice. You couldn’t stop the tears; they always came when you feel too much of anything. And right now, you were feeling so full, so good. Even the stretch feels good, the sting and hint of pain from his cock burrowing all the way inside you.

He could feel the blood slowly trickle down his forearm, but the way your tight walls are nipping at him is much worse. The scent of his blood mixes in the air with the scent of your arousal, sending his nostrils fluttering in fear that he’s hurt you again.

“Feeling pain?” He asks, breaking eye contact briefly to check if you’re bleeding again. An expression of relief washes over him when he realizes that you’re not – it’s all just him. All he can see is the supple skin pulled taut around his cock, doing its best to stretch wide enough for him.

“No.” You lie, afraid it’ll be a repeat of last time. The pain is more like a burn, but the way the ridge of his cockhead pushes up into your gummy walls masks it just right.

“Tanhì.” He rasps, glancing at your disconnected kurus laying on your stomach, silently asking to make tsaheylu – for the truth.

“I – I mean, a little.” You confess, holding both your kurus in next to each other. “Just... stings. Feel me.” You breathe, urge to bond so consuming that your tendrils dance wildly as you move them closer together. Tsaheylu is made hastily, kurus tugging together with a quick, sharp movement. You stare into each other’s lidless eyes, pupils blown to full capacity.

Ralak’s ears tuck next to his skull, brows pinching and lips parting. In an instant, he can feel everything you’re feeling, and for a few moments its just overwhelming. He feels the slight burn between your legs and pants a few times, breath syncing with yours.

“See? You feel…good. Really good.” You moan lowly, finally relaxing your stomach muscles.

“Good.” He gulps, corners of his lips curling upwards. He stays as still as he can, waiting for your body’s command to move. “You feel… tight.”

There’s a moment of silence where you both take in how one another feels. How you can feel each vein of his cock. The way his mushroomy head throbs against your cervix. How warm and soft you feel around his length, sucking him in with greed.

It almost feels like it did when you mated – blown pupils and heightened senses. It’s just another way of connecting with each other. Ralak drops his head, gaze landing on your tattoo, distorted from the way your belly bulges from his cock.

“Oh shit.” He curses under his breath, voice laced with panic. He begins pulling out, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. “That must hurt.” He says, putting all his weight on one hand to caress the bump protruding from your abdomen with the other.

You look down to see his fingers graze over the bulge, shock raising your brows. “I- It doesn’t. I’m fine.”

His hand continues to stroke the bump, fantasizing about how one day this bump would be by something else entirely – his baby growing in your womb. He tries his hardest to fight the arousal brewing in his core, the type that makes his hips snap forward all on their own. All so he can see that bulge protrude even more.

Ralaks’ breathing is so heavy and hard that it’s audible – a low, continuous growl rumbling deep in his chest. Hand slowly sliding down your tattoo, he presses the ball of his palm into your pelvis as his thumb caresses your puffy clit. It makes you squirm a little, walls relaxing and contracting around his cock. He can tell that your body is ready for him, pussy producing so much slick it’s dripping onto his swollen balls.

“Please….” You moan softly, trying to grind into him. “Need you so bad, Lak.”

“Tell me what you need, my little paysyul.” He groans, inching closer to your face, hand moving from your clit to cup your breast. 

“Need you… need you to fuck m-me.” Your breath hitches at the last word, body shuddering from the way his slickened, calloused thumb grazes over your nipple.

“Fuck you, hm?” His accented voice is thick with want – with rapacity. He thrusts into you suddenly, knocking the air out your lungs. “Like that?”

“Mmnfuck! Ye-s.” You inhale shakily, nodding reassuringly as you claw at his face to pull him closer to you. He quickly props himself up on both his elbows, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

Ralak clenches and unclenches his jaw, ears twitching in synchrony, as he tries to resist scratching the itch to pound into you like his own little personal fucktoy. No matter how badly he wants to. To pump you full of his seed. To breed you. To knot you.

He sighs, momentarily closing his eyes to regain his composure. It’s already here, the animalistic instinct to turn you into a vessel to carry his offspring. It’s so close. Creeping up on him like a menace.

His rut.

Though it’s not due for another week, the way you’re staring up at him, eyes glazed over with need, begging him to fill you up didn’t help. Yet, he bites his lip through it, determined to make your real first time a special one. An enjoyable experience. So much so, that he forgets it’s his first time too.

Gently, Ralak. He reminds himself, rocking into you languidly, back muscles rippling with every thrust. Glancing down, he witnesses the bulge move as he rolls his hips into you. Sticky pelvises connected by strings of slick as he pulls out, he grunts quietly, feeling ashamed by how aroused watching you stretch to these lengths makes him feel.

He leans into you, peppering wet kisses down your jaw line, working his way up to the lobe of your ear. “Being such a good girl for me, hm? For your mate.”

You can feel the way his cock moves inside you, so deep and thick that every part of you is being stimulated all at once. You can’t even think straight, not with the way he’s grunting and whispering sweet praises into your ear. You hold on tightly to your mate, wrapping your arms around his neck as he moves at a steady pace.

That hint of pain quickly subsides, morphing into waves of pleasure so intense that it’s etched into your features. Your little mewls and whines turn into soft moans, breathy and shaky from the way he fucks right into your gummy sweet spot. You tighten your hold around his waist with your legs, encouraging him to fasten his pace and deepen his strokes.

“Please. More! Need more of you!” You cry out, nails scraping down his back to pull him in closer. 

“Patience, tanhì.” He huffs, moving his kisses down to your neck, suckling on your supple skin – leaving little bruise like marks behind. “So tiny” A kiss right on the column of your throat, “So tight.” A gentle roll of his hips as he pulls back to look you in the eyes. “My sevin [pretty].”

“Ralak.” You moan softly as you lift your hips up into him, feeling absolutely nothing but absolute and utter bliss at this point. “Please.”

He rolls his hips into you once more, slowly, and tenderly, ridge of his cockhead gliding past your swelling sweet spot. “My mate.” He groans, pulling back just to push himself inside you at a torturously slow pace. “All mine, yes?”

“Yes. Yes. All yours, ma’ lak.” You breathe, snaking your arms around his neck to tug him into you. “F-Faster.” You ask coyly, trying to keep your legs as wide open as you possibly can.

Ralak moves a little faster, but not nearly as fast as you need. He’s so big – so thick that it doesn’t matter the angle, some part of his cock is stimulating every part of you. Looking down, you see himself only halfway buried inside you, refusing to let your tattoos touch anymore.

Beady, displeased eyes snap back up to meet his, “I want to feel all of you.”

Ralak almost laughs, but instead cocks his brow and smirks. He leans down to play in the dip of your collarbone with his tongue, moving quickly to pepper a few kisses on the curve of your shoulder. “You like pain that much?”

For second, you really think about it. His cock is so deep that you feel like you can barely take a full breath. Not to mention the bulge from him being inside you alone. Yet you want all of it. Perhaps you do like pain. But with the way he’s touching you it’s hard to think clearly whatsoever. All that’s running through your head is Ralak pinning you into a mating press and pounding you the way you want.

“I like Ralak. And if Ralak means pain...” You wrap your arms and legs tightly around him, using all your weight and strength to roll him on to his back and situate yourself comfortably on top of him. “...then yes, I like pain.”  

“Is that right?” He huffs as his back slams into the ground, hands instinctively flying to grip the softness of your hips.

“Yes.” You let out a shaky confirmation, bringing your knees to your chest so you’re squatting over him. Sinking all the way down onto his cock, he watches as you suck in every single inch of him with ease. You’re tight – really tight – but you were practically made for him. He exhales a chuckle, finding it interesting how such a little thing could take his cock so well.

“What?” You snap, hands pressing into his firm chest as you reposition yourself on top of him.

“Who knew someone as small as you...” He slides his hands from your hips to your waist, “... would be made for someone like me.”

You gasp as he completely bottoms out inside you, lungs filling with the scent of his arousal, “Someone s-so big?”

He chuckles, calloused thumbs grazing over your raised tattoo, entranced how you can make such an inking like his look so good. There’s just something about the way it trails down to the most sensitive, vulnerable area of your body that drives him crazy.

“I can see why you couldn’t stop staring at mine.” He husks, hand sliding over the stripes to feel their raised texture.

The sensation makes your hips snap back, tattoo still a little sore and itchy. But the way his cock tilts right into your walls washes away the sting with a wave of pleasure. And soon your hips are stuttering all on their own, chasing that budding heat in your core. Every time you move back it feels like a jolt of white-hot pleasure, and when you move forward it’s like –

Satiation.

A feeling of fullness and satisfaction, so intense you feel like you’re about to explode. The sensation is a new one altogether, something you’ve never felt before. It’s so much – so overwhelming you could just scream. It’s like a pressure in your chest, like a heated pot with an airtight lid, about to pop and release.

Your body chases it, grinding back and forth into him at an unrelenting tempo. And the sounds that are coming from your mouth are just straight up vulgar. At this rate, you’re using him for your own pleasure, frenzied movements only increasing in speed and force. He’s so deep the bump protruding from your abdomen has completely deformed your tattoo, pushing against his thumbs.

He presses into it, feeling the crown of his cock through your soft skin. You’re arching your back, angling the tip of his cock to pummel into you even more, fingernails digging deep into his chest for some sort of leverage. You lift your hips up and slam into him repeatedly until the sound of smacking flesh overpowers your filthy noises.

“E-Easy tanhì.” His gruff voice breaks from your erratic movements. “Slow down. You are going to hurt yourself.” He grunts as he grabs your hips to slow you down, feeling his own climax quickly approaching.

“Quiet.” You shush him, weakly smacking away one of his hands to prevent him from ruining this for you. “Fuck. This feels too good. So fucking good. I-I feel like I’m –” You cut yourself off with a quick gasp for air.

Ralak looks up at you with lust in his eyes, pride bubbling in his chest from how you’re working for your climax all on your own. And from the way you’re clamping down around him, he can sense that you’re close. Maybe he could just give into you. Just this once.

“There you go. Just like that.” He encourages you, sliding his thumb between your folds to play with your sticky clit.

“Ugh! Lak.” You moan his name as you release the breath you’ve been holding. Eyes slamming shut, you shift your focus on the unfurling coil in your core. It feels like your nerves are shot, body teeming with pleasure.

Ralak stays still, allowing his little tanhì to do all the work. He can’t peel his eyes away from such a sight. The sight of his mate using him for her own pleasure. It almost sends him over the edge, urge to fuck up into you becoming an itch he must scratch.

“Y-You like how I feel around you. Don’t you?” You breathe, corner of your lips pulling up into a smug little smirk. The question snaps his gaze up to yours, blue eyes locking onto your flushed face. How was it possible? For your face to be more arousing to him than the sight of him inside you. For you, it’s the way he’s staring at you, as if you were the topping on the finest matkayinan dessert.

“Yeah? Haah, ah – say it. Tell your numeyu.” You pant shakily.

Ralak’s jaw twitches, chest rising and falling from how hard he’s breathing. He looks like he’s biting on his tongue – literally and figuratively. To hold back even just an ounce of self-control. So not to admit how good it feels when you squeeze him with your innocence.

It’s so pure. Untouched. Unfucked.

“I love it.” He growls through a clenched jaw.

“Oh, fuck.” You let loose a sudden scream, your hand flying to cover your agape mouth. Then there’s –

Silence. You hold your breath, feeling your eyes burn as they gloss over. All you can hear is the sound of your slick smearing all over his pelvic bone as you grind into him, and his intense breathing. Until you feel like you’re about to burst. Your hand falls from your mouth, leaving it wide open.

“Ralak.” You moan his name, although it sounds more like a desperate cry for help.

Rather than answering, he picks up the speed of his thumb, swiping over your swollen clit at a merciless pace.

“Ralak.” Another little cry falls from your flushed lips to let him know you’re close even though he can feel everything through tsaheylu. “Ra –” You cut yourself off with a quick snap of your hips, jamming his head right against your swollen g-spot. “–lak!”

“Ralak!” You cry out for the last time, frenzied movements turning into quick, rough grinding. You gush all over your mate, force of your orgasm so strong that you push him out of you, painting his stomach in your pussy juices as if he were a blank canvas. Your legs shake uncontrollably, all strength of your body washing away to leave you weak and wobbly. Pushing down onto his chest, you do your best to hold your shuddering body up.

“Fuck. Good girl. Good girl.” He curses a well-deserved praise, accent extra thick over such a novel word to him.

“I-I just made mys-self cum, Lak.” You groan breathlessly, feeling the walls of your cunt pulsate around him as confirmation.  

“I can see that tanhì” He chuckles breathily, chin meeting his chest to look at the little puddle of cum you’ve made on him. You look down to see what he’s talking about, blurred vision making it so that you can only see the intense glisten of his skin. You slide one hand down from his chest onto his stomach, feeling a warm, watery liquid glazed over his cyan skin.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorr – ”

“Shh. Again. Do that for your karyu again.” He hums, rolling his hips to grind his cock between your slippery pussy lips.

“Oh – Lak, I – I really don’t know if I can.” You say with trembling lungs, feeling so spent that you’re light in the head.

Ralak clicks his tongue, swiftly moving his hands under your thighs to lift you up. “You can. Hips up.” With one quick movement, he positions the tip of his cock at your tight opening and lets go of your thighs. Due to the heaviness of your body, you slam down onto lap, taking every inch of his cock all at once.

“Oh, great mother!” You cry out her name as a curse, crown of his cock threatening to pierce through your cervix. It hurt so good that you can’t help but grind further into it his relentless pushes. Fuck, maybe you do like pain. White hot pleasure surges through you, but morphs into something totally different when you feel his fingers wrap around and sink into your hips.

He repositions himself, heels of his feet sinking so deep into the cot that there will be dents for weeks. You bob and sway as he wiggles into place, all-consuming eyes boring into yours of delirium. They had a glint of... intent.

Intent to make you cum again.

And again. And – honestly, as many orgasms as he could squeeze out of your little body. And before you can even process all of what’s going on, Ralak begins pounding into you. Wet, squelching noises and sounds of skin smacking against skin become louder than the filthy moans he’s expertly working out of you.

“This is what you want, yes?” He grunts, pulling out just to slam himself back into you a little deeper. “All of me?”

“Lak!” You barely get out, a hand against his tattoo to push him back. “W-Wait, it’s too much –”

“Answer me.” He growls, angling his pelvis to fuck right into your most sensitive spot.

“Oh – fuck! Y-Yes!” You let loose a sudden, hoarse cry of defeat, taking his hammering with no where to run.

He can’t stop the buck of his hips. It’s just the way your heat sucks his in his twitching cock, milking his sticky precum into your empty womb. And that belly bulge – that damn bulge makes it twice as hard to fight to urge to fill you up until it’s even more swollen. He watches as it moves, ramming so hard into you it protrudes a little more with each thrust.

“Then cum for me.”  He demands of you, eyes locked on the way your breasts bounce under your crimson top from the sheer force of his thrusts.

“Please! Please –” You beg, unsure what even for. You could already feel yet another orgasm approaching, and it’s not yours. It’s like a heat is transferring through his queue to yours, and down your spine in shocks. You try to close your legs in anticipation of it pooling in your core, setting off your own orgasm.

“Tell me what you need.” He growls, thrusts becoming shorter and deeper, bulge at the base of his cock growing by the second.

He’s on the brink of cumming, and you could feel it.

“I-Inside.” You blubber, head dipping back from the overstimulation as he gets himself off with your tight cunt. He tsks, thrusting up into you hard. “Ugh! I need your cum inside me!”

“Shit.” He growls deeply, manhandling your hips to keep your squirming body down on his cock. You feel it throb inside you, filling up your empty womb right before your pussy walls flutter around him. Your brain short circuits, body convulsing violently before slumping down into his. He holds you tight, giving your sopping cunt a few more deep thrusts, knot prodding at your entrance.

“W-What’s t-that?” You blubber breathlessly into his ear, feeling your eyelids grow heavier.

“Knot.” He barely grunts an answer, thick, sticky seed dripping down the growing, throbbing bulge as it has no where else to go. His fingers dig into your skin, deeper and deeper as he squeezes his eyes shut – resisting the urge to sink his knot inside you too. That would hurt. Too much.

He hums out his orgasm, rocking into you a few times to ensure you’re as full as can be. Well, you feel that way. You’re so full of not only his cock but also his huge load, you can practically feel it slushing around inside you. You groan when the sensation makes you a little queasy.

Ralak feels your discomfort, tenderly pulling out of you. That alone took a while, each inch coming out of you slowly and gently. “You okay?” He huffs, just as his cockhead pops out of you, allowing his warm cum to seep out of you and down your thighs. You nod into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and letting your body rest on top of him.

“You took me so well.” He coos at you, supporting the back of your head with one hand and the swell of your ass with the other. “You know that?”

“Mhm. L-ak.” His name comes out broken as he shuffles to his feet with you in his firm hold. “I see you, ma’ ‘lak.” You mumble, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“I see you, my little tanhì.” He utters the words in a hoarse voice, making his way to the cave to take care of you.

----

Now that you’re all healed and settled in to your new forever home, Ralak urges you to pay your family a visit. It took quite a bit of convincing, and honestly a little bit of bribing, but it worked and here you are – standing in your own family marui. Kiri, Tuk, and Neytiri were out with Ronal and Tsireya, leaving the boys behind.

Just your luck.

“C’mon, let’s see it.” Jake crosses his arms and takes a step back.

“Yeah, y/n. It’s been over a week since we’ve seen you. I haven’t even seen your tattoo yet.” Lo’ak chimes in, leaning against the stilt of his family marui. Neteyam stands tall, keeping to himself as he listens intently to the conversation.

“Guys.” You chuckle nervously, fidgeting with the cork on your songchord.

“Why so nervous, baby girl? Somewhere where we can’t see or somethin’?” Jake jesters, uncrossing his arms to walk behind you, inspecting your back.

“Uh – uhm.” You stumble with your words, looking at Neteyam for some sort of rescue. Rather, he cocks a brow in agreeance with his family. He wants to know too. You look at Lo’ak, who’s now making his way towards you too. It feels like they’re all closing in on you, teaming up on you to give you no other choice.

“Fine. If you guys want to see it that bad.” You shrug, hooking your thumbs under the band of your tewng and tug it down until the six lines begin to show.

The men’s eyes snap down and widen once they all realise what you’re doing. They begin retreating to the back of the marui, hands splayed in front of their faces to shield them from the unfolding sight.

“Alright. Alright!” Jake shouts, waving his hands for you to stop.

“Yep. Nevermind. Message received.” Lo’ak mutters, making his way through the back door of the marui. Before you can even look Neteyam’s way, he’s right behind his baby brother, shaking his head and escaping this whole ordeal.

----------

THE END :)

I hope you guys enjoyed this (slow burn) Ralak series. I just want to give a special thank you to @zestys-stuff for allowing me to bring this man to life in a fic. This collaboration has been unreal and so much fun and honestly, I look forward to doing more collabs with you in the future (cus I know you got more delicious OC’s hidden up your sleeve). You’re so fucking talented and I literally cannot get over it.  

Now, now. Ralak is not gone forever. I’ll be doing special episodes of him (and reader) going forward, and you can expect the first special episode very soon – “Ralak’s First Rut”. It’s a bit of a mind fuck (literally) so bear with me! Anyways.

‘nuff love,

Issy <3

[sleepysnk]

hanma + his girlfriend whose oblivious to the fact that his roommate is hitting on her 🤍

a/n: cijsjxjwjd i saw this and was very intrigued, but nonetheless, my brain was working at 3 am and here we are. sorry if this is shitty 😭! thank you for sending this in by the way! 🫶🏻

pairings: hanma shuji x fem!reader

warnings: modern au, college au, slight kisaki x reader, flirting, jealousy, possessiveness, nsfw, smut, some exhibitionism, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praising, use of pet names (doll, babydoll, princess, baby), some rough sex, breeding kink.

thrill ft. hanma shuji

He really hated how fucking oblivious you were.

He watched with sharp eyes how you stood there with that gorgeous smile on your face, speaking with his roommate oh so casually. Giggles flew past your lips at the little jokes Kisaki cracked to make you laugh. He wouldn’t have said a word, but a certain sentence made Hanma almost question his entire friendship with the man he had been living with for the past two years. 

“Your laugh is cute.. really cute actually.”

Hanma could not stop thinking about it.

When you paused in your snickering, he figured you would have abandoned the conversation, but you didn’t. Instead, you did the exact opposite and kept speaking with Kisaki. You even thanked him for his compliment. Hanma couldn’t believe that his flirtation went completely over your head. He was the only one who caught onto it. He knew Kisaki Tetta better than anybody else, and he knew damn well when he was trying to get at something he craved. 

He wanted to do something about it. It wasn’t the first time Kisaki had said something suspicious around you. Yet, you didn’t say a word and assumed it was platonic. However, Hanma knew that wasn’t true at all. He was done with your ignorance and he was ready to crack.

That’s how you ended up with your legs thrown over Hanma’s shoulders. His cock pressing deep into your womb, sending you over the edge from the euphoric feelings. He wasn’t showing any mercy either. He didn’t care how loud you were or how you practically begged him to not stop with tears brimming at your lash line. 

A sadistic smile wore itself into his gorgeous features. He had the best view in the whole fucking world, and he wasn’t going to let anyone, not even Kisaki, get a chance to see it. You were his. You were his angelic little girlfriend. He wasn’t about to share you. 

The hand with ‘Sin’ tattooed on it trailed down your abdomen slowly. Your flesh was like silk beneath his slender fingers. “Shiiiit, you’re driving me crazy, princess.” he slurred. 

Your fingernails clawed at the skin on his shoulders. The pleasure became almost unbearable from how great his thrusts were. You could hardly keep up with him. “H-Hanma! It’s.. too m-much! Ah!“ your head fell backwards onto the pillows behind you, eyeballs disappearing beneath your eyelids. 

God, you were so fucking stunning like that. He honestly wished you could see yourself the way he did, because he couldn’t get enough.

Your lips were swollen with drool pooling deep within your mouth, your pretty eyes were glassy with tears, and most of all, your delicious cunt was sucking his cock in perfectly. A white ring wrapped around the base, allowing him to slide inside you with such ease. If he wasn’t careful, he’d slip out, and he couldn’t allow that. Not when you’ve been taking him like the good girl you were. 

Squeezing your thigh, he pushed your legs apart further so he could stare at your pussy. It was so swollen and wet. He could feel his mouth watering at how it looked. “F-Fuck.. yeah, you take me so well, baby.” he groaned, “M-Might have to put one in ya, babydoll. You’re so fucking good.” 

He smirked when he felt your walls quiver around him tightly. You always preferred when he came inside of you. Your velvety walls covered with his cum were sending you into a frenzy. “Inside..! P-Please, Hanma!” you blubbered, looking at him with desperation in your eyes. 

He scoffed, placing your legs around his waist so he could angle himself. It’d be perfect for him to fuck his cum deep inside of you. “Yeah..? Want my cum in you, princess?” he cooed. “Such a pretty baby.. I’ll make sure you’re full.”

Hanma’s golden eyes flashed towards the clock beside the bed. He smiled devilishly when he realized that a certain someone was just a few minutes away. He knew you’d be embarrassed, but Hanma wanted Kisaki to know that you’re not to be messed with. He’d have to sit there and watch as Hanma made you cum, not him. He was the only one who could send you over the fucking edge. 

Your second orgasm was already on the horizon. The knot beneath your belly was tightening with every little thrust. Hanma could feel the way you were clenching down on him. He was determined to make you reach it. He wanted to see you fall apart underneath him. You were always the prettiest when you screamed his name. 

White stars danced along your vision as he poked at your g-spot. You were slowly losing yourself. Your mind becoming lost within a thick cloud surrounding it. “I-I’m gonna.. cum! Hanma! Oh, Hanma! Right there!” you cried, your thighs beginning to tremble as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave on a shore. 

Hanma intertwined your fingers with his as you came. He was so close to his own high, but you looked too pretty to not admire. “That’s it, doll. Cum for m-me..” his hips began to stutter as his cock twitched inside of you. “Gonna fill up this pretty cunt.. make it all mine.” 

You watched him with hazy eyes as he fucked you with such desire. The grip he had on your hand was so tight that his knuckles turned white. The effects of your orgasm were slowly disappearing, and you started to feel that white-hot pleasure again. All that came from your lips were whimpers and whines for him to cum inside you. 

A loud groan suddenly escaped his mouth as he finally reached his orgasm. Thick, white spurts of cum began to cover your pretty walls, filling you completely. Hanma practically emptied himself inside of your cunt, and he had zero regrets.

Panting, he leaned down to catch your lips on his. The kiss you shared was sloppy, but passionate. It honestly turned him on all over again, so he’d probably have to shove you into the shower so he could have another round with you. Plus, he didn’t have to clean a mess. 

“Ahem.”

The two of you turned your heads to meet an embarrassed, but angry Kisaki. The blonde stared at his roommate with annoyance.

Hanma knew it was coming, especially since he was fucking his sweet girlfriend on Kisaki’s bed. 

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself ♡.”

[sanjisprincesswifey]

miracle ⋆ portgas d. ace x reader

summary: ace gets another chance

♡: non-canonical marineford events. gender-neutral reader. 1,200+ words. sfw content.

your legs shake with each step you take, the thick wood creaking at the contact.

the attempt to alleviate your panicked breathing has long since failed, causing you to seek the only person who could comfort you in a time like this.

you discard the idea of marco scolding you for disturbing ace right now, knowing the desire to see him proved to be too powerful.

you don’t bother knocking on ace’s door, opting to quietly sneak your way in instead.

he doesn’t even move when the light from the hallway fills his room for the five seconds the door was open, but after the battle that had just ensued you were sure he’d be out cold for the next week or so.

making your way over to the bed, you pick up the blanket he had discarded on the floor; a habit he had after particularly tough fights.

the springs of the mattress creak as you dip onto the bed right next to ace, even when he was sleeping, he still produced heat like a sauna. you throw the blanket over the both of you, snuggling up next to him.

thankfully, just being next to him is enough to ease some of the anxiety that coursed through your veins.

you face his bare back, his tattoo barely peeking out from the top of the bandages which were covering almost the entirety of his body.

your fingertips brush ever so slightly against the imprinted skin, his toned muscles gliding beneath your fingers.

with an arm wrapping around his waist, you inch yourself closer to him regaining comfort almost instantly.

as you press your head against him, you could feel his heartbeat through the back of his rib cage, the rhythmic beat sounds so peaceful; so calm. it was as if he had not almost lost his life nearly hours prior.

the intrusive thoughts that fill your brain are dulled out my ace’s heavy snores, but you weren’t exactly complaining about that and opting for the latter.

within the next few minutes, your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, a goal you couldn’t have accomplished without ace by your side.

just as you’re about to drift into a much-needed slumber, ace begins to stir. your immediate reaction is to let go; you weren’t exactly sure how he’d react to an unexpected guest in his bed nor how you’d explain to him why you were there.

as ace flips himself over to face you, his eyes part ever so slightly as you assume he’s trying to make out who the intruder in his bed was.

“y/n?” he mumbles, his voice raspy and low.

your immediate reaction is to panic, but with the procedures marco had performed and the sedatives he had surely used, you assumed ace to be groggy.

“i’m sorry, just go back to sleep,” you assure, smiling as you sit up beside him, pushing some hair back from his face.

ace nods and does as instructed, lying back down and shutting his eyes for a couple seconds. you almost feel like you’re in the clear until ace sits back up, stretching his tired muscles and runs a hand over your cheek. “can’t get rid of me that easily,” he jokes, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

without thinking, you lean into his touch, aching for the feeling of peace you had been seeking out. it was a reaction of pure desperation and though he didn’t say it, he needed it too.

“couldn’t sleep?”

weakly nodding, you do your best to put on a smile for him, but ace sees through your facade.

he doesn’t even bother to ask what’s bothering you, it’s the same thing that was bothering everyone the second you left marineford.

he holds out his arm, motioning for you to come to him. you lean into his chest, his lips finding their way to your forehead as he gently kisses the area. your arms wrapped around his bandaged torso, gripping him with as much force as you could muster.

you can feel his lips curve into a smile against your forehead, “i actually woke up the second you opened the door. i just didn’t say anything hoping it was you.”

“ace…” you cringe, dragging out the syllable of his name. his light chuckle rumbles in his chest as you look up at him in defeat, his tired eyes still so kind as they glance back at you. 

“i couldn’t sleep,” you reiterate from earlier, “i, i needed to…i wanted to make sure you were still here.”

you can feel all the emotions from the past twelve hours beginning to bubble up all over again, your voice quivering in response. “i couldn’t lose you, ace. i, i—i need you here…with me,” you admit, holding onto his arm as you break out into a gasping sob.

ace’s hand slip underneath your shirt, bringing you closer to his body as cries of his own fall from

his lips. his other hand runs through your hair, coddling your head to him as he shakily kisses your forehead once again.

both of your bodies shudder against each other as your cries are muffled by the other’s skin. your hands run over every inch of his back both bandaged and bare, still unbelieving that the universe had granted you such a miracle.

“thank you…” he whispers in between choked sobs.

only a stifled giggle falls from your lips as it felt like such an arbitrary thing for him to say right now. “like we wouldn’t come to save you— “

he removes his hand from your hair, now cupping your cheek forcing you to look at him. more of his tears threaten to spill as if his cheeks weren’t already drenched, his bottom lip quivers as he tries his hardest to speak. “no…thank you…for loving me.”

for the first time that night, your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest, but this time it wasn’t from fear.

you glance between his eyes and lips waiting for any sort of explanation, though you knew you didn’t need one. there wasn’t anything you could say in response; you weren’t going to deny it and lie, but you couldn’t muster the courage to tell him the truth either.

“ace, listen…” you try to start, but he stops you before you get the chance.

“y/n, i got a second chance at life today. i’m not afraid anymore; i know that i, i love you…and i know you love me too.” he says it so matter-of-factly, yet so nervously.

you can feel his hand pull you with the slightest of force, you inch closer and closer to him as time moves slower and slower.

“please, say you love me,” he whispers as his lips brush against yours. you can feel the heat emanating from his freckled cheeks as his gaze alone pleads with you to give him the answer, he so desperately desired.

allowing your actions to speak louder than words, you lean in further and connect your lips together.

ace parts your shaking lips with his own, kissing you so delicately, unbelieving that this was reality and not some heavenly dream.

when you finally manage to separate for air, ace rests his head on your shoulder, trembling in your arms.

“i love you too, my angel.”

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

[reverie-starlight]

Osamu + doing their makeup for them on the first prompt list? 🥹🥹🙏🙏

SO CUTE!!! I'm not sure which way you wanted this, but this was the first thing that came to mind. hope you enjoy!!

gn!reader that owns/uses makeup, no physical descriptions, fluff fluff fluff, I need to write for osamu more. I think legally for every three atsumu fics I post on this blog, I need to do one for his brother. pls don't hold me to that. very dialogue heavy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"how did I let ya talk me into this?" osamu sighs from underneath you. of course he knows how- your puppy dog eyes and sweet, sweet voice buttering him up.

you giggle and shift a bit so you're straddling him more comfortably. "because you loveeee meeee," you sing. "and you're extremely weak against my charm," you swipe some bright green eye shadow over his left eyelid.

the man sighs again, but the corner of his mouth is clearly twitching upwards at the reminder. "yeah, yeah, whatever," he starts bouncing his leg to pass the time and you click your tongue.

"'samu, stop moving, I'm gonna mess your face up."

he lets out a sudden laugh. "yeah, I'm sure moving my leg a little bit is the thing that's gonna mess my face up. definitely not the gremlin sitting on my lap with some-" he opens his right eye to try to get a glimpse of the brush but you're quick to pull it out of his view. "mystery colour. I don't like the look on your face, sweetheart, what are ya doin' to me?"

your laugh is far too ominous for his liking. "don't you worry, baby, I'm gonna make you so pretty."

"wasn't worried," he shoots back automatically, but then he grumbles a bit while rubbing your thighs, "thought you already considered me pretty."

"aww, so pouty," you coo at him. "keep it up and I'm gonna put some gloss on you, too."

you have to kiss away his scowl and reassure him that nothing sticky or wet will be applied to his lips before lunch.

he stays still until you announce that you're finished. he's a little too quick about scooping you up in his arms and rising from his chair.

you had been giggling throughout the entire process and he remembers the barely concealed mischief behind your eyes when you first begged to do his makeup. there was absolutely zero chance that you had actually given him a cohesive look, but you've been so down lately, that seeing you genuinely laugh and smile made him just a bit more willing than usual to let you have your way.

"samu!" you shriek when he throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

he adjusts his grip on the back of your thighs to keep you from squirming too much. "this had better be the best look of the damn century, sweetheart, or you're going to pay for it."

"what? nooo, baby I swear I was just messing around-" you're squirming relentlessly now, doing everything in your power to get out of his grip and run to safety. your boyfriend is relentless when it comes to payback. granted, you don't mind one bit, but it doesn't make the build-up any less terrifying.

he flicks the light switch on and it's dead-silent in the bathroom as he takes in his new look. his grip loosens just a bit and you take the opportunity to finally wiggle out of his arms and stand beside him.

osamu is just standing there, jaw slacked and staring at his reflection. you bite your lip to stop more laughter from bubbling out.

on his left eye is the bright green eyeshadow you had hidden from his view. on his right is a glittery neon pink. you've applied eyeliner on him as well, however not as sharp as what he sees you do for yourself. not sharp at all, actually, because instead of his eyeliner being winged, you've turned it into rounded flower petals. his blush is horrendously over applied to the apples of his cheeks, making him look like a doll.

and for the final blow, you've also "tattooed" some words onto his face in red lip liner.

atsumu is the better twin.

how you managed to fit it all is a mystery to him- he's almost impressed- but what's even more dumfounding is how he hadn't realized you were writing on him.

he blames your adorable smile for distracting him.

once he's done processing, he turns to look at you slowly and you feel a strange mix of fear and excitement pooling in your stomach. you're both extremely still and waiting for the other to make a move.

you decide not to tell him that you realized halfway into the flower petal eyeliner that you forgot to restock your makeup remover.

after an agonizing ten seconds, your lover only has to narrow his eyes to get you shrieking and running for cover.

lunch will have to wait a bit longer, but he decides he's okay with that as he chases you down the hall and pretends he can't catch up. he'll get his fill soon enough, anyway.

"yeah, you'd better run, darlin'."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thank you so much for sending this in, I hope you enjoyed!!

@emmyrosee come get your husband

[doawks]

riding mingyu at 3AM🤭

all mine, kim mingyu.

warnings. not proof read. mild daddy kink. implications of breeding / unprotected sex. riding. dirty talk. lmk if i missed anything.

head pushed onto the silk pillow; hands intertwined - pressed onto your stomach━━ you let out a breathy sigh. to your knowledge, it was 3:10 am - thanks to the clock on the nightstand next to your side of the bed. you were bored out of your mind and had nothing to do. beside you, laid your boyfriend━ soft snores seeping from his mouth. he looked so peaceful, waking him up was the last thing you wanted to do.

you bite your lip in contemplation on what to do. then, with little hesitation, you rotate your body on your side, and push your face into mingyu’s neck. you nuzzled your nose into curve, before tattooing kisses onto his dewy skin. mingyu was a light sleeper, meaning that the faintest touches could make him stir ━ and it wasn’t exactly like your kisses were soft either. they were somewhat rushed with a hint of need. you brought a hand to his chest, trailing it down to his stomach ━ feeling his abs through the thin material of the tank top.

mingyu’s eyelids began to flutter, though it went unnoticed by you. you were too occupied into leaving open-mouthed kisses onto his flesh.

then, his eyes open completely. when realizing the situation, his lips quirked into a small smirk. his poor baby, too desperate to the point where she was ready to fuck her boyfriend in his sleep. he lifted a hand, bringing it under your arm to rest on your waist. “baby.” it was his deep voice laced with tiredness that brought you out of your trance.

at that moment, you felt embarrassment all over - like you’ve never felt before. you wanted him to wake up, yes, but you didn’t think he actually was. fuck.

his tongue pokes out, running over his bottom lip. “cmere,” he rasps, squeezing the chunk of your flesh into his palm, “wanna see my pretty baby.”

your face began to heat up, warmth erupting throughout your body. however, you slowly lift your head - bringing the hand that was on his stomach, back to yourself. you sat up completely and tried to look anywhere, at anything, but him. his gaze was so intense, you felt it shoot daggers into your body. and if you weren’t hallucinating, you were positive that you felt a drip of your wetness trickle down your inner thigh.

“what’s the matter, hm?” his thumb circles on your skin, “you wanted me up, didn’t you? baby just needed some attention?”

it was foolish at how quickly you nodded at the question. you needed him so badly━and he knew that. he always did. he removed his hand before stretching out his arms, inviting you into them. or more so into his lap. you obliged with little to zero hesitation. you climbed onto his lap, the strong hands he had on your waist, placing directly onto his clothed cock. a light whimper escaped your plump lips, causing his ears to perk. the sound was so pretty, so fucking heavenly.

“you feel that, angel? feel how hard i got just from some kisses?” his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek - feeling his patience run thin. you were in nothing but a flimsy pair of panties, and a tank top which your little nipples jabbed through. his hands run up and down your sides slowly, teasingly as if testing who was going to break first. you he would have to assume.

“daddy . . .”

he hums quizzingly, bringing his hand under the shirt to play with your tit, twisting your hardened nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger.

“wan’ . . . wan’ your cock.” you babbled, placing your hand on top of his.

“yeah?” he licks his lips once more, “are you wet, baby? gotta make sure you’re nice and prepped for daddy.”                

you nod immediately, “yes! see,” you brought his other hand that was on your waist, to your clothed cunt. your wetness seeped through the thin material, and mingyu had to groan at that━your warmth felt nice pressed up against his palm. “nice and wet for you, daddy. please fuck me now?”

“shit. take my cock out.” you did so with no uncertainty. the head of his cock was nice and red as it pumped pre-cum. you smeared the semen with the pad of your thumb, smiling diligently. you then lift your hips, pull your panties to the side and rub the tip of his cock against your quivering clit.

“hmph! can i- can i put it in, gyu?”

with the one hand he had rested on your waist, and the other behind his head, he watched you with hooded eyes, “go ‘head, princess.”

that was all the confirmation you needed before you sat yourself down on his cock. ripping a loud, hoarse moan from your throat. your pussy was still sensitive, seeing that mingyu had fucked you raw and well a few hours prior. the walls of your cunt sucked him in deliciously, as if you thought he was going somewhere. you pounced on him, ass smacking against his thigh. it wasn’t your first time riding him, but it also wasn’t something that happened regularly. any other time, you would be lied back on the mattress, pretty little pussy getting plowed until he ripped at least four orgasms out of you ━ or on other occasions, face pushed into the pillow as he wrecked your shit from behind. long story short, mingyu was always in charge to take your pussy - his pussy however he wanted. though, seeing his pretty little thing riding his cock once in a while wasn’t bad.

“fuck, baby. keep ridin’ me like that, and imma fill you right up again━make you a cute mommy.” if there was one thing mingyu loved, it was breeding you. watching his come slowly drip out your pussy, inching down to your asshole - only to push his cock back inside your cunt to make sure you were all nice and full. he wouldn’t want his baby feeling empty, no.

“aah━daa . . . need help . . .”

“nah,” he shakes head, eyes on your bouncing tits, “you got this, princess. fuckin’ me so well, already.” he praised, licking his lips which felt like the umpteenth time he did so.

your small hands press down on his hard chest, as you try to stabilize your movements. it became sloppy, the feeling of your clit twitching, and tummy twisting━you knew you were seconds away from coming all over his cock.

mingyu knew that as well, and took your twitching clit underneath his thumb, rubbing the pearl into harsh circles. your thighs began to convulse at his sides, and your broken whimpers became louder. mingyu’s pace didn’t falter and neither did your hips. it wasn’t long before you creamed prettily all on his thick cock.

slowly, you leaned forward to press a kiss onto his lips. his arms wrapped around your waist, kissing you back with much passion. “satisfied?” he mumbles against your mouth.

you smile, nodding, “thank you.”

[girlwithsharpt33th]

ANGELIC - 𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓾𝓷𝓪

art cred: @innaillus (also on twit)

content: AFAB!reader, softkuna, brief mention of cannibalism, flashbacks, heian era sukuna, bittersweet love

a/n: second part of my angelic series! I tried a lil something new, adding some poetic elements

Being inexplicably connected to the King of Curses means your life can only consist of one of two things: calmness or chaos. You never know what to expect with such a temperamental partner. This particular night, however, you are quite certain it is the former.

He looks completely content, cerebral. not a drop of blood stains his lips, putrid metallic smell seeping from every pore of his body. Nor even a hint of something vile lurking beneath the surface. He smells clean, like soap. It’s almost like the abyss of sleep has baptized him, cleansing him of all of his twisted complexities.

he looks beautiful, your guardian angel incarnate. As if the memory of him consuming a woman’s breast not even an hour earlier was an illusion, gore encrusted lips grinning at you lustfully.

“Sit on my lap and watch me.”

communicating with his piercing gaze as he swirls his tongue over the stiff nipple.

shoving his fingers into your mouth, covered in the woman’s blood.

“Suck.”

Voice low and deep.

You shake your head. No good to dwell on things that happen every day. Right now he’s calm.

Bathe in his tranquility.

Your troubled thoughts dissipate and you’re brought back to reality as a finger darts out, poking you hard on the forehead. The force of this seemingly minuscule touch knocks your head back a little. His bottom left eye is partially open, peering at you. The curvature of it makes it appear as if it’s grinning at you. A soft smile plays on his lips.

“Sleep.” he says simply, pressing his fingers to your eyelids, shutting them. You can tell he likes the attention of your admiring gaze, though. He loves how you love him.

You hold the massive hand closest to you with your much smaller one and kiss it, smiling mischievously at him. “No, you.” you murmur. He lays on his back with his upper hands behind his head, closing his eyes and smiling broader. He’s listening to you. The thought makes your heart swell.

❀ ･゜ﾟ･*

You wake, having apparently snuggled up against your King’s side in your sleep. Warm sunlight spreads across his face, highlighting his features; warped mask, black tattoos, broad nose. Statuesque. Heat rises to your cheeks.

Your fingers dance along his bare pecs. He feels so warm. His belly mouth appears and you stick a finger inside of it, the large, flat tongue engulfing the digit. The muscle moves so slowly, sensually. One of his hands gently guides your chin to look at his crotch, propping one of his legs up, exposing his hardening cocks.

You quickly look up at him, curious to see if his eyes are open. They’re not, face expressionless. You look back at his cocks and wrap a hand around the bottom one automatically, his silent invitation not so much an invitation but an order. You struggle to wrap your whole hand around it.

He begins to react now, letting out a pleased hum. You smile and wrap your lips around his unoccupied cock, bobbing your head up and down lazily as he takes a fistful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

He doesn’t press your head down like he usually would, instead letting you choose your own pace. So gentle. What did you do to deserve this? He’s peeking at you now, his eyes trained on you in rapt attention, hazy with lust and admiration.

Suddenly, he extracts you from his cocks, grabbing your waist and lowering your pussy onto his face. “How generous.” you say and shakily laugh as his dexterous tongue explores your folds. His nose nudges your clit sending shockwaves of pleasure down your spine. You grab a fistful of his hair, riding his tongue. He groans in approval, pressing a thumb to your clit.

He peers up at you, his amber eyes half closed. He’s making you feel like heaven and the sun illuminating the room enhances the feeling tenfold. You clench your thighs as you feel that familiar drop in your belly. He speeds up his movements, fucking your needy hole with his tongue and pressing down hard on your clit.

You swivel your trembling thighs as you cum with a gasp, groaning hoarsely as his tongue collects every last drop of your release. His cocks lay neglected against his stomach and you move to get up to relieve him, but he grips your thighs tight, holding you in place.

He shifts your hips slightly, just enough to speak.

“This morning is for you, little dove.”

Your mind barely registers his sweet words before his tongue dips back into your sex, eyes so full of an emotion you can’t even put words to.

Your mind blank, save for 3 words, a mantra, echoes in your brain

My Love, My Lord, My Savior.

[takecareluv]

Can you do a fluff where vinnie is playing guitar for the reader :)

soft melodies | vinnie hacker x reader

word count : 444

author's note : hi <3 first i want to say i am so so sorry for being four months late on completing this request. and second it's been a while so i'm a little a lot rusty so i hope this isn't too awful. anywayyyy , it felt so good to be writing again & i hope to have more stuff out soon! lots of love 💌

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

letting out a sigh of relief, you slipped off your shoes and tossed your bag onto a nearby bench, your coat along with it; just happy to be home after a long, gruesome day. the sound of soft strumming instantly relaxed you, knowing your sweet vinnie was just one room away.

you quietly tiptoed down the hallway, not wanting to interrupt the melody vin had been piecing together slowly but beautifully over the last few days.

you remained in the doorway for a moment taking in the sight of your beloved boyfriend smiling contently as he found the right chord, completely unaware of your presence. even in just an old pair of plaid pajama pants and his go-to white tank top, he looked simply radiant. his hair cascading over his eyes, a little long but just the way you like it. his tattoos peeking out from underneath his shirt, the wings inked across his back reminding you he truly was an angel sent to you from heaven above.

"it's coming along nicely," you hummed, walking over to where vinnie sat relaxed on your shared bed. "you're gonna be a rockstar one day, you know."

he smirked, pulling you to sit close beside him. "yeah? you think so?"

you nodded your head in response as you leaned against vinnie's shoulder, finally feeling your body relax from his comforting touch. vinnie instinctively pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead causing a sigh to escape your lips. "play me something?" you practically begged, needing the distraction.

"anything for you, my love."

vinnie knew you like the back of his hand. he could tell you had a rough day at work; the bags under your eyes and coffee stained shirt telltale signs of a stress-filled day. but he also could tell you weren't ready to talk about it quite yet. so being the amazing boyfriend he was, he didn't press you on it and instead began plucking at the strings of the guitar in his lap to what you soon recognized to be the tune of your favorite song, something he'd secretly been practicing just for a moment like this.

as he peered down at you, he finally saw the soft smile he'd been missing adorn your face as you quietly hummed along to the music.

he continued playing random melodies for as long as his fingers could take, waiting until he noticed your eyelids had begun fluttering shut and your breathing had slowed before he stopped.

placing the guitar gently to the ground, vinnie pulled the duvet to cover both you and him as he mumbled a quiet "i love you", holding you close all night long.

i didn’t know how to end this. eek ><

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

On the Highway

18+ MINORS DNI because Eddie is a devil of a stripper.

"Oh my God, I can't believe we're doing this," Steve said.

"You wanted to know, didn't you?" Robin asked.

"Only because you pointed out that it's not exactly straight to check out everyone's butt," Steve said.

"Because it's not," Robin hissed.

Steve crossed his arms and slumped in his seat. They were both sitting in the far back of a male strip club in Indianapolis. Steve’s stomach was turning. He shouldn't be here. Oh. God. It was too late to leave, though. The show was staring, and the first of many acts came on. The music actually helped calm his nerves and focus on the performance. He had to admit that guy was a good dancer, but he was trying too hard muscle wise. He was definitely pretty, though, with exceptionally plump lips that Steve could definitely nibble on. . .okay, so maybe Robin was onto something. The performances were great, but they really didn't do a whole lot for him except make his stomach flutter. Although the previous act did make his cock twitch a little. It's wasn't until the very last act that Steve got his official confirmation.

"Introducing. . . SATAN'S SLUT. . .," the announcer introduced. "Really? Come on. Why am I friends with you? Oh, shit, I forgot to turn off the mic."

Highway to Hell by AC/DC started blasting from the speakers. A man with long dark curly hair burst forth from the curtains. He wore a long red cloak, a devil's mask, and black heels. Sliver rings glinted on his hands, his nails painted black. His hands went to his throat. Steve watched, enraptured as the man whipped off his cloak and threw it into the crowd. Oh, god, he was wearing a red thong, and his nipples were pierced. He also had tattoos. A weird looking old witch on his chest as well as a spider, bats on his arm, and some sort of puppet on a string on his forearm. His body was perfectly soft and pale. His long, skinny legs worked well with the black heels. Steve could imagine running his hands up those perfect legs, trailing up to cup his . . . Woah, his pants just got a little tighter.

The man started moving and dancing. He moved in a way that seemed physically impossible. Like a cat, he seemed like he was both a solid and liquid. He moved harshly against the pole, his hips thrusting in tandem with the song. Steve gulped, imagining his hands grasping the man's small hips as the man grinded against Steve. There was something familiar about the way the man moved, the way he moved his hands about. . .did Steve know this man? No, the world was small, but it wasn't that small. The man jumped around, his heels slapping into the floor as he turned his back to the crowd. He had a flaming sword tattoo on his back, slotting perfectly along his spine. The man peeled off his mask, held it out beside him, and dropped it. A woman was quick to grab it and slip some bills into the man's g string, letting her hands linger on the man. It caused the announcer to speak up.

"You get one warning, lady. Don't touch. Causing I'm telling you now this asshole bites and not in a kinky kind of way. As in, he'll break the skin and leave a permanent scar all because you ate his goddamn pretzels," the announcer said.

"Frankie!" The stripper yelled.

"Right, shutting up," Frankie said.

The stripper turned his head over his shoulder to give the crowd his best come hither look. Steve’s heart jolted in his chest. Oh, shit. The man he's been lusting after was none other than Eddie Munson. His brown eyes popped under the dark eyeshadow that he had painted across his eyelids. How had he not noticed how beautiful his eyes were?

"Yeah, I'm definitely a lesbian," Robin said, her hand over her eyes.

"And I - I am definitely not straight," Steve said. "I got to take a piss."

When Steve came back to their table, Robin gave him a look of disbelief.

"I know what you did in there," Robin said. "Gross."

"You mean, use the restroom?" Steve scoffed, blushing.

"You've got jizz on your pants, by the way," she said.

"Shit, I thought I was careful!" Steve said, looking down. "Oh, fuck you."

"Made you look! You totally did it, and the guy with devil mask? Really?" Robin asked. "Let's go so we can go back to your house so we can properly judge your taste in men."

The ride back to Hawkins was silent except for the radio playing in the background. They quickly settled into the living room.

"You didn't see his face, did you?" Steve asked.

"No, I was too busy drifting off into La La Land," Robin said.

"Robin! It was Eddie Munson!" Steve exclaimed.

"Oh, shit. As in leader of Hellfire, co-parent to your little boy genius?" Robin asked. "This is perfect! You guys already have kids together."

"Robin, we don't even know if he likes men," Steve said.

"Now, you understand my dilemma," she cackled.

"Yes, please revel in my misery," Steve said.

"That's what good friends do, Steve," Robin said. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously?"

"Yep!"

Steve was true to his word and did nothing about his attraction to Eddie Munson until spring break happened. He slowly started to get to know him in the middle of all hell breaking lose and he liked what he learned so far. He had no choice but to interact with him, and he really liked him. . .like really liked him. He had to do something about it now before it was too late.

The RV was parked in an open field, and everyone was outside, enjoying the sunlight before the big fight with Vecna. Steve discreetly watched Eddie slip inside the RV and waited a moment before following. Eddie had taken off his jacket and pulled his hair into a messy bun while he drank a bottle of water. Steve watched for a moment, blushing. Eddie capped the bottle and flashed him a dimpled smile.

"Hey, big boy."

Steve immediately tried to ignore the way that nickname made his stomach flutter.

"Can we talk?" Steve asked.

"Sure thing," Eddie said.

Eddie plopped on the couch and patted the seat next to him. Steve grinned and sat down next to Eddie.

"So, confession time. A few months ago, I came to realization about myself. Actually, Robin helped me with that. I wasn't exactly straight. I mean, I like men and women," Steve said, pausing.

"That's really great, Steve. Thanks for telling me, man," Eddie said, and Steve could have sworn he saw a little hope in his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"A few months ago, Robin took me to a male strip club up in Indianapolis," Steve said.

"Damn, she really is your best friend, isn't she? . . . Wait. . .you saw my act, didn't you?" Eddie groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Look, man, I took the job because I needed to help my uncle out with the bills. He had an accident, and he needed help covering them."

"Eddie," Steve said, laughing as he removed his hands from his face. "I really liked it. . . I mean, I really liked it so much that I ended up. . . "

"What? You ended up doing what?" Eddie asked softly.

"I left right after your performance to go to the bathroom to, uh, take care of myself," Steve said. "I couldn't even approach you for months because you were all I could think about. Now, I'm starting to get to know you, and I want to continue to get to know you because - "

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

Eddie cupped Steve’s cheek and pressed his lips to Steve’s, kissing him softly. Steve responded immediately, placing his hand on Eddie's hip and pressing lips harshly against Eddie's. They moved together, and Eddie let Steve push him back on the couch. Steve squeezed his hips, and Eddie moaned into his mouth, carding his fingers into Steve’s hair. They broke apart quickly when they heard the door open and looked at Robin's guilty, shocked face for a moment before she disappeared. She slammed the door.

"Nothing to see here, kiddos!" Robin exclaimed. "Quick! Go get it!"

"Did you just throw a stick like we were fucking dogs?!" They heard Dustin shriek.

"Why did you go and fetch it, dumbass?" Max asked. "If you aren't a dog?"

Eddie and Steve sat up as they laughed. They leaned heavily against each other. Eddie laughed and kissed Steve’s cheek.

"I like you too, big boy," Eddie said.

[ficsforeren]

Falling

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: College Boyfriend AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: In the absence of your warmth, Eren Jaeger begins to reminisce the loving memories he’s shared with you in the past three years, regretting how your first fight turned into something that ended it all.

Lyrics are taken from this beautiful song: Harry Style’s Falling.

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex, alcohol consumption, swearing

Word Count: 15k+

Poster Art by @_sonagee on Twitter

I’m in my bed

And you’re not here

The small, barely prominent crack on the ceiling of his bedroom has always gone unnoticeable. It stands only as a silent witness of the meeting between a pair of plump lips to redder ones, the breathless sounds of frantic moans, and the sacred exchange of loving words. But not tonight. Tonight, as he lays on his bed, sheets all crumpled but with the absence of your warmth, Eren notices everything.

He notices how quiet his room—his entire apartment—feels when it’s only the sound of his own soft breathing that fills the air. His black shirt is fully unbuttoned, his skin a golden canvas missing your marks. The tattoos that painted his rib cages are no longer coated by the shade of your lipstick. 

His pillow, no longer smelling like your favorite shampoo, is covered by his long chestnut hair, now all tousled and unkempt. He misses the way you threaded your fingers through them, the way you lulled him to sleep with your little hum, his head a comforting weight on your lap. The walls, the carpet, the bedsheets, the framed photographs that remind him of the joy that used to bloom on his face—everything feels monochromatic. Empty. Shallow. Because ever since you walked out of his life, you’ve taken all the colors with you, leaving him solely in black and white.

And now, Eren doesn’t know what to do anymore. Or to feel. He’s a puppet missing his puppeteer.

And there’s no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands

With the bitter taste of vodka sitting on his tongue, he closes his eyes, allowing himself to remember but not forgive the words he once said to you. 

With your name echoing through the labyrinth of his mind, regret starts to suffocate him at once.

Forget what I said

It’s not what I meant

And I can’t take it back

I can’t unpack the baggage you left

What hurts from a break-up is not the parting of two hearts, but the memories that had been drawn deep within them. It’s not the kiss that he misses, it’s the taste of your lips—the faint scent of cherry that sits pale in comparison to your natural flavor. It’s the way they move against his own, timid at first then consuming all at once. And how there will be no other girl that will taste the same, feel the same, or be able to draw out the same kind of feelings from him.

It’s funny, Eren thinks, how he can only see your smile behind his closed eyelids these days, but he doesn’t find himself laughing. He can’t even remember the last time he found a reason to smile, now that you’re gone.

The moon was hiding behind thick clouds, he remembers, that night when fate walked in and introduced you to one another.

***

Eren’s eyes were glued to the silver screen, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he witnessed the battle between the villain and the protagonist grow deadly. It had been a while since he last saw a movie in a theater, and the experience was certainly different. The thrill of it soon perished, however, when the sweet scent of your shampoo fleeted through his nose.

Your head was falling onto his shoulder as you waned into slumber. Unbeknownst to you, you had been leaning your weight entirely to a stranger whose bergamot perfume compelled you to focus on anything besides the movie. It was as pleasant as it was distracting. But after being sleep-deprived for three days, exhaustion finally took over and you fell asleep so deeply that you didn’t even have the strength to dream.

Your weight on his body was unfamiliar but it wasn’t uncomfortable for twenty-year-old Eren Jaeger. As he took a glance at your face, it wasn’t your beauty that kept him frozen. It was how peaceful you looked, almost like an enervated child curling up after spending her time chasing butterflies on the field.

Eren shifted carefully on his seat, attempting his best to give you comfort by providing more space for you to lean your weight on. Then he stayed still, his lips bowed and his smile never faltered away. The movie was long forgotten. He didn’t spare a glance at the screen even when people were gasping at the sight of the protagonist dying in his lover’s arms. He felt intrigued by the thought of your name, wondering whether it would sound as nice as the soft breathing that flowed past your lips.

When the credits rolled, Eren told Armin and Jean in hushed whispers to leave without him, throwing icy glares at them when they grinned devilishly at the sight of you sleeping on his shoulder. He went as far as kicking Jean on the shin when his voice rose too loudly, afraid that he’d wake you up, which made the other man complain because certainly, the background music was louder than anything else in the room. Nevertheless, you were still deep in your sleep.

Eren begged for more time when one of the concessions workers asked him to leave. Refused and left with no other solution, he sighed and turned his head toward you.

“Hey,” he murmured, his heart palpitating in anticipation of finally hearing your voice. “Sorry, but uhh… We need to go.”

His voice was foreign to your ears but it was so deep, so soothing, almost like a lullaby, that you snuggled closer, wanting nothing more than to listen to it forever. It took Eren three times more with his cheeks reddening to call upon you until you finally found the power to detach yourself from your stupor.

“Hey there.” A boy—a beautiful boy—with glowing, sun-kissed skin and a pair of sharp green, enticing eyes with a gaze intense enough to kiss your skin with fire, greeted you as you blinked yourself awake. His voice was as deep as the ocean, as sweet as honey. His hair was tied up in a messy bun, making him seem juvenile, matching the little twinkle in his eyes. He beamed at you with a smile so warm that it nearly melted your heart, and you decided ah, I don’t ever want to wake up from this dream.

It was when the usher popped into your vision, stating, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but we’re closing,” that you internally screamed oh God, no, this isn’t a dream, what have I done?

“So that’s what he said.” Eren’s smile was sheepish with a hint of teasing, and your heart moved on its own, yearning for him to display you another one. “But if you still have time to spare, we can go get some coffee or something. I can fill you in on the details.”

“D-details?” Your voice was hoarse from sleep, embarrassingly so. “About what?”

“About the movie you just missed.” The grin he showcased grew wider and this time, it was so utterly mischievous that you had to break your gaze before heat rushed to your face. “The fact that you’re here watching a movie by yourself must mean you’re interested to see how the trilogy ends. I can help you with that.”

“Umm—” You rummaged your purse, pretending like you were searching for something when it was only a poor excuse for you to not be captivated by his eyes longer than you already were. “It’s fine, I can look it up online.”

“But then what should I do with this?” He brought his right hand in the air, pursing his lips. “My arm’s falling asleep. Shouldn’t you take responsibility for it?”

The horrified look on your face made him laugh, and his laughter became the reason why you decided to throw all common sense away and just went with what felt right. “I-I’ll pay for the coffee.”

“Well, then, I’ll make sure to go somewhere expensive.” He threw a wink before he rose to his feet, offering you a hand to help you stand from your seat. “I’m Eren, by the way.” When your skin met, his palm was scorching against your icy one. You told him your name, stammering as you did it and he chuckled. 

You turned flustered. “W-why are you laughing?”

You’re just so cute, he thought. “Nothing. I just thought your name fit you so well.” 

You frowned, not sure if you should take it as a compliment but Eren didn’t give you much time to think. “Umm…” He tarries, looking down to see the way you’re still clutching onto his hand. You were too enticed by his charm, too comfortable with his warmth that you failed to notice anything else.

You followed his gaze, panicking before you released your hold. “I’m sorry, I–”

But he retrieved it again, gripping it tighter than before. “I don’t mind,” he grinned. “It’s too dark to see and I don’t want you to fall down the stairs. But you’re gonna have to treat me to some bagels too. I don’t do this for free.” 

Your jaw dropped but you could only follow after him without a word, your body being tugged forward as he led the way.

You had expected that he would let go once you were out of the theater, knowing how weird it was for strangers to hold hands as lovers do. But when he did, you were still left surprised, not because of his action but the way your heart shriveled in disappointment at the absence of his warmth.

You didn’t realize that you wanted him to hold it longer.

***

Awkward conversations made you anxious but they died before you could finish your coffee. Like a phoenix, they were reborn into something that was supposed to only be shared between friends instead of strangers. With Eren, everything felt so natural, you didn’t even find the will to question it. Stories after stories, you talked to him like he was the most interesting book you’d ever read. His affable, carefree attitude was almost inspiring, breaking through your facade as easy as counting his fingers.

“So, how come you went to the movies by yourself?” Eren asked, his coffee long abandoned on the table as he was more drawn to you and the little smile you retained on your lips. “Boyfriend too busy to come along?”

A bit embarrassed, you brought your head down, hiding your eyes behind your fringe. “I don’t… have a boyfriend.”

Eren raised an eyebrow, lying his chin on his palm as he rested his elbow on the table. The way he stared at you made your stomach flip, and he reciprocated with nothing but a hum, tapping a finger to his cheek. His tiny smile held a thousand meanings.

You hurriedly took a sip of your coffee. “I, uh, I had some free time today and it’s my favorite movie franchise so I just had to see how it ended. But all my friends have seen it, so…”

“They didn’t invite you?”

“They did. I was just busy with work.”

His voice dropped an octave lower. “And they didn’t wait for you.”

“It’s—” Your chest tightened. “It’s fine, really. I mean, it would only make me feel bad if they waited for me. My schedule is crazy. I haven’t been sleeping properly for three days because of my deadlines.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” He chuckled and you noticed how his teeth were a little jagged. “I could still smell your drool on my shirt, actually.”

“Oh, God,” you spluttered. “I’m—Please let me wash it for you.”

“And you expect me to walk home half-naked?” His naughty eyebrow raise made your skin tingle. “Or are you inviting me to stay over?” Seeing you part your mouth but lost for words, Eren tittered. “I’m kidding. I would’ve waited for you, though. To see that movie together, I mean. No matter how busy you were, I would. And even if I had watched it first, I wouldn’t mind watching it with you again.”

You shook your head, both in an attempt to disagree with his words and to erase your bashfulness away. “But that would be a waste of money—”

“That wouldn’t be a waste, and you know why?” He leaned closer, body almost halfway through the table. “Because for me, it’s never about the movie. It’s about watching it together with you. About us complaining about the plot holes, talking about the bad acting, laughing at each other when something reminds us of one of our inside jokes. That’s what makes it worth it.” As Eren realized how your eyes were locked with his, your breath hitching in your throat with the sudden proximity, he quickly plummeted back to his seat, flushed. “I mean, it applies to everyone—not you, specifically.”

So he could be shy, you concluded in your mind. And what else could he be? Maybe buried underneath those impish grins, laid a caring heart. Maybe he could be the one who’d understand when you missed three of his calls as you tried to survive your deadlines. Maybe he would cook you breakfast instead of just reminding you to take one. Maybe he could taste sweeter than any boy you’d ever kissed.

So when his curiosity for you matched the intensity you had towards him, you let your walls crumble, welcoming him with open arms.

***

“It’s going to rain,” Eren mentioned, eyes observing the night sky. Dark clouds rumbled deeply as they hovered above you, giving an ominous feeling. You were walking next to him, knuckles nearly grazing one another from how near you were though none of you was brave enough to close the distance.

Although obvious, you decided to humor him. “Yeah? How can you tell?”

“‘Cause I’m psychic.” The added wink at the end was a bonus but to you, it became the main reason why you had to drag your gaze to your feet. Funny how for the past three hours, your smile never faded away–almost to the point that your cheekbones began to hurt–when you could barely remember the last time you found amusement in anything.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and you promptly shook your head no. Unfortunately for you, your body betrayed you. Eren chuckled softly when he noticed the shivers that ran through your spine. “Want me to lend you my jacket?”

“Oh—no, it’s fine, I’m—”

“It was a rhetorical question, dummy.” The body heat that was imprinted on his black leather jacket made you feel well aware of just how warm he actually was. The scent of his bergamot perfume was overwhelmingly delightful, but there was another scent underneath it; something that reminded you of summer, sunlight, and sandalwood which made you wonder, maybe, if he wasn’t wearing this perfume, he’d smell just like this.

He pushed your hair away from your collar, straightening the jacket until it enveloped you entirely with its warmth. “Better?”  

You eventually managed to snap yourself out of your reverie. “Were you always this smooth with women?”

“No, I just practiced in front of my mirror a lot.”

“Practiced what?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “The art of seduction.”

“Is that so?” Your cheeks began to warm but it was probably because of the jacket. “Guess I should try that sometimes,” you joked.

“I don’t think you need it,” he cooed, bending himself down a little so you were eye-to-eye. “You already have me wrapped around your fingers from the second I laid my eyes on you.” When you turned petrified by his words, his laughter reverberated through the air. “Now, that’s an example. How did I do?”

Ignoring your racing heart, you retorted, “Terrible.”

“Then will you let me practice on you so I can get better?”

Just like that, you found yourself sporting another smile. “Now, that was smooth.”

Life had been dull, with you repeating the same routines over and over again. Your job had taken up most of your precious hours. Being with Eren was a breath of fresh air. A stranger who was attentive to every little gesture you made, every little word that escaped your mouth, as much as he easily stole your attention away. His confidence was inspiring, his laughter was contagious, and you adored every little bit of his quirkiness. Once you opened yourself to him, Eren burst in like fireworks, painting a million shades of colors on your monochromatic world.

“This feels like a date,” he said, smiling diffidently to himself. “Would it be okay for me to think of it as a date?”

Suddenly, your vocabulary had diminished into nothing but his name. You nodded, and surprisingly enough for you, Eren snickered, hand reaching out to playfully—almost childishly—ruffle your strands. “Thanks. Then a date it is.”

You wished time could go slower so you could savor the moment, memorizing the heart shape of his lips when he grinned.

You stopped in front of your apartment building, a breeze of cold night wind caressing your cheeks. “Umm, this is me,” you announced stiffly, dismantling his jacket from your body. “Thank you… for this.”

Eren’s fingertips grazed against your knuckles and it took longer than necessary for him to retrieve it from your hand. “You’re welcome.”

“And also…” Your mind strayed away from forming the right words as you watched him wear back his jacket, how it fitted him so perfectly, how effortlessly handsome he looked in a simple white tee and a pair of dark jeans. “Umm, thank you for walking me home.”

“Thank you for giving me the chance.” His smile reminded you of spring, your favorite season, the way it blossomed on his face, so warm and beautiful. “I could’ve been a serial killer, you know. Showing me where you live isn’t too smart.”

“You don’t look like a serial killer to me.”

“Yeah?” The same angelic smile turned devilish. “Then, how do I look like to you?”

You were fast to pivot on your heels. “It’s late. I should go.”

His laughter filled the air. “Wait, you haven’t said good night yet.”

“Then good ni—“ Your word died on your tongue when a pair of plump lips found their way to your cheek. They only lightly brushed against your skin but they stole your entire breath away as if he was tasting your mouth. He retraced his steps before you could respond properly, biting the corner of his lip as uncertainty filled his eyes. 

“Sorry if that’s—“ Eren cleared his throat. He was visibly worried, afraid that he might have gone too fast and too far. “Umm, good night.”

You felt lightheaded, and you shortly blamed it on the amount of espresso you’d gulped too much during the day. “Good night…”

Eren was too timorous to meet your eyes, which was why you were brave enough to sneak a glimpse at his face. You decided that his sly, confident grin looked alluring on his face, but they were nothing compared to how adorable he seemed when he evinced that nervous, shy look on his face.

It took a few seconds before he gave you a meek nod and walked away, taking the same direction from where you came. Something queasy grew inside your stomach, your grip around your purse tightened. Is it all there is? Am I never going to see him again? With a heavy sigh, you walked toward your building.

Maybe he doesn’t like me that much, you continued to ponder. But what do I do now? I still want to see him. I don’t want to let him go without knowing whether I could see him again.

God, for once, just do something for yourself. You clenched your jaw, reprimanding yourself. Do something that makes you happy! Be brave!

Taking a deep breath, you chose to gamble.

At the same time you turned on your heels, shouting his name, Eren was calling upon yours and you both met each other halfway, breathless when it didn’t even take you more than twenty steps to reach one another.

“H-hi,” you greeted, voice quivering but not as much as the fingers you curled around the hem of your blouse.

“Hey.” Eren’s gaze softened. “I was wondering—”

“Can we meet again?” You didn’t intend to cut him off so abruptly, but the anxiety within you nearly made your heart burst that you ended up asking the question without waiting for him to finish his. “I—I mean—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Yes, a thousand times yes,” he answered in one breath, with his sentence ending in chuckles. “God, you’re so adorable, do you know that?”

Your heart was still about to burst but for an entirely different reason. “That’s…” You tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear—a habit that seemed to appear whenever you were too embarrassed to function. “That’s great. I mean, the fact that you want to see me again, not about you calling me adorable, I—” Oh, God, okay, stop. “I guess I should leave now…”

He concealed his grin. “Aren’t you going to ask for my number or something?”

You mentally slapped yourself. “Y-yes, that would make it easier.”

The way Eren was gazing at you made you feel like you were about to fall from the edge of your seat. He must think I’m an idiot. But had you been brave enough to see the gleam in his eyes, you would’ve noticed how he was staring at you so adoringly. “Give me your phone then.” When you just stood still, too busy trying to comprehend that a cute boy was really going to give you his number, Eren added, “To add my numbers, Sweetheart. What, do I look like someone who flirts with pretty girls just to steal their phones away?”

“I wasn’t—” You quickly handed him your phone. “Here.”

Eren’s smile grew playful again. “Care to make it interesting?”

“What?”

“I’ll add my numbers except for the last digit. You gotta guess it.”

“What? Why—”

“Because you’re cute,” he repeated, cocking his head as he returned your phone. “And it makes me want to tease you even more.” You unconsciously began to pout and he nearly whimpered at the sight. “Don’t do that, that’s not fair.”

You mumbled quietly, “I don’t like being made fun of.”

“I’m not making fun of you, I’m teasing you. There’s a difference.” He sighed, fingertips aching to reach out and swat your bangs away from your eyes. “A huge difference.”

You jutted out your bottom lip. “Feels the same to me.”

Eren leaned in, his calloused palm finding its way to cup your cheek, lifting your face so the streetlight could illuminate your features. “You need to wash that pout away,” he whispered, eyes slowly drifting down to your lips that you had to remind yourself to breathe. “Or else I won’t be able to hold myself back.”

It was supposed to be just another attempt at teasing you. You knew he only meant it that way. But all traces of playfulness quickly vanished from his face when he noticed your eyes shifting to his lips—just for a split second—but that was enough. He saw the sign, he felt the chemistry, and there was no way he was going to let it pass just like that. Not when he had been thinking the same thing repeatedly for the last three hours you’d spent together.

It wasn’t your first kiss—nor your second or third—but it was the kiss that mattered and you weren’t sure why. Three hours ago, he was a stranger. Now, he sent a trickle of electricity coursing through your bloodstream, as if he was your first love. As if you had been wanting him for years.

A gentle rain began to pour over your heads, tiny droplets staining your cheeks but all you could think about was the way his thumb was caressing your cheekbone, how his lips were warmer and softer than anything you could have imagined, yet fierce and powerful at the same time.

“Am I going too fast?” He asked in a broken whisper, parting away just enough to murmur the question but close enough that you could still feel his words grazing your lips.

“Yes.” But you curled your fingers on the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. Eren sighed into your mouth, eyebrows furrowing as he let himself drown deeper in passion. What started as a chaste kiss became ardent, and you allowed him to taste you enough so that he would fall asleep thinking about your lips. Eren took a hold of your wrist, detaching your grip from his fabric, and moved it up, silently telling you to wind your arms around his neck instead. The second you did it, he melded his lips with yours in a passion that matched the blazing sun, entangling his long arms around your waist, nearly lifting you off your feet as he embraced you tighter.

You wanted to preserve this moment. Right here, kissing fervidly under the soft rain in the arms of a stranger, drowned in the feelings of excitement. Because if you were oxygen, then Eren was dying to breathe.

When it ended, you wished it didn’t have to. Eren’s eyes were heavy and intense as they peered into yours, growing a bit half-lidded when he shifted them back to your lips. “Hey…”

You mirrored his gentle smile, forehead pressing against his. “Hi…”

“I don’t know about you,” he chuckled deeply. “But as far as first kisses go, I think that was the best one the world has ever known.”

You tried to suppress your laughter but failed instantly. “Ren?”

He loved how you were bold enough to call him that way. The way his name rolled off your tongue… It was like you were playing on his heartstrings. “Yeah?”

“Judging from that line, I think you need to practice harder on your art of seduction.”

He pulled you in again, exchanging muffled giggles between playful kisses. “Let’s just go back to kissing for now. I like kissing.”

And if happiness had a form, it would’ve had his smile.

***

It’s almost laughable that the memories that once sparked so much joy in his heart have taken the shape of a javelin, striking him deep in his chest, right where he ached for you the most. It tasted like summer when he kissed you in the rain, and the pain that swells in Eren’s heart whenever the memory of it resurfaces is harder than the storm. And now, it’s the silence of the room—the absence of your presence—that pierces like a dagger through his skin.

But what am I now? What am I now?

What if I’m someone I don’t want around?

I’m falling again. I’m falling again.

I’m falling.

It was easy for him to fall in love with you. So easy, it frightened him at first. After his first relationship, the way his first love shed his heart to pieces, he thought he wouldn’t be able to love someone ever again. Wouldn’t have the courage to even try. But when you came into the picture, Eren didn’t even have the strength to resist. You were everything he ever wanted, an epitome of the woman that graced his dreams. And he was a prisoner, trapped under your spell.

So, why does everything have to end like this?

Now that he’s falling without you catching him, what is he going to do?

He hates who he’s become. He loathes the fact that he can no longer smile as easily as he used to. He despises how grimly he envisions the world these days. As if you were his entire future, and now that you’re gone, his whole world collapses. Eren no longer knows himself as you were the one who defines him. The one who gave meaning to his life. The one who mended his broken heart.

What if I’m down? What if I’m out?

What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?

I’m falling again. I’m falling again.

I’m falling.

You must hate me now, Eren muses, bringing his arm over his face, nibbling at the corner of his lip. The things I said… How I let you go without even giving us a chance… I must have hurt you…

“I’m sorry.”

***

It all began that night, on the day of your twenty-sixth birthday. Two years had passed since you shared your first kiss. Little fights over your differences couldn’t be avoided, but they helped nurture the bond you had with him, making it stronger. And each forgiveness was sincere and rich in kisses. Eren always made sure of that.

As you were fond of movies, your perfect date must involve watching a movie together with him so Eren, dressed unusually handsomely in a white button-down shirt, a pair of black khakis, and a matching black blazer that caught you off guard, took you out to the movie theater—the place where fate once meddled in and brought you to one another.

Knowing your taste, he paid two tickets to see the latest romantic movie, two buckets of salt caramel popcorns, and a coke for him but iced green tea for you, realizing full well how soda had become one of your biggest enemies ever since your diet started. He made sure that your seats were located on the corner top of the theater, private enough for him to snuggle close to you or steal kisses whenever he felt like doing it. You didn’t mind because Eren would only kiss you when you seemed bored, never wanting to bother you when you were too immersed in the movie. He simply kept his hand laced with yours the whole time to make up for the loss.

Complaining about the plot holes and making jokes that only you two could understand had become his habit to keep you entertained during the movie and it was something you always looked forward to. But that night, he was quiet, his eyebrows creasing in irritation but because of what, you were clueless.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you exited the building, this time being the one who reached out for his hand first. Eren stiffened but his shoulders soon relaxed as he intertwined your fingers together.

“I’m fine,” he assured, though his grin never reached his eyes. “Why, do I not look fine?”

You weakly smiled back, uncertain. “You just seem awfully quiet, that’s all.”

He rubbed his nape, somehow looking a bit perturbed. “I just… It made me remember something I’ve been trying my best to forget.”

“You mean the movie?”

“Yeah.” He sighed into the night, puffs of hot air erupting from his slightly chapped lips. “I don’t know about you, but I think the way the movie depicted their long-distance relationship is just bullshit.”

There was so much bitterness in his words that it nearly made you stop walking. Suddenly, there was a thick tension shrouding you, one that made you feel aware that it would be wiser to drop the conversation. But curiosity was eating you from the inside, gnawing like a starving wolf. He looked so crushed, so angry, and Eren was turning into a whole other person before you.

You asked him what happened.

“I don’t think I want to talk about my past relationship when I’m celebrating a special night with my girlfriend.” He forced himself to laugh about it, but it sounded hollow.

You unconsciously tightened your grip around his hand. “I just wanted to understand you better.”

“Hey.” He pulled you toward him so abruptly that you ended up falling on his chest. His smile was warmer when he looked at you. “Even without knowing about my past, you already understand me better than anyone.”

You were still unsettled when Eren kissed your lips to divert your attention, softly biting your lower one just to joke around to ease the tension. “Ah, I can’t wait until we’re home,” he whispered when all laughter had receded, his fingers tucking your loose strands behind your ear. “I want to make love to you.”

Your heart beat thunderously inside your chest. “You’re—you’re just gonna say it so blatantly like that?” He used to be so shy about it, asking you to join him in bed by pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck instead of using words.

“Just wanted you to know my plans beforehand,” he simpered. “Or do you not want to?”

Face aflame, you hurriedly took a couple of strides forward, leading the way with your hand clamping his wrist. “Where are we going?” Eren frowned but followed you nonetheless. “The restaurant is right there. Our reservation is in ten minutes.”

“We can have dinner after.” You threw a look over your shoulder, too nervous to smile, but you hoped your words would deliver. “We’re going to make love, aren't we?”

His astonished look soon turned delicate. Eren’s smiles were always beautiful, but the ones that were caused by you were the brightest. 

As soon as the door clicked open, Eren half-pushed, half-carried you inside his apartment that smelled pleasantly like him. He didn’t wait until it was properly closed before he latched his parted lips on your softer ones, fusing perfectly in the way no one ever could. You tore your own coat away before you pushed his blazer off his shoulders, and he let it slide down to the floor as you struggled with his buttons. He kicked off his shoes, his giggles muffled by your lips when he almost tripped from taking off his socks.

With his shirt now pooling around his elbows, Eren drove you to the wall. A stinging pain erupted from the back of your head as he did it too hard, not knowing his own strength, but when you groaned against his mouth, it was solely because you needed him as much as he needed you.

“I love you,” he breathlessly said against your neck, fingers dancing up your thigh and slipping underneath your dress. “I love you so much, it’s insane.”

It had been a few months since you first exchanged the sacred three words, but no matter how much Eren had whispered them in your ears and painted them to your skin with his lips, it still felt like it was the first time you heard him say the words. It wasn’t just because of how many promises he held underneath them, it was the way he said them—so sincerely, so desperately, as if you were running out of time and he needed you to hear them before you disappeared from his life.

“I—” You flinched, pulling him for another kiss again when Eren hooked his fingers on the side of your lingerie, hastily pushing it down your legs. “I love you too.”

The bed was not more than twenty steps away but it was long forgotten when Eren, still with his teeth ghosting across your lower lip, hastily unzipped himself and pushed his pants and briefs lower enough for your hand to find and stroke him to life. “God, baby,” he hissed when you curled your fingers around him, hot breath caressing your jawline. “I want—I need to be inside you—just—Ah, now, please, I need it.”

No one had ever wanted you the way he did. Every kiss was nearly bruising, every hug was almost suffocating, the thrill of it all was overwhelming. 

It was almost a whine that escaped his lips when he vocalized your name. As soon as his desperate gasp and pleading moan reached your ears, the butterflies came alive in your stomach. Your skin tingled even with the lightest brush of his lips. Your fingers found home in his hair when he kissed the valley between your breasts, tugging at his soft strands and earning a low grunt in response.

You gave him a sign, affirming that it was okay for him to continue and Eren wasted no time. He lifted you up the wall, your shocked yelp cut short by his lips on yours. His hand slid along your thigh as your legs circled his waist, his hips pressing firmly into yours to pin you harder. “Ah, Ren—” Your gasp turned louder when he adjusted you higher, angling so that his hardness pressed right against the wetness of your folds, the friction setting your nerves alight. 

Pushing the fabric of your dress as much as he could until it pooled around your waist, he shifted one hand to prop up your thigh, the other one aligning his tip against your entrance. He teased the head of his cock against your lips, the glide coursing waves of bliss through both of you. “Wet…” He spoke sotto voce, his breathing tattered at the sensation of your slick coating his tip. He repeatedly pressed it into your clit at an even, steady pace that had you floating and whining.

“You want me?” He asked breathlessly, his eyes having the hardest time tearing themselves away from your lips but they managed. “Tell me you want me…”

Eren needed confirmation. It wasn’t to feed his ego, nor to build on his self-esteem. He needed you to say it so he knew it was real. That someone as perfect as you were wanted him just as much as he wanted you. That he wasn’t the only one with his sanity deteriorating. That your feelings were just as intense.

“I want you,” you breathed out. Winding your arms around his neck, your fingers carded through his hair, accidentally unfastening his hair tie before they scratched his nape. “I want no one else but you—Ah!”

The friction made you moan, both in pain and passion, as Eren slid himself in one swift motion. The second he was sheathed deep inside, waiting for you to adjust to his size, he drew out a long sigh, eyes shut close as he relished the sensation. But when your gaze met, his half-lidded eyes were gentler than they had been the entire day. 

Careful fingers framed your face, his thumb rubbing comforting circles along your cheekbone. “You okay?”

You weakly nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Are you?”

His chuckles were light and bashful. “I’m feeling great,” he said. He moved his hips without warning, just a little, not too fast, not too deep, but the sensation was enough to make you whimper and Eren swallowed every little noise you made directly with his lips. For every movement, he shoved you up and down the wall, your hair mussing and clumping against the surface. The fabric of his shirt slid down his shoulders in languid fragments, slowly revealing his lean back muscles into which you dig your fingertips. 

A certain thrust made you squeeze around him and he drowned out his moan by mouthing against your shoulder, teeth prickling against the skin. “Fuck, do that again, baby, please.” And as he continued hitting the same spot, it was a given that you provided him with the same reaction.

Eren was insanely good at making you feel good, and in return, you wanted to give him everything that he desired. “I love how you feel around me,” he confessed under his breath as if he was talking to himself. “Perfect—you’re so perfect for me—”

Your arms were frantically clutching around his neck, trying to maintain stability as you fought against gravity. He buried himself deeper, snapped his hips into you with isolated precision, fucking you harder, and kissed you with the desperation of a dying man.

You tried to hold back but you couldn’t. It was too much. His breathless moans in your ear, the frantic sway of his hips, the closeness of your bodies—everything was overwhelming and you came hard on his length, legs wrapping tightly around his waist as Eren chased after your lips. 

“Fuck,” he breathed heavily, his jaw hung low. The way you quivered and clenched around him sent fire through his veins. “Did you just come?” he whispered and you bit your lip in shame. The tiny laugh that broke free from his lips was both playful and filled with tenderness. “Already? That was fast.”

Flustered but not given the chance to react, you inhaled sharply when he picked up the pace. He was almost growling when his lips grazed against the shell of your ear. “Actually, me too,” he moaned, “Baby—fuck–can I come inside?”

“Yes.” You embraced him tighter. “Please, come inside me–ah, Ren–” 

“Shit, I’m coming–” He buried his head in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he came.

When he let you slide down to your feet, your knees gave out under your weight and you stumbled back to his chest. He held you close, chortling as he kissed the top of your head. “I’m sorry, come here.” Bending down slightly, Eren hooked one arm under your knees and another one behind your back. He carried you in his arms, teasing, “Fucked you so good, you could barely stand, huh?”

Unable to deny it, you playfully slapped his chest. “Shut up.”

But all of his mischievousness dissipated as soon as you both slipped under the duvet, his bedsheets felt silky smooth under your spine. He cleaned the stain that dripped down your thighs with a warm towel, but dipped his head down to taste you directly with his tongue the second he was finished with it. Eren’s eyes never left yours, placing gentle kisses on the inner sides of your thighs and two more on your clit before he slid his tongue along your folds, slowly, as if he had the whole time in the world to please you.

He was always gentler the second time, slower with more feelings instead of sheer passion. So when he slid himself into you again, his forehead was pressed against yours, lips curving up into an innocent smile. “I never want to let you go,” he confessed between faint moans. “I want to stay just like this with you, forever.”

“I don’t think that’s physically possible,” you giggled, raking your nails down his spine and he arched his back in response. 

“Wouldn’t it be great if we could stay connected like this all the time, though?” Eren broke away, sitting on his heels as he rested one of your legs on his shoulder. His fingers were kneading the skin of your thigh, hugging your leg close to his chest as he rocked his hips slowly, savoring every moment. “I mean—ah, God, baby—doesn’t this feel good?”

You nibbled at your lip, sighing. Good was an understatement but you weren’t sure you could find a term to perfectly define how amazing he felt around you. “It feels like you’re made just for me,” Eren said and you couldn’t have phrased it better.

From where you laid on the bed, you could take a good look at Eren’s viridian eyes—the way they drooped slightly, clouded with both affection and infatuation every time they met yours. How the muscles in his abs were flexing with every movement. The sinful, obscene sway of his hips. The little smirk that broke on his face when you accidentally moaned his name too loud—Eren was… Beautiful. Irresistible. Sensual. 

“Baby?” Eren called, chuckling softly as he peppered open-mouthed kisses to your ankle that made you stare in a haze. “You okay down there?”

You pursed your lips. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Yeah?” He brought your leg down so he could fall back into your arms, his mouth meeting your jawline before he landed a peck on the tip of your nose. “Well, I’ve got something else you could also enjoy.”

You hummed, trying your best to contain your whimper when he suddenly brought his fingers down to rub against your clit. “And what’s that?” Though the way he slammed his hips harder against yours served as an obvious answer.

“Some caramel puddings,” he replied, nipping against your neck as he grinned, careful enough not to leave any marks as you had an important meeting with your executives tomorrow. “They’re in the fridge. You’ll love them.”

It was hard to focus when he kept hitting the spot that made you curl your toes. “Eren…” You pushed a stray lock of his long hair behind his ear before you caressed his cheek. “I love you.”

His movements stopped. You both might have exchanged the same words three or four times today, but he was always the one who uttered them first. Eren melted into a smile, one that was softer than the breath of summer. “I love you too.” His lips never left yours as they spoke each loving word with more sentimentality and less urgency. “Happy birthday, baby…”

You closed your eyes, indulging in the soft sense of his warmth, and during that moment, your heart, your soul, and your mind, they formed the same words. 

Ah, so this is what happiness feels like.

***

“Ren?”

“Hmm?”

Both of you no longer had the strength to do anything but cuddle in each other’s arms. As Eren wallowed in the sweet moment of silence where your breath sounded like a soothing lullaby in his ears, you gathered the courage to ask once more. “I still want to know, after all. About what happened to you earlier, I mean. You looked so distraught… I can’t rest before I know what upset you.”

He stiffened, his fingers stopped momentarily from stroking your strands. With a sense of weariness filling his eyes, he surrendered.

It was his first relationship with his first love, back when he was fifteen. They were together for four years but knew each other for ten. She was a close friend that grew into something more. Even loving words didn’t need to be exchanged as they could practically finish each other’s thoughts. You felt a pang of jealousy gnawing at you from the inside, at the thought of him having someone so important in his life—someone who had stayed with him longer than you’d met him—someone whose name couldn’t be spoken as it triggered too many emotions.

But for the sake of understanding him, you cast your jealousy aside, no matter how much it lit your body on fire.

Eren’s voice had lost its usual cheeriness when he reminisced about his past. By the time they graduated high school, she decided to continue her study in another country. Eren let her go, supporting her plans and dreams like the perfect boyfriend that he was. They were committed to each other, faithful to one another. Eren never doubted her, not even once.

Until one day, during the summer break of their first year of separation, he decided to pay her a visit. He bought airplane tickets with the money he’d saved up for months, along with a thoughtful gift for her birthday. But the second he saw her opening the door to her apartment, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

She was never alone. He was.

“Why are you here?” She asked as if his presence was a bother. Him, the man whom she claimed she’d loved with her entire soul for the last four years. The man whom she had made love to on his bed just six months earlier. Eren would never forget the look she had on her face that day.

“It’s funny how you’ve been with this person your whole life,” Eren said, his words laced with venom as he kept his gaze fixated on the ceiling. “And you thought you knew them like the back of your hand and then one day, they betrayed you in the way you thought they were incapable of doing.”

You couldn’t find your voice, blending in with the silence of the room.

But he didn’t hate her, Eren confessed. He hated himself. He hated how stupid—how innocent and gullible he was. He hated how easily he had let someone else carry his heart around and let them do whatever they wanted with it. He knew that she wouldn’t have the power to destroy him if he had never given her the chance. Maybe, if his thoughts weren’t as clouded by his feelings, he would’ve noticed the little sighs she made whenever he told her he loved her. He would’ve noticed the way she sounded much brighter when she talked about her life instead of their lives together during their late-night calls. He would’ve noticed how distant she sounded whenever she spoke his name as if it was just another meaningless word and not the one that she used to murmur in short gasps near his ear.

And maybe if I hadn’t fallen in love…

Eren fell mute for a few seconds as if he was being drifted to another time and space. The hurting look on his face was so vivid that it broke you apart just by seeing it. Attempting to wash the pain away, you placed a hand on his cheek and Eren grew rigid before he discovered the strength to smile.

“I had to stay for a whole week in a country I didn’t know because I couldn’t refund my ticket,” he said, leaning into your touch. “All alone, since my girlfriend cheated on me and didn’t even care to apologize about it.” He snorted, still sounding bitter but his taut muscles had grown loose. “So yeah, I probably have some trust issues now because of that.” He tried to conceal the pain behind his laughter. “But it’s all right. I don’t care. I have you now, right?” He laid on his side, facing you with a boyish smile that made your heart race just a little bit faster. “I’m starting on a new page with you. And as long as you’re here with me, I’m the happiest man in the world.”

You reflected his smile though your heart was still left unsettled. “You’re lame.”

“Excuse me, I’m in love,” he corrected, pouting. But when his hand found yours, his expression grew tender again. Kissing each of your fingertips, he murmured, “We’ll always be together, right? Promise you won’t do that to me.”

“I will never cheat on you, Ren.”

“No, it’s not just that.” He gazed deep into your eyes. “Promise me you won’t leave me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He knew what loving you could cost him, but you were different. And he was different. He wouldn’t fall into the same trap. He knew how to protect himself this time. So he allowed himself to love you just as much, if not more, moving on but never forgetting.

Your eyes were focusing on the way he brought your index finger between his lips, your digit pressing against his hot tongue. “Yes,” you softly whispered, hooking a finger around his silver necklace, and pulling him in for a kiss. “We’ll always be together.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

***

Your forever did not last long.

When you received a job promotion a year later, you didn’t know what to say to him. It was your dream job, finally achieving that position after practically hanging on for dear life for five years working in the company. The salary exceeded your expectation, and you would be working under a senior that you admired. The company would pay for all your living expenses and give you your own flat to live in with a balcony where you could see the sun rising behind the skyscrapers. It all sounded so perfect. Too perfect.

Except for the part where you had to move to another country that stood three thousand miles away from where he was.

You knew you should’ve said something to Eren the first time your director broke the news to you. But you couldn’t as you didn’t know how. During the three years of your relationship, both of you had avoided talking about matters that could lead to fights, only allowing yourselves to discuss trivial, mundane things that would make the other pout in annoyance but not fury. The first time you noticed this happened was when both of you became too busy dealing with your own lives. You had your job to think about, while Eren had his thesis to work on and there wasn’t much time to focus on each other even when you were staying in the same apartment.

Eren often released his stress by nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck, pulling you into his lap, whispering, “I miss you,” and you reciprocated each time with a kiss. But you always stopped before it got too much with you patting his cheek, apologizing to him using both your words and your gaze. “I’m sorry, Ren, but I have a Zoom meeting in an hour. I really need to get my presentation done.”

He just sighed, pressing a tiny kiss between your eyebrows. “Well then, I’m gonna go catch some sleep. Don’t work too hard.”

And as he walked to the bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone in his living room, you realized the distance that grew between you. He used to look back, peek his head through the door, saying, “Would it really kill you to just join me for, like, fifteen minutes? I’ll be fast, I swear,” which you would answer with a laugh, assuming he was joking. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”

But now, he doesn’t even stop to say good night.

You knew you could fix it. He knew he could fix it too. But none of you ever said anything about it, afraid that it would trigger something bigger that neither of you would be able to mend.

It didn’t mean that you didn’t try. Every weekend, you would commit yourself fully to him and Eren would accept your unspoken apology with all his heart. You once attempted to drop some clues about your promotion during dinner when he made you your favorite dish, grinning from ear-to-ear as he waited for your reaction. Eren’s Spaghetti Aglio e Olio never disappointed you, but you know your words would. So when he was smiling at you, his thumb gliding along your knuckles as he took your hand in his, how could you tell him? 

I just need more time to prepare myself. To find a better way to explain.

But before you could find your words, Eren found your promotion letter.

“What is this?” He asked to your horror, body leaning against the doorframe, your letter in his hand.

The maroon dress you were trying to fold fell from your lap as you stood up abruptly, eyes widening in shock. “That’s—where did you get—”

“What is this?”

You turned rigid. The weight in his tone was terrifying. “It’s… My promotion letter.”

“Are you planning to tell me about it?” He wasn’t shouting, didn’t even raise his voice, but to your ears, his voice was thunderous.  

You fidgeted, fingers fisting the hemline of your shirt, desperate for comfort. “Of course, I—” But there were no words. Your brain was too jumbled to find a proper excuse because you knew, he didn’t wish to hear one. 

Eren didn’t want to repeat himself. His heart was already breaking. He just lowered his gaze, emerald eyes turning darker and colder. Then he left the room without a word. 

“Eren.” You followed after him, legs turning frail underneath your weight. “Eren, please, can we talk?”

He only stopped in his tracks when you grasped his wrist. “Did you say yes to this?” He turned around to face you, raising the letter he gripped so tightly in his hand. His voice was quiet, eerily so, that it sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart was somewhere in your stomach. “I was—”

“Yes or no?”

He only allowed you to choose, not explain. With a deep breath, you mumbled out, “Yes.”

There was a moment of silence where you could only hear your stuttered breathing but none of his. “Three months,” he murmured, voice deep and hoarse that you barely recognized. “The letter is three months old. You had all this time to tell me.”

Panic rose quickly in your chest. “I know. I was going to tell you but—”

The rest of your words died instantly the second Eren slammed the letter on the dining table. Your breath caught in your throat at the sound. Had his fist met porcelains, he would’ve shattered everything to pieces with how forceful he was. 

Without another word, he stomped off to the front door, grabbing his coat with him.

“Wait!” You chased after his trails, knees wobbling. “Where are you—”

The door was shut with a bang.

No matter how many times you tried to call him, he never answered. The only thing you could do was stay in his apartment and wait until he came back to his senses. Now that you were alone in the living room, you began to notice just how many of your belongings were positioned in every corner of his apartment. Your toothbrush was next to his, your clothes were hanging inside his wardrobe, your favorite books were on his shelf, and the walls were painted with more photographs of you than his own. In every picture, you could see yourself smiling in his arms, laughing at something he did or said because that was it, wasn’t it? Eren was the source of your happiness. He was the only one who could make you smile so freely without a care in the world.

So why are we in this position now?

It was your first big fight and you had no one else to blame but yourself. Hours had passed by and tears began to well from how frustrated you were with yourself, but the front door flung open before they could outline your cheeks.

“Ren,” you called out, your heart ruptured at the sound of his name. Eren’s hair was ruffled by the wind, his bun turning messier than ever. His nose and cheeks were bitten by the cold night air, turning scarlet. His hands were inside the pockets of his coat, his eyes glazed by his temper as he kicked his shoes away. He walked past you as if you weren’t there, heading straight to the bedroom.

Judging from the scent and his slightly unfocused eyes, you knew he had been drinking. “Are you okay?”

No answer. He took his coat off, throwing it on the bed along with his phone which was clearly functional as always. You had expected him to dismiss your calls, but it still hurt being ignored.

With your eyebrows knitted in concern, you went to the kitchen to make him a cup of coffee, hoping that a little caffeine would ease the tension as it was something you were both fond of. You stopped to catch your breath, noticing that it was already two in the morning.

What should I do?

“Eren…” You carefully began, voice quieter than usual as you walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind you. “I’ve made you some coffee. It’ll help warm you up.”

Your lover was sitting at the edge of the bed, his phone between his hands, blatantly ignoring you.

“Can we…” You hesitated, fingers curling into tiny balls of fists. “Can we talk?”

The silence was deafening.

“Ren—”

“What?!” He suddenly roared, making you take a step back, flinching. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I…” You swallowed your breath, your voice is as shaky as your fingers were. “I know you’re upset about me leaving and I’m sorry—”

“Oh, so now you want to talk about this? After I found out about your letter?” Eren didn’t wait for your response. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this a secret from me! What else are you not telling me?”

Heart plummeting to the ground, you timorously replied, “Nothing, just… I was going to tell you—”

“Yeah? When, exactly?” Eren stood up, throwing his phone to the bed. “When you’re about to go? When you’re about to disappear from my life just like her?”

Being put in the same position as the person who tore his heart to pieces was both sickening and infuriating. “Of course not, I won’t do that to you!” Your voice gradually turned louder, more frantic. “I won’t leave you—”

“But that’s all everybody fucking said!” He threw his hands in the air, eyes blazing with fury. “That’s what she said when—”

“Well, I’m not her!” The booming sound of your voice startled you both, but it grew weak in comparison when the eerie silence followed. “Eren, you can’t blame me for what she did. I’m not her. I’m not her replacement. Don’t compare me with her.”

For a moment, Eren’s lips were pressed tightly until they grew white. “I never compared you with her,” he said through gritted teeth, his husky voice thundered like a rainstorm. “Not until now when you’re doing the same thing, saying the exact same thing she said to me.”

You cowered slightly under his gaze. The sound of the ticking clock had never felt so loud when you fought for words to say. “I’m sorry for not telling you about this sooner.”

“I don’t need your apology,” he snapped back. “I don’t care.”

“It’s my dream job, Ren…” Your posture drooped, grave sadness written on your face. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to get this position–”

“Congratulations,” he scoffed, clenching his jaw. “I’m so glad you got what you wanted.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. His words hurt more than you thought they would. “You don’t have to force yourself to say words you don’t mean.”

He clicked his tongue in vexation. “Yeah, well, I would’ve meant them, if you had told me about this.”

“I wasn’t able to tell you because I thought you’d be upset about it—”

"I suppose postponing it until we’re counting days till your leave is going to make me feel fucking elated, isn’t that right, Sweetheart?” There had never been a day where you thought his adorable, warm laughter could turn into something so spiteful. “Let me guess. You’re leaving in like, what, a month?”

You rubbed your tears away before they fell. “Six weeks.”

“Oh, that makes everything so much better! Six weeks!” He cynically laughed, throwing his head back. “You know what? You’re right. I’m so happy. Never been this fucking happy in my whole goddamn life—”

“What do you want me to do?!” The frustration that welled inside your chest finally broke through your lips. “You want me to turn back time so I could tell you right after I heard the news three months ago?”

Eren averted his gaze, his hand going to his head, pulling at his hair roots. “I just don’t understand why if this is so important to you—and if I’m so important to you—why didn’t you talk this out with me? Don’t you care about what I think? About how I’d feel?”

Tears were running faster than you could wipe them off your cheeks. “I couldn’t find the right time to tell you.” You choked out. “ And you were so busy working on your final thesis too. I didn’t want to bother you—”

“That’s your excuse?!” he gasped in disbelief. “I don’t fucking care about my thesis. I care about you! And you knew how I felt about being in a long-distance relationship—"

“That was the reason why I was waiting for the right time until—“

“Until you can tell me that you’re leaving.” He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m tired and we’re going in circles. Why are we even discussing this when you’ve made the decision all by yourself? This is pointless.”

Embittered, you asked, “Do you want me to choose between you and my career?”

“No. I don’t.” He finally looked into your eyes, and you could see how there was not as much anger as sadness that emerged behind his lenses. “But I’m making my own decision.” When you frowned in confusion, Eren looked away, staring at the wall that was filled with memories as he spoke. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“What?” It felt like the world was swallowing you whole. “What did you say?”

Exchanging stares with you, Eren appeared more weary than furious. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

For a moment, every cherished memory you shared with him fleeted across your eyes. Eren was standing before you, wearing the same clothes as he did on the night he spent embracing you on his bed, and yet right now, he felt like a stranger. He sounded like one, looking at you like you just betrayed him and drove a knife into his back.

“You’re drunk.” You reasoned out, both to calm him down and to wash the fear away from your chest. “You won’t be saying any of this if you were sober.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night, sure.” Both his eyes and his tone were glacial. “Go ahead and think that way. I don’t care.”

Dread was running through your veins, making you feel anxious about what was coming. “Wait,” you almost pleaded. “We need to talk about this.”

“I think we’ve talked enough.”

“Can’t we at least try—”

“I can’t.” The confession escaped his lips, and your facade shattered. Tears pooled in your eyes and his heart twisted as sadness washed over him too. His eyes finally spoke the true shape of his heart—how it was smashed apart, broken with neither of you being able to collect the pieces. He gazed at you as if it was you who was breaking up with him and not the other way around. “You know I can’t do this,” he said. “I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. I don’t want to be that guy who constantly gets suspicious or overly protective of you because of my past. It won’t be fair to you.”

“I don’t care if you’re being unfair,” you replied shakily, “I just don’t want us to end what we have now.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice grew softer. “If we continue this, I know I’ll end up saying things I never meant to say. With three thousand miles between us, how often do you think we can see each other? With you being so busy with your new job, how often can we speak?” But the bitterness in his voice came alive when he added, “We could barely do that even when we were in the same room before.”

“It’s about that..?” Realization washed over you like a wave. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Same reason as you,” he replied, “To keep our relationship the way it was. That’s what we always do, isn’t it? Pretending everything is fine when it’s not?”

A fresh swell of turmoil rose within you. “Eren, I’ve tried my best to spend time with you… I thought you’d understand that I have a job—”

“You’re right, but unlike you, I don’t.” Eren weakly smiled. “I don’t have anything going on with my life except you. I don’t even know if I can graduate college in time. But you’ve achieved so much. You’re only a few years older than me and yet you’ve already had everything figured out, and I admire you for that.” His words sounded sincere but they only tore your heart open even more. Eren walked closer, his fingers pushing the bangs out of your eyes like the way he used to do but it didn’t feel the same. Instead of giving you the comfort you needed, he only inflicted more pain. “You’re already perfect the way you are now. You don’t need me in your life.”

“No.” The desperation was so thick in your voice, that it made you wince but not in regret. “You’re wrong, you—There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t need you, Ren. I want you to stay with me. Come with me. We still have time.”

You don’t mean that. Eren brought his head down, unable to meet your eyes. If you did, you would’ve told me about this sooner. “And then what?” he sighed, sounding so tired. “What am I going to do if I come with you? I haven’t even finished my study yet, let alone have a job.”

“You can find one in—”

“In a country where I can’t even speak the language? I doubt it. I’m not gonna let you pay for my needs—”

“Then, I’ll make some time for you, I promise. Better this time.” Your fingernails were sinking into your palms from how tightly you curled them. “No matter how far we are from each other, I’ll call you every day.”

“I don’t want that.” His words were laced with frustration. “I don’t want you to force yourself to do something for me. And I don’t want to spend my nights imagining whether you’re spending yours with someone else.”

“You…” You were so quiet, you wondered if he could hear you properly. “You don’t trust me?”

But Eren shook his head, gaze softening. “I do. I just don’t trust myself.”

Your mind turned into a blank slate, unable to form a word. Eren’s breathing tattered a little when he exhaled, walking to his wardrobe to pick out some clothes. “I’m gonna go stay at Armin’s place for the weekend. Feel free to take out your stuff. Just drop the keys at the lobby when you’re finished.”

You stood still, icebound to the ground. It almost felt like a heart attack from the way your heart was hammering against your rib cages. “I don’t want to lose you,” you quietly professed, “I thought we could work this out…”

Eren’s movements were put to a halt just for a couple of seconds before he continued shoving his clothes down his bag. You stood on the side as he walked past you, his natural sandalwood scent had disappeared, buried under the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. 

“So, this is it…?” You fretted. “For us..?”

Eren stopped taking another stride, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “It’s better for both of us, don’t you think?”

But he didn’t wait to hear your answer.

***

When you dared to appear at his front door six weeks later, it was on the night before your departure. He hadn’t called, hadn’t sent you a single text. He was a ghost, living solely in your imagination. But knowing it was your last chance to see him, you gathered your courage and took the first step.

Eren was wearing the same navy blue knitted sweater that he wore the first time you told him you loved him. You remembered how startled he was back then, unsure of what to say as he was afraid to love someone else after knowing how it felt like to have his heart shattered to pieces. The words I love you were merely reciprocated with a small “Thank you” and an awkward hug to serve as a bandaid. As you laid in his arms later that night, you spent every second with your eyes closed but your thoughts awake, trying to figure out why won’t he say it back? 

You left for work early the next morning, your mind so distraught that you forgot to put some cream in your coffee. With one arm holding an umbrella over your head to protect you from the morning showers, you stepped outside with an anchor for a heart, bidding him farewell without having your smile reach your eyes.

Was it a mistake? You pondered. Should I have not told him? He didn’t look so happy about it…

Does he not… love me?

Before your eyes were misted with your tears, you heard your name being called. Turning around, you saw Eren chasing after you in the same knitted sweater, his hair still messy from sleep but soon to be drenched by the rain.

“Wait!” he shouted, breathlessly, both from running and the rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins.

Your eyes turned wide in astonishment even when you failed to catch his words. “What—” You were about to run so you could shelter him from the rain, but he reached your spot faster than you could reach him. “Eren, what are you doing? Why didn’t you take an umbrella with you?” You dropped your handbag to the ground, not caring if it got wet from the rain as you focused more on the man who was shivering before you. You rubbed his arm up and down, providing him with warmth before you cupped his face. “Go back inside. You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine. I just have something to say before you go.” He broke into a tender smile, pressing his palm against the back of your hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back last night. I was… I was afraid,” he admitted. “Being in love with someone means you’re giving your heart for them to hold or to crush and I didn’t want to go through that pain ever again but—” He stepped closer, his temple nearly touching yours as he brought his head down. “I love you. I want you to know that I love you too. I don’t want to lie to myself anymore. I don’t care what’s gonna happen in the future. I just love you, so much, that both my heart and my head feel like they’re going to burst.”

For a moment, you could only stare back, dumbstruck and in awe. Eren’s eyes shook as they searched yours, growing frantic when he couldn’t understand the feelings that churned inside you. “Say something, please?” He begged, cold fingers caressing your cheek. “Otherwise, I might have to crawl into a hole and die from shame.”

You chuckled lightly, overwhelmed by the sheer happiness that washed over you. “I love you too.”

He seemed so relieved, almost as much as you were, and he twisted his fingers around your strands, chasing after your lips. The kiss was sweeter than honey but knowing him, even the sweetest kiss emitted so much passion, it left you breathless.

“I’m sorry, I know you have to go to work,” he said, pushing you away just for a couple of seconds before his emotions defeated him once more. Your mouths collided yet again, a frenzied kiss that left your skin burning. “God, I know you have to go,” he whispered between needy kisses. “But just—one more—”

You let him. You let him kiss you as much as he wanted. You let him steal you away from the world as much as he pleased. After all, you were his. Body, mind, and soul, you offered everything to him.

When he finally had the strength to break apart from you, his eyes were conflicted. “Must you go?” His thumb caressed your cheek, and Eren wetted his already glistened lip as he stared at yours. “I want to be with you today.”

It didn’t matter that the two of you just spent the entire weekend together. No amount of time would be enough to satisfy your needs for each other’s touch. So you answered him with your lips meeting him in a frantic kiss, casting your umbrella aside. You didn’t care that it was cold, with big droplets of rain easily drenching you from head to toe because Eren was always ready to warm you up. 

“Then take me home, Ren.”

But you realized as he tugged you back into his arms, soft lips pressing against your temple, you were already home.

Now… That memory felt like a fantasy, one that you could only dream of having.

“I…” Standing right before him after six weeks of separation was so nerve-racking that you found yourself unable to meet his eyes. “I just wanted to get the books I left on your shelf.”

He didn’t say a word, only stepping to the side to give you some space to enter. His apartment still smelled delightfully like him, so familiar that it felt like you were coming home, but instead of suffusing your chest with joy, it only broke your heart even harder.  

“They’re in my room,” he said, all stern with no warmth like he used to have. Not our room anymore, only his. You nodded, making your way inside. When you closed the bedroom door behind you, hot tears were about to spill and you tried your best not to be suffocated with the memories of the nights you shared your feelings with him, bodies tangled underneath the sheets, lips carving marks on each other’s skins.

You couldn’t breathe.

By the time you managed to collect yourself, you came out of his room with two of your books in your hands while you left ten more on his shelf. You didn’t need any of them. It was only a poor excuse for you to see his face once more before you bid your final farewell.

“I made you some coffee,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “It’s cold outside so…”

You timidly smiled. “Thank you.”

You used to spend hours chattering behind a few cups of coffee, talking about the things that mattered and things that didn’t because everything felt special when you shared them with someone you loved. But today, every sip of your coffee sounded louder than your voice as no words were shared.

You said you care

And you missed me too

And I’m well aware I write too many songs about you

“How are you?”

“I’m doing great,” he answered formally. It’s funny how he didn’t need spiteful words to hurt you. The absence of his affection in his sentences was more than enough to smother you.

“That’s good…” You tapped your fingers against the side of your mug. “Are you still writing lyrics for Armin’s songs these days?”

“No. I’ve been busy.”

“Oh… With your thesis?”

“Sure.”

Eren didn’t tell you the truth. He didn’t tell you how many notes had been written, scratched, and discarded just so he could deal with the thoughts of you. Didn’t tell you the words he wrote about your pretty eyes, your pretty smiles, your kindness, your passion, your everything. And how, despite his choice of leaving you, he still longed for them. Still loved them with all his heart.

The reason why he let you go was that he knew you would probably stay with him if he’d asked you to. He didn’t want you to have any regrets. Didn’t want you to choose him because you felt like you had no other way. Because when you love someone, truly, you’re ready to be cast aside for them to attain their happiness. You just happen to be walking on a different path, and Eren is not strong, nor fast enough, to walk with you just yet. Rather than wishing for you to stop, he wants you to walk faster even if it means he won’t be able to chase after you.

And Eren still couldn’t forget the pain. It felt like you betrayed him when you kept it a secret for months.

What else will you keep from me, if you can’t even tell me you’re leaving? Will you keep it a secret when you no longer love me the way you used to? Will you keep it a secret when you find someone new, someone better, someone who can stay to wipe your tears and hold you in their arms while I’m three thousand miles away from you? Will you pretend like everything is fine when we’re straying further away from each other every day?

In Eren’s mind, he thought you’d be better on your own. At such a young age, you had already managed to chase after your dreams while he was still unsure of what he wanted to have in the future. To him, you were always a step ahead. And tomorrow, you’d be taking your first step to another place where he wouldn’t have the strength to follow. 

His thoughts about you were never-ending. And he wrote so much, pouring every feeling down on papers, that now as you stood before him in person, there were no more words left to be said and he could only reply to your sentences with silence.

And the coffee’s out

At the Beachwood Cafe

And it kills me ‘cause I know we’ve run out of things we can say

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” you eventually said and Eren glanced at you from underneath his eyelashes, but he never let his gaze stay for a second longer.

He knew. Of course, he did. He had been counting the days, dreading every second of it. “Take care of yourself,” he responded in a way a stranger would say to another stranger at the end of their brief meeting. “Good luck with your job. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

There were no pet names at the end of his sentence, no sweet terms he’d once associated with you. He even refrained himself from calling your name out loud as he was afraid it would shatter the walls he’d built around him. The walls he created to protect himself from hurting even more. You were truly strangers now.

“Thanks.” You forced yourself to smile, nails sinking into your thighs as you brought your hands to your lap. “You too. Don’t forget to eat your breakfast every day. You always skip it.”

It was your job to remind him, who used to serve fried eggs and toasts on his plate while Eren was the one who cooked dinner. Perhaps he remembered that too because as soon as the words departed from your lips, Eren brought his head down, simply replying with a hum so you wouldn’t notice the tremble in his voice.

When you took your leave, you handed him a note to your new address. “Just… Come and visit me whenever you’re in the country. I’d love to show you around.” It sickened you how formal you sounded, but you couldn’t say it any other way.

When Eren took the note, your fingers brushed against his, it almost seemed like time stopped, just for a little, and he wanted to pull you into his embrace, to tell you how much he’d been missing you the same way you’d been missing him. To tell you how much he wanted to be selfish, to have you choose him over everything else in your life because that was how you meant to him. You were everything to him.

Just like how you are to me.

So when he dropped his hand, tucking it inside his pocket, you knew it was really over. Finally, the word goodbye took its true form.

And I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again.

***

Three years passed by like eternity. Time progresses so slowly that your mind can only recall the taste of euphoria just like how your lips remember the softness of his kiss. But you don’t feel them, not anymore. The joy, the thrill of being in love, the burning desire of wanting someone and being wanted. You remember everything but your body starts to forget. And when your mind decides to abandon those memories too, what’s going to be left of you then?

Birthday parties had the taste of farewells. Love confessions, even when they came from a gentleman you respected, would never be able to fill the void in your chest. Ardent kisses only felt nice on your lips but they always left a bitter taste on your tongue. And your body felt incomplete, cold as if you had been standing in the snow for hours, missing the warmth he used to give you on the passenger seat of his car.

I wonder what you are doing now, Ren…

Have you met someone new? Have you ever thought about me?

Did you ever miss me?

“Because I do,” you heard yourself murmur one day in the darkness of your apartment, your mind intoxicated as you had drunk more alcohol than you intended. “I never stopped thinking about you… I miss you…”

I miss you so much.

Three years. Three years and he is still the only man your heart yearns for, so desperately, it hurts. You have his phone number memorized in your head but you can’t lift your finger to punch down the buttons. Three years and you never found the courage to do it, so scared of the thoughts of him dismissing your call, or worse, answering only to tell you to leave him alone. And you know he has your number too, but the fact that your phone never rang with his name flashing on your screen only meant one thing.

Eren no longer wants to have anything to do with you. Not anymore.

The four walls of your apartment are the only witnesses of the tears you cried and the ones that dried on your cheeks as you sobbed yourself to sleep. Some nights could feel exceptionally lonely that you had to drown yourself in sleeping pills to forget the sound of his laughter that once felt like music to your ears. Days, especially like today, feel longer when you have to stay home and you don’t have your job to distract you from him. 

And when you start imagining him there, breathing the same air that you breathe, your heart constricts like you’re trapped inside a box, buried ten feet under the ground. The human mind is a powerful thing. As your eyes turn vacant, it runs on its own, playing scenes after scenes like an old movie. You can see Eren walking around your apartment in nothing but his plaid pajama pants, his top missing as you’d stolen it away, draping it over your own body while wearing nothing more underneath. You can see him hugging the old version of yourself in the kitchen, his chest completing the dip of your spine, his nose nuzzling against your neck.

“Morning,” you can hear him say, his voice hoarse from sleep. “You woke up early.”

Your giggle echoes in your ears. “Eren, it’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, that’s early. Let’s go back to bed.”

“Wait, let me make you some food. You must be hungry.”

But Eren doesn’t listen, he never did. You see him lifting your body off the ground, throwing you over his shoulder with one hand wrapped around the back of your thighs. “It can wait. I want to cuddle,” he insists as you laugh. “You’re going to be the big spoon now.”

“Aren’t I always the big spoon?”

“That’s right, so you better spoon me right.”

“What does that even mean?”

Funny how a conversation like this is what you miss the most. You can never find and share a moment like this with anyone else. Or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to?

I want to see him, you confess deep within your thoughts as you lay your cheek on the coffee table. Your fingers are still wrapped against an empty can of beer, the taste of alcohol sitting thickly on your tongue. You just realize that you’re wearing Eren’s old hoodie again, its color fading from scarlet to salmon pink from how many times you’ve washed it. It was the only thing that’s left of him, something that you forgot to return and Eren didn’t care enough to ask for it back. You nuzzle your nose against its long sleeve, still trying to catch a hint of his scent lingering on its fabric even when you’ve failed so many times. There’s nothing left of him that lingers near. With your legs stretched out on the carpeted floor, skin sliding against polyester, you feel tears brimming in your eyes. 

Eren…

Your doorbell rings, breaking the smothering silence. You attempt to ignore it, just wanting to be swallowed by the earth for now and never resurface. But when it keeps resounding through your hallway, you have no choice but to groan and return to your feet.

You wipe your tears away, your eyes still puffy and red as you take long strides toward your front door. Your hair is a tangled mess, your clothes rumpled and worn-out. You’ve never really cared about your appearance these days. You haven’t really cared about anything else.

You turn around your doorknob. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel well today, so if you… can…”

Your eyes grow wide, incapable of blinking as Eren Jaeger, the same man whose face has been haunting you night and day for the last three years, stands before you with his hand stopping mid-air, about to ring your doorbell once more before you suddenly swang your door open.

“H-hi…” He says, in the same husky voice that trickles down like honey. It feels so surreal to hear him again—to see him again. You’ve been imagining him standing on the other side of your door like this countless times before but you never allowed yourself to see what happened past that, knowing that it would only hurt you even more.

And now that he’s here…

What am I supposed to say? 

He looks exactly the same, not a day older. He’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, with smooth golden skin kissed by the sun. He still owns the same high cheekbones, the same inviting plump lips, and the same beautiful long brown hair that’s cascading down to his shoulders. It’s as if not a second has passed by since the day you bid each other farewell with your hearts being trampled to the ground. 

You can’t speak. It’s already a miracle that you can still suck air into your lungs.

Just like you, his mind turns blank as his eyes grow twice their size. You’re wearing his hoodie. Three years after your break-up, and you still wear it as if you had never stopped being his lover. Something claws against the walls of his stomach as the memories of those morning kisses you shared with him are revived in his head. You look just as adorable, just as beautiful, and God, it hurts him. Seeing you wear his clothes used to be his favorite thing to wake up to and now it just feels like God is playing the vilest joke on him.

You’ve lost weight. That’s the other thing he can tell once he’s calmed himself down. Even when half of your body is hidden underneath his oversized hoodie, he can still tell by the dip of your collarbones and the little protruding bones on your wrists. You seem pale with dark circles under your eyes, but none of them shocks him as much as the fact that you’ve been crying. He hates it. He always hates it when you cry, even when you look beautiful when you do. Tears don’t belong in your eyes. He wants you to have a smile written on your lips and nothing more. And he wants to be the reason for that smile. And yet, just standing before you like this, he becomes the reason behind your tears.

It takes everything within him not to reach out a hand and stroke your cheek, wanting to provide comfort with every fiber of his being. “It’s been a while,” he says, a delicate smile gracing his lips. “How are you?”

You feel layers of unsettling emotion, a sob threatening to rise fast to your lips. “Umm… Yeah… I’m—” Your words are strangled in your throat. “I’m doing well.”

“I’m glad.” Eren is wearing a denim jacket over a white tee, his bag slinging on one shoulder. His grip tightens around the strap as he tries to sort out his words. “Sorry for showing up so suddenly like this. I’m in the country for the next two weeks. I’ve got, umm… I’ve got a gig.”

“Oh…” You swallow. “So you’ve… graduated, huh?”

“Yeah, finally,” he chuckles, still sounding a bit tense but he’s doing much better than you do in masking his emotions. “I thought I was going to get expelled for taking too long. But I graduated two years ago, actually. And I got myself a job as a photojournalist. It sucks. I hate it. But it pays well and I get to travel for free so...”

You hear his words but you can’t seem to let them sink in. He’s like a ghost, materializing out of thin air, and your brain can’t differentiate between your dream and reality. “Congratulations,” you can only say.

“Thanks.”

Silence is like a pair of invisible hands that strangulate you by the throat and Eren can feel it too. Casting his gaze downward, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. “So, umm…” He clears his throat. “I just… I just thought I’d swing by to say hi since I’m in the country. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

You’re not. And he can tell that you’re not. He’s just not sure if you would allow him to get close enough to you to ask the questions he’s itching to say. He’s afraid that you’d reject him. After what he’s done to you in the past, choosing to end your relationship without giving you a proper chance to explain, it’s only right for you to distance yourself away from him. Because that’s the reason why you hadn’t called, right? You were angry with him. Maybe you still are. But that’s where he’s wrong. You didn’t call because you were angry. You never called because you thought he was.

To Eren, the thought of you walking away from him isn’t as terrifying as the thought of you having another man’s name on your tongue. You don’t know how nerve-racking it was for him to press a finger against your doorbell. How every ring made his blood curdle, his brain creating a string of mental images of you sharing kisses with a new lover on the other side of your door. 

What if I’m too late? Eren’s fear echoes through the maze of his mind. What if she’s moved on to someone else? 

What if she doesn’t want to see me again?

What if this is a mistake?

His thoughts turn clamorous by the second that he has to curl his fingers against the side of his black jeans to stop him from acting irrationally. “Sorry,” he says, the rush of adrenaline that filled his system before dissipating fast. “I shouldn’t have come here. I—I’m gonna go—”

A hand finds his wrist before he could escape. You keep your head low, your bangs the perfect curtain to conceal your reddened eyes and the tears that mist over them. 

“Coffee,” you say, your lower lip trembling as you form your next sentence. “Would you… stay for a cup of coffee?”

Eren’s gaze shifts down to where your hands are connected, fire dancing on his skin. Just how many nights has he spent thinking about feeling your touch again?

With his heart in his throat, he answers, “I would love to.”

***

The clock on the wall is a better conversationalist than you are as it constantly replies to Eren's words with a steady, monotonous rhythm, while you are drowning further in silence with nothing but your heartbeat ringing vehemently in your ears. 

“Your apartment looks nice.”

“I think I understand why you like living in this country. It’s beautiful.” 

“Armin is doing well. He asks about you from time to time. Said he missed arguing with you about Breaking Bad.” 

You answer his every line almost with a nod or a shake of your head and nothing more. You’re afraid to use your words. Afraid that he’ll notice the crack in your voice. Afraid that that little crack would trigger the rest of your feelings to burst and explode like a broken dam.

Eren, despite his successful attempts at moving from one topic to another, feels like he’s been stalling and repeating himself. He doesn’t want to talk about the country you’re in, or Armin, or your apartment–he doesn’t care about any of those. Why are you still wearing my clothes? Do you still think about me? Do you still see me in everything you do? Is there another person in your life or are you still wishing for me to come back just as much as I’m dying to tell you how much I’m still in love with you now? These are the questions he’s yearning to say. He just needs to part his lips and form the words, but fear is a vicious murderer. It crushes his hope to dust before he can let it spread to his nerves. So he waits for you to say them, waits for you to be the stronger one.

But you don’t say anything.

Eternity seems to pass by in reticence–both of you sitting on the dining table with your mugs between your hands and your shoulders slumped forward. The coffee you made him tasted like nostalgia. The sweetness of your first kiss, the bitterness of your last goodbye. Funny how your coffee would usually be left cold and forgotten as you were both too caught up in conversation. But right now, you let it burn your tongue, wishing that it would give you an excuse to remain silent. 

Eren’s phone rings and both of your bodies jolt in surprise. “Excuse me,” he says a moment before he picks up the call. “Yes? Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m at my friend’s place right now.”

His friend, you chew on your lip, feeling your heart drop. Of course. I should be thankful that at least he still regards me as a friend. And yet, your eyes grow hot, your fingers clawing against the coffee mug that’s been resting between your hands.

The call ends and Eren comes back to you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I, uhh… I have to go,” Eren says as he returns his phone inside the pocket of his jeans. “That was my director calling. There’s a sudden change in tomorrow’s schedule so I have to meet up and reshape our plans.”

He’s leaving. You panic. He’s going to leave me again. Am I just going to let him go like this? What if this is truly going to be the last time I’ll ever be able to see him? I still have so many questions I want him to answer. I still want to hear your voice. 

Eren…

I still want to see you, so, please…

Please don’t go.

But your body betrays you in the end, your lips only moving to say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” He feigns another smile, just like what he’s been doing for the past half an hour. When he rises back to his feet, you mimic his action. “Thank you for the coffee,” he says, so politely that it feels unsettling. “It was really nice to see you again.”

You sink your nails into your palms, hard enough to make yourself bleed. You give him a nod and nothing else.

Shackles bound your feet together as you walk him to your front door. The doorknob feels cold underneath your quivering fingers but it feels like you’re sinking into a frozen lake with ice daggers piercing through your skin the moment Eren walks past you without stopping to offer you a last embrace. He keeps his hand tight around the strap of his bag, turning around just to say, “Please take care of yourself,” while he keeps the rest of his line to himself. 

I wish you can be happy without me, I really do, he says only for the demons in his head to hear. But if you wish for me to stay… If there’s even a fragment of you that still wants me, I pray that you will act on it now.

Because I can’t live without you.

I don’t want to go.

I want to be with you. 

I want you to love me again.

Please…

Please say that you love me.

But when you say nothing, he has to face reality. The reality where he’s nothing more but a memory, maybe even one that you wish to forget. And so, there’s only one thing left to say.

“Goodbye.”

When he walks away, Eren feels like walking barefoot on top of broken shards. He’s bleeding. He can feel his heart is, but you’re not there anymore to mend his wound. He smiles brokenly to himself.

I'm an idiot.

I shouldn't have come here.

But then he feels your hand grabbing the edge of his jacket’s sleeve and he turns around, radiant jade green eyes growing wide at the sight of you staring at him with your lips parted in a silent call of his name, your glassy eyes shaking. 

For a second, the earth stands still.

“I’m…” You retract your hand, your stomach churning that you feel you’re on the verge of collapsing. You couldn’t stop your body from moving, only realizing once it did. It was a mistake. You shouldn’t have done it. You’re only going to make things even more unbearable than it is now. If you tell him the truth, if you wish for him not to go, then you can’t even be his friend anymore. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I… I’m sorry.”

But a moment of weakness is a moment of honesty. And Eren sees it. He understands it.

And that’s enough for him to abandon everything.

“Fuck this.”

Eren traps your jaw between his long fingers and smashes your lips together. You fall back, almost losing your balance as he pushes you inside your apartment and uses your body to slam the front door closed. He tosses his bag to the ground, driving you further up the door with his mouth scorching hot against yours. You’re doing everything at once—calling his name between short gasps, fingers clawing against the front of his shirt, tears lining down your cheeks. 

Eren, Eren, Eren. 

He kisses you with a degree of passion that can’t be found in anyone else. He plays music with your heartstrings and dances with your body in the way no one else ever did. You have found him again, your puppeteer, and he feels the same way. It’s easy for you to let loose, to let him take control and own you like he did before. This feels right.

If he’s being honest, Eren feels like he wants to cry. The taste of your lips, even if it’s layered by the saltiness of your tears, this is what he’s yearned during your years of separation—craved it until his whole body feels like it was burning to ashes. You’re here. You’re finally here in his arms again. The amount of happiness that surges through him paralyzes him, but your fingers sliding against his chest keep him alive.

“I love you,” he says between a string of heavy kisses, his voice muted by your lips. “I’m still in love with you.” He takes a hold of your wrist before he laces his fingers with yours, bringing your hand over your head and pinning it against the door. “Fuck, I can never love anyone else but you.”

You whimper against his mouth, struggling to return the words as you’re choked by your own sobs and submerged in his kisses. But Eren can tell and that’s enough. He will let your body speak for you.

Eren lifts your body enough for you to tangle your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He makes his way to the bedroom, two bodies meshed together in a queen-size bed. Clothes are shed in an instant, fabrics being pulled and tugged so harshly, you almost tear holes on his shirt. But once your bare skin grazes him, the softness of your belly plastered against the ridges of his abdomen, time seems to slow down. And it’s only when Eren’s lips are carving delicate strokes on the skin that covers your heart, that you can finally express the words you’ve been dying to say. 

“Me too,” you breathe out, cradling his head in your arms, fingers weaving through his long strands. “I’m still in love with you, Ren…”

Eren feels his heart tremble. “You are..?”

You nod, capturing his lips in a chaste kiss. “I’ve never stopped loving you. I think about you every day. You don’t know how happy I am to see you–to be with you like this. Honestly, I–” A peal of laughter escapes your lips, just as soft and heartwarming as your smile. “It still feels like a dream to me.”

He feels tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. “It’s not a dream,” he says, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “I’m here with you now.” 

And I’ll never let you go again.

Eren tries to avoid meeting your gaze as he knows he will break apart if he does. There’s just too much happiness for him to bear. He crawls down your body, each kiss he paints on your skin is a form of praise and affection on its own. He closes his eyes, his eyelashes damp with the tears he doesn’t allow to fall.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, mouthing the words against your thigh as he settles himself between your legs. “I’ve missed you so much, baby…”

He takes his time, and you’re thankful that he does. Burned by his passion is a great way to cure your longing, but the pang in your chest can only be healed if you’re smothered by his love. And Eren is ready to give it to you. He’s ready to do anything, give you everything, even if it means destroying himself in the process.

But you’ll never destroy his heart, will you? After all, even when you left him, your heart remained where it was. With him. Right now, he can truly believe it.

His lips carve love marks on your thighs, his beautiful eyes making their way to yours. He moves to your center, mouth moving agonizingly slow. He kisses the spot he’s kissed million times before and you almost close your legs around his head. He smiles. Your reaction is still the same. No matter how many times he’s done this to you, it always feels like the first time. And when he hasn’t done this in three years, it’s only natural for your body to scream with every bit of his touch.

“Ren…” you sigh in bliss, pushing back his hair. He moans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, clamping his lips around your clit as his gaze turns hazy. You’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Even without your make-up, even when your eyes are still glassy and puffy from all the tears you shed, even when he can still taste the alcohol on your tongue, you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. It’s your heart that makes you different. It’s your love for him that turns you into a goddess in his eyes. And it’s his love for you that makes you beautiful—makes you feel beautiful. 

Eren can spend hours pleasuring you like this, with his stomach pressed against the sheets, his arms hooked around your thighs, and his tongue savoring your taste from your slit. But you gently tug on his hair, putting a halt to his movement. One look at your face and he knows you can’t wait. Neither of you can.

He climbs up your body, his lips returning to where they belong. You circle your legs around his waist, lifting your hips as he presses down, two souls moaning in pleasure at the sensation.

“I didn’t bring a condom with me,” he says against your neck, almost deliriously.

“It’s okay–ah–” you gasp out, arching your back when he draws your nipple between his mouth, rolling the bud between his teeth before he sucks hard enough to paint purplish blooms on your chest. “I want you so please, just–just hold me, Ren…”

The desperation in your voice causes his desire to cloud his senses. He wants to take this slow, savoring every moment, but you’re making it harder by the second. He kisses you in the way he knows you adore, and that’s anywhere, everywhere, so long as it’s his lips on your skin. “Say it again.” He frames your cheek, thumb sliding against your bruised bottom lip. “Tell me you want me.”

He’s grinding against your folds, the underside of his length rubbing over your clit. “I want you.” You tangle your fingers around his necklace, pulling him down even further until his lips are just a breath away. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.” Satisfied with your answer, he melds his lips over yours in a way that bonds you to him, and you lose all semblance of reality. In his arms, you feel safe. At this moment, you feel infinite.

Eren aligns himself, his forehead pressing against yours as you taste each other’s breath. “Baby…” He gradually presses in, eyebrows furrowed and his gaze intent. He fills you up in the best way possible, his cock velvety hot, pulsing inside you. “God, you’re perfect.” 

The corner of his lower lip is tucked between his teeth as he tries to hold himself back but you urge him to move, digging your fingertips into his shoulders as you ride the thrill he gives you. After spending years in the absence of his warmth, every slide of your skin against his evokes raw emotions that leave your mind dysfunctional. “I want to be with you, Ren.” You hold him close, letting him bury his head into your neck. “In all sense of meaning. I made a mistake and I regret it every single day. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I will ever love, so please…” You quietly sob. “Don’t leave me again…”

His tear falls to your cheek, unable to put a lid on his emotions when you told him the words he didn’t know he had been wishing to hear. And despite your tears, you smile like it’s the only thing you know how. Contentment fills your heart as you kiss his tears away, and he laughs quietly, sheepishly, ashamed that he’s showing this vulnerable side of him in front of you. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? He can only be like this—shedding every layer of his facade, tearing down every wall he has built—when he’s with you. You give him the freedom to do whatever he wants, and in return, he’ll grant you your every wish.

And if you wish for him to stay, then he will. Right here in your arms where you both feel complete. “I won’t,” he promises, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’ll stay with you. As long as you want me to.”

The contact and drag of his body flow in waves as he pushes in and out with fluid thrusts, and you match his movement, swaying to the rhythm that he sets. “I want to stay just like this with you, forever.”

It feels like Deja Vu when you hear the words you spoke and Eren feels it too. He plants a brief kiss on your lips before he says, “I don’t think it’s physically possible.” He offers you the same answer you gave him that night, his voice laced with mirth even when it still trembles. 

You hear yourself giggling at his words, something that you thought you’d forgotten how to do. You tangle your limbs around his body, your lips forming his name as they graze the shell of his ear. Eren’s heart swells twice its size in his chest. He’s spurred on by the idea of you loving him, completely out of your mind, body twisting in his grasp.

“Baby,” he calls breathlessly, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching tight around him. “I won’t last long if–ah–if you keep doing that–” 

You catch his lips again, drowning in every bit of the sweet sounds he makes. “It’s okay.” Because you’re just the same, feeling like you’re about to explode in ecstasy. ​​You melt together, effortless and flowing, whole and light, and so filled with love. It’s terrifying how good this feels. How every thrust, every kiss, and every moan, they satisfy you not only physically, but soulfully and eternally too.

Your fingers are buried in his strands, twirling and pulling at the tufts, earning a soft hum from him that’s lost on your lips as he leans into you. “Eren, I’m–I’m close–”

“Me too–ah–baby, you gotta let go or I'll–”

“It's okay.” Your legs are shaking as you wrap them tighter around his waist, pulling him lower until there’s not an inch of space between your chests. “Come inside me.”

I never want to let you go.

Eren kisses you deep and hard as you crash over with a cry of his name. Hearing and feeling you come apart around him has his hips stuttering and his voice caught. He follows soon after, his fingers clawing against the sheets as he rides the rush of pleasure. The erratic movements of his hips turn lazy, uncoordinated, and he lets out the softest of giggles when he kisses you again. “I’m so happy I could die,” you hear him say and they match the words you’ve been saying in the back of your mind.

“Me too.” You pull his hair off his forehead and tilt his face toward you to view him as best as you can in the dimness of your room. He’s trapped in a haze, lost himself even more in the depth of your eyes. He’s about to taste your lips again when you whisper, “Welcome home, Ren…”

Eren pauses, his blush smearing fast from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. His face contorts as though he’s struggling not to cry again. “I’m home,” he murmurs back, his lips beautifully dawning into a smile. He gently swats your hair out of your face, his gaze softens as he rakes his eyes all over your features. There are so many things to say, and he wonders if he has the time to say them all. Even if he does, will words suffice? Will they be enough to describe the things you make him feel? How complete, how infinite, how every bit of his soul is burned with a fierce joy that he’s never felt before–will his words ever be enough?

No, they won’t. 

“Eren?” You incline your head, frowning. “Is there something wrong?”

Maybe someday, he’ll find them. The words that are beautiful enough to elucidate your divine grace and this profound happiness that you shroud him with. And when he says them, they won’t just be sentences to sway your heart. They will be a string of vows, and he wants the world to hear them. He wants his Lord to stand as his witness.

Until then…

“I have a question I’ve been wanting to ask you for years,” Eren says, intertwining your fingers together. “Even after we broke up, I kept thinking about it. In my head, there was only you. I would never be able–no, I would never want to ask anyone else. It has to be you. And maybe this isn’t the perfect time to do this but I just–I feel like my heart is about to burst if I don’t ask you now.” 

You search his eyes, wanting to catch a clue and when you fail, you turn tense. “What is it?”

Truthfully, he feels just as nervous as you are. If you are anxious by the thought of his question, he’s terrified of how your answer would be. Even so, he decides to risk it all.

His lips dance on your knuckles before he pulls away to call upon your name. He peppers the sweetest of kisses slowly, deliberately to your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. And when he speaks, you can feel his words and his smile blooming on your skin.

“Will you marry me?”

***

AN: Finally, it's out! Sorry for the long wait, I was having the hardest time trying to finish this one. I'm not really proud of this but I really hope you enjoyed it! Thank you so much for reading and let me know what you think ❤️ Massive thanks to Sandra who beta-ed this for me, you're the real MVP, babe, I love you!

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashygremlin04 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @jaegeriess @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza

[linos-luna]

Tattoos ❣️

Jungkook x Fem!Reader (Not proofread)

Warnings: 18+ SMUT! , fingering, finger sucking, hair pulling, choking, bit of a hand kink?, pet names, degradation?

—————————— 🐰 ——————————

You love his tattoos. Sometimes you just sit there and trace the designs. His arm was so muscular and the tattoos made him even hotter than he already was…

Jungkook had you sitting on his lap. His hand was up your skirt as he passionately made out with you.

You rested your hands on his arms, squeezing his muscles ever so slightly.

Your boyfriend took notice right away and pulled your hair back.

“Hey.” He teased. “What are you doing, baby?”

You pouted and he laughed.

“So needy. I can feel how wet you are.”

You blushed and tried avoiding eye contact.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He said while holding your chin, moving his thumb over your lips. “It happens”

You lightly sucked on his thumb and he loved it.

“You like my fingers baby?” He teased. “I know you love them.

“Yes kookie.” You whined as he slipped two fingers in your mouth.

Your boyfriend smirked as you sucked on his fingers. He pushed them in a little to make you gag but it didn’t seem to bother you. Instead, you held onto his hand as you continued.

Sure you were just sucking his fingers but something about this image looks so hot to him. The small noises you made and drool going down your chin… it was getting him worked up.

He pulled his fingers out and you whines before he slipped them under your panties.

You moaned as he rubbed your clit, closing your eyes as he kissed at your neck.

“J-Jung- j-j—…” you couldn’t get the words out as the feeling got more intense.

“What is it, baby?” He teased, still kissing at your neck. “You like it? You want more?”

“Mm… mmhm.” Your panted as he fingered your. “Y-yes-…”

He inserted his two fingers and moved them ever so slightly as if to tease you.

You whimpered and grinded against his fingers, tryng to get him to move more.

“What are you doing, dirty girl? Fucking yourself on my fingers?” He smirked. “Really that needy?”

“Please- please kookie—” your voice was desperate and breathy. He loved it.

“Dirty dirty girl.” He chuckled while putting his other hand (the arm with the tattoos) on your throat.

Something about that made you even more wet and desperate. You held onto his wrist with both hands and slid one down his arm.

He squeezed lightly as you held on and your eyelids fluttered.

“More~”

He licked his lips before kissing you and squeezing harder.

Your eyes rolled back as he did so and you came on his fingers.

Jungkook let go of your throat and sloppily made out with you, swallowing your moans as he pulled his fingers out.

Your boyfriend pulled you back for a moment and smiled. “You’re so fuckin hot…”

[carolmunson]

sleepy.

you open the door real quiet -- it's late. it's too late. most people on this side of town have been asleep for a few hours. you roll your shoulders -- you can feel the weight of the afternoon and night hanging on your drooping eyelids. you're not sad, but your lips pull down into a tired frown. all you've wanted since your courtesy dinner break is to fall right into bed.

you place your bags down by the entry way with silent percision. you'll deal with them tomorrow since you're dark for two days. once your shoes are kicked off you navigate the space like a ninja in the dark of your studio apartment, slinking over the the door of the bathroom when the side table lamp clicks on. "hi baby," his voice low and quiet, not laced with tired gruffness. he's probably been up all night.

"hi ed," you say in a warm whisper, "go back to sleep." "i just got into bed," he says, voice at full volume to let you know it's okay. still warm and smooth, soothing. he pulls your side of the covers down and beckons you over, "c'mere, cutie." your shoulders relax, seeing him there in the golden glow of the lamp with his arms opened up to you. he beckons you again, your lazy smile pulling at the corners while you crawl onto the mattress and into his arms. your thighs straddle his over the covers, face pressing into his neck while his arms wrap around you nice and tight. he pulls you back down with him while he back sinks into the mattress. "sleepy girl," he coos, "long day?" "so long," you say, muffled from speaking into his skin. he smells like cool water and citrus. you almost wanna sink your teeth into his shoulder. his hand comes down to rub up and down your back, face turning to press kisses to your cheek. his nose nuzzles your temple, the grazing of his fingers matching his slow breaths. he waits for yours to follow suit. you get so in your head when you get home, he's gonna do anything he can to keep that from happening. "i have some dinner in a tupperware for you in the fridge," he says, bangs tickling the side of your head, "are you hungry?" you shake your head no and he scoffs playfully, "when did you eat last?" "ten for courtesy dinner," you mumble. "and it's two in the morning, baby," he reminds you. eddie gently guides you onto your back, running a hand over your side before he eases out of bed. the relaxing stretch of laying down is too delicious to protest, so you sigh at him while he grabs you some pajamas. the light glows against his bare back and chest, his tattoos gleaming at you when he turns to toss the folded t-shirt and shorts onto your stomach. "how about you change," he starts, "and i'll get dinner heated up for you." "m'not hungry," you say softly. "you ate shitty craft services all day," he chastises, but sweetly, "you should eat some real food." you groan, turning over toward the wall. "please?" he asks. you feel the mattress sink while he crawls back onto it, hand hold your hip with a squeeze, "for me?" "fine," you say, eyes already closed. his palm skates down your thigh and back up, tapping the side of your butt before he gets up again. "that's my girl," he whispers. you fall sleep before the microwave even beeps.

[lovejosephquinn]

A highly requested sequel to this imagine

I hope you all love it, I put my all into it and I still feel like it could be better, UGH 💀

Taglist: @daleyeahson @thegemaqua @quinnyfairy @ali-r3n @josephfakingquinn @mybffjoe @cinemaquinn @tlclick73 @live-love-be-unique @marveltramp @aysheashea @palomahasenteredthechat @psycheberenike @josephquinnswife @ireneeee00 @lovelyblueness @lifealwayslearning @pizzafreak220 @emma77645 @ellen-m-ichiban81 @noirrose21-blog

Word Count: 4.3k (my longest JQ imagine to date)

There was no one who completely engulfed your mind like him; a close friend from over the years that you'd grown up with who had become so much more than a friend in your head. The feelings were unfathomable and you couldn't control them near as much as you'd hoped to. The way you clearly flirted around him to see if he'd catch your drift, he never did. The way you'd touch him softly and the way you'd take his soft features in, the way he spoke to you, the way he called you love, pretty, HIS darling girl. The way he looked at you gave you hope, but to no avail. To some it probably meant nothing, but to you; it was everything. So it was a thing that you just fantasised about almost every single day and you'd continue to keep your mouth shut on the basis of not wanting to ruin the closeness you already held with Joe, it had to be enough.

It wasn't just the things that you did to try and prove a point, Joe's features were in engraved in your mind, his eyes being your personal favourite - they held a thousand secrets yet screamed a million words, just not ones of mutual emotion, or so you thought. His sarcasm, the little cheeky side to him but also the shy side to him, his ability to make you laugh in any mood and then join you in chuckling slight when he heard you giggle, his toothy grin enough to heal the world, the way his hands soothed your back when he gave you a hug, the way he'd make time for you even out of your friendship circle. There was just no point in denying that you couldn't quit the way you felt, he gave you a new excuse to fall down deeper every day.

Your phone rang interrupting your thoughts as you laid alone in your bed that evening, the man himself popped up on your screen, his contact photo of him crossing his eyes and making the most idiotic of faces had you smiling, he cursed you for keeping that photo he took every god damn day, but it was impossible to remove it from your camera roll and the image was practically tattooed onto your eyelids, you could picture it now without even looking. You tapped answer and held the phone to your ear immediately before you unintentionally missed the call.

"Hello." You tried to sound the upmost upbeat, yet it came out profoundly louder than you thought.

"Hello love, I was bored so I thought I'd distract you from whatever you were doing." He was distracting you from himself inside your head, the real thing was much better though.

"Oh how gentlemanly of you, well I'm doing nothing so you made a good decision." There was the flirty act again.

"That's me! Best damn gentleman you'll ever meet." You giggled at his involuntary cockiness yet sarcastic remark.

You talked shit for at least an hour, general chit chat yet laughing over conversations you'd probably had at least 20 times, yet they were still as hilarious as the last time. The moment you yawned had him sighing over the other end of the phone.

"Am I boring you, pretty? Does Y/N need her beauty sleep?"

"Y/N does. Y/N also needs Joe to shut up talking trash about her being pretty." You don't know why you came out with that last part, maybe it was to try and avoid the butterflies that erupted into the pit of your stomach when he embedded the nickname he often called you into your ear drum whilst you were cosy and comfy in bed. You'd shut your eyes, placing your phone onto the pillow with him on loud speaker as if he were there next to you, minus the contact.

"What if I mean it? I'm not going to stop if I'm telling the truth now am I?" Joe muttered, the way he was biting down on his lip revelling in the way the same butterflies practically punched his insides.

"Well do you?" Your eyes flung open, staring to the phone inches away from your head, curious as to why you hadn't shut yourself up yet and ended the conversation before.

"Always, babe." Babe. That was new.

Becoming as ignorant as you could've been, shooting your walls straight up that were already barricading your emotions towards your friend, you said goodnight eventually after trying to find the right words to say, it took every ounce of you not to just blurt out the words I LIKE YOU, NOTICE ME. And just like that, once you'd hung up, the thoughts took over more than ever as you tried to ignore the heat growing between your thighs. Just two words had drove you and the entirety of your body insane, it was the tone of voice he'd uttered those two words together that made it so perfect, you had to relieve yourself of the tension you'd created alone, the fact you relished in his voice now carved into your thoughts made your fingers wander downward as you laid bare, stroking a straight line through your slit making you shudder, goose bumps caressing your skin like Joe had put them there.

Spreading your legs further apart to open up wide for your hand to gain perfect access, you spat onto your fingers, lapping it straight onto your clit, lathering what was already becoming a mess on your cunt, your hole gaped at nothingness as you shut your eyes and began to imagine Joe's face pressed between your legs, humming as his tongue flickered over your aching bud, staring up at you with his sparkling brown eyes, you'd of liked to think he was enjoying what he saw, the way you squirmed your hips, bucking them upward as his lips sucked harshly. You bit down on your lip, muffling the moans escaping you, it truly never felt the same on your own and even though you'd never felt his touch, you just knew it had to be a million times better than anyone's; including yours.

You were too busy to notice that your phone had slipped under your elbow and that you'd unintentionally leaned on the answer button when Joe was calling once more, bad timing. You were too involved in reaching your climax to hear him shout your name when you didn't reply, he shut up when he heard the borderline pornographic noises from the receiving end. You were also to busy to notice that he'd heard your fingers faintly fucking your pussy at a marvellous speed and as soon as you groaned "Ugh, yes fuck me Joey" he hung up. He knew instantly that you were referring to him, you only called him Joey - heck there were no other Joseph's that you were actually friends with that he knew of.

Your body relaxed instantly tightening from a surge of power that rushed through your body when you hit the spot, moving your fingers into the weak place over and over saw electricity jolting up in your stomach as you slowly moved and then fastened your pace once more, a sharp breath led you to leaking out onto the sheets, climaxing over the building desire that was your friend's cock fucking you deep. Your thighs shut together as you tried to make the sensitive ache last longer, clenching your walls around the small, narrow length of your two fingers. Not far after you'd laid staring at the ceiling for a while, you dragged yourself to the bathroom to clean up, you swatted your head to the faint knock at the front door, still in a daze yet confused as to who would be paying a visit at this time.

Unknowing to you, the moment Joe had hung up the phone and realised what on earth was obviously happening mirrored the way he'd clearly been masturbating over you earlier that evening. He grabbed his keys, barely pushed his feet into his shoes before he'd launched himself out of the front door of his flat and made a run to the car to get to you as fast as he possibly could. He had to know.

A louder knock came from the door this time as you unhooked your dressing gown from the back of the bathroom door, tying the robe up nice and tight and rushing to take your keys to open up. The moment you flung it open, your friend stood before you in a mesmerised state. You furrowed your brow at him, extremely bewildered yet of course in your head and heart, happy to see him. "Hey Joey, um didn't we speak on the phone all of 20 minutes ago, what are you doing here at this hour?"

You stared at each other, his silence actually starting to nerve you a little, it wasn't like Joe to be speechless around you, yet here he was, his mouth opened slightly as if he was going to reply, yet no sound was made. His eyes bore into yours as you blinked back at him. "Is everything... ok?" You asked, tilting your head to the side.

"Did you-" His voice whispered as if he couldn't quite string the words together.

"Did I?" You choked on your reply, giggling at his out of character and way less chaotic and more stern looking behaviour.

You gestured for him to come in, still realising in the last two minutes that you'd not got an answer, that he was still stood out in the corridor that led to your flat. He walked through and leaned his elbows down straight to the countertop beside the door, you shut it and leaned against it, scrunching your face up at his weird etiquette.

"Are you going to tell me what's the matter or am I-"

"Did you moan my name?" Joe blurted out, staring to the ground not being able to even look you in the eye after his organs had pretty much vomited themselves upward the second the words came out of his mouth.

Your jaw fell to the floor, slightly scoffing at his question. "Excuse me?" He looked at you this time.

"You heard what I said Y/N and I'm pretty sure I heard you. Did you moan my name?"

Shit. "I- I-" You stuttered, your cheeks flashing red.

"I called you to tell you something I failed to mention before and you answered but you were clearly busy..." His eyes fell down to your thighs insinuating he knew exactly what you were up too. "But then I heard you moan my-"

You rushed into your bedroom cutting him off, picking up your phone and checking your call log. It was there as clear as day. Incoming call: Joey - 1 minute 42 seconds. Your whole body was sweating, your heart was beating out of your chest at 100 miles per hour. Joe shortly followed after you into your bedroom, slouching on your door frame whilst you sat at the edge of your bed, now you were the one that simply couldn't look him in the eye. You made yourself look as small as possible, lifting your knees up to your face to hug them, gently sitting your chin on top, your arms caging them tightly in a firm grip.

He slowly moved towards you, kneeling down on the floor, resting his hands either side of you onto the sheets. "Y/N?" He was trying to get a response, you owed him your honesty.

"I did." You muttered lowly.

"You meant to?" Joe whispered shyly. A state you'd rarely seen him in before.

"I did." You matched his tone, there was no going back now. Not especially when his hands pushed your shoulders back forcefully, making you land flat down on the mattress, Joe brought himself to the side of you, laying next to you, his doe eyes almost forcing you like a magnet to draw yours to his.

"What were you thinking about?"

"You." You bit down on your lip, speaking the obvious, yet the other obvious thing was that he already knew that, Joe just wanted to hear you say it out loud.

"That's all well and good Y/N, but I need you to be a bit more specific." His face lowered merely inches away from yours, his watch fluttered to your lips a couple of times.

"This is weird, I-I'm sorry." You attempted to sit back up, trying to ignore the situation unravelling before you. Even though you wanted him bad and had done for a long time, he was still only your friend. Joe didn't let you get as far as lifting your back up before his hand pressed against your shoulder again, his fingers playing with the material of your dressing gown as you instantly looked submissive in his touch. "Tell me." He growled.

"The way you would fuck me." You purred.

"Is that what you want?" A rising smirk fell onto his features, his mind was running wild, how could you actually want him as much as he wanted you; yet you both never realised. You nodded to his question and his face lowered fully, his lips pushing themselves firmly to yours as you quickly reciprocated the contact, his hand came up to cup your jaw as your lips moved in unison. His tongue begged for entrance and you gladly let it, the muscles working together to make the open kiss a more desperate one as they writhed around each other sweetly.

Your eyes fluttered open when Joe broke the kiss, a kiss you never thought would ever happen. "Wait is that what you want?" You asked quickly, your nerves only relaxing slight after that reaction. "Because I don't want this to be a pity snog." Joe chuckled at you, snorting laughter from his throat making his cute dimples shine.

"My darling, I've been wanting you for so long it's stupid." Joe smiled truthfully and you believed him, you were both almost completely vulnerable to each other now that the first kiss had come into play so there was no way you were hiding your feelings anymore.

"Wanting to just fuck me? or-"

"Absolutely not. That's what I called for, I wanted to confess how much I like you Y/N, but it's not just that, it's wanting to kiss you, wanting to hold your hand, wanting to hold you at night, wanting to call you mine-"

You cut him off reaching your lips to his once more, passionately smacking your mouth against his, your stomach was doing flips, your heart was punching the air proudly. Joe untied your robe revealing your naked body to him, abruptly stopping the heated moment and giving it a glance over, he sighed returning his gaze to yours. "So beautiful, I told you that you were pretty. I just knew the rest of you would be too. My god."

"So does that mean I can see you?" Joe nodded and stood up before you, you eyed down at his crotch to see his tightening bulge bursting from his zipper line. He stripped completely naked in front of you, not feeling awkward in the slightest as you examined his body, his top half you'd seen before, still as sexy as ever, yet the way your eyes grew a little lower down had him licking his lips, an all too confident smirk hit him. "Fucking hell Quinn, you're big." You blurted out without even thinking and it only made his confidence leap. You removed your dressing gown off of your arms and pushed it to the floor as Joe made a bee line for you as a fire grew in his eyes, your legs spreading apart as they had before but now with the man of your dreams laid between them.

His hands roamed onto your boobs, grabbing hold of them and letting his fingertips massage your nipples, hardening them between his digits. You gasped when his lips latched onto your neck, kissing, nibbling ever so slightly and moving downward to meet his fingers that were kept busy, they moved to the side to squish your breasts closer together, replacing them little flickers of his tongue one at a time, the ache between your legs soaring higher than before.

"What else were you thinking about love?" Joe raised his face to look up at you.

"Your h-head between my legs." You looked downward innocently as if you hadn't just said that.

"Your wish is my command then." He kissed down your stomach, back kneeling down at the end of the bed where he'd started before he'd got the first answer from you that he needed. Reaching his arms out and pulling your thighs, he dominantly took a hold of them, the tips of his fingers moulding into your skin when he dragged you towards him, kissing around your thighs slowly, making the ache only more painful due to his now teasing nature. Joe took one look at your wet slit, massaging his thumb on your folds as he opened them up to the side to get a better view. "Look at that pretty little pussy, all wet, just for me." Joe groaned, his cock clearly reacting to it, his tip twitching as a little pre-cum leaked out, he could've probably came from just staring at your cunt.

Joe spat down onto your clit, using one hand to keep you opened up as his thick finger stroked from top to bottom, the slick instantly coating him. "Fuck she's ready." He let out a breathy moan and dug in. His lips sucked onto your clit, clamping onto it for dear life as he earned a moan from your throat when he slurped, the taste of you almost ending him. The way his tongue flickered over your bud was better than your fantasy, the way he lapped up your juices, the way he teased you further down, circling around your entrance.

"Is that what you wanted baby, is this what your wet cunt needed? My mouth around it, did it need this too?" His tongue shoved its way through your hole, your hips flying upward as your hands came to fist his messy curls, pushing him inward, surely suffocating him as you let him tongue fuck you deep. "Oh my god yes! Just like that!" You squealed almost suddenly as his thumb reached back up, his tongue at work and you were now being frantically rubbed vigorously by the pressure of his thumb moving over your clit in a constant motion. Your body was in ecstasy, you knew you were right about him touching you this way, better than anybody had ever touched you. Nobody had ever made you cum in foreplay, not one man had given you a real climax, but Joe was too much of an expert, knowing your body better than you did so quickly for you to be faking this orgasm. Your breathing hitched and you swatted your face backward, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you felt your second pinnacle of the night starting. "J-J-Joey. I'm going to-"

His tongue curled upward and flattened out wide, hitting the right places and you gushed onto it, the loudest moan fell out of your mouth, your lungs fought for air when the sudden wave of sensitivity filled your body, your thighs twitching as you wrapped your legs around the back of his head, squeezing to fill any gap you might have had between one another, which was slim to nothing. Joe took a deep breath in as he pulled away, moaning into your cunt one last time, your legs relaxing back to their previous position and it wasn't long till Joe was back up met with your face again. "Your pussy is heaven Y/N, so fucking pretty and ready for my cock, now I get to fuck you - tell me how you want it baby." Joe moved his lips back to your neck, sucking at a part that made the soft little hairs at the back of your head stand up right.

"Ruin me." You groaned noisily and that was all he needed to hear.

He lifted himself above you, using his hands to hold himself up right as he lined himself up at your entrance, Joe knew he wasn't going to last terribly long at the expense of wanting you this way for so long and from the way he'd just eaten you like a starving animal but the time he had, he'd make it count. "Anything for my girl." My girl.

He slowly pushed inward and you took the entirety of his length perfectly, though scrunched your face up a little from his size. "Fuck you're so tight, you ready?" He was so sexy yet so thoughtful even still, making sure that you were ok before he completely wrecked you just as you'd asked him to. How was it possible to be so horny for someone yet still have those damn butterflies flipping around in your stomach like it was something beknown, like love. You nodded briefly. "Fuck me Joey."

"Where have I heard that before?" You instantly threw your hands over your face, embarrassed at what he was referring to. His came up to swipe them away from your face so he could look at you whilst he started to thrust his hips, starting slow and then building up a pace which saw his cock slamming in and out, his balls slapping against your ass. Your foreheads pressed down together, looking in unison at the way he shattered your hole, the way he fucked you so good.

"You take my cock so well pretty girl, so fucking well." You clenched your walls around him, squeezing the length of his cock making his arms flex as he shuddered above you, the headboard was smacking itself against the wall the more frantic his hips moved into you. "Shit don't do that I'll cum." You met each other's stare, biting your lip hard and he knew the game you were playing. Ripping himself apart from and kneeling upward, towering over you without any warning he flipped you over. "Fucking hell, that peachy bum is perfect, I knew it." He was completely done and you were completely under any command he could lay upon you, the way he man handled you almost made you cum again. "Arse up now."

You got into position straight away, your head pressed into the sheets as you raised your back end upward and his cock met your twinging cunt once more, his hands gripping at your waist as he pounded into you from behind, his head arching backward as he felt himself getting closer. "Oh god yes you feel amazing, better than I ever thought possible. Now tell me who you belong to baby, I want to hear it."

Your head was pushed down into the sheets as you tried to use your words, though you simply couldn't get them out. "Answer me when I ask you a fucking question." He demanded, one hand raised into the air and spanked straight down to your cheek making your head lean to the side, letting out a whimpered yelp from the hard blow. "I'm yours Joey, I've always been yours."

"And I'm yours, my darling, all fucking yours. Shit-" He pulled out quickly, jerking at his cock desperately, a moan so hot you couldn't quite comprehend if you'd heard it right saw him spewing his seed all over your ass cheeks. Slowly bringing himself back down from heaven, you remained in the same position whilst he darted to the bathroom and cleaned you up with a towel he found on the floor. Little did he know, this particular towel was the one you'd use to clean up earlier.

You rolled onto your back one he'd sorted you out, wiping his cock dry and tossing it to the floor beside your robe, he joined next to you, laying beside you as your chests heaved for air, looking up to the plain ceiling finding some sort of way to fathom on what just occurred. Both of your feelings now out in the open good and proper.

"Come here." Joe opened his arm out to you, instantly pulling yourself to rest your head down on his chest as his fingers bent awkwardly to sooth your still naked back.

"That was amazing Y/N, jesus christ." He sighed, pecking his lips onto the top of your head, your smiles beaming so hard you couldn't quite rip them apart from your features, it was like they were permanently moulded on your faces forever.

"Perfect. I'm so glad I accidentally answered you." Your cheeks flushed at your response, you had to start thinking before you spoke, idiot. You changed the subject quickly. "But what did you mean when you said better than you ever thought possible, Joey?" He wasn't dumb, he knew exactly what you were trying to get out of him. Joe licked his lips, his throat producing a small stifled laugh.

"You're not the only one who's had indecent thoughts about their friend love."

You laughed together, not an ounce of what had just happened was uncomfortable, it came so natural like it was genuinely meant to happen; the way Joe made you feel was like nothing you'd ever felt in your entire life. And now you laid there naked, snuggling like a couple that had been in love for years.

"Friend?"

"Say yes to me taking you to dinner tomorrow night and I might just make you more than my friend." Joe pulled you in closer as you lifted yourself up to look over at him.

"I'd love to go to dinner with you tomorrow night." Your eyes spoke to one another as a pleasant silence fell between you. You loved him.

[whorediaries-09]

Peppers

pairing: sirius black X Reader warnings: 18+ content, a lot of feelings, smoking, modern au!. let me know if i should add more. taglist and requests open <3 A/N- based on a dream i had 🤫

masterlist

the thick mist of sleep hung low in your eyelids as his cock pulsed in and out rhythmically out of your cunt. his lips ravaged yours, the scent of jasmine lulling you into an ecstasy of falling deeper, searching within yourself. you tugged at his hair, slowly moving your hips against his, the roughness of his pubic hair sensitive on your clit. the warmth of the sun poured through the windows, the softness of the cotton smooth against your back. your throat ripped out a guttural moan, your fingers digging into his locks as your eyes roll back to your skull. he digs his fingers into your waist, pulling you close as you feel your walls fluttering around him, the coil of orgasm boiling in your stomach.

whispering slowly, his name, in his ears, you release the coil in the pit of your stomach which lurches as your nipples perk, chest heaving slowly. he lets out a moan.

'sirius,' you croon, closing your eyelids as you feel him finishing inside you. his fingertips dig into your hips, as he falls on you, his tired body cowering yours, chest heaving with yours.

he pecks you on your lips, tucking stray hairs behind your ears, looking into your eyes. he croons your name and for a moment, you think you see something more that 'fuck buddies' behind his gray irises.

'that was better," he says, now falling beside you.

'than?' you question stretching out your limbs. you see his raven locks on spread out on his tattooed chest, the sweat clinging upon his porcelain skin, the scars from parental abuse. sunlight basks his face and his tender lips curl into a smile.

'than how you fuck when you are drunk.'

'ouhh,' you smirk, 'i s'ppose you have a thing for drunk doms?'

red taints his cheeks as he laughs, the depth of his laugh enlightening a fire inside your stomach. you smile, and get up from the bed.

staring out the window you stare. the warmth of the breeze flushes the curves on your body. you don't care about the glass windows, the potential someone could be staring at your completely naked body.

'hey,' he calls out 'do you wanna give them neighbours a show or something?' he asks.

you turn around to face him. a cigar drooped low from between his lips, a thin shirt clinging onto his frame, gray sweatpants hanging low on his thin waist.

'why'd you care?' you question him back. a flash of sadness appears in his eyes, but as soon as it does, it disappears. he smiles instead, offering you a comb.

'braid my hair,' he says, exhaling out smoke from his nostrils. you raise your eyebrow questioningly,

'braid it.' he said, a firm tone stitched in his voice.

'uhm? okay..if you insist,' you say, taking the comb from his grasp. 'only once though.' you add.

'hmm' he whispers, holding your hand. he sits on his bed, guiding you to his lap.

you sit down on his lap, your naked thighs wrapping around his waist. his fingers rake on your body, and you shiver, your fingers slightly tremble as you pass the comb through his silky locks. he pouts your lips, exhaling smoke into your mouth. you cough, jerking away from his grip. he removes the cigar from between his lips, and extinguishing it, he sighs.

he buries his face into your shoulder, as his warm breath fades over your neck. you sigh contently, separating his hair into three intersections. he hums under his breath, his fingertips cold on your back. your nipples perk up upon the contact, and he pushes you closer to his chest. you feel heat bubbling inside you but you don't say anything. you interlock the sections of hair, enjoying the silence and the sensuality of his touches.

he removes his face from your shoulder, his hands resting at your hips. he looks into your eyes, his gray ones pouring into you, and for a moment you think, or you do see a hint of softness in them.

'i love you' he whispers. goosebumps erupt on your skin, collywobbles in your stomach. your heart skips beats, you stare at him blank. you feel as if your tongue has been tied. he looks at you, genuinely.

'no,' you tremble as his grip tightens on your waist, 'you don't. no one does, and we,' you look away from his eyes as you feel your eyes burning, 'are nothing but fuck buddies.' he sighs, melancholia engraved in his tone as he speaks,

'i really do. trust me.'

'you haven't really left many reasons for me to do that.' you elaborate. you don't look into his eyes. his fingers travel up your chin, holding your face.

'i do. please a chance,' he says ' i know i've made my mistakes in the past. but i-' he exhales and you watch a teardrop roll down his porcelain skin. instinctively, you wipe it. '-i deeply regret them.' he finishes, looking into your eyes for answers like a kid.

'you do?' you ask. he stifles, 'i do.'

you consider him for a moment and he asks next,

'stay?' meaning more than just a fling.

you bury your face into his shoulders, taking in his scent. you smile against his skin as you whisper

'yes' you say, meaning more than just a fling. 'cause, i'm in love.' you say, watching goosebumps kiss you skin. you chuckle, happy at the affect you have on him.

i hope you liked this :)

[fakegingerrights]

Walk by Faith (1)

[Crosshair x Medic!reader. TW for nonsexual nudity and showering, medical procedures, blindness, seizures, angst, mentions of self harm and suicide.]

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“They call themselves: The Bad Batch.”

Crosshair panted, too bright, always too bright. Too cold hands of a kaminoan, their distinct medical smell and rubbery skin grabbing at his face to pry his eyelids open.

Crosshair screamed.

“A group of clones with ‘desirable mutations.’”

He wasn’t alone, of course. Hunter hated the lights too, his heightened senses making laboratory settings living hell for him. Tech’s constant testing for recall speed and IQ and the sheer amount of information crammed into his head often left him mumbling for hours, unable to think enough to remember his own name. Wrecker spent his nights in agony, growing pain was bad for all of them but his was worse, often spending nights in a drugged sleep to keep him from screaming as his limbs stretched and muscles tightened.

Now he sat in darkness. Alone. Not surrounded by the familiar groans and sighs of his brothers, alone in their own misery but at least present.

“Clone force 99 has been listed as traitors to the empire. Shoot to kill.”

Crosshair never missed. Never. But standing across from his brothers on that platform, watching as Hunter dragged Omega onto the Marauder, and he couldn’t do it.

It’s what got him to where he was now.

“CT-9904?” The new medic wasn’t a clone. The voice was feminine, but the thick bandages over his eyes prevented him from seeing your face. “I’m your assigned optician. I’m here to check how your eyes are accepting the new artificial lenses?”

There’s the sound of footsteps approaching. Crosshair didn’t have ears as good as Hunter, but he had spend enough time blind folded to have a good grasp on using his ears to the fullest.

“I’m going to touch your face now, please try to hold still.” You warned him. Crosshair went stone still, barely even breathing as soft hands brushed his face, deftly undoing the bandages that covered his eyes. He blinked, trying to clear his vision as his heart leapt into his throat.

“You’re doing this in the dark?” He asked, his voice hoarse, even though he already knew the answer.

“No. Until we’re sure your eyes have adjusted to the lenses, you’re on neural blockers to prevent you from consciously using your eyes. it wouldn't be anything more than a blurry mess anyways until they've settled. It should only be a day or two” You explained, a hand coming up to cup his cheek, thumb resting on the bottom of his tattoo, a slight warmth signifying a handheld light flitting across your face. “That’s quite the spot for a tattoo. The work on the eyelid is done well.” You remarked. Crosshair gritted his teeth. As glad as he was to not have a kaminoan working on him, natborns always talked too much.

“Tech did it.” He ground out. You hummed, pulling back sore eyelids to look under them.

“Tech?”

“CT-9902.” He spat the number out.

“Ah, I saw his file briefly. They contacted me to work on his goggles. Now hold still.” You commanded firmly, and Crosshair again went still as something itchy brushed across the surface of his actual eye, then the other one. “You have a name?”

“Crosshair.” Cross gritted out again. The new medic was getting on his nerves, but a small part of him was grateful. Since his squad decided to betray their empire, he hadn’t spoken this much to anyone in weeks.

“Oh! Like your tattoo?” There’s the sound of a tube opening.

“Yes, like the tattoo.”

“That’s really neat. I have a similar one, kinda. A replica of the scope’s readout from my father’s hunting rifle between my shoulder blades. He taught me to shoot with that blaster. Right, I’m going to apply some bacta to your inner eyelids, and then we’ll have to wait until it’s settled before I can apply eyedrops to counteract the dryness it will cause.” You chattered on, Crosshair barely listening. He stared at nothing, not even blinking until you told him he could. The bacta burned something awful, and tears ran tracks down his cheeks as he fought not to rub his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry about the sting, you know, we aught to really come up with something better than bacta, we kinda just use it as a cure all but-“

“Do you ever stop talking?” Crosshair’s annoyance got the best of him and he snapped, glaring in your direction through sightless eyes.

“Eh, I’ve been told I’m quite the chatter box.” You retort. “Right, gonna touch your face again.”

He grimaced as you leaned back into his personal space, so close he could smell your faint perfume as you tipped his head back and administered numbing eyedrops to ease the burning once the bacta had set long enough.

“How long until my sight returns?” He asked, turning his face upwards and blinking to help the eyedrops settle in.

“About a week, give or take a day.” You answered. “The Kaminoans, idiots, wouldn’t let me perform the surgery, and have declared I’m to be your nurse until your eyes have healed. Do I look- wait, no.” Crosshair glared in your direction. “Do I sound like a nurse to you? I’m an optometrist specializing in artificial lenses and improvements! Not that yours could be improved much. Your natural eyes are phenomenal. I’ve never seen more beautifully shaped retinas, and your pupil dexterity is amazing!”

“Yes yes, I get it. I’ve got good eyes.” Crosshair rolled his empty eyes. “Not what girls usually compliment me on, but I’ll take it.” He wasn’t sure why he kept indulging you in conversation. He’d rather be left alone to his own dark world.

“There aren’t many girls who know what to look for in a decent set if eyes.” You shot back, picking up the fresh set of bandages. Crosshair flinched when your knuckle brushed his temple.

“Sorry, I forgot to warn you. Just reapplying the bandages, then we can get you out of this wing and to your temporary outpatient accommodations.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly with relief at getting out of the lab before he caught the rest of what you said.

“I’m not going to my barrack?” He asked. Crosshair didn’t need eyes to know you were wincing.

“Yeah… about that. The long necked idiots decided you needed around the clock monitoring before your sight returned. And decided, since they’re my lenses in your eyes, you should be put with me. In my quarters.”

Crosshair scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

“Unfortunately, Commander, you don’t get a choice. Do you have anything you need out of this room?” You say briskly, looking around.

“I’m not staying in-“

“Nothing you need then?”

“…” Even through the bandages, you can feel his glare as he chews his lip. “Do you have a toothpick?”

“In my quarters. Right, let’s get you up.” Hands grab his shoulder and help him out of the post-op gurney and to his feet. He sways slightly as he tries to find his balance without his eyes. “Whoah there, I gotcha.” The hands on his shoulders tightened. “Wow, you’re tall. Ok, do you want to take my shoulder or have me take your arm?”

Crosshair hated this. He wanted to scream and tear the cloth away from his eyes and rub them until they stopped itching and he could see and-

And it wouldn’t do anything but give him an infection. The voice in his head sounded painstakingly like Tech, who was always trying to help.

“Shoulder.” He gritted out after a moment. Soft hands that had just thoroughly tortured him with their medicine now took his hand and placed it on your shoulder. He fell into step beside you, letting you guide him into the hall and through the corridor.

“Your room is on the left past the kitchenette, I moved as much of the furniture as I could out of your way. Our rooms are connected by a shared refresher, too.” You chattered on as he followed you through the halls.

The darkness without his vision never failed to unsettle him. Kamino is always so bright, so blindingly white... even without vision the shadows felt out of place.

"Here we are." Your voice startled him out of his thoughts. "I'll drop you at your room and let you get settled from there. You won't be drilling while you recover but your armor and rifle is on the bed."

You set his hand against the doorframe into his room. "If there's an emergency shout and I'll be there."

Yeah, right.

The room was small, Crosshair was thankful for that. Less space for him to memorize. He sat down on the bed, taking a deep breath and fighting the urge to scratch at his eyes. He focused instead on mapping out the unfamiliar bunk. It was about the size of the one in his barrack, maybe a hair bigger. the most curious thing though was the dense, soft quilt that draped over it. It certainly wasn't anything from Kamino. On a hunch, he let a hand drift up to run a finger along the edge of the pillow.

Cotton. And thick. Not the thin cushion the kaminoans insisted on. It smelled off too, like fresh air and sunshine rather than bleach.

Had you... made up the bed for him?

Crosshair shook off the thought and all it entailed. There was a bedside desk of sorts, a datapad resting on it. Not that he would be able to do anything with it...

At the foot of the bed was his sniper rifle and armor, which he quickly checked over. Everything seemed to be in order.

Satisfied he could at least confidently navigate his temporary sleeping space, he kicked the quilt to the foot of the bed and curled up on the mattress, giving a quiet sigh of appreciation as he let himself sleep for the moment.

---

He awoke to a soft knock at the door, then the sound of it sliding open. Crosshair suppressed a twitch and focused on maintaining his breathing, staying as still as possible.

"Cross- oh." Your voice went from a casual tone to barely above a whisper. He feigned sleep and focused on listening to your footsteps as you padded across the room, pausing by the table.

There was the clatter of something... cutlery? And the faint smell of hot rations from the mess. Kriff, he must've slept longer than he meant if you were bringing in food already. He fought the urge to tense as he felt your presence close to him, then down by his feet where he had kicked the quilt. The sensation of the weight being pulled from the edge of the cott and the rustle of heavy fabric, he barely stifled a flinch as the blanket touched down over his shoulders first before coming to rest over the rest of him.

Then your footsteps retreated back towards the door, and he let himself relax a little more.

"I know you're awake, Crosshair. Food's on the desk if you're hungry. Double portion, to help you make up the weight you've lost the last few weeks." Your tone was still soft, and slightly... amused? Were you laughing at him? "The overhead lights are off but the desklamp is on. I'm out here if you need anything."

The door slid shut again. The quilt was heavy, but deceptively cool against his exposed skin, the white shirt and loose pants of the medical ward suddenly left him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Crosshair huffed a long sigh, sitting up and folding his knees up against his chest. He started with his ankles, slowly and methodically going through and cracking every joint all the way up to his neck then down his arms, stretching as he goes and enjoying the sensation of his muscles relaxing. He trailed one of his hands up against the smooth surface of the desk until he bumped the tray, then feeling around the edges for the warmth of where the rations would be.

Satisfied with the layout of his trey he moved to eat over the desk. As he did so, he also found a glass of water and a hefty box of toothpicks.

He picked at the food, getting barely halfway through before he pushed it away, downing the water and settling back on his bed to chew on a toothpick in sullen silence. His eyes ached. It wasn't a new sensation, but it was much more annoying. Especially that he was now left alone in the dark instead of having his squad around him to distract him.

Crosshair shook his head. That line of thought never ended well recently. He opted instead to grab his tray and glass and slip into the shared living space, setting them carefully in the sink and rinsing them over. There's the chatter of noise... a holo drama of some kind? And your voice from behind him and to his left, against the far wall.

"You know, you can change out of those awful medical uniforms if you want to." You called. Crosshair grunted.

"Don't have anything else. It's this or my blacks." He shot back, wincing at how gravely his voice sounded.

"Really? Nothing else?"

He rolled his eyes behind closed lids on impulse, then winced at the stinging feeling of the motion. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Sorry. That just seems a little spartan, though. Even for- well."

"A clone?" He drawled the word out. "We're property. Property can't own property, so we have enough to keep us from running around naked."

"Now that would be a sight. Kaminoans would be under a lot of heat for it though, since then there'd be no doubt about your humanity." There's a clatter of you setting something down, a datapad, probably. "Actually, scrap that. They'd just use it as more marketing. Do you want me to make a few calls, get you something else to wear?"

"That is... unnecessary. These are fine." Other clothes would be nice, Crosshair mused. He hated how much he sounded like Tech in that moment, but really, these would do just fine. He was a weapon for the Repub- Empire. He got what was given to him and didn't ask for more.

His momentary confusion sent a jolt of pain through the side of his head, he pressed a palm to it with a wince. Everything seemed to fizzle around him before snapping back to it's usual feeling. Dimly, he heard your voice talking to him.

"-Hair? Crosshair, are you alright?" Fingertips grazed his cheek just below the bandages. His hand snapped up to close around your wrist in a bone crushing grip. Kriff, when had you gotten close enough to touch him? "Ow, owowowow, ok, Buddy, you gotta let me go here. Take a breath." Your other hand came up to pry at his fingers. He took a shuddering breath and slowly released his death grip, his hand slipping away to hang limp at his side.

You mumble a few nasty curses that made his eyebrows raise slightly below the bandages, pulling away to presumably rub at your sore wrist.

"Warn me before you go grabbin me." He ground out in lieu of an apology, moving to push past you. You stopped him with your good hand on his chest.

"I did. You didn't hear me. Come sit down, I need to check your vitals." Your tone was stern, and he sighed knowing he wasn't gonna be able to get out of this one. He ground down on his toothpick as you took his elbow and lead him over to what felt like a low sofa, pushing him down onto it. If he had his eyes uncovered, he'd be glaring daggers.

"I thought you weren't a nurse." He bit the words out. You give him a snort in return.

"I'm not. But I am your around the clock care for now. Wanna tell me what that was? Gonna check your blood pressure, can I have your non-dominant arm?"

Crosshair held out his right arm, and you tapped his hand twice to warn him before moving to slip the cuff around his arm, taking care to maintain some form of contact so you didn't startle him again. "Just a lapse in attention." He lied through his teeth.

"Crosshair." Your tone was tired, borderline scolding him.

"It's a recurring headache. I've had it since the Reformation." he ground out. "It's on the side of my head, up high. Bleeds down into a migraine above my right eye."

"I'm gonna do a bloodcheck. Can I have your little finger? Little poke." He held out his hand as you slipped the blood pressure cuff off. He hissed as the needle lanced into his skin and out, taking a fair amount of blood [and actual flesh] with it. "Right, while that processes, we're gonna go to the refresher and get you cleaned up."

"My inability to see doesn't mean I can't bathe myself just fine." Crosshair hissed.

"You can do your body on your own just fine, but I need to get your eyes for you. We don't want to risk infection and you got some blood and crusties that would probably feel much better gone." You tap his elbow and pull him to his feet. "And while you're bathing, no shower. Bath only, keep the water away from your face and eyes, no soap-"

"I know post op care, Doc. Not my first time under the long neck's knife." Cross ground out.

"-And I'll leave you to do that while I track down some proper clothes for you." You finished, taking him through his room into the refresher. "Edge of the tub is behind you. Gonna have you sit on the floor in front of it and lean over it, ok? I'm gonna have my hands all over your face and head, so I'd appreciate it if you don't grab me again." He felt with his foot until his heel found the tub and lowered himself to the floor with a sigh. The tub was partially sunken into the ground, so the lip was fairly close to the floor. It was a little awkward at first as he slowly slid down until he was resting mostly laying on the ground with his head on the edge of the tub.

"Mk, right next to you, Crosshair." You said, tapping his shoulder lightly. "Let's get another look under these wraps, ok? I'll be gentle." As if you'd risk being anything else. Wouldn't want to damage the Empire's perfect weapon. He focused on breathing as you slowly unwound the strips from his face, blinking away the gritty feeling of his eyelids finally being able to move freely. He squinted through puffy eyelids into the darkness on instinct, trying to search for even a whisper of change or movement. "Ah, careful now. Nothing to see, remember? Do you want your eyedrops now or later?"

"Later." He grunted, to a small chuckle from you. He glared in your direction, but you paid him no mind.

"Lift your head for me?"

He did so, and he heard the slide of coarse fabric against ceramic as you slid a folded up towel under his neck and shoulders so they weren't digging into the smooth surface of the tub. He always hated this part.

The sound of the spigot being opened made him flinch, and he could feel flecks of water hitting the back of his head as the sound of a bottle being filled hit his ears. He gritted his teeth, waiting.

"Ok, bear with me now, gonna be up in your face for a bit." You warned, turning the faucet off again. Crosshair grunted an acknowledgement, bracing himself. Your off hand, the one he'd grabbed, he noted, slid under the base of his skull to better support his head as a damp microfiber cloth was dabbed at the disgusting mess of bacta, mucus, blood, and who knows what else that had gathered in the innermost corner and under his eyes, slowly breaking apart the mess with as little pressure as possible.

Crosshair swallowed, his pulse ticking up slightly before he remembered to go back to focusing on his breathing as you worked your way outwards, into the edges of his eyes. Memories flitted to the surface of his mind, of his eyes being rinsed out with something like a power washer as a cadet whenever he got another eye infection and the itchy, blurry vision he always had after another round of testing, debating on whether or not he was good enough or if he needed more improvement. Blinding white alternating with terrifying darkness, he hated not being able to see.

"Crosshair?" Your voice was soft, right next to his ear. It pulled him out of the painful memories as he realized you were no longer working on his eyes. "Is everything alright?"

"Situation Normal." His voice was raspier than he would have liked, sound just a bit too choked to be 'fine.'

"Alright. The worst of it's over, ok? Everything is looking good." There was the click of a soap bottle, and he tensed up again as the faucet was turned back on. His breathing, which he had done well at keeping metronome-steady up until this moment, caught slightly as something cold touched his scalp and the hand behind his head carefully pulled away.

"What're you doing?" He growled.

"Washing your hair. You'll feel better once it's done, trust me." Your voice had lost it's worried note, amusement creeping in as you begin to work the shampoo into his close cropped hair, gently scrubbing away at layers of built up sweat and dander at the edges of his hairline. "There you go, relax. I'm not going to hurt you, Commander."

Crosshair did his best, closing his eyes. It might've been your imagination, but he seemed to be leaning into your touch ever so slightly.

You switched to a small tipped squirt bottle you had filled earlier and began gently rinsing away the suds, a hand coming up to make sure none got close to his eyes. He shifted against the towel under him, listening to the still running faucet as you washed the last of the soap away, close cut nails still scratching at his scalp.

Just for a moment, he let himself drift. Just for a moment, the hands in his hair were stronger. Rougher, calluses from a knife dragging against his curls, murmuring in Mando’a in his ear-

Then you pulled away, and the illusion broke.

“I’m going to go grab you some clothes, okay? The tub is full and the water is warm. Oh, hold on.” You pull away and pause as he makes the tiniest sound in the back of his throat, then covers it with a dry cough. It almost feels like you imagined it, and not sure what to do, you ignore it.

Crosshair waits with bated breath, but slowly relaxes as you don’t seem to notice his slip up. Stupid of him, getting lost in the past.

“Ok, I’ve got an elastic cover here, just gonna slip it over your eyes so you don’t get water in them. You can take it off when you get out, but I’d like you to at least sleep with it on so you don’t rub in your sleep.” He immediately stiffens, waiting for the awful scratchy material to be pulled over his head-

Only for gentle hands to pull something soft and silky down over his eyes, barely a weight. He lets out the breath he’d been holding as you fuss with it for a second, making sure it won’t slip off.

“Ok. All good, Commander?”

“All good, Doc.” His answer is immediate. Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he suppresses a flinch.

“Ok, you can come out whenever you’re done. I’ll bring you some proper clothes.” And then he was alone in the dark once more.

Slowly, methodically, he shrugged out of the thin white shirt and loose pants before stepping down into the tub, hissing slightly at the hot water. The burn felt good though, as he eased himself down to sit in a ball in the corner of the tub.

It was a much longer bath than Crosshair had ever had, letting the hot water be a distraction from his own mind as he methodically soaped up and rinsed enough that the water must be cloudy. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dirt, of the sensation of it caked into his skin and under his nails and-

That’s enough of a bath today. He opened the drain and listened to the water swirling down, a rap at the door catching his attention.

“What do you want?” The words are harsher than he means, but he can’t bring himself to feel too bad about them.

“Clothes, not that maker-forsaken medical uniform. I’m not looking, just gonna set them on the counter.”

The door slid open and you shuffled in, your footsteps slow and hesitant as you blindly reached for the counter, setting the stack down before retreated.

Ha, modesty around a clone.

Crosshair grabs the towel that was folded behind him earlier and dried off, gingerly patting around his hair before searching out whatever you had brought. His fingers came in contact with soft polymer and heavy cotton as he found the teeshirt and sweats you had left for him, sliding into them with a shiver.

These weren’t clone clothes. These were the expensive sleepwear they reserved for natborns. They smelled of expensive detergent rather than the bleach based mess that was used for clones, turning what little clothes they had scratchy and awful to touch.

He padded out through his room and into the main living area, taking off the soft eyewrap while he did so and made his way to the sofa. His foot found it before he did and he swore, much to amusement of you already on the sofa.

“Do you want a hand?” You asked, a smile in your tone. Crosshair sat down with a glare and a rude gesture in your direction.

“Eyedrops?” He asked.

“Oh! Yeah, we should do that now. Stay there.” He felt the sofa shift as you stood up, collecting what sounded like a bag from the other side of the room and returning to your seat.

“Got them. Ok, hold still, try not to flinch.” You instructed, tapping his shoulder twice to prepare him as you tilted his head up. He went stone still, breathing slowing to barely a gasp as a thumb swept sore eyelids up, he fought the urge to blink as two drops splashed into each eye.

“Ok, ok easy.” The hand released his chin and your presence retreated. “Take a breath, Crosshair. You’re trembling.”

Crosshair took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and keeping his head leaned back against the back of the couch as he closed his eyes.

“M’fine.” He grunted. “Hate these.”

You snorted softly, patting his knee sympathetically. Even through the heavy material of his sweats, he felt the odd shape of a bandaged hand. He frowned slightly, that hadn’t been there before.

“Yeah, they’re not pleasant.” You agree, settling back. “You’re not supposed to use a datapad but do you want to listen to a book or something?”

Crosshair just grunted. “What’ja do to your hand?” He asked.

“My…. Oh. You did that, actually. When you grabbed me earlier. It’s just a bruise, nothing too bad.” You shrug off the concern as Crosshair shifts to get more comfortable.

“You should have warned me-“

“I did, Commander. You were too out of it to notice. Speaking of which, your blood results came back. When did you get electrocuted?”

The question took Crosshair by surprise.

“I haven’t been.” He forgot to sound angry at the question. You gave a small ‘huh.’

“You have a lot of ionized carbon in your bloodstream, from either a massive jolt or long term low level shocks.” You reported.

“I’m a mutant. Gonna have weird blood.” He mumbled back.

“Not like this.” You huffed. “It doesn’t match previous levels of your blood samples.”

Crosshair blinked the eyedrops away again, feeling the grittiness diminish for a moment.

“They took me. After we came back from our last mission with a jedi. They kept me from my brothers. I don’t remember what happened much after that.” The words felt… strange, to admit them aloud. A bolt of pain shot through his head, making him gasp slightly as a hand shot up to the side of his head. It was a lot worse than it had been in a while.

Flashes and echos of memory assaulted him, Hunter’s cold glare, Tech’s sneering face, Wrecker’s rage and Echo’s snide pity as they abandoned him on that platform. The roar of the jets as they betrayed the Empire, betrayed him.

Hunter opening his mouth to shout-

“Crosshair? Commander Crosshair.” His eldest brother’s voice came out panicked and feminine, not a clone’s voice. Crosshair was yanked out of memory, the haze of pain lifting slightly. Soft hands, gentle hands, scraping over his hair, massaging the cramping muscles in his hands as tremors wracked his whole body.

He was vaguely aware he was laying against someone, his head under a chin and legs bracketing his thighs to keep him from thrashing as he struggled to remember how to breathe.

“Crosshair, can you hear me?” The voice came from behind him, rumbling through him like a jolt of clear water. He managed a rough nod. “Good. I want you to try and match my breathing. In for 8, hold for 5, out for 8.”

You slowed your breathing down, counting softly. It took him a few seconds but he managed, pants turning into shaky but even breaths.

“‘Appened?” Crosshair slurred, not even trying to fight even as he realized it it wasn’t a brother under him but a doctor.

“You had another episode. This one was a lot worse. You were screaming and thrashing and-“ You had to take a breath, calm yourself before you startled him worse. “Can you describe to me how you’re feeling?”

Crosshair groaned softly, your hands returned to his close cropped silver curls and resumed combing through them.

“Head hurts… confused…” He closed his sightless eyes, relaxing into your touch.

“Yeah? Can you tell me where you are?”

Crosshair was silent for a long time. “Temp medical housing.” His voice was stronger.

“Good. Anything weird you’re seeing?”

“Doc, I’m blind for another day or so. Lemme up.” His attitude was the next to return, pulling your arms off of him and sitting up, palming his head and going to rub his eyes before stopping himself. The couch shifted under him as you moved.

“Careful. Careful. I’m going to go grab you a painkiller and something to drink.”

He grunted an acknowledgement, listening to you clatter around the kitchenette while he massages at his temples in an effort to release the tension prickling at his scalp.

“Hey.” He jumped as your voice came from a lot closer than he was expecting, and winced slightly at your instant step back incase you needed to avoid a blow. “Hey. Still with me?” Your voice was softer the next time. Crosshair nodded. “Alright. I’ve got a painkiller, but it’s gonna make you sleepy, ok? And water. You’re dehydrated.”

A cup was pressed into his hands and he took a drink before tilting his head to the side and exposing his neck.

“Good, you already know the drill. Ok, I’m right next to you, little pinch.”

It was not a little pinch, it never was. It hurt. But it was quickly replaced by the feeling of lead in his veins as a weight settled over him. He took another drink of the water before setting it down, not having the energy to fight it.

Crosshair tried to get to his feet, but his balance was a skewed mess. A hand slid under his shoulders to steady him as the world rocked wildly.

“You wanna sleep out here or in your room, decide fast.” Your voice was a gentle murmur in his ear.

“Second.” He gritted out, accepting your help with annoyed resignation as you half carried him to his room and set him down on his bunk.

“Get some rest, Commander. You’ve done so well today.” Your voice echoes like it’s from a long ways off. He falls back against the pillow, and the quilt is settled over him. He’s asleep before he can even curl up properly

---

“One day, Cross, we’re gonna be proper Commandos. No more labs for us.” Hunter’s voice is right by his head, whisper soft.

“Me too?” Wrecker, six years old and already almost as tall as the trainers. “And Tech?” Tech had been the one for testing that day, he was snoring away tucked against Wrecker’s side.

“All of us.” Hunter promised. “We’re gonna be free of testing and together fighting tinnies and living free.”

Crosshair just rolled over. Wishful thinking, at best.

[A/N: Whew! This is kinda awkward to break into chapters, but I'm trying. I've decided to release it chapter by chapter and then publish the master when I'm done so everyone is happy, got it? Taglist:

@rinwritesfics @endo-bunny @renon4224 @tecker ]

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

This one is a slightly altered version of one of the prompts, because I thought it was a bit more interesting that way:

35. “I trusted you with my heart.” “Well, I’m sorry but you’re clearly very gullible.”

could work well in combination with these ones:

33. "You think I wanted this to happen?!” 49. “I fell in love, so hard, and so fast, but a part of me knew it wasn’t going to last.”

My thoughts/ideas: Sinner!Adam makes a deal with Lucifer for protection, and falls for him incredibly hard after being reminded of how they were in Eden. Luci is mostly just fucking with him for the feeling of power over the former angel. Their perspectives on the relationship are different, and Adam shows his trust by confessing some of his feelings for Luci. Sadly it doesn't work out. Or maybe it does?? Maybe Luci changes his mind after? The ending is all open for whatever your mind can come up with.

As always, take every prompt however you want, include or leave out whatever you prefer, and have fun with it!!

Indigo (loved what you did with my first request!!!!)

*Cracks knuckles* Buckle up Buckaroos! This one's gonna hurt.

I'm glad you're enjoying them 😁

Content Warning: Mildly graphic smut

Adam sobbed into his pillow, his heart shattered a hollow feeling in his chest. How could he be so fucking stupid? He should have known better than to try and tell Lucifer his true feelings.

He didn't use the word love. Adam didn't want to go crazy in case Lucifer wasn't there yet and scare him away. The conversation was burned into his mind.

"I really like you, Luci." It was the truth even if it wasn't a full confession of feelings.

He didn't expect his answer to be a blank stare. "Well, I don't completely hate you if that's what you want to hear."

Completely? "The fuck do you mean completely?"

"Jesus Adam, what do you think it means? You didn't really think I have feelings for you, do you?" Lucifer smirked at the shocked and hurt look on the sinners face. This asshole has hurt so many people, it was only fitting that Lucifer be the one to hurt him back.

So why did those words hurt him too? Like he was lying?

"B-but, I trusted you with my heart." Adam said, he felt his chest was heavy. This was going so wrong so fast. He thought at least that Lucifer LIKED him, they were having sex for fuck sakes!?

"Well I'm sorry, you're clearly very gullible and desperate. That's on you, boo." Lucifer said, he wanted to hurt Adam, but the broken look on his face didn't make him feel as good as thought it would.

"B-but, w-w-we...."

"Have sex? Yeah sure, you're a good lay. Like you were made to take it. But that's all that's good here. Why do you think I only want to fuck you from behind?"

Adam hadn't thought about it, he just assumed it was an easier position. Bile rose in his throat, fuck he was so stupid! How could he think that things could be like they were in Eden? Had he really forgotten that this guy is the literal devil.

He had to get the fuck out of there. Adam felt his heart shatter as he ran away to his room in the hotel. Slamming and locking the door he threw himself onto his bed and just let it all out. He sobbed into his pillow, he hadn't cried like this in years.

So that brings him to the now. Sniffing sadly into his tear stained pillow, wishing he would just die. Why did no one love him? He deserved it, even sinners filthier than him had love!

Maybe he didn't deserve it......

Lucifer stood there, feeling like a sack of shit. Well fuck, that didn't feel the way it was supposed. Adam's heart broken face was tattooed on his eyelids every time he blinked, making his own heart ache.

Okay, maybe the devil did return Adam's feelings. But he wasn't supposed to! This has been about power and dominance over the fallen angel, making him powerless at the king's finger tips. The way he felt under him.....

But now, now he took notice of the little things Adam did like how his nose crinkled when he smiled, or how his eyes would shine when he'd speak about rock music or how his laugh was contagious and loud and warm.

As for why he only had sex with him from behind, Lucifer knew that if he looked into those golden eyes while in the act his fate would be sealed.

Fuck. Maybe it already was.

He had to make this right.

So now Lucifer stood in front of Adam's door. He thought about knocking but knew he may not be let in, so he used a portal.

The sight before him broke his own heart. This isn't what he wanted. "Adam?"

Adam jumped at his voice and glared, though he looked more sad than angry. His face being stained with tears didn't help. "The fuck do you want? Get out!"

"No. Look, I'm sorry I was wrong." Lucifer sat down at the edge of Adams bed, the sinner flinched and moved away slightly.

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"What's the matter? Afraid you won't get fucking laid again asshole?" Adam seethed as he glared daggers at the king.

"I wanted to hurt you. For everything you've done." Lucifer started he watched Adams face crease in concentration. "But in doing so, I ended up hurting myself too. I didn't expect to have any feelings for you Adam. Hell, I didn't expect you to have feelings for me."

"You think I wanted this to happen?" Adam sat up to properly look at Lucifer. "I fell in love so hard and so fucking fast." Adam felt his eyes water again, might as well spill the whole beans. "Part of me knew this wouldn't last."

"You love me?" Lucifer asked, well shit this changes things.

Adam looked away. Here we go again, he's going to get his heart ripped out twice in one day. Adam squeaked when he felt lips crashed against his own, he was pinned to the mattress with Lucifer on top of him. Adam should push him away, stay mad. But that kiss both made him ache and healed him in one.

Lucifer snuck his tongue into Adams mouth, he smiled when he pulled a weak moan from the sinner. He would fix this, he had to. He couldn't let Adam get away again, it has been too hard to get him back after last time. "Let me make it up to, baby."

Sure enough, looking Adam in the eye like this only sealed in his true feelings. Seeing the hope and love in those beautiful golden eyes had him in a vice grip.

Adam should tell him no, kick him out. But his heart yearned for any affection that the king would give, he didn't care how he got it as long as he did. "Better make it worth my fucking while, dick hole."

And he did. This was the first time that Lucifer had sex with Adam facing him, in missionary. His gaze never leaving Adams. It was soft, slow, and sweet Lucifer made it all about Adam making sure he felt every little sensation. He whispered praises and sweet nothings into his ear, kissing his neck and mouth gently.

Adam soaked it up like a sponge, his head swimming his heart beating so fast. "Ooooh Luci.~"

"Yeah, that's it darling." Lucifer kissed him firmly, stealing the air from Adams lungs.

How could he have almost let him get away? Adam was his, mind, body, heart, and soul. That last one literally. He would never let him go, so maybe it was fine to give him something in return. He whispered it in Adams ear, like a velvet caress. "I do love you."

Long legs wrapped around him pulling him deeper. "I love you, too." Adam weeped, a tear rolled down his cheek. He held on to Lucifer for dead life like he'd float away. "Ahhhhh!" Adam came, bliss taking him over.

Lucifer followed behind, they stayed there like that for a while, breath mingling together as they panted. Lucifer cupped Adams jaw and kissed him sweetly, he watched as Adam melted under his touch. The king swore he melted himself.

He held him close, they said nothing for a while. "Did you mean it?"

Lucifer looked down into those eyes and yes, he knew he meant it. They were filled with love, hope, apprehension, and fear. "Yes I meant it."

Adam smiled weakly and oh, how that soft look was one Lucifer wanted to protect and keep in place. He placed a kiss in his soft hair, resting his chin there as he held Adam close.

From this moment forth he vowed to never intentionally hurt Adam.

Making him happy felt so much better.