#I need to do something but it feels impossible

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

part one | two | three | bonus chapter | four

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days. 

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days. 

It’s scary. 

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else. 

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space. 

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up. 

But you’re not quite there yet. 

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy. 

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting. 

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice. 

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting. 

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either. 

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause. 

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally. 

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick. 

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach. 

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment. 

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all. 

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat. 

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat. 

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself. 

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position. 

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him. 

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass. 

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that. 

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step. 

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy. 

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you. 

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea. 

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence. 

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes. 

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there. 

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather. 

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do. 

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue. 

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder. 

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out. 

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person. 

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now. 

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort. 

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you. 

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him. 

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle. 

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer. 

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up. 

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes. 

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.  

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man. 

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that. 

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind. 

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—” 

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again. 

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this. 

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings. 

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you. 

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff. 

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group. 

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice. 

Soon, it’s just the two of you. 

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond. 

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.” 

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high. 

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts. 

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence. 

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice. 

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud. 

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing. 

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset. 

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running. 

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears. 

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream. 

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care. 

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right. 

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you. 

You feel like you might throw up. 

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away. 

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking. 

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is. 

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying. 

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder. 

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette. 

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you. 

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection. 

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you. 

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them. 

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again. 

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.  

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale. 

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice. 

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive. 

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more. 

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby. 

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again. 

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink. 

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.  

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words. 

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles. 

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk. 

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup. 

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant. 

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit. 

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it. 

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede. 

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done. 

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you. 

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him. 

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom. 

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta. 

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever. 

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side. 

“You in there?” 

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup. 

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing. 

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes. 

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating. 

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him. 

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate. 

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed. 

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive. 

Spencer attempts to speak again. 

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?” 

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face. 

You don’t know where it comes from, either. 

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms. 

Too scared. 

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too. 

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room. 

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final. 

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home. 

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do. 

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing. 

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet. 

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move. 

If only time would freeze before he could walk away. 

But it doesn’t. 

He sucks in a decisive breath. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. 

It’s that fucking phone call all over again. 

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up. 

[worldlxvlys]

PART 2 OF LAST TIME PART 2 OF LAST TIME PART 2 OD LAST TIME

maybe one last time…

chris sturniolo x poc! reader

warnings: smuttt, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public sex, ass slapping, choking, cockwarming, dry humping, grinding, getting caught, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), edging, cursing

summary: four times it was the “last time” and one time it wasn’t

a/n -> this is longggg, hence the plethora of warnings 😭

read part one for context !!

FOUR TIMES IT WAS THE “LAST TIME”:

ONE. SOMETHING IN HIS EYE.

“chris! stop moving your hand!” i giggled as i moved it back into my view.

“ok, sorry but it’s cold!” he spoke defensively, referring to the nail polish that i was applying to his fingers.

“you’re being dramatic, plus this is literally the last coat” i told him while i finished up.

“hey, i think there’s something in my eye, could you check for me?” he asked suddenly.

“uh, yeah. which one?” i asked as i shuffled closer to him on my knees.

i placed my knees on either side of his legs, cupping his jaw to make him look up at me. his hands immediately wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his lap.

“the right one” he whispered as he stared down at my lips, his grip on me tightening slightly.

“better not mess up those nails, chris” i reminded him as i gently lifted his eye lid, looking for the cause of his discomfort.

his hands gradually made their way lower and lower until they landed on my ass. i didn’t say anything, attempting to stay focused on the task at hand.

he squeezed my ass, making me jump lightly and pulling a groan from his lips. i shifted on his lap, readjusting myself so i could see what i was doing.

“blow it” he spoke suddenly, catching me off guard. “what?” i asked, unsure if i heard him correctly.

“to help clean my eye, blow on it” he clarified. “oh” i breathed out.

i leaned forward, making us impossibly close to each other, blowing into his eye.

“did i get it?” i asked as he moved his head back, blinking rapidly.

he moved slightly, causing me to feel something hard poking into my thigh. “chris” i spoke in a warning tone.

“just-please help me” he whispered, his head falling forward into my shoulder. “what about your eye?” i asked, rubbing his scalp with my fingers.

“oh- it’s fine, you got it. just please, please. i need you so bad”

“what happened to us stopping this?” i asked as he began to rut his hips into mine. “fuck, i know. i know. we gotta stop” he whispered to himself, continuing to grind himself against me.

he tilted his head up, his nose brushing against mine with his eyes closed. his jaw went slack as i pushed my hips further onto him.

he leaned forward, placing a kiss on my cheek. he placed another on the corner of my lips, moving to finally plant his lips on mine. before our lips could touch, however, the sound of his phone ringing caused us to jump away from each other.

“shit” he breathed out, reaching into his pocket to answer it.

“hello?” he answered in an annoyed tone.

yeah, there was never anything in his eye.

————

TWO. PAYING ATTENTION

“absolutely not”

“chris, you can’t stop me. i wanna watch my show while i take my bath” i shrugged my shoulders at him.

“our show” he corrected, “and i wanna watch with you. that’s the whole point” he whined, watching as i grabbed the clothes that i left in his drawer for when i ended up staying the night.

“sorry, my mind’s made. do what you gotta do to stay up to speed, i’m watching it” i told him before moving past him to his bathroom, closing the door behind me.

what i wasn’t expecting, though, was to hear a knock on the door once i was comfortable and my show was queued up.

i let out a sigh as i shouted a quick, “come in, chris!” . he came in, sitting on the edge of the tub.

i looked up at him, eyeing him curiously. his eyes met mine and he motioned towards my ipad that was playing the show, perched on top of the tray i had set up across the width of the tub.

“you said to do whatever i had to, i’m not missing a second of this show” he spoke, his eyes fixed on the screen.

i found that pretty odd, considering the fact that he barely pays attention to this show any other time we watch it together. now he just couldn’t miss a second of it? i wasn’t stupid, i knew exactly what he was doing.

“you’re not slick, chris” i told him. “i see what you’re doing here” i watched as he attempted to fight the smile growing on his face.

“i have no clue what you’re talking about” he spoke. he lasted a few more minutes before getting up from his seat on the side of the tub.

his gaze moved from the show to my body, never wavering as he pulled his shirt over his head. i did my best to hide the effect that his stare had on me, but the swishing of the water around me caused by my clenching thighs made it difficult.

“i need a better angle” he spoke, “can i get in too?”

him and i both knew that the show was the last thing he was worried about. if i was going to give in, i wasn’t making it so easy for him.

“here, i’ll just turn it so you can see it better” i spoke, moving it so he could get a better view. his face dropped as he realized there was no excuse to get in.

“i just wanna be closer to you” he spoke, his eyes softening slightly.

i’d never folded so quickly in my life.

“come on” i gestured for him to get in, moving forward to make room for him while he took off the rest of his clothes.

when he finished, he made his way into the tub behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull my body into his.

he placed a soft kiss to my shoulder, clasping the hands that were around me together and placing his chin on my shoulder while he watched the show.

i desperately tried to pay attention to the events that unfolded on the screen, but my focus was gone the second he stepped foot into the bathroom.

now my attention was directed at his hands, which started at my stomach, and slowly moved up. he stopped just under my boobs, trailing them back down to their original spot.

he began to leave open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder and neck, making his way toward my ear before stopping. while he did the same on the other side, his fingers trailed down towards my core.

“chris” i sighed out, head falling back into him while my hands gripped onto his thighs. “pay attention, baby” he whispered, gripping my jaw lightly to face the screen.

his long fingers slid through my folds, making my hips move to rub against them, craving more friction.

he pushed my hips down, keeping them still while he moved his fingers even slower, rubbing teasing circles against me. “just relax, pretty girl. let me take care of you” he spoke before sliding a finger into me.

i let out a long moan at the feeling, my fingernails digging into his skin while he stretched me out. “god, it’s been so long since i’ve touched you like this” he mumbled, watching as his finger disappeared inside of me.

he added another finger, his dick seeming to grow harder against my back with every moan that fell from my lips. “you paying attention, princess ? you just had to watch the show, right?” his words were taunting, yet he was able to speak them in a sweet, soft tone.

i nodded my head in response, not wanting to give him any reason to stop. “you sure? what’s been happening?” he asked, his tongue running against my earlobe.

“i-what?” i asked, my head spinning while he worked my tightness harder. “you said you were paying attention, right? talk to me baby, you gotta catch me up. i’ve been a little…distracted”

the second i opened my mouth to respond, he added in a third finger, pulling a choked moan out of me. i could barely recall a character’s name right now, let alone even try to take a guess at what could possibly be happening in the show. “i- i don’t know, chris. i’m sorry, i just-”

“should i stop? i wouldn’t want you to miss anymore” he was just playing with me at this point, but i was too busy chasing my orgasm to care. “no ! please, don’t stop! i’ll focus, i promise” i rambled on, telling him whatever he needed to hear to keep going.

“i think you’re just saying that” he spoke, curling his fingers to hit my sweet spot. my eyes immediately screwed shut, head falling back onto his shoulder. “you want me to keep going?” he asked, his free hand wrapping around my neck gently.

i nodded my head frantically, mouth hung open as he plunged his fingers into me. he used the grip he had on my neck to pull my head forward, facing the screen again. “watch.” he ordered sharply.

the background music of the show echoed around the room, accompanying the sound of the bath water sloshing around from the quick movements of his fingers.

for a while those were the only sounds that could be heard, apart from the occasional moans that fell from my mouth, until there was an obnoxiously loud knock on the door.

the sound made me lean forward instinctively, making his fingers rub against my clit. i couldn’t help the low moan that fell out of my mouth at the feeling, but it was low enough to be drowned out by chris’s voice, “what ?” he yelled.

“hey, we’re home. hurry up and get out here, we wanna show you something” nick spoke.

instead of stopping his movements, chris pulled me against him, covering my mouth with the palm of my hand. he moved his fingers inside of me quickly, managing to hit the perfect spot and rub my clit with his thumb.

“not stopping until you finish” he whispered into my ear in a low voice before answering his brother. “alright, i’ll be out soon" he yelled back.

“how long is soon?” nick questioned, making chris let out an annoyed sigh. “just soon nick” he spoke. nick seemed to accept that answer, as it was followed with silence.

my hands shot to chris’s bicep, gripping it tightly as i felt my orgasm creep up on me. i clenched around his fingers, signaling that i was close. “c’mon, know you’re almost there, baby. let go for me” he whispered.

my toes curled as i felt the pleasure wash over me, my moan muffled by chris’s hand. “so good for me” he whispered, leaving kisses all my face.

he stared at me for a few seconds, before speaking “god, you’re beautiful”. he began to smile as he watched me become flustered at his words.

i went to say something, but was cut off by nick’s yelling through the door, “ok, has it been soon yet?”.

———

THREE. THE COOKIES

i’m not sure how or why, but it seemed like every time our friend group hung out, i was the designated cook.

the friend group, consisting of me, the triplets, larray, tara, jake, johnnie, sam, and colby, all turned to me whenever someone complained that they were hungry.

“ok, what do y’all want me to do about that?” i asked, “last time i made myself food, you bitches ate it” i pointed out from my spot on the pool step.

“for the last time, we were hungry and you and chris were too busy fucking to answer our messages” jake spoke, “so if you wanna blame someone, blame him”

“ok, but we just ate. how could you possibly be hungry?” sam asked. “i just want a little snack, but something sweet…..maybe it’s cause i’ve just been staring at this cookie floatie under me” jake answered.

“ok, if it’ll get you to stop bitching and moaning about it, i’ll go make you some cookies” i spoke, getting up from my spot.

the group seemed to be satisfied with the answer, as everyone gave little gestures of approval.

“wait, i’ll help” chris spoke, following me back to the door of the house. “no funny business, you too. i swear if you come back here without those damn cookies, i will not hesitate to beat someone with this floatie!” jake yelled behind us.

“if you want the cookies, i suggest you shut the hell up” i yelled back, chris and i making our way inside.

“can you believe they have no faith in us?” i asked him, shaking my head as we made our way to the kitchen. “yeah…crazy” he spoke, but there was something that was off. he almost sounded…distracted ?

i turned around to try to figure out what had his attention, only to discover him checking me out. “seriously, chris?” i deadpanned.

“i’m sorry, but that bikini on you? you’re so gorgeous” he breathed out. “i mean, you look gorgeous in everything but…” he trailed off, fixing the strap that began to fall down my arm. “i’m just admiring you is all” he finished, placing a kiss on my cheek.

he walked past me, going to wash his hands while i attempted to calm my now racing heart. once i regained my composure, i grabbed the cookie mix from the pantry.

“ok, can you just grab the eggs, oil, and water for me? i’ll get the bowls and shit” i spoke to him, receiving a nod in agreement.

once we grabbed the stuff we needed, i bent over to preheat the oven. “sometimes i feel like an alien when using these fancy ass appliances. why is there no preheat button” i mumbled to myself, trying to figure out how to set it.

“chris, can you help me?” i asked, chris immediately moving to help me. he stood behind me, reaching over me to click the preheat button that i somehow managed to completely miss.

when i stood upright, i turned to face chris. “thanks” i told him, “i don’t know how i missed that”. chris’ face turned red and he didn’t say a word in response.

“chris? what’s wrong?” i asked, placing my hand on his chest gently. he grabbed my hand in his, pulling it further and further down until it rested over the large bulge in his trunks.

“you’ve been teasing me all fucking day” he spoke, turning me around and caging my body into the counter with his. he pushed my front half down, bending me over it in one swift motion.

“you think i haven’t noticed that little sway you have in your hips when you’re walking in front of me? the one that suddenly disappears around everyone else? if you wanted me to to fuck you, all you had to do was say so, baby” he spoke, landing a harsh slap on my ass, soothing it with a gentle rub to the skin.

“let’s hear it, beautiful. what do you want?” he asked. “fuck me, please. i need you chris” i told him.

“such a good girl for me” he spoke as he pulled the waistband of his trunks down, pumping himself a few times. he pulled the bikini bottom to the side, sliding his dick through my folds effortlessly.

“god, you’re so wet for me” he whispered before pushing himself inside. “my pretty girl, so fucking tight” he spoke before beginning to move.

his hips snapped into mine at brutal pace, my head immediately falling forward onto my forearms, resting on the counter. he gripped the bottom of my bikini, using it as leverage to drill into me from behind.

i bit my tongue harshly, attempting to hold back the moans that fell from my mouth, but was unsuccessful as they echoed around the kitchen.

i brought the palm of my hand to my mouth, not wanting to alert anyone of what was happening while we were supposed to be baking. every push of chris’s hips sent mine crashing into the counter, creating a continuous thudding sound.

“bet you love this, huh? fucking out here in the open, where anyone could walk in. you want everyone to know who this pussy belongs to?” he asked, squeezing my ass before giving it a slap.

i craned my neck to look back at him, “you, chris. it belongs to you, i’m yours” i cried out. his free hand slid under my bathing suit, squeezing my nipples.

my moans turned into whines as i got closer and closer to finishing. the lewd sound of skin on skin and the squelching of chris sliding in and out of my wet walls filled the space, while the thudding of my hips against the counter got louder and faster.

chris’s hands help my hips, fingernails digging into the skin as his grunts and heavy breathing echoed in my ears.

“oh my god, i’m so close chris” i moaned out, face scrunching up as i bit my lip as hard as i could. my head fell forward onto my forearms as my legs began to shake.

“yeah? come on baby, make a mess all over me” he spoke, his nose resting in the crook of my neck, his hair tickling my skin.

i let out a final cry as my orgasm washed over me, coating his dick in my pleasure. i shuddered as he continued to push himself in and out of me, chasing his own orgasm.

my slick was now dripping down my thigh, sticking to both of us as he twitched inside of me. just before he could finish, a yell made him halt his movements.

“you horny little fuckers!” i recognized tara’s voice immediately, making my head shoot up in the direction it came from. my eyes widened, mouth hanging open in shock as i tried to fully process what was going on through my post-orgasm haze.

luckily for us, tara and larray happened to be in front of the counter, meaning they couldn’t see anything from the waist down.

“did y’all even start the cookies?” larray asked, receiving blank stares from us. chris and i glanced at each other for a second, before turning back to them.

“y’all better get cleaned up and check your phones before jake comes in here with his pool floatie” he said before walking away.

THE ULTIMATE CROSSOVER ❗️(10 MEMBERS)

sam 👻🌝 4:03 pm

are the cookies almost done ?

matty b 💁🏻‍♂️ 4:11 pm

we have to stop putting them in charge of food

nick 👑 4:15 pm

i’m scared to go and check

johnnie 🧛🏻 4:17 pm

…i just wanted cookies

colby 👻🌚 4:19 pm

i was starting to feel bad about eating those pizza rolls…. i don’t anymore

jake 🕸️ 4:20 pm

i wasn’t joking about beating you two up with my floatie

larray 💅🏽 4:26 pm

…they didn’t even start making the cookies guys 😭

jake 🕸️ 4:26 pm

WHAT ??? THAT WHOLE TIME ?

tara 👅 4:26 pm

they were a little…busy

chris 🦌 4:30 pm

…. hey guys 🤗

jake 🕸️ 4:30 pm

fuck you

larray 💅🏽 4:30 pm

dw y/n got that covered already !

y/n ⭐️ 4:31 pm

and did

next time make your own damn cookies

——

FOUR. NETFLIX + CHILL 👀

chris wasn’t wearing any boxers. this was a realization that i came to earlier on in the day, when i saw his dick pressed against his sweatpants. finding this out was a happy accident, as i was simply admiring his grey sweatpants.

now matt, chris, and i were all in the living room watching a movie. the lights were off, the tv screen being the only source of illumination in the room.

chris and i shared a blanket, and i was sitting on his lap, per his request. matt was seated on the couch separate from ours, fast asleep.

my back was pressed against chris’s chest, fingers caressing his legs gently while i tried to ignore the fact that his clothed bulge was pressing directly into my core. his hand gripped my thigh, inching further and further up.

“chris” i breathed out, as his hand disappeared under my skirt. “no panties?” he asked. did i decide to take them off right before coming out to watch the movie ? possibly. he didn’t need to know that, though. “no boxers?” i countered.

“i know we said we were gonna stop, but i need you” he whispered into my ear. “can i…can you warm me? i need to feel you so bad” while he spoke, he used his fingers to spread around my arousal, “you’re so wet, this just from sitting on my lap?”

“yes, please chris. want you so bad” i whispered, squirming on top of him. i lifted myself off of him, letting him pull his his pants down to free his dick.

“you gotta stay still for me baby” he spoke, lining himself up with my entrance and pushing the tip in. i lowered myself onto him slowly, biting my lip to hold back a moan when he bottomed out.

he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him while we continued to watch the movie. “so tight, could cum just from this” he groaned into my ear. i craned my neck back to look at him, enjoying the effect i had on him.

his eyes were screwed shut, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. he was very clearly trying to hold back, his grip on my hips tightening.

“what are you thinking about, chris?” i asked, keeping my voice low enough to avoid waking matt up. “i wanna fuck you so bad” he whispered back, burying his nose in the crook of my neck.

he took a long inhale, softly moaning into my skin as his hot breath tickled me. “you smell so good, you know this perfume drives me insane” he breathed out. “i wanna watch you take me until you’re shaking and screaming”

my toes curled at the thought, but i remained still on top of him. “you know what i want? i want you to fill me up until you’re dripping down my legs” i whispered, my hand sneaking under the covers to play with his balls.

he shuddered at that, his dick twitching inside of me. “wanna feel your tongue on me” i told him, using my free hand to cup his jaw. “where?” he asked, his face inching closer to mine.

“everywhere” i answered, my lips brushing his. i took his hand in mine, running it along my body. “my neck” i spoke, guiding his hand to wrap around my neck, him squeezing it out of habit. “my chest” i pushed his hand under my tank top, brushing it over my nipples. “my stomach” i moved his fingers further down my body.

i placed his hand on my clit, watching as his mouth hung open, his pupils blown wide. he closed the distance between us, placing his lips on mine softly while he caressed my inner thighs.

he kissed me slowly and gently, rubbing small circles into my skin. we stayed like that for a while, lips dancing across each other’s until we ran out of breath. when we pulled away, chris immediately began to kiss my neck.

suddenly, matt fell off of the couch he was on, the sound of his body thudding causing me to tense up and clench around chris without warning.

chris’s hips stuttered against mine, his teeth digging into my shoulder as he shot his load inside of me unexpectedly. i leaned forward, holding onto his knees while i focused on holding back a moan at the feeling.

matt’s fall seemed to have woken him up, as he began to stir. “hey guys, i think i’m gonna call it a night” he spoke groggily, barely opening his eyes as he walked off to his room.

“good night” i called after him, chris and i sitting in silence until we heard matt’s door close. without a word, i lifted myself off of chris, breathing out sharply at the feeling.

i turned around to face him, sitting down on his lap. “you sensitive ?” i asked as i began to grind against his dick. “oh my- fuck” he whined, his hands immediately moving to my waist to guide my movements.

“you wanna tease me? fine. but you’re doing it at my pace” he spoke, rocking his hips against mine. “fuck, feels so good” i moaned at the feeling of his wet dick sliding through my folds.

i leaned back, hands resting on his knees as my head flew back. the blanket that was covering us fell onto the floor, having been long forgotten. chris reached forward, pulling my tank top up to expose my tits.

“god, you’re so good. you look so perfect on top of me like this” he breathed out, looking up at me with a dazed look. i leaned forward slightly, causing his dick to slide against my clit perfectly.

“c-chris, just like that. i’m close” i moaned out. i wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling my body closer to him. his hands found their way to my ass, groping and rubbing the skin under his fingers.

“my perfect girl” he mumbled, adam’s apple bobbing as he stared up at me with a glint in his eyes. his words seemed to push me over the edge, my head falling onto his shoulder as my orgasm hit me.

i immediately felt hot spurts of chris’s cum shoot onto my stomach, while labored breaths fell from his mouth.

“i’m glad you didn’t wear any underwear” i whispered into his ear, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. i received a tight squeeze in response.

——

ONE TIME IT WASN’T THE “LAST TIME”:

“you know, i’ve noticed you call me your girl a lot” i told chris from my spot next to him on his bed. we had spent the day out with his brothers and had decided to just cuddle and relax afterward.

i looked up to see his response to my words, watching a small smile creep onto his face. “yeah, cause you’re my girl” he looked down at me, squeezing my shoulder lightly.

“but what does that mean?” i poked, wanting to hear him admit it. we both knew what it meant, but it seemed as though he would never admit it to himself, let alone say it aloud.

“it means whatever you want it to” he answered. i raised my brow at that, not satisfied with his answer. “but what do you want it to mean?” i asked.

“you know what i want it to mean” he answered, "you want me to show you?” he asked, taking my hand into his own to play with.

“it’s just…you only say it in bed” i pointed out, shrugging my shoulders and looking away from him. “i can’t tell if you actually mean it or if you’re just saying it cause you know i like to hear it”

he hooked a finger under my jaw, turning it so i was facing him. “of course i mean it. honestly? i just didn’t wanna freak you out or anything, we both know we’re scared to take this any further. i wouldn’t want to cross any boundaries or anything”

“i’m pretty sure our lack of boundaries is the issue here” i deadpanned, earning a chuckle from chris. “i know, i just…” he let out a sigh before continuing, “i just can’t help what i say when i’m with you sometimes. it’s like we’re so close and intimate in the moment, how could i not tell you what i’m thinking? but i’ve never once told you anything during sex that i didn’t mean, i need you to believe that”

“ i do” i answered, fully believing him. “i just wasn’t so sure is all, but i am now” i told him, staring at our intertwined fingers.

“so, i’m your girl?” i asked, a bashful smile growing on my face. “yeah, you like that?” he asked, tilting his head at me, receiving a nod in response.

“so….you wouldn’t have a problem with me marking you up?” i asked, looking up at him through my lashes. my hands crept under his shirt, pushing it further and further up. “of course not, i want everyone to know who i belong to” he said.

“good” i whispered, ducking my head down to suck on the skin of his stomach harshly. i held his hips down, staring up at him as i soothed the dark spot with my tongue. i watched his breathing speed up, pulling his shirt off to give me easier access.

i left hickies going up his stomach, his chest, and neck. i paid special attention to his sweet spot right under his ear, earning a low groan from him. when i pulled away to admire my work, he immediately pulled me closer to place his lips on mine.

i smiled into the kiss at the sudden movement, fingers lightly running through his hair. the kiss was delicate, both of us savoring the moment, wishing we could just stay like that forever.

the scent of his cologne filled my nostrils, the familiar smell reminding me that this was exactly where i wanted to be. it was comforting, and it provided a sense of warmth and safety, something i always felt around chris.

his lips had a faint taste of cherry to them, a result of the lollipop he was sucking on not too long ago. his hands found their way under my shirt, resting on the small of my back and moving me even closer.

i pulled away for a second, pulling my shirt over my head. he left open-mouthed kisses along my neck and collarbone, his hand sneaking into my shorts.

“chris” i moaned out, his fingers leaving teasing strokes against my panties. “what’s wrong baby?” he asked, as though he didn’t know what he was doing. i countered his action by rubbing his stomach, my fingers dancing along the waistband of his pants.

“fuck” he groaned out breathlessly, his face falling into the crook of my neck. “was there something you needed?” i asked as his hips began to buck up into my hand. “fuck you” he groaned out, while my hand grazed his clothed bulge.

“been waiting for you to” i countered, receiving a harsh slap to my ass in response. i couldn’t help letting out a moan at the sudden action, the wet spot in my panties growing. “so fucking impatient, i don’t know if you deserve to cum” my eyes widened at his words, head immediately shaking in disapproval.

he turned me so i was laying on my back, pulling my shorts and panties down in one swift motion. “chris, pl- oh!” i cut myself off with a moan at the feeling of chris’s face having been shoved into my wetness.

“oh my god” i moaned out, legs pulling together instinctively, pushing his face even deeper into my heat. my hands flew up to his hair, gripping on whatever strands they could and tugging.

chris moaned against me at the feeling, making my head fly back as loud cries fell from my lips. he alternated between leaving kitten licks and pulling my folds into his mouth and sucking. he moved his tongue up, focusing on my clit while he poked a finger at my entrance.

“chris, no teasing please. i- fuck” my hips snapped up as he left a slap to my clit. “you’re gonna take whatever i do to you, unless you don’t wanna finish” he lifted his head to speak, his face glistening in my slick.

“i- yes, yeah. sorry” i spoke in shock, taken off guard by the sudden edge to his tone. when he moved away from me fully, i rolled my eyes, annoyed that he edged me.

he rid himself of the rest of his clothes without a word, his hard dick springing free. he slapped his length against my clit a few times, earning a whine from me. “i hope you know, i caught that eye roll” he spoke, glaring down at me.

“fix the attitude cause i promise, you don’t want me to fix it for you” he spoke before lining himself up and pushing inside of me. he waited until i signaled i was ready before moving his hips at a brutal pace.

he thrusted inside of me so deeply, i was left speechless as he knocked the wind out of me. i had no clue what had gotten into him but i loved it.

“you ok, princess? need me to slow down?” he asked, his eyes taking in my already fucked out appearance. i shook my head frantically at the question, willing him to keep up his pace. “i’m good, i’m good. keep going, feels so good” i rushed out.

“good, tell me if that changes” he spoke between grunts of his own. his hands rested on either side of my face, his biceps flexing as he supported his weight on the bed.

i caught his lust-filed gaze on my covered tits, staring as they bounced in my bra. i reached behind me, unclasping it and throwing it to the side, a moan falling from chris’s lips.

he moved his face down, his mouth attaching to one, licking and lightly biting it. my hands flew to his back, nails digging into his skin leaving bright red marks. “yes, yes, yes chris” my moans came out as choked sobs, eyes rolling back into my head.

“i’m close chris, please don’t stop” i moaned out. “hold it” he ordered immediately. “no, no i can’t chris. i can’t” i spoke, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes.

“no? you want me to stop?” he asked tauntingly. “no! please don’t stop, please" i sounded pathetic, begging him like this, but i was too desperate to care.

“be patient, i’m almost there ” he spoke as he continued to pound into me. “so good for me, i got you” he whispered, his praise caused me to clamp down on him, pulling a long groan from his mouth.

“cum with me, make a mess all over me” he spoke, causing me to let go. my juices spilled out all over him, while thick ropes of his cum coated my walls. when he pulled out, he watched our pleasure drip out of me.

“shit, chris” i breathed out, focusing on regulating my breathing. “are you ok? you’re not hurt, are you?” he asked, worry filling his face as he looked over my body.

“no, i’m ok i promise” i reassured him “that was insane” i spoke, bowing my head into his chest and laughing lightly. he moved my face toward his direction, “don’t hide from me, you being a freak is nothing new” he joked, earning a light slap to the chest from me.

“i’m glad you liked it” he spoke, a cheeky grin on his face. “i loved it” i whispered, pulling him into a hug.

once chris cleaned us both up, checking to make sure i was okay again, we went back to cuddling. “can i ask you something?” chris asked, his thumb mindlessly drawing shapes onto my skin.

“always” i answered back, looking up at him. “hypothetically, if there was this girl i wanted to ask out-” he started, before i stopped him. “are you serious? there’s no way you’re asking me for advice about another girl right now. you were literally just telling me i was yours and now you’re trying to ask out someone else?” i asked, staring up at him incredulously. what was wrong with him?

“ok, maybe that wasn’t the best way to ask” he spoke, narrowing his eyes in thought. “chris, are you kidding me right now? you seriously-” “it’s you” he cut me off.

“i just wasn’t sure how to ask, and i figured who would know better than you, right? but i see now how that was a dumb way to do it and i’m sorry for worrying you” he finished.

“oh my god, chris. you’re an idiot” i spoke hitting him upside the head. “ow! i’m sorry” he spoke defensively. “i should tell your ass no for the emotional trauma you just put me through”

“i did say hypothetically, though”

“what if i hypothetically beat your ass?”

“i’m still waiting for an answer” he pointed out. “you know, for someone who’s so big on patience, you sure don’t seem to have any yourself” i spoke, squinting my eyes at him.

“of course i’ll go out with you, chris” i answered.

“good. cause i wanna show off my girl”

the way i lowkey just fed y’all five fics in one 🤭

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nickgetsmewetter @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[em-prentiss]

I’ve got my eye on you

----

You’re really in no shape to be at work. Aaron coaxes you home.

Cw: fem!bau!reader, reader is on her period, newly established relationship, fluff, use of pet names, no use of yn

Wc: 1.9k

if you have any Aaron requests, lmk <3

----

Your stomach cramps again as you walk out of the elevator. Wincing, you hurry into the bullpen, desperate to sit down and ease the ache in your lower body. 

Morgan looks up at you as you dump your things on your desk and sit down with a sigh. 

“Twenty minutes late, princess,” he grins. “Late night?”

“Not today, Derek.” You stuff your face in your hands, the pounding in your head intensifying. Your voice is low, strained, nothing like the usual teasing tone you take up with him. 

Morgan immediately frowns in concern. “Hey, are you okay?” He leans over the divider between your desks and takes a closer look at you.

“Fine,” you mumble, your voice muffled. You lift your head and give him a weary smile. “Just tired from last night’s case.”

He nods and leaves you alone as you turn on your computer and sigh at the stack of paperwork ahead of you. Looking up out of habit, you smile at the sight of Aaron in his office, his head bent as he works on something. 

The two of you had your first date just before this previous case. He got you flowers, specifically ones that wouldn’t trigger your allergies, and when he told you that with a flustered smile you felt yourself fall impossibly deeper. You had kissed him to stop his rambling, threaded your fingers through his as he walked you to his car and opened the door for you. Like a gentleman, you’d thought giddily, your heart bursting at the image of him in your head perfectly meeting reality.

He got you ice cream after dinner, intimately aware of your sweet tooth, and you were left wondering if it was too soon to think about marriage.

It had been a perfect night, one that left you wanting for more of him just like this; funny and relaxed and soft. You’d wanted so badly to push him into your apartment, have him take off your dress and press his lips to your skin. But you forced yourself to say goodbye at the door, his chaste kiss sweet against your lips. You wanted to take it slow, to do it right. He wasn’t going to be a quick fuck for you and you wanted him to know that. 

Because you’re in love with him, have been for years. And you’re pretty damn sure he’s in love with you too.

You’re broken from your reverie when you hear Emily approaching, a steaming mug in her hands. You give her a questioning look when she sets down the mug on your desk, the light color of the liquid telling you it’s some kind of herbal tea instead of coffee.

“You’ve got that first day period look about you,” she whispers before you can ask. You smile and pick up the tea, taking a sip and feeling the scalding liquid burn all the way down.

“That bad, huh?” You close your eyes when Emily brushes your hair away from your forehead. Her short nails scratch soothingly against your scalp and you hum, resting your head lightly against her stomach. 

“You’re a little pale,” she murmurs. “Did you eat?”

You say nothing and bring the tea to your lips again, avoiding your friend’s gaze. 

“Typical,” Emily sighs—quite boldly of her, knowing she’s no different. “Hotch won’t be happy about that,” she teases softly, her lips turning up in a gentle smile. She may or may not have given you and Aaron the final push you both needed.

You shrug as your cheeks tint pink. “I’ll eat in a bit,” you say, in no hurry to do so with the way your stomach churns. “The pain really blocks my appetite.” You scrunch your nose. 

Emily hums, all too familiar with the feeling. “I’d tell you to take some meds, but you need to eat for that.” She strokes your hair soothingly, making you lean into her touch.

“I will, Em,” you smile up at her. “When my stomach settles. This is helping by the way, thanks.” You tilt your head to the mug you’re now holding against your stomach, the heat of it seeping through your shirt.

“You’re welcome,” Emily squeezes your shoulder and heads to her own desk. 

Sighing, you tip your head back and adjust your grip on the mug in your hands, wishing you had something for your thighs too. And your head. And your lower back. 

You give yourself a few seconds before you rub your eyes and sit up straight, trying to start on your report. 

The words blur on the page in front of you and you blink, trying to bring them back into focus. You sip your tea, hoping it’ll kick start your brain into writing something, but your head pounds incessantly, jumbling up the words in your head.

The next sip of tea brings a sudden nausea with it, the liquid sloshing around in your empty stomach with nothing else. You set it down with a grimace. 

Fucking great.

Morgan and Reid are bickering incessantly behind you, Emily clacks away at her computer and Anderson is talking louder than usual, his voice piercing your head. You blow out a breath and grab your pen, forcing yourself to ignore them and look at your paperwork. You squint at the paper, the bright fluorescent lights of the bullpen like needles in your eyes.

You give up and slump on your desk with a groan, welcoming the darkness and the cool wood against your forehead. You cross your arms tightly over your aching stomach, feeling the frustrating press of tears against your closed eyelids.

Aaron leaves his office in search of coffee and catches sight of you with your head on your desk, your hair shielding your face. Your back shudders as you inhale, the ragged rise and fall of it visible even from a distance.

He hurries down to you and gently touches your shoulder, your name falling softly from his mouth. You tilt your head up to look at him, too tired to lift it from the desk. “Aaron, hey.” You give him a worn out smile. 

Your hair falls into your face. Aaron gently brushes it away and notes your crossed arms held tightly against your stomach, your nails digging into your biceps.

“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly, eyeing your tired face and the bags under your eyes. “You look pale. Are you sick?” He presses the back of his hand against your forehead, but your skin is cool.

If the cramps weren’t currently tearing your body to shreds, you might have felt the butterflies at his obvious concern. “I’m not,” you say slowly, wetting your dry lips. “I’ll be fine, my head just hurts a bit.”

A bit is a gross oversimplification, and from the look on Aaron’s face, he knows it too. “Just your head?” He raises his brows, his eyes pointedly drifting down to your stomach.

A strange heat rises to your cheeks. “I’ll be fine, Aaron.” You insist as you lift yourself up against the chair. The light shines directly into your eyes and you wince, pressing your palm against your lids.

“Clearly,” he mutters, looking at your desk and the still empty paperwork and reports you have yet to fill out. “Go home. You can finish this tomorrow.”

“No,” you shake your head adamantly despite the roiling in your stomach. “I’m fine, I just—” You shut your eyes and blow out a shaky breath when you feel a sudden cramp in your abdomen, “I just need a minute.” You rasp.

Aaron eyes your dull skin and the way you tightly grip your seat, your knuckles sharp as you take in ragged breaths. He sighs and crouches down in front of you, the gentle way he says your name forcing your eyes open. 

“Please. Go home or I’ll drive you myself.” His brown eyes are soft with concern, his brows furrowed and lips tipped downward.

You want to shake your head, but a sharp pain in your stomach almost makes you gasp. You bite your lip and look down at your watch. “It’s only 11.” You protest weakly. 

Aaron shakes his head at your stubbornness, your pain clear in the way your face twists. “You’re in pain, sweetheart,” he whispers, unable to stop himself from saying it. Your eyes widen slightly at the nickname, but he continues, undeterred.

“Please. Go home, take care of yourself. You can be here first thing tomorrow, I promise, but you’re not well now.” He’s using the same soft, soothing tone he uses whenever Jack is sick and refusing his medication, and it seems to have the same effect on you.

You wilt against the seat and nod. “Okay,” you finally relent, the relief obvious in your voice. 

Aaron smiles slightly, dimples poking out in victory as he stands up. You don’t even have to pack anything, your purse still closed on your desk. You pocket your phone and stand, your hand reaching for Aaron’s elbow when you stumble slightly. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” he steadies you with a hand on your back. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

You don’t protest and allow him to walk you to the elevator. A part of you is surprised that he’s showing this side of him at work, uncaring of the team’s piercing gazes that you can feel following you all the way out of the bullpen. 

You lean into his side a little when you’re out of sight, the warmth of his hand on your back seeping into your skin as you wait for the elevator. 

You’re almost disappointed when it dings.

The doors open and you walk in with a quiet sigh. Aaron walks in with you too, ignoring your surprised look. You open your mouth to protest, but he speaks first.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay driving? I can take you,” he offers.

You smile. The thought does sound nice. But you shake your head, despite your aching body and the long drive ahead of you. And the crushing need to let him take care of you. “I’ll be fine.” You force yourself to say. “Thank you, though.”

Aaron nods. “Drive safe.” He smiles at you gently. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” Your fingers magically find their way into his hair. You push the soft strands away from his forehead, biting back a smile when he involuntarily leans into your touch.

His hand finds the curve of your waist. “Maybe I can come by later?” He whispers. 

You feel your body grow warm, a comforting glow that he always brings out in you. You smile, momentarily distracted from the pain in your body.

“I’d like that. But I won’t be much fun,” you gesture to yourself with a shrug. The elevator stops and the doors slide open into the parking lot. 

“That’s just nonsense,” Aaron tilts your face down to kiss your forehead, his palms warm on your cheeks. “Be careful, honey.” 

“I will.” You stamp a quick kiss on his lips, your cheeks warm, and head to your car. Aaron holds the elevator doors open and waits until you get in before heading again to the sixth floor.

He walks back into the bullpen, past his team gathered at Emily’s desk, including Garcia. They smirk at him and he glares back.

“Not a word.” 

[babygorewhore]

Cry Baby

Frat!Rafe Cameron x fem reader

After being invited to one of Rafe’s parties, you hide away in his room to escape the crowd. But he catches you using his pillow and makes you give him a show.

Warnings! Masturbation! Daddy kink! Unprotected sex! Spitting! Degrading! Crying kink! Oral! Male receiving! Porn! Barely proofread!

Part of Dolly and Morgan’s writing prompt game! Dividers from @xxbimbobunnyxx and dialogue is inspired from a conversation with @drewstarkeyslut W. C is 1k something!

You maneuvered through the mess of the house as you quickly found an empty room, Rafe’s bedroom and pressed your back against the door. It was a wild party. He was known for his booming music, booze and a good time. His graduation from college was no exception when he had texted to an invite the night before. You played hard to get even though you wanted him more than anyone in your life.

You wore your cropped tank top, best bra that pushed your chest high and perky, mini skirt that exposed your thighs. Fishnet tights topped with your combat doc Martins that gave you a few inches of height. Your makeup was perfect and you smelled like candy. You wanted to look good, impossible to resist but he was nowhere to be found.

As much as you loved your friends, the crowd became a little overwhelming and you needed a minute to collect yourself. You bit your lip as you examined his room. Despite his hot mess of a personality, his space was tidy and put together. Lots of photos with a hidden hobby of photography and trophies. You wanted him in here. You needed him so bad your core ached whenever you saw him.

Sitting on his bed, you rubbed your knees together and imagined him storming in. Taking you like he owned you within seconds and he would never let anyone touch you again. You exhaled as you imagined his muscular body over yours, holding you down by your throat as he pounded you into oblivion.

Your cunt fluttered underneath your panties and you settled on top of his pillow after you set your phone down, playing your favorite porn video. You would try your best to imagine him instead as you started grinding, moving your underwear to the side.

Seconds went by and your stomach tightened from your movements as you bounced. You squeezed your tit, groaning as you dug your nails in but a buzz caught your attention. You glanced down and came to a halt as you read the name.

Rafe was calling you.

You immediately answered, “Rafe?” You said breathlessly.

“I can see what you’re doing. I have a camera in my room.” Your mouth parted but he continued, “You’re a disgusting little bunny, aren’t you? Humping my pillow like a whore? Wishing it was my dick?”

You rolled your hips on the soft material, holding the phone close to your ear. “Mhm,” You moaned and you heard him let out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah? Give me a show then. Show me exactly how you’d ride my cock, princess. Give me all those pretty sounds.”

You sucked your fingers with your free hand before sliding it down between your legs and you started rubbing circles on your clit. You lowered your chest down, sticking your ass up in the air as you moaned, your eyes drifting shut.

“Such a good fuckin girl, baby. Show me how good you can make yourself feel thinkin bout me.” He tells you.

“Shit-“ You whisper as arousal pools out of you, leaking onto the pillow as you roll your body, slowly removing your top. Your black bra with a little bow in the center on display as you pull your hand away from your cunt, dragging it down your chest and stomach.

“God damn, Angel. Perfect body, ass up and pussy on my pillow? Tryna spoil me?” His voice sounds strained and your eyes widen as you hear the door open.

You snap yourself to the side as Rafe slams the door shut with his foot, his t shirt fitting his large form as he storms toward you. “Don’t act all shy now, baby doll. We’re just gettin started,” He wraps his arm around your waist, lifting you up off the pillow. With one hand, he peels off his shorts.

Rafe manhandles you around a little, not enough to hurt you but he sits down on the bed, pulling you on top of him in a straddle. His hard dick underneath you as your knees are wide apart. He leans forward and kisses you, sucking your lower lip before his tongue touches yours.

He gives your ass a hard spank before squeezing it and his other hand wraps around your throat. “Filthy little slut, so fuckin wet for daddy’s dick that you couldn’t even wait for me? Had to ride my pillow?” You hungrily suck his tongue, your hand pulling out his cock and you play with his balls.

“Fuck-“ He stutters as you sink down, taking him to the brim and your vision goes white as your soaked pussy takes him.

Your eyes water as he thrusts into you, your clit hitting his pelvis as you whimper and whine. Tears stream down your face as he spits in your mouth, blind pleasure overwhelming you as your hands settle on his chest.

“Knew you were a god damn cry baby but fuck, bunny. Tears because my dick is so good? You really are a dirty little slut, huh?” Rafe takes his thumb and wipes away your tears before smearing your spit on your mouth. Messing up your lipstick.

“Making a mess on my cock. Cum for me, I’m gonna fuck you full.” Rafe reaches up and takes off his SnapBack, setting it on your head. “Turn the fuck around.” He moves you so your back is against his chest, ass bouncing as you ride him.

Your hands on his legs as your peak hits you hard, you throw your head back as Rafe grips your tits from behind, his lips finding your neck as you cream on his dick.

“Uh huh, that’s a good fuckin slut. Cum all over me, then you’re gonna lick it off.” Rafe slams into you one more time before you feel him cum in you, dripping out of your cunt and onto your thighs as he grunts. His moans mix with yours as you reach back and grab his hair, pulling the blonde strands as you bounce your ass harder.

You pry yourself free, hat slanted to the side and you wrap your hand around his dick. Cum glistening off his tip as your tongue laps at it, kitten licking and his fingers create a makeshift pony tail around his SnapBack.

“So fuckin pretty, baby girl. My own personal little show.” He rolls his head back as you suck his balls, your lips soft around him.

Rafe cups your jaw and moves you back, “Lay down, I’m not done with you yet. You’re gonna give me more of that perfect tight pussy and those pretty tears. Aren’t you, doll?”

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @rafescurtainbangz @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @redhead1180 @oceandriveab @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @slvt4jamesmarch

[faelapis]

Don't Vote in Eurovision.

the 2nd semi is about to happen. israel is competing. i want to start by acknowledging something: i hope my fellow eurovision boycotters, protesters and general #BanIsraelfromEurovision people know it's not like. impossible for israel to win this year.

at eurovision, you only need a minority of televote to "win" televote, when there are 26 entries in the final. nobody wins with outright majority, they win by being the biggest minority.

if there's 10% dedicated zionist viewers who will vote for israel just because it's israel, that probably outweighs the points that a lot of other countries will get. if you divide 100/26, you get an average of 3.8%. if there's 10% dedicated zionists, i hope you see how that's suddenly a HUGE percentage. (of course, eurovision votes are not even. some songs get 0.2% of a country's vote, some songs get 20%. but the point stands. you don't need majority support to win.)

yes, this means that, theoretically, a country that supports palestine 90% could still give israel televote points - because of the united 10% voting for israel, while the 90% votes divided among the other entries. and you can't vote against songs in televote.

i side with the bookies that it's not LIKELY. we are very unlikely to see "ukraine 2022" level televote numbers for israel. europeans are much more divided on the apartheid colonial state. and many will vote just for "whichever song they like best."

i'm only saying that, IF israel were to get a huge televote score, it doesn't mean the "majority" of europe supports them. quite the opposite. it just means you can't vote against entries. you can be deeply unpopular and win.

i'm also saying this because, in the likely event that israel gets at least top 10, please dont let the zionists spread it as "proof" that europe is behind them. their apartheid colonial regime is bleeding support every day. most pro-palestine folks are boycotting.

this is a silly song contest. do not feel hopeless because of it.

instead, focus your attention on helping palestine and boycotting the contest. do NOT vote. that's giving the EBU money, which is a zionist organization willing to disgrace the contest to let israel use it as a propaganda platform. they don't deserve your money.

boycott eurovision. no watching, no voting.

donate to the world central kitchen, whose aid workers were murdered by israel while attempting to help palestinians.

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

They're Mates - with Y/N Pt 3

Summary - Feyre learns about Azriel and Y/N's story as she and Rhysand make their way to the prison

Warnings/Other Notes - This one is in 2nd person pov because the first two chapters were looking at Y/N and Az’s relationship from a source not within their relationship. 2k word chapter- Again, some of these lines/plot points are inspired by, or directly quoted from, ACOMAF. This chapter takes place prior to the first two chapters.

Injury mentioned, though not super graphically. Reader relives/remembers having her wings cut.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three

✨💫

You could feel the blade cutting into your wings. Tears spilled down your face as you screamed in pain, begging the Mother to make it stop. You were never going to fly again. The one thing that brought you unending joy, your only source of freedom, was being taken away.

“Y/N?”

The edges of your memories blurred. That voice, you recognized that voice.

“Y/N?!”

That sweet, honey-like voice called you. Something in you warmed and the pain lessened. Like you were basking in the sun.

“Y/N!”

You shot up in bed, your legs tangled in the sheets. A cold sweat dripped down your face and that same smooth voice kept saying something, but your mind was still catching up and couldn’t process them, not right now. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and then there were hands cupping your face. Not those smooth hands in the romance novels, but hands with bravery and adventure etched into them. Hands that felt like home. Your eyes shot up to meet a pair of hazel ones. Azriel.

“You’re safe. I’m here, your safe. Your father can’t touch you anymore,” the shadowsinger whispered to you. 

You nodded and leaned forward to wrap your arms around him. He reciprocated. You chased away the nightmare, remembering where you were. I’m here with Azriel. With Cassian, and Rhysand. With Rhys’s mother. Az saved you. Your arms tightened slightly around the shadowsinger, burrying your face into his muscular shoulder. His shadows curled around the both of you. His scent felt like home. The same scent that you had become familiar with every time you fell asleep, the one still lingering in the bedding when you woke up and he was gone off to train, with a promise to come back in time for dinner.

Sharing a bed with the Illyrian didn’t start right away, not on purpose. It just happened one night. Azriel never made it back to his own bed, instead he fell asleep comforting you from the same nightmare. Then it became purposeful, falling asleep and not returning to his own chambers. And one night the shadowsinger didn’t even bother finding his way into his own bed, Az just went straight to yours. You certainly didn’t mind and Rhys’s mother never said anything.

“Azriel?” You asked against his shoulder.

He placed the gentlest kiss to your temple. One that reminded you of a waltz you heard one day in Velaris. “Yes?”

You lifted your eyes to look at Az’s face. “What if I never fly again?” Your chest started heaving again. You broke away from the shadowsinger and looked away. It felt like someone had lit a fire inside you. Not one that someone makes to keep you warm on an incredibly chilly night, but a fire started out of malice, one to kill and destroy.

Azriel’s features became softer, contemplative if that was at all possible. “Impossible…because I’ll teach you.” 

Your eyes shot up to his face. “Are you…certain? Do you not need to train? I don’t—”

“I would spend the rest of my life in that damned cell for you again, Y/N.” He paused. “Don’t think I wouldn’t teach you to fly. Unlike Cass and Rhys I remember learning. Both of them would tell you to just flap your wings. I understand the fears and mental blocks of being older.”

You let out the softest laugh, wiping a drop of sweat from your forehead. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He nodded in his silence, considering something a moment. Az stood from the bed, his pants sitting low on his hips as he disappeared into the washroom and reappeared a few moments later with a damp cloth. “May I?”

You nodded and he gently pressed the cool cloth to your forehead, making the sweat disappear as if it had never happened. His shadows flitted through your hair. Whispering to you. Care. Care. Care.

The shadowsinger tried to call them back, but they had a mind of their own, especially around you. You chuckled lightly. Silly little guys, acting like a bunch of toddlers. When Az decided he had done a sufficient job of wiping your face he pressed another kiss to your forehead before hanging the cloth to dry and returned. 

You were lying down in the bed when he returned. He climbed in next to you before pulling you against him. You both fell asleep and slept soundly for the rest of the night.

The following day you went into Velaris with Rhysand’s mother to run a few errands. Her skills as a seamstress were impressive and she used it as an opportunity to occupy a portion of her time. You stopped at your favorite bakery to pick up a few things for dinner that evening. You also found a used book on diplomacy that was on sale. Rhys’s mother kindly bought it for you; well maybe more for Azriel’s shadow who seemed desperately intrigued with it. When you returned home, to your surprise, Trouble, More Trouble, and Too Much Trouble, were already there. (Nicknames you had aptly given to Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian.)

Too Much Trouble grinned when he saw you and clapped his brother on the back. “This one here got us kicked out early today for starting not one, not two, but three fights. I mean he looked like death coming to collect souls for the next life. Don’t insult, Y/N!!”

“Shut up, Cassian,” Rhys said, giving a pointed look.

“You weren’t any use, Cassian,” Azriel growled back while shoving his brother’s hand away from his shoulder. Az had a black eye and dried blood along his cheek bone. He didn’t meet your gaze but his shadows happily slithered over to you. Protect, Protect, Protect, they whispered to you. Then you understood the shadows’ need to be near you, hovering. The reason why you had a shadow over your shoulder since Az saved you from your father. A form of protection, something to keep you safe, something to report back to the shadowsinger if you were in danger. 

And that’s exactly what Azriel had done earlier that day. Defended you without remorse. 

You glanced at Cassian who had a bruise on his jaw and then to Rhys who also had a black eye. Rhys’s mother looked far from pleased. “Cassian. Rhysand. Upstairs! Clean yourselves up.” Her gaze turned to the shadowsinger. “Azriel. Sit .” His mother announced as she put the bags down from your earlier trip to Velaris. 

For all her softness, Rhys’s mother certainly had a sharpness to her not often seen. Rhys and Cass’s wings hung ever so slightly and only for a moment before they shifted again and they disappeared up the stairs. You followed them.

When you got to your room, you opened the book bought earlier that day and began reading on the bed. The sheets still smelled of him, of both of you. The shadow rested on your shoulder, appearing deeply engrossed in the words too. About fifteen minutes later you could hear the shadowsinger coming up the stairs. You knew it was him for the sole reason of his footsteps. You had learned how Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian walked. The heaviness of their feet, the pace.

You could hear Az and Rhys out in the hall. “Your mom wants you,” is all you heard before Rhys is walking downstairs and the shadowsinger is walking into your room. You closed your book to look up at him.

“C’mon.” The shadowsinger stepped towards the small balcony and opened the doors. “You can’t learn to fly in here.”

“What,” you asked him, confused.

“You think I started the third fight for the fun of it?” Azriel asked, offering his hand out to you.

You only gave him a confused look, remaining on the bed.

He walked back towards the bed where you sat reaching for your boots. He knelt down on his knees. “Sure, the moron had it coming. That doesn’t change the fact that fighting with him for a third time got me the afternoon off to teach someone how to fly.”

Your mouth fell agape. “Azriel,” you admonished and a smile came over the shadowsinger’s lips before pulling on your boots. “I am perfectly capable of putting on my shoes, Az.”

He only offered you a hand after he tied them up. You took it before he swept you into his arms. You craved his embrace, more than so many other things. Azriel walked back towards the balcony and shot into the sky.

You never imagined how some people hate this, because Gods this felt good, felt like freedom. It reminded you of your childhood when you flew whenever you could, as if flying up into the sky might take you away from all of your problems. You just hoped the next time you flew it would be on your own wings.

Azriel landed in a clearing, gently placing you down on the ground carefully, to make sure you didn’t fall. “I want you to be careful. If anything hurts too—”

“I promise I’ll tell you,” you said to him with a nod. 

“Is it…is it okay…okay if I touch your wings? For correction I mean? Should it be… necessary?” The shadowsinger asked from behind you, almost nervously. For good reason. The concept of touching someone’s wings without permission, in particular females, was beyond inappropriate. 

You nodded, you could sense the shadowsinger behind you, observing your wings carefully. You could feel his eyes scanning up and down. “Azriel?” You asked quietly.

“I can’t say I am a healer and know the anatomy well, but perhaps we start at the beginning. Test the muscles, the ligaments.”

You nod, something feeling oddly intimate about the moment. You turn to face the shadowsinger whose face had contemplating written all over it.

“Try spreading them and tucking them in,” he said as you faced each other. 

You nodded, spreading your wings as best you could. Mother above you hadn’t actually tried to do this in a while. You grimaced but managed to spread them, pushing them to your full extent, spreading your feet to offer you more balance.

A small smile of pride was clear on Azriel’s face. “Now fold inward.”

You did, slowly, afraid to tear or rip something in your wings. You couldn’t stop the smile when you folded inward with success. 

“Good,” he said with a mild amusement in his eyes. “Try again.”

You spread your wings again, your muscles ached, but that was good. That meant they were there, that meant you had a chance. 

Azriel’s eyes followed the movements, and cauldron boil him if your form wasn’t the most stunning thing he had ever seen. The shadowsinger had to put more concentration into not letting his knees buckle under him than he would like to admit. Beautiful. Stunning. Lovely. Beautiful, stunning. Lovely, his shadows whispered in his ear.

You pulled your wings shut rather than slowly closing them which caused you to lose your balance slightly, falling forward. Azriel reached out to catch you before you could land on the ground with a light amusement in his eyes before he suddenly realized how close in proximity you were to him. 

You’d been this close before. By the Gods, you shared a bed every night, but something felt different. You gently rest your hands against the shadowsinger’s chest in silence. 

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, hands shifting to cup either side of your face.

You looked up to see his face leaning down slightly. “Azriel.”

You don’t know who leaned in first, maybe Azriel, maybe you. It didn’t matter, because moments later the shadowsinger’s lips were on yours. They were sweet, and salty, and soft and warm. Like a warm biscuit on a cold night. Your fingers wound up in his hair before he pulled away. “Was that okay?”

His response was pulling your lips to his again, harder, more desperately like he had lived in a dry dessert for centuries and you were a tiny pool of water in the middle of it all.

You returned to opening and closing your wings, building the muscle until it was as easy as walking, though it certainly felt like the cauldron was burning you alive when you woke up the following morning. But you couldn’t be bothered, you were going to fly again.

Taglist: @5onedirection5

[th3lovely1]

Cuddling With Emily Engstler

♡♡♡

- I wrote it in bullet point form🙃

♡♡♡

• There is no way that this girl isn't clingy as hell when cuddling. I can imagine you trying to get up to pee or something, and her grip tightening on you

"Babe, please let me go. I have to pee"

"Five more minutes"

"I've already been holding it for like 10. I need to go"

And you have to basically wrestle her to get out, which is practically impossible with how tall she is.

• She finds it really comforting and falls asleep pretty easily. (It's funny to think if she had one of those dad snores)

• I feel like she's a light sleeper, so if you were getting out of bed, she'd notice it. And she'd probably follow you to wherever you're headed. Like even if you were to go pee, she'd be sitting by you or waiting at the door.

• She's probably a cold sleeper and uses the heaviest blankets and tries to stay as close as possible for you. Not just because she's cold but also cause she just likes being close with you🤷‍♀️

• She also thinks it's the funniest thing when her feet are hella cold and tries touching you with them

"Em, I swear to god, I will get out of this bed if you touch me with your feet again"

"It's funny though"

"Not to me, it isn't"

• And omg, when you say something she thinks is stupid or anything like that, she'll act all pouty and completely turn over, arms crossed and everything. But all you gotta do to turn back over is to just give a few kisses

• She gets really soft in times like this. She's all up on you saying how much she loves you, how much you mean to her, and just how grateful she is to have you. But then proceeds to cover you with kisses

• Because of basketball and all that I feel like she prefers to not have a movie playing sometimes and to have alone time with you without electronics or anything

• But when you guys do watch movies or tiktoks she probably asks a lot of questions or makes a shit ton of jokes

"Why is she moving like that?"

"How would I know?"

"Well, she moves like one of those stick bugs"

[bbjobo]

Hello hi it’s me, your resident entertainment PR enthusiast. I simply need to talk about the sequel announcement. This is all speculation, but I work in entertainment-adjacent communications and once convinced a household name celebrity to stay at my event to do select press interviews when his wife was going to go into labor at literally any minute, so I like to think I've got a pretty good sense of all of this.

So buckle in, because I'm about how actually fantastic this rollout was, because I’d wager they’ve been planning this since the premiere. 

RWRB came out truly smack-dab in the middle of the actors' strike. We all know just how much press we must have missed out on, because the strike started before promo would have kicked off in earnest. And when it was finally over in November, the actors are potentially out of contract for promotion, and that’s not even taking into consideration that the holidays are coming up and the six weeks from American Thanksgiving to New Year’s is truly a black hole of press. So this little movie has to rely almost entirely on fan reaction and word of mouth to hit because they’re so limited in what they can do for promo. And it IS a hit! Records are broken! Comments for an extended version (which, ok Matthew we get it, does not exist) and a sequel start almost immediately.

The marketing team makes the most of what they’ve got: they’re keeping up the official character accounts, they’re dropping deleted scenes and BTS. We get cornettos! The fireside scene! Bloopers! Notably absent? Brownstone Thanksgiving. We’ve seen BTS photos of it, we know it exists. Thanksgiving 2023 would have been a great time to drop it, but they don’t. This is the approximate point at which my own personal sequel speculation began. After the strike ends, the posting pace slows considerably but it’s still consistent. It’s just enough to keep it in your mind but not enough to be like “why are you still posting this much about it?” And this continues into 2024.

On the contracting side, conversations were likely actively happening at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if negotiations picked up literally as soon as the strike ended. The producers would have had that time to get Matthew and Casey back on board and be fully prepped and ready to move on to contracting actors the minute they could. It’d be a shot in the dark to try to guess when these were finalized, but at some point between November 9 and May 9, yeah, they’re in.

But whew, Nicholas is booked and BUSY. Mary & George drops internationally March 5, The Idea of You closes SXSW on March 17, two weeks later M&G starts airing in the US and Canada, and a month after that, TIOY is available for streaming (and limited theatrical release, which is another whole post), and in between all those premieres, he’s everywhere. He’s criss-crossing the country (and tbh the Atlantic Ocean) for all of these appearances, truly going non-stop. The pacing of the premieres makes it nearly impossible to squeeze in another project announcement, and if they had, it would have been a bigger part of every interview he did after, which is something his own team would be working to balance. Plus between TIOY and RWRB, Prime would have been pitching stories against themselves. Better to let him finish out his other promotional appearances and then switch over.

At the same time, we’ve got awards and red carpet season starting. At nearly every red carpet appearance not for their own projects, both Taylor and Nick are asked about a sequel. If an interviewer is given enough time, they ask about a sequel. Sure, fans comment about a sequel on every vaguely rwrb social post from an official account, but the press asking about a sequel felt like a lot to me. Everyone always gave the same vague answer, that they’d be up for it if the story is right, that they don’t know but would be happy to. (Except one time, Nick does slip up and give an answer that feels a little more definitive here where he says “conversations are being had” all the way back in late February/early March). Press are asking the question so consistently that it felt like if it wasn’t happening, PR teams would have put the sequel on the do not ask list.

Then Prime starts actually ramping up on a FYC campaign for the movie. I'm gonna be honest, I was so surprised. It's a rom com, the odds of a rom com getting any sort of awards recognition is so slim, but I thought, "ok, sure, use FYC as a way to get the promo boost they need for an announcement of whatever's coming next." And then I looked up and Variety has picked it as the winner in the best television movie category, which is blowing my mind. The other categories they're submitting in are stacked and I think a nomination beyond television movie will be a long shot, but again, it's big for it to even be considered. And if they're being talked about, that means Prime's gotta put out a great showing for their FYC campaign.

Which brings us to this week. We start off on Monday with Nick at the Met Gala referring to Uma as his mother-in-law. Incredible. Love it. Wednesday and Thursday are a one-two punch of a FYC event and fan event, and the gang’s all here. At the FYC, we get the industry side of things: new portraits and interviews with Deadline, process talk, etc. Because this little rom com is actually doing pretty well and beating the odds? Knowing what we know now, the PR teams spent this week pre-briefing the press on the sequel announcement. Notable (at least to my knowledge) the sequel question doesn't get asked at the FYC event. Because the press already knows it's coming.

Now, on to yesterday. They do a fan screening and Q&A, and they literally roll out the red carpet. Nine months after the premiere and exactly six months after the strike ended, they get the gang back together with fans of the movie, who they relied on so heavily during the strike to help make the movie a success. The tagline on the screen’s giant promo image has been updated to specifically thank fans for “making history with us.” The moderator for the Q&A is the same person who interviewed Taylor and Nick at the beginning of FYC campaign season, their first joint interview since GQ (right? pretty sure. it's all a blur tbh). And at the end of the Q&A, minutes before 12 AM ET, when the embargo on the press release would have lifted, they make the announcement not to press, but to the fans. The fans who loved the book, who watched it over and over, who spread the word about the movie to help make it one of Prime’s top three rom coms OF ALL TIME.

It’s just… an absolute masterclass in how to execute a major announcement that embraces the fans in a time where fandom and interaction between creators and fans can be an absolute minefield. Prime saw the opportunity to lean into the fannishness of it all and they took it and it was a slam dunk.

So where do we go from here? IDK but here’s some unconnected thoughts in list form like Alex would want.

The book’s 5th anniversary is next Wednesday, the 14th.

Casey’s been posting about working on [redacted] for months at this point, which is almost certainly the screenplay

Nick mentioned needing to be back in the UK for filming soon

They would probably like to release this in US election off-cycle years, so that means 2025 or 2027 (and 2027 is too far away). 2026 would be less bad since it’s a midterm election, but still.

Filming could reasonably start sooner rather than later, and even without an unfinished script

I guess we’re back on content watch for blond hair and BTS pictures

[anisangeldust]

Blind faith 𝜗𝜚⋆

Summary: it’s not an obsession. It’s a need.

Pairing: young President!coriolanus x maid fem!reader

Warnings: misogyny, stalking, Coriolanus’ fucked up mind, mentions of violence, forced sexualization, masturbation (m), non-con, somiphillia, p in v, normal bipolar behavior from Coriolanus, borderline domestic abuse.

A/N: False God series pt 1! Enjoy!

The aroma of coffee and mildew ridden books danced around the confines of Coriolanus’ office; the large, dark oak desk piled high with important paperwork and other such tedious documents that ate at his soul. Many bad decisions had led him to the thoughts he was having at the moment, ones that made him want to peel his skin off and lay in a pool of his own blood.

He should be happy—he should be, but he wasn’t, and it was his own goddamn fault. Any woman in Panem, his pick of the best, and he chose the one that, in his opinion, was so immeasurably insufferable that she was better off in a grave somewhere. But alas, Livia Cardew was an important person, so she ended up with the rock on her finger. She’d be the one in a months time to wear white and be proclaimed his beloved. At least she wasn’t putrid to gaze upon.

Layered on top was the stress of finding a new maid. The old one died right before Ravenstill stepped down from the position, and Coriolanus was just now getting around to replacing her. In his option, the least Livia could do was her duties as a woman and clean, but he’d never dare to let his tongue slip and ruin this important engagement, not after he’d worked so hard to get back up to the top.

Sometimes he was bewildered at how someone who graduated the same year as him at the academy could be so dim witted, did he truly not see how little she brought to society until she moved in? The thought of someone like her as First Lady of such a great nation made the hairs on the back of Coriolanus’ neck stand up. But he dug his grave, and now he was mere weeks from laying in it.

——

Dinner with Livia was as dull as usual. Coriolanus felt it would take a miracle for her to hold a genuinely intellectual conversation, she’d always tilt her head and giggle like a toddler, or drawl on about some useless capitol gossip; things Coriolanus had no patience for. The sound of his voice was nails on a chalk board, and his patience for her was wearing thin already.

“I’m hiring a new maid, I think it’s best.” He says coldly to whatever useless but of information his fiancée was babbling about. He was hoping perhaps she’d give insight, or best case scenario she’d offer to clean instead, but he should’ve known better.

“Sounds great, I’ve noticed that it’s been a bit dusty around here” Livia giggled, her laughter making it impossible for Coriolanus to want to do anything but hit her over the head with a candlestick.

That night, the feeling of arms shaking around him was what greeted him in bed. “Coriolanus..” a familiar scratching voice cooed into his ear. He knew what she wanted before she said it, and it was the only thing he’d been pushing back hard on. Sex.

“Really Livia? I’m tired” he grumbled and pulled her off of him, her touch lingering like a disease.

“Please? I’ll just blow you then, I just want something Coriolanus! We’re getting married soon and we haven’t done anything!” She was right, he didn’t what to was the thing, but the way a woman was begging to get him off appealed to the human desire in his DNA. He was a man after all, and it was his right to receive pleasure.

“Fine, I’ll let you blow me. But that’s it.” He grunted and sat up, pulling the covered off of his body and grabbing her, roughly forcing her to her knees on the side of the bed. Coriolanus grumbled something incoherent and yanked down his boxers, his dick was barely hard, so he jerked it a few times before grabbing his otherwise useless fiancées jaw and forcing her mouth onto his cock.

“Is that what you wanted yeah? Slut.” He hissed and took a right hold of her hair. He figured he could get used to this, at least she was mediocre at something, and maybe over time he’d start to enjoy it more. He fucked all the frustration he felt with her into her throat, not caring at all about the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, or the gagging sounds she was eliciting as his fat tip bullied the back of her abused throat.

Cumming down Livias throat, he groaned and pulled his cock out of her mouth. Slapping her reddened face with his softening dick. “Swallow it bitch” he commanded and stood up, pulling up his pajama pants and climbing right back into bed, not caring at all what Livias doing as long as she’s quiet, not a single positive thought about her crosses his mind before he’s pulled into the clutches of sleep.

——

Coriolanus had barely skimmed the applications for maid, picking the one he felt was most suitable, young, semi-important family, and good enough looking, that’s all that Coriolanus needed to be honest. Perhaps she could be someone else to take his anger out on, it’s just a woman after all, they’re replaceable.

The young president was looking out of his big windows when a poised knock and slight creek of the door caught his attention, it was his assistant, Basil. “Sir? The maid that you hired is here to meet you per your request.” He politely reminded.

“Thank you Basil. Send her here please.” Coriolanus replied and sat down at his large desk, leaning back and waiting to simply hire whatever young woman he had employed and get in with his day.

The rhythmic clack clack clack of heals down the hall was both intriguing and confusing for Coriolanus, Livia didn’t walk like that, perhaps this maid wasn’t a lost cause, and oh was he correct. You opened the door gently and walked in, the aura you carried was that of a divine presence, you looked so young, so corruptible, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of destroying that youthful innocence.

He could tell you had made yourself considerably more presentable for this meeting.. your lips were rosy and your hair was long and shiny. The simple but elegant dress you wore was simply too much, Coriolanus found himself wanting to bend this new aphrodisiac of a stranger over his desk, but he refrained for the sake of professionalism.

“You must be Y/N, nice to meet you. Since I’m employing you, you may call me Coriolanus. I also have a-“ he almost chucked in the word “-Fiancée, her name is Livia. Any questions? I’m a very busy man.” He said as he propped his legs up on his desk to hide his growing boner.

“Not at all, thank you Mr. President” your voice was intoxicating, the sweetest drug, and Coriolanus decided right there that he would stop at nothing to indulge in it. He almost corrected the you as you called him by his title and not his name, but the way you said ‘Mr President’ almost made him cum in his pants. A crude and disgusting idea flashed through his mind.

“Perfect. Well, it’s customary for the maids to wear clothes of a traditional French maid, I expect your measurements by tomorrow so I can have your work uniform made as soon as possible.” He was lying through his teeth, but he needed an excuse to know more about you, and a uniform he could make slutty was the perfect way he could be exposed to the newfound object of his desires more easily.

“I understand President Snow, I’ll have them in by tomorrow” you were shaking visibly, Coriolanus surmised it was due to the kind of job working for the president had to offer, or perhaps he himself is an intimidating presence.

“Wonderful. You’ll start work next Monday. I’ll get you aquatinted with the rest of the staff, and of course with Livia as well” He leaned back and almost scoffed at the name. Who was she to you? She’d never hold a candle to your beauty, to your obedience.

“Wonderful, thank you for your time Mr. President.” You stood up and didn’t even take a step before a deep command left the politicians throat.

“Call me Coriolanus.” It wasn’t a question, a mere suggestion. It was a command, one he expected you to follow.

“Yes of course, sorry sir-Coriolanus!” You were visibly flustered as you left his office, and he didn’t even try to hide that his eyes were glued to your round ass as you walked away.

——

A maid for the president, that was your job now, only to keep the house clean. It was easy right? That reassurance swirled around your head like milk in a bowl, the president was surprisingly kind, and surprisingly hot. But right now your job was to the clean the mansion, and after a brief introduction with his other staff, you went to one of the wings and looked out for where he said your uniform would be.

On a table in a small lounge was a small bouquet of flowers, a bag that looked of a luxury clothing store, and a card addressed to you. Upon opening the box inside the bag, you were greeted with a typical maids outfit yes; but it seemed much sexier than you would’ve thought would be appropriate. But who are you to say ‘no’ to the president?

The card was short, telling you what parts to clean and parts to avoid, where all the cleaning stuff resided, and how to reach Coriolanus if need be. Along with the information was a key to the mansion, and a keycard for anything that may be restricted (and not so subtle warnings annoy what would happen if either privileges were to be abused) With all said and done, you went and changed to start on your work day.

——

“Who are you?” An entitled voice said from behind you, her tone like someone who just witnessed a person puke. You stopped dusting for a moment and turned around, this lady looked at you like something on the bottom of her boot.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Y/N. Coriolanus hired me as a maid, you must be his fiancée Livia, I’m honored to meet you.” Your reply was kind, despite the obvious lack of kindness from this stranger whose house you were cleaning.

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize you’d be so.. provocative” she snarled and rolled his eyes at you. Reaching one of her hands out and knocking over a small vase of flowers, the glass cracking and water spilling. “Oops!” She taunted smirked. “Well? Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning?” She jeered and giggled, walking away as you sighed in both defeat at her actions, and relief that she was going already.

——

To say Coriolanus was fuming would be a severe understatement. What was supposed to be a perfect opportunity to spy on his new eye-candy of a maid in her perfectly pornographic outfit was soiled by his entitled brat of a fiancée. Looking at her made him ill, how could she? How dare she? Her actions were only solidifying her spot on his shit list, as to which she was a repeat offender.

The aftermath made it slightly better, the image of you on your hands and knees, sweeping up broken glass, made Coriolanus harder than he had ever been. And he may or not have snapped a few pictures of you bend over various surfaces.

The young president say in his bed much past after he usually would go to sleep, Livia passed out next him. He slowly palmed his boxers to the thought of you and your outfit, imagining that he was pushing you against the table and fucking your tight cunt.

“f—oh fuck..” he sucked in air as he began to tease his tip with his thumb, thinking about how he’d wrap his veiny hand around your throat and use you like a fleshlight, fucking you hard fast with his fat cock. He imagined how it would feel if you were riding him, fat ass in his grip and tits on perfect display he stroked up and down his dick as the image become more real, the want for your little pussy became unbearable. Coriolanus almost came when he imagined not even stepping you of your maid outfit, simply cumming inside and forcing you to clean while his seed pooled in your cunt.

Close to orgasm and pathetically desperate to cum in a warm pussy, Coriolanus ripped the blankets off of his sleeping fiancée. She wouldn’t care, at least he didn’t care if she did, and a clean tear of her panties granted him access to her, surprisingly wet, pussy.

It was easier to imagine it was you, the darkness and ability to shiver her face in a pillow really helped. He eased his fat tip inside her sleeping pussy, and began to sloppily thrust; not caring about anything but finishing.

“Coriolanus..?” A sleepy voice murmured, only to be taken breathless by a slap.

“Shut the fuck up you slutty bitch, let me use your pussy, fuck! And- then you can sleep-!” He grunted through sloppy thrusts and lewd squelches. His large hand went up to her mouth, allowing her no room to talk or complain.

Coriolanus came quickly to the thought of being buried in your pussy. The image of his milky cum dropping girl your puffy lips, coating your clit with his cream. He quickly pulled out of the pliant body of his fiancée and took his hand of her mouth. He rolled over and the strongest wave of clarity hit his system.

How the fuck was he going to survive being around you?

Taglist!

@daenerysqueenofhearts @caramelandvenus @yoursrosie @wearemadeofstardust0 @kay-lla @mrsriddlenott @sleekervae @ianales @qoopeeya

[to-thelakes]

sleepy

pairing; matt murdock x fem!reader

summary; re-adjusting to anti-depressants was never an easy task but you have your vigilante boyfriend to help.

warnings; fluff, just pure fluff, reader is on anti-depressants and very very sleepy, also a cheese lover

notes; this one-shot is definitely at least a few months old, i think i wrote it when i originally switched my dosage so it's a little chaotic. i feel like there's a lack of fics talking or discussing antidepressants so i like filling in the gap to comfort anyone who was suffering the sleepiness and shitty feelings like i was those first few months. also this is my first matty one-shot i'm releasing so please enjoy <3

masterlist

You were so tired. The first two weeks of antidepressants, you were told, would be the worst but it hadn’t prepared you for just how exhausted you felt. You had spent most of the first three days, curled up in bed and sleeping the day away. By the fourth day, your snack supplies had already begun to dwindle which is the opposite of what you needed right now.

And by the fifth day, you had to venture out to the store. And that had killed you off. You had gotten back, grabbed a bag of chips and curled up on the couch. Within a few hours you were asleep and you stayed like that for another four hours. The TV had suddenly seemed to get astronomically loud and it woke you from your slumber.

So, with a little huff, you rolled off the couch and began to make something proper to eat for dinner. But you felt exhausted. It clung to your mind, hovering over you as you tried to make cheesy pasta. Everything felt impossible and slow and it was frustrating but it was made better when you heard the familiar tap-tap-tap on the fire escape window. 

A grin spread across your face as you left your pasta to heat up the cheese, pulling the window open as Matt Murdock climbed through. He was still in his Daredevil costume and you thought he looked rather silly but he already knew that’s what you thought of his costume. He liked hearing you tease him.

But rather than saying anything, you just wrapped your arms around his torso and hugged him. Your eyes fell closed as you snuggled into him making him chuckle softly.

“It’s nice to see you too, darling,” He greeted softly. All you had the energy to do was hum in vague acknowledgement. His arms wrapped around your shoulders for a moment before he softly reminded you about the food on the stove. So, you reluctantly pulled back and went over to the pan. You split the pasta into two bowls and turned around just as Matt pulled his helmet off. He placed it down on the counter before cautiously walking over to you.

“I’m sleepy,” You mumbled softly as you passed him the bowl. He took a hold of it, searching for the fork before he began to eat it. You had added a little bit of seasoning, salt, pepper, garlic powder in hopes of giving it a little more flavour. But you knew within the first bite and from the look on Matt’s face that you had gone overboard with the garlic. A huff escaped your lips and you placed the bowl on the side, “I’m going back to bed,” You declared, giving up for the day. Matt chuckled, listening to your footsteps as you walked across the apartment to your bed.

The air moved around you as you face-planted and he couldn’t help another chuckle as he turned around. His gaze landed somewhere near you but you weren’t even paying attention. Sleep was desperate to crawl up your spine and take you in but Matt was here now and you wanted to see him for a bit.

He managed to place the bowl on your side before he navigated his way carefully through your apartment. He could smell a bowl of hummus on the floor somewhere, you had a habit of leaving random crockery on the floor so he was being careful before he reached your bed. He crawled onto it before he sat cross-legged across from you.

“How long have you slept today?” He asked curiously. You mumbled in vague response but he didn’t catch a single word of it. He reached out towards you and gently pushed your head back so that you would tilt your head to the side, “What was that?” He had a teasing lilt to his tone and it made you want to smack him.

“A while but I’m sleepy,” You muttered. Matt knew that you were on new medication. You had tried to hide it from him a few days ago but he could smell your body going haywire. It was the same with everyone he had known who switched medication. Body’s went haywire while they adjusted before eventually settling back into routine.

That’s all this was but he still found your sleepy-grumpiness adorable. Matt held his hand out towards you and you reluctantly dragged yourself so you could curl into his lap. His fingers began to run through your hair but the strands were getting caught on his gloves. You let out disgruntled noises before he decided to take his gloves off. Then his fingertips began to massage your scalp and you hummed happily.

“You feeling better?” He asked. You ‘mhm’d in response and he could tell that you were going to fall asleep in his lap, “I need to change, darling. Need you to get out of my lap.” There was an amused lilt to his voice and another disgruntled noise fell from your lips. You moved out of his lap before dropping onto the top of the bed. Matt always found your mood while sleepy to be not all that dissimilar to a cat. You hated being disturbed when you were curled up and comfortable and when you were, you gave the offender the evils.

You assumed Matt didn’t know that you did that but he could sense it. He had always been able to feel your gaze boring into him.

“In the usual place?” He asked. You let out another hum of agreement before you burrito’d in your covers, snuggling your face into the pillow. He changed silently, listening to your heartbeat and breathing to see if you had fallen asleep. But it seemed you weren’t falling into it quite yet. Once he had changed, he walked over to the bed and lay on top of the mattress.

And that was when you unburritoed yourself and crawled on top of Matt. You practically curled up on his chest, burritoing both of you with the covers as you snuggle into his neck. Matt’s arms wrapped around your back.

“Much better,” You mumbled under your breath. He chuckled softly at your words and you let your eyes close. Your breathe evened out relatively quickly, “Much better.” You snuggled up to him, peppering kisses across his neck before you nuzzled there. Matt grinned and pressed a kiss against your hairline.

“Glad I could be of service,” He teased. You grumbled against his chest but he merely continued to grin, kissing your hairline again before he let his eyes fall closed.

[nahoney22]

Saying Something Stupid Like I Love You 🌊

🫧 pairing: Wrecker X Gender Neutral Reader

word count: 1.4k

prompts:

*flustered rambling* ...And I love you!" / "Huh?" / "I said achoo."

“I really like you. Or, love you. Yeah. I really love you."

Summary: Your feelings for Wrecker were out of control. So, with enough courage, you tell him how you truly feel. Kind of.

warnings: none, complete fluff, idiots in love, mutual pining, first kiss, gender neutral reader.

Authors note: Hope you both don’t mind me joining requests? It just makes sense to kill 2 birds with one stone 😊 enjoy! 🫧 🩵 @dr-carew-jekyll

You found it impossible to tear your gaze away from him, captivated by every detail of his presence. The flutter of your heart matched the rhythm of the sunlight dancing across his features, leaving you utterly breathless. How could one man do this to you?

Your adoration for Wrecker had been a slow burn, a continuous journey that had been marked by bittersweet longing, knowing deep down he may never reciprocate your feelings. So, you nurtured your affection quietly but in doing so allowed it to bloom despite the ache it brought you daily.

“Why don’t you join me?” His invitation shattered your trance, drawing you back to reality with a jolt of embarrassment. Hastily, you averted your eyes, pretending to focus on your data pad to mask your blatant staring from just now.

Tentatively, you met his gaze, mustering a smile to act as though you didn’t realise he was there. "Me?" Your response came out in a nervous whisper, but his easy laughter washed away your self-consciousness.

“I don’t see anybody else, so yeah. You.” He laughs and With a pat on the space beside him, he beckons you to his side, nestled beneath the weeping maya tree, both of you now bathing in the golden embrace of sunlight.

As you settle beside him, a rush of nerves tingle down your spine. "This spot is my favourite here," he mused, his voice tinged with a quiet awe.

You observed him, drinking in every detail of his rugged charm, from the strength etched into his features to the warmth of his gaze. His eyes closed, basking in the sun's embrace, and you found yourself once again lost in admiration for him. “I need to tell you something.”

The words escaped your lips like a runaway speeder, before your brain could even hit the brakes, and Wrecker, with his signature grin, raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"More fruit smuggling, huh?" he quipped, his tone dripping with playfulness, but as your nerves practically formed a dance line on your face, his expression softened into concern. "You look like you just saw a ghost bantha. Everythin’ okay?"

With a gentle touch, his rugged hand found its place on your shoulder, a stark contrast to its usual strength, now exuding a surprising softness.

Your breath caught at his touch, his presence engulfing you in a whirlwind of emotions. Swallowing hard, you met his gaze, the words tumbling out in a rushed gasp, "I-I'm fine. Just fine."

But Wrecker wasn't easily swayed. His eyes held a silent inquiry, piercing through your facade. "What's on your mind then? Has someone hurt you?" He asks quickly, eyes wide as he looks around for a possible suspect.

“What? No, no nothing like that Wrecker.” You say with a soft laugh, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach with how protective he was. “It’s.. it’s complicated.”

Relief washes over him and offers a smile, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. "If it's about fixing up the Marauder, I'm afraid you're looking at the wrong guy."

You chuckled softly, but a nervous energy bubbles beneath the surface. "Somehow, that seems less complicated."

His gaze lingered on you, his eyes so tender and captivating that you felt yourself getting lost in their depths. The urge to lean in and plant a kiss right then and there surged within you, tempting you to dive headfirst into your fantasies that had kept you up at night. But you resisted, swallowing back your nerves and summoning all the courage you could muster.

With a deep breath, you square your shoulders and lift your chin, meeting his gaze head-on. Here goes nothing. Or everything…

“So, I don’t really know how to say this and I am sorry if you feel any different towards me or if this ruins our friendship but I just…” Your words stumbled out in a jumbled mess, a chaotic spiral of thoughts and feelings colliding in your mind like asteroids in a meteor shower. Why were you mentioning Batcher? The ocean? What you ate last week with Phee and Omega? It was like your brain had taken a detour.

Wrecker's brow furrowed in bewilderment, his gaze searching yours for an answer amidst the storm of your flustered rambling. Your hands grew clammy, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you even as you remained seated. You rambled on, words tumbling out like a malfunctioning hyperdrive until, finally, you blurted it out.

"And I love you!"

"Huh?"

"I said achoo."

Your heart sank as Wrecker's expression morphed into one of confusion, tinged with an emotion you also couldn't quite decipher…

"You love me?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper for a man so loud, the words hanging heavy in the air between you.

"Did... did I say that?" You choked out, your voice barely audible over the thudding of your own heartbeat. Avoiding his gaze, you felt a lump form in your throat, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He nodded slowly, his mouth agape, as if struggling to process the revelation. "It's not somethin' I ever thought you'd say to me."

"Yes, well," you began, clearing your throat in an attempt to mask your nervousness and pent up emotions, already mentally planning your escape to the safety of the Marauder or perhaps even a boat to sail far, far away, "I thought you ought to know."

As you rose, Wrecker's gaze followed you, but before you could make your getaway, he was quick to intervene, standing and catching your arm with a gentle touch that rooted you in place. "Wait, don't just run away," he urged, turning you to face him with a tenderness that belied his usual gruff demeanor. "Do you mean it?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, words caught in your throat like a tangled net. "I did... I do. I do really mean it," you mumbled, unable to meet his gaze as he released your arm.

He smiles, soft and delicate unlike his rugged and scarred features. Aside from those eyes… eyes you’ve grown to adore due to the warmth that emanated from them. Trying not to get entranced again and make an even bigger di’kut of yourself, you took a step back but noticed him start to shift.

Watching him, even holding your breath as he took one, his next words hung in the air. "I like you."

Ouch.

Was this the dreaded ‘friend zone’? Would the ground open up and swallow you whole? You could only hope.

"Or, love you," he added quickly, seeing how your demeanor changed as your eyes began to gloss over. "Yeah, I really love you."

Stunned, you struggled to find your voice, bewildered with the weight of his confession. "Are you just saying that to be nice?"

In response, he closed the distance between you in two purposeful strides, his hand lifting to delicately trace the curve of your cheek before cradling it in his palm. A tremor of nerves passed through him, matching the fluttering in your own chest. Before you could utter his name, he silenced you with a tender press of his lips against yours.

Explosions ignited in your gut, your eyes widening in shock. Was this real, or just a figment of your wildest dreams? But, you were determined to seize the moment even if it wasn’t real. You melted into the kiss, arms winding around the back of his neck as you kissed him back with fervour. His smile against your lips sent shivers down your spine as his embrace tightened, drawing you closer against his broad chest.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his with a mix of warmth and hope. "I've wanted to do that for a while," you admitted, breathlessly. The question of how long however can remain a secret.

His laughter rumbled against you as he held you close. "You should've told me sooner! I was going mad."

"I could say the same thing," you retorted with a smirk, catching him off guard.

"Okay, okay. I should've," he agreed sheepishly. "But I never knew you'd feel the same way back. I didn't want to ruin what we already had."

"Well, luckily for us," you leaned up to steal another quick kiss, savouring the sensation of his lips against yours, "we don't have to worry about that, do we?"

A grin spread across his face. "I don't think so." With a playful sweep, he lifted you off your feet, and suddenly, the weeping maya tree wasn't just his favourite spot—it was yours too.

As it turned out, your worries had been for nothing.

Masterlist

Wrecker

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[steddieas-shegoes]

🧁Congrats on 3k followers!🧁 You were the first steddie person I followed and I'm still so glad I did! 💕

For the sentence prompt, I'm picking a line from my favorite love song - Fair by The Amazing Devil:

"Darling, I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades at night when light is fading"

Me? The first?! That’s a huge honor and I am definitely not crying about it (lying). I hope you enjoy!

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Steve’s migraines were bad when it rained, even worse when he’d been outside all day. Nothing helped except sleeping it off.

And pressure in just the right spot on his forehead.

It was hard to get it right on his own, and Robin was always just a bit too harsh with her fingertips against his skin, pressing too much at once in too many places. Eddie managed to touch just right sometimes, but it was hit or miss.

It was so fucking frustrating.

Eddie was frustrated too, especially when the pain got to a point that Steve didn’t even want him near him. Every smell, sound, and accidental touch made him nauseous.

They had rain most of the day, and Steve’s work day had started with Keith berating him for not rewinding one tape before putting it back on the shelf. It ended with a customer trying to steal candy from the shelves and yelling at Steve when he got caught.

By the time he got home, he could barely feel his fingers from how hard he’d been clenching the steering wheel as he drove, doing his best to focus on the road ahead. He just had to get home, then he could wash his face and get in bed.

Eddie was playing music while he made dinner, and it was nearly impossible for Steve to do anything but rush past the kitchen to their bedroom. Eddie would figure it out quickly.

Within minutes, Steve was standing at the bathroom sink in only his underwear, hot water running over the washcloth he planned on holding on his face until he could breathe again.

“Stevie, you okay?” Eddie whispered when he walked into the room.

“Migraine.”

“I’ll get you some water and the ice pack.”

Steve lost track of time as he finished up in the bathroom and settled in bed. His head wasn’t pounding so much as exploding into new galaxies every time he blinked. Somehow, closing his eyes made it worse.

He managed to make himself as comfortable as possible, barely even moving when Eddie placed the ice pack on his forehead and eyes.

“10?” Eddie asked as softly as possible, keeping his distance, but staying close enough for Steve to touch him.

“Mhm.”

“You need me to sleep on the couch?”

“No.”

The bed shifted slightly as Eddie moved further under the covers on his side. “Okay. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

The spot on his forehead was pulsing and the ice pack wasn’t doing shit.

“Turn on your side,” Steve asked, voice shaking as he tried to bite back a whimper of pain.

He felt Eddie move, and when he reached a hand out to see if he’d understood what he asked, he couldn’t help his lip turning up at the corner in an attempt at a smile.

Sometimes he was convinced the bat bites had connected them in more ways than the soft camaraderie of recovery. Sometimes it felt like they were reading the other so well, they shared a brain.

Steve slowly moved forward, wincing when his body made contact with Eddie’s. Steve pulled the ice pack away.

“Sweetheart?”

“Just a sec,” he replied.

Eddie was as still as a statue, something so rare, he probably reserved it for these moments.

Another reason Steve was certain Eddie was better than he deserved.

Steve leaned his head forward, letting out a small groan when his forehead made contact with Eddie’s back, right between his shoulder blades.

He pressed his head forward, not able to relax until he found-

There.

He nearly moaned with relief.

“Found it, angel?” Eddie whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment of painless ecstasy Steve was experiencing.

“Mm.”

“Stay as long as you need,” Eddie added before focusing on slow breathing so he wouldn’t disrupt Steve’s resting place.

Steve sighed and let himself enjoy this moment for as long as possible. He closed his eyes.

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

When Steve woke up, the light was almost gone between the curtains and Eddie’s breathing was slowed like he was asleep.

His head still ached, but the pounding had gone, and when he looked down at Eddie’s face, everything was clear.

He’d found a place to heal in Eddie. First, his arms, then his heart, and now, the place between his shoulders.

[romanticintheory]

HI I JUST READ YOUR "SIMON BETRAY YOU" AND YOU KNOW WHATTTT IT HURTS SOO GOOD OMG THANKS FOR MAKING THATT SJWISHWBSHSJSBWJSBWBS

...

and.. maybe can you write for a part two? pleaseee🥺

HIII TYSM IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!! here's a pt 2! i am very sick at the moment, though, so this might be a bunch of gibberish (i sincerely apologize if so). hope you like it <3

simon riley betrays you pt. 2

simon "ghost" riley x reader || pt. 1 || masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆

-miraculously, they let you go.

-you half expected someone to drag you out of the car with the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple with the intent to fire, but no. after a few excruciatingly long hours alone with your arms and legs bound, someone new came to cut your ties and let you loose.

-maybe they were just bad at their job, you thought. after all, why would they let you, essentially a witness, go free without any repercussions?

-a few years pass. you try to move on, but its impossible when your entire world was shattered in one night.

-you never heard back from your father since then, but that wasn't the thing that hurt the most. you couldn't go a single day without thinking about the sting of betrayal. any happy moment you had was spent comparing the time you felt that same feeling with him, before anything in the world was wrong to you.

-what's worse, there was something telling you that you shouldn't tell anyone about it even if you wanted to. a voice in your head kept telling you that maybe, maybe they're keeping you on a leash. maybe someone was watching you at this very moment ready to take you out the moment you spilled your experiences.

-in a way, your fears are confirmed when you meet simon again miles away from the last place you lived. you had moved for this exact reason; you never wanted to see his face for as long as you lived.

-it happens when you're walking alone in the street. you moved to this area specifically because you heard it was quieter and, more importantly, safer. but how much of that could you escape, really?

-your attacker approaches you as you're making your walk home from work, a kind of confidence on his face that makes the common individual want to roll their eyes.

-"what's a sweet thing like you doing out alone at night, huh?" he asks, his footsteps staggered like he's had one too many drinks.

-you give him the usual speel of, "oh, my friends are waiting for me... yeah, i've got a boyfriend. haha, i'm okay, no need to accompany me, thanks."

-your soft attempts at rejection only seem to agitate him, because next thing you know he's stepping toward you and putting a hand on your arm with a bone-crushing grip.

-"c'mon jus' let me-"

-his voice is cut off by the sound of a loud thud and the stranger's yelp of pain. it takes you a second, but you realize the defense on your behalf came from beside you.

-oh, thank god.

-you and your now injured attacker now adjust your gazes to sit on the silent newcomer. just like that, your settled sense of dread has come back and increased tenfold.

-there he was, with that stupid mask over his face and his hands curled into fists for preparation of what he was going to do next if the man didn't scurry off.

-"you'll leave," he says darkly under subtle pants, as if he ran before coming to your rescue. "if you know what's good for you."

-the stranger wastes no time in running off into the night, leaving you with your worst nightmare.

-for a while, you both stare at each other like you can't believe the other is real. it takes everything in you not to cry or beg him for answers. no, after everything you worked for, you're not going to throw away everything you built in the past few years to recover from him just to throw it all away now... right?

-"why are you here?" you ask coldly. "come to finish the job?"

-although your eyes were icy and your questions came with a rigid tone, there was genuine fear in your question. what if the soldier that untied you wasn't supposed to? what if you were supposed to be dead all those years ago?

-"no. never."

-even though he knows the reason why, his heart still hurts at the thought of you believing he'd just up and kill you like that.

-"really? that's rich," you scoff, except you're terrible at hiding the tremble in your breath and the tremors traveling through your body.

-spotting your growing fear, he scrambles for something, anything, to make you fear him less.

-"i was worried, that's all. after that night," he pauses, eventually deciding to skip the details of what he did to your father. "i didn't know where you went. thought i could just get over it, but i guess i just knew i needed to check in on you just in case."

-you resist the urge to roll you eyes. "right. you're back again to 'check in on me'? to come back and meddle in my life again?" you're struggling to keep your tears back as they form in your eyes. "you've already taken so much. how selfish can you be?"

-he stares at you for a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out a gold watch that belonged to your dad.

-"i'm sorry about your father, but you have to understand that he-"

-"not that, simon. it was never that," you push his hand away and the offer that came with it. his eyes became confused. "i mean you. it's always been you. you just come into my life telling me you love me, that you want to be with me so much and then just take that all away? and you never even bothered to tell me it was a lie, just let me get tied up by some stranger to be left alone and scared!"

-there's a new look in simon's eyes at your words, but it's hard to decipher them from behind the mask.

-"it wasn't a lie," he says slowly, lowering the hand with the watch in it back to his side.

-"oh, please." the trembling has not died down in the slightest. "i bet you're still mad that worker of yours took pity on me and let me leave before you could do anything about it. like i said, back to finish the job."

-your eyes are now trained on the ground. there was a conflicted feeling in your body at the moment. on one hand, this was the man that let you get tied up and left in a car while he "handled" your father. on the other, this was the man you loved. the one who was kind to your ever desire, who always understood you in ways you never knew possible.

-"i told them to let you go," he finally manages.

-"what?"

"i..." he hesitates. "i told my captain that if i was going to give them your father's location, they were to let you go no questions asked when the whole ordeal was over with." and it was true. he hated even imagining poor you, being interrogated by his colleagues in an isolated, barren room. you had been through enough.

-and even if you had been a part of your father's scheme, there was a part of simon that loved you too much to care (though he'd never admit it to himself).

-it was a good thing price trusted his judgment. he didn't know what he would've done had he said no.

-the tears are now streaming down your face and you can do nothing to stop it. it all felt like so much. you were so, so confused. if he did love you, why did you feel this way? how much of this could you trust?

-cautiously, he goes to wipe the tears away from your face, murmuring a quiet, "hate it when you cry." for a second, it was a familiar feeling. you felt like you were back in your shared flat with simon while having a breakdown over life's struggles. in moments like those, you never would have expectated that life's struggles could take the form of simon himself.

-you can't help but lean into his touch. maybe you were insane for allowing him to touch you like this, but you wanted nothing more than to let him into your life again. the resolve you worked so hard to build was crumbling away the longer you spent with him.

-"the reason it took so long for me to find you..." he's holding your face in his hands, now. "for so long, i thought i ought to leave you alone. i know i should. i wasn't lying about when i said i was worried if you were still alive, but," he swallows the lump in his throat before continuing. "i also miss you. 'nd i know, 's incredibly selfish of me after everything i've done to you, but i can't help it."

-one of his hands leaves your face to slide the mask and balaclava off his face. there he was again, his aged brown eyes and soft jawline, the sides of his face littered with small scars you still remember to this day.

-"i'll make it up to you," he whispers. "anything you ask, i'll answer. about my past, your father, anything. you ask me to get you something, i'll have it for you wrapped all nice 'nd pretty. hell, i'll get on my knees and pray to you if you order me to, love."

-it was like your nightmare turned into a fantasy, having him here begging for your forgiveness.

-"anything you want, i want to give to you. jus' let me be a little selfish, too."

-you bite your lip as you think it over. you know the correct answer would be a clear, hard no, but you can't bring yourself to do it. not after all those nights wishing he was encasing you in his arms again, whispering all the things he adored about you as you drifted off into sleep.

-as much as you shouldn't be believing him, you do.

-"...anything?" you ask hesitantly, and it takes everything in simon not to pull you in close and never let go.

-again. no, he needs to be sure he won't scare you off again.

-"anything," he promises, fingertips tracing the edge of your jawline.

-"okay," you agree, the tears finally having stopped flowing. happiness does not even begin to describe what simon was feeling. "for starters, you can walk me home."

-with the watch long forgotten and broken on the edge of the sidewalk, he holds your face for a bit longer before letting go. eventually, he offers his arm to you and you take it.

-there's a part of him that mourns the years lost that he could've had with you. maybe, if he came to you sooner, he wouldn't have to be so careful about being around you, now. but, no, these were the consequences of his actions.

-at the very least, you were still giving him a second chance, and he was intent on not fucking it up this time.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 11

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, arguing, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to babies, swearing, references to military deployment, blood, medical inaccuracy, military inaccuracy

Jake’s Apartment, 11 Years Ago

“Don’t go,” Buttercup begged, standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get deployed again for like a year.”

Jake shrugged as he packed his bag. “Something came up, and they need the best of the best. So, they’re sendin’ me, Javy, Rooster, Bob and Phoenix.”

Buttercup cupped her small bump, her ring finger glinting with the wedding ring he had put there only two weeks previous. The wedding had been a surprise, a shotgun wedding in the typical sense of the word, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. The love of his life was pregnant, with twins, and was now Mrs. Seresin. Everything was coming up roses for Jake Seresin, and he was living for it. But the newly minted Mrs. Seresin…

“When will you be back?” she asked, her hand stroking her belly nervously.

Jake huffed a laugh. “That’s above my paygrade, sweetness.”

“I’m serious, Jake,” she swallowed. “Will you be back before the babies come?”

Jake paused. She was five months pregnant with twins, and everyone kept telling him that twins always came early. Would he be back in four months? It was impossible to say.

He turned towards her, smiling as softly as he could as he took her into his arms. “You’ll have Penny. And Mav and Payback and Fanboy and everyone else. It’ll be okay.”

She shoved out of his arms and stalked over to the bedroom window. “I don’t want everyone else. I want you. My husband. The father of my children. That’s who I want with me as I get all huge and can’t shave my legs and when I have to get poked and prodded at my appointments. Not a bunch of strangers. I want you.”

“I want you too,” he waggled his eyebrows at her, but didn’t get the giggling response he hoped for.

“I came here to visit my brother, but I stayed for you,” she murmured. “And now you’re both leaving and I’m going to be stuck here, useless.”

“Not useless,” he soothed, trying again to hold her. “You’re growing our babies. And if you ever feel like you need more, you could always go help Penny with the bar. But you don’t have to worry about anything, okay? I’m sending every paycheck home to you. The apartment is paid off completely, and the utilities come out of my bank account automatically. It’ll be okay.”

Buttercup swiped at her eyes and sidestepped him. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me, babe. Because I’m leaving in less than 36 hours and I’d like to know that my pregnant wife will be waiting for me when I get back,” he huffed.

“Of course I’ll be here!” she snapped. “I would never do that to you. But you’re fine with leaving me.”

Jake sighed and slowly walked over to her, hesitating only momentarily before placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not fine with leaving you,” he whispered. “I feel like a fox caught in a trap, ready and willing to gnaw my own foot off if it meant the Navy wouldn’t own my ass anymore. But I can’t.” He let his hands glide down her body to rest on her small bump. “I don’t want to miss a second of this but I know I will. What I won’t miss is the birth. I swear to God. I’ll make sure I come home before they even think of coming out of their mama.” He pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek. “I’ll talk to Mav. He still has some sway over Cyclone. He can make sure I’m home, and that I don’t get deployed once they arrive. Not for a while, at least.”

He felt Buttercup shudder against him and was thankful that, this time, she allowed him to pull her into his arms. “And you’ll be safe? You’ll come home?”

Jake sighed and did the one thing he’d always sworn to himself that he would never do. “I promise, baby. I swear to God that I’m comin’ home to you.”

Cabana Bar, Hotel Zaza, Now

Jake held them for what felt like hours, until one of the girls started to squirm and try to pull away from the embrace.

“Dad…you’re soaking wet.”

Jake chuckled a little as he pulled away, stretching to his full height. “Sorry. I just missed you both so much.” He nodded his thanks to a helpful staff member, who handed him a fluffy white towel. “How…how are you here?” He blinked down at them. “You said something about a switch?”

The girls shuffled their feet nervously, but it was Buttercup who stepped forward. “You’re bleeding,” she murmured, gesturing to his soaking white shirt. Jake glanced down, noting the tear in his shirt and the red that was now staining it. Buttercup bit her lip, stepping closer. “What happened?”

Jake looked over at the bartender, who was shooting daggers at the lot of them, surrounded by shattered glass. “He stepped into my path and the deck was too slippery for me to course correct in time, so I bumped into him. I guess I took a few glasses to the chest as they shattered.”

Buttercup clocked the glares of the bartender too because she said, “Let’s go get you cleaned up. Then our daughters can explain themselves to you.”

Jake nodded, just as a shrill voice sounded behind him. “Oh my goodness, there’s two of them?”

Jake turned, finding Savannah clutching her chest, an older man and woman flanking her. “Savannah, meet my daughters. Abby and Charlie. And this…” Jake glanced at Buttercup with a look that was heavy with guilt. “This is my ex-wife. Their mother.”

Savannah gasped and leaned heavily against her father. “It’s alright, pookie,” the older southern gentleman soothed, his elegant wife fetching a fan from her clutch and waving it over her daughter’s wan face. “Let’s get you some air and some sweet tea to get you feeling better.” He gathered Savannah into his arms and gave them a reproachful look before striding off, his wife teetering behind him in her heels.

Jake couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. “Great…”

One of the girls bit their lip. “Sorry, dad.”

Jake shook off the weight of Colonel Beaumont’s glare and smiled down at her. “It’s alright. I’ll deal with it later.” He looked up and met Buttercup’s bright gaze. “You sure it’s alright if you patch me up?”

She rolled her eyes and headed towards the door. “I wouldn’t have offered if I minded, Hangman.”

Jake grinned and followed behind her, each of his strong hands resting on the shoulders of his daughters.

As Buttercup called down to the concierge to ask for a first aid kit, Jake settled onto her bed (and refused to think any further on that subject) while the girls stood in front of him and quickly explained everything.

The camp, Penny’s meddling, switching places, Rooster finding out, Bob finding out, their phone call to each other, their plan to corner them both here and make them talk to each other.

By the time they ran out of words, there was a knock on the door and Buttercup moved towards it, greeting the staff member who handed her the large white first aid kit. All the while, Jake gaped at his daughters.

“Well, hell…” he finally found it in himself to murmur. “That was some sneaky crap you two pulled.”

“Language,” Buttercup murmured softly, a small smile breaking out on Jake’s face.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he nodded as she laid out the first aid kit on the bed next to him. “I’m just saying, why didn’t either of you pony up and talk to us?”

“We were going to,” one of them started, a slight lilting accent to her voice, and Jake knew that was his Abby. They really were so identical (and Jake wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had no clue what his daughter had been wearing before she left the house that day or if she had changed when they got to the hotel), so he was having a hard time telling them apart when they weren’t speaking. “But we got scared.”

“You were both so sad whenever we brought up our missing parent, and we didn’t want to make you sad,” said Charlie, her young voice twanging.

“But when we met—”

“We really wanted to meet our other parent—”

“And we decided to ask forgiveness instead of permission.”

Jake shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know how you two pulled it off, but I’m impressed. Don’t ever do something like that again, but I’m impressed.”

Both girls blushed and nodded, both looking so much like him that he had to give his head a shake. They were incredible. They were his. And they were here. All three of them were.

As that thought raced across his mind like an off-leash dog, he glanced up at Buttercup, still standing before him, now with a fluffy white robe wrapped around her overtop of her soaked clothes.

“Why don’t you two go find your aunt and uncles?” he suggested, not taking his eyes off his ex.

Glancing between them, the two girls nodded and headed for the door, calling their goodbyes over their shoulders.

“Don’t forget your room keys,” Buttercup called after them, her eyes not leaving his either.

Once they heard the door click shut, both adults sighed.

“I…I guess you should take your shirt off,” Buttercup mumbled, staring at the spot on his white shirt that was slowly growing redder.

“Didn’t realize you were so eager to get me out of my clothes, Buttercup,” Jake quipped with a smirk, his hands going for the tiny pearlescent buttons. “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t call me that,” she gritted between her teeth, eyes casting downward toward the first aid kit.

“Why not?” he challenged, his hands stilling.

“Because I’m not…”

“Not what?”

She met his gaze again and he was taken aback by the fire blazing in them. “Because I’m not yours anymore.”

His whole body stilled. It was true, what she had said. She wasn’t his. Not anymore. They had a decade of memories separating them now. Separate lives. Lives that only included a daughter that shared half his DNA and half hers. He’d hated the custody arrangement, they both had, but it was the only thing that made sense with their schedules and Buttercup’s health. And now, there she was. Eyes burning at him in a way that he hadn’t seen since before the birth of their daughters. At least one thing had gone right in their divorce. His Buttercup was back and more fierce than ever.

“I know that,” he said quietly. “But you still have your tattoo, don’t you?” His eyes traced the stem of buttercup blossoms that peeked out from under her white robe. “Bob and Natasha still call you Buttercup?” She nodded. “Then I don’t see why I can’t.”

“B-because…because you’re you,” her chest heaved slightly, as though she was desperate for air. Jake stood and opened the hotel window slightly, allowing the fresh breeze to rustle the leaves of the fake fern in the corner. She blinked, staring at him as her breathing almost immediately came easier to her. “I don’t think your fiancée would like it if you were still calling your ex-wife by a pet name,” she mused, striding forward to grab the disinfectant from the kit.

“Savannah can deal with it,” he muttered, already knowing he was in for one hell of an argument when he met up with his fiancée and future in-laws later.

“You sure she’s mature enough for that?” Buttercup muttered under her breath, gesturing for him to continue unbuttoning his shirt.

He chuckled shortly, peeling his wet shirt off his tan skin. “Jealous?”

“Of you being engaged? No. Of how little time she has to spend scrolling to find her birth year? Maybe a little.”

Jake chuckled again, the sound warm and soothing. “I am sometimes too, I think. She doesn’t have to search long, meanwhile I feel like I’m spinning the wheel on the Price is Right or some shit.”

Buttercup giggled in spite of herself. “At least you finally found someone at your maturity level.” She leaned in and pressed a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic to the thin line that bisected his pec.

“Low blow, sweetheart,” he hissed.

Buttercup muttered a half-hearted apology as she found another cut, not bleeding but crusted over with dried blood and a small piece of glass.

“What do you two even talk about?” she pondered as she grabbed the tweezers, steadying herself against his abs, still hard and defined after all those years.

Jake sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable discomfort of having the nearly superficial wound poked and prodded, but it never came. As always, his Buttercup’s hands were soft and gentle with him.

“You really want to have this conversation?” he asked softly.

She blinked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Would you rather we fight?”

“Why do those have to be our only options?”

Her steady hands grabbed the bandages and she carefully started to cover up the two wounds on his chest.

“Fighting was basically our only option there for a while,” she murmured, her body so close to his that he could practically feel her cool breath against his skin.

“I didn’t want it to be that way.” He craned his neck, trying to make eye contact, but her gaze remained firmly on her work. “I always hated it when we fought.”

She sighed as she made sure the soft gauze bandages were tight against his skin, her touch lingering slightly inches away from where his heart beat under his skin, before she sat back on her heels. “Me too. But—” she slapped her hands against her robed thighs before pushing herself to her feet again. “That’s all in the past. You’re getting married and I adore my job in the UK. The only thing we need to fight about now is how we’re going to split up the girls.”

Jake blinked at her. “You…you want to split them up again? What the hell, Buttercup? They just told us that they wanted a better custody arrangement.”

Buttercup flinched and took a step back from him. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that we need to figure out how to split our time with them so that it’s fair. Should be easier now that you’re not in the Navy anymore.”

He felt his temper flare slightly in his chest, but he fought to hold that mask of calm on his face. “It would probably be even easier if you didn’t live on the other side of the planet.”

Her back stiffened and her face solidified into a mask of emotionless stone. “Indeed it would, but I love my job and I could no more give it up than you could give up your ranch in Texas.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he kept her gaze, slowly raising from his spot on the bed. “No one is asking you to give up your job, only to move. It’s a lot easier to move as a writer and publisher than it is to move a whole damn ranch.”

“Author.” At Jake’s blink, her icy voice sounded again. “I’m an author, Jake. Not a writer. And no one is asking you to move the ranch. I would never ask something like that of you.”

Jake stepped closer, the two of them nearly nose to nose. “I know you wouldn’t. You’d let it all go before you asked me for anything.”

This time he did feel her breath puffing against his face, the air hot against his skin. “I learned a long time ago that asking you for something would only lead to disappointment.”

“You know it wasn’t that easy,” he bit out, stepping even closer, his hands coming up to brace against the wall as she stepped back to lean into it, lean as far as she could out of his space. “What you were asking me for was—”

“Impossible,” she whispered. “I know. And now you know that what you’re asking me for is impossible too.”

“Even if it’s for our daughters?”

The question hung in the mere inches of air between them like a gas, a burning, toxic, intangible thing that was slowly choking them both.

In the silence, he couldn’t help but trace her features with his eyes, and he knew from her unfocused stare that she was doing the same to him. He may be older than he had been when they met, but he knew he still looked good. Got confirmation of it every time he went into town and saw the local ladies. But Buttercup…she looked even better than she had when they were together. The beauty of her youth hadn’t dimmed with age, but only settled into something that spoke of wisdom and loss and pain and rebirth, a shining fire within her. Like a—

“Phoenix!”

Both their heads whipped around as Rooster berated Phoenix for slamming the door open and strolling in like she owned the place. Jake stepped back like he’d been burned, and Buttercup took his momentary distraction as a means of escape, ducking below the arm that had been keeping her caged against the wall and moving back towards the bed. She calmly gathered the discarded materials from the first aid kit and threw them into the wastebasket next to the small hotel room desk.

Buttercup glanced around, her hands busy repacking the white kit, when she spotted her daughters among the crowd of those who were her family, and those who used to be.

“Couldn’t you two pick something a little less identical?” she teased, taking in the matching black and turquoise t-shirts the girls were wearing.

“No, that’s the point,” they replied, in perfect unison.

Buttercup stilled, her fingers hesitating at the latch of the case. “What do you mean?”

Rooster nudged past them, clapping Jake on the back as he strode toward the mini fridge. “They heard you arguing in the hallway,” he whispered in his ear.

Shit. The last thing he wanted was for the girls to hear them arguing, and, based on the look on Buttercup’s face as Bob whispered in her ear, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

“I’m sorry you heard us fighting,” Jake stepped in. “Your mom and I…we’ll work out a custody arrangement that leaves everyone happy. I promise. Divorced couples do it all the time.”

“Yes, well…we want to be sure,” said the twin with the Texan twang in her voice.

“Charlie, what’re you talkin’ about?”

The other twin blinked at him. “But Dad, I’m Charlie.”

Shit again.

Buttercup suddenly stood beside him. “Abby, Charlie, stop fussing about.”

“We’re not fussing about, Mum.”

“Of course we’re not, Mum.”

Buttercup groaned, her hand rising to rub at her eyes in such a familiar way that Jake was tempted to run out and grab her usual migraine relief items.

“Girls, please stop messing around,” Jake begged instead.

“We will.”

“As soon as we go back to the ranch. All of us.”

“Once we’re there, you two can figure out the custody arrangement. Then and only then, we’ll tell you who is who.”

“And you two came up with this scheme all on your own, huh?” Jake crossed his arms, his chest stinging slightly as the bandage pulled tight. His eyes scanned the gallery of adults around the room. His friends, his family, all looked away from him, Javy looking all too interested in the piece of hotel artwork that decorated the wall.

“Girls, please,” Buttercup whispered, crouching down to look them in the eye. “This isn’t fair and you know it. We promise that we’ll figure out a schedule, but we all have to go home. To our own homes.”

“Auntie Nat already called your publisher and said that you were extending your holiday,” one of the twins shrugged. “And Uncle Rooster said that Dad doesn’t have anything to do this week outside of the ranch business.”

“Other than groveling with my in-laws,” Jake muttered.

“Speaking of…wouldn’t this be best anyway, Dad?” the other twin blinked up innocently at him. “This way our stepmother can get to know both of us. Build bridges and heal old wounds and that kind of thing.”

Jake groaned and ran a hand over his face before crouching down, green eyes scanning their features. He could’ve sworn the one on the left was Charlie, but had her hair always been parted like that? And the one on the right kept switching into a damn convincing Texan twang. But the one on the left seemed to be favoring her left leg, which would track with some of the injuries that Charlie had collected over the years on the ranch. But then the twin on the right started favouring her left leg too, and Jake sighed.

“I can’t tell,” he whispered to Buttercup, who looked horrified.

“Neither can I,” she nearly whimpered. “What kind of mother doesn’t know her own children?”

“The kind of mother who taught her children never to give up without a fight,” the twin on the right piped up, smiling brightly at them. “Just one week, Mum. One week at the ranch. We can go on the annual trail ride with Dad, and you can work on your book. You said the flat in London was stifling your creativity anyway. At the end of the week, when you’ve got a schedule for custody, then we’ll tell you who is who and we can all go home. One week. Please?”

“Please, Mum?”

Buttercup groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Fine. But whichever one of you is Abby is losing her allowance for a week for pulling another one of these stunts on me.”

“Same goes for Charlie,” Jake grumbled, his pointer finger drifting between them. “And you two!” Jake turned his finger on Rooster and Javy. “You’ll have to step up and split my ranch responsibilities between you. Y’know, since I’m going to be so busy with my daughters and figuring out a schedule.”

Maybe it wasn’t fair, but Jake had no doubt that his two best friends had something to do with his daughters’ newest scheme.

“I’ll call the ranch and get the house ready for everyone,” Jake offered. “We’ve got more than enough room for the four of you.”

“No need,” Bob piped up. “I’ll be flying back tonight.”

“And I’m going with him,” Phoenix added, shooting a look in Javy’s direction. To Javy’s credit, he didn’t flinch at all.

“Like hell you are,” Buttercup hissed. “You two got me into this mess, so you’re going down with me.”

Bob’s cheeks reddened and Nat looked like she had something to say, but with one more meaningful look from Buttercup, they both nodded.

“Alright then,” Jake sighed. “I guess we’re all heading to the ranch. God help us all.”

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[damiansgoodgirll]

please do damian cheating on reader!😩❤️

y’all want to cry i see 🤓🤓

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed!

‼️ mention of sex, pregnancy, anxiety, infidelity and cheating, angst, body shaming, body issues, reader being self conscious

don’t hurt yourself

“i’m trying to save our family y/n!” damian screamed desperate, staring at the marriage counselor in front of him. she was watching with a deep look the scene in front of her. it wasn’t anything new to her but the way you both were behaving was making it hard for her to help.

“sure…you should have thought about that before fucking someone else damian…” you said, tears already dry.

one month ago

damian just came back from his wrestlemania trip. you would have loved to go but six months ago, you gave birth to your first baby and it was all new for you. you were still trying to get adjusted by how your body looked, how tired you constantly were and how scary the world suddenly became since you had your baby.

damian wanted you to go but he knew you didn’t trust anyone to babysit your daughter for so many days, so he didn’t force you.

the pregnancy changed your relationship a little bit, and, even if damian didn’t want to show it, it was affecting him a little.

it was your first pregnancy so he understood but still, he couldn’t get away from the feeling that something changed.

you became more paranoid, always scolding him for silly things, your mood was on a rollercoaster and the lack of sex between the two of you kept him on edge. your doctor told you that it was completely fine having sex during pregnancy but your anxiety made it impossible for you to have sexual contact with him. you tried and tried but you always had to stop him because it was hurting you.

damian always respected that but he couldn’t lie if he said that it wasn’t effecting him too. the whole nine months of your pregnancy, he felt like he was pregnant too.

he thought it would get better once your daughter was born but he was wrong.

you became more self conscious about your body, the way you looked and the struggle to keep a nice appearance up was hurting you. he didn’t know how to keep up with all of that.

he let himself go the night after he won at wrestlemania. he was partying and he was drunk and he didn’t want that, but, somehow he found himself naked, sleeping next to a complete stranger.

when he woke up his head was hurting but his heart almost stopped when he saw her, the stranger, sleeping naked next to him.

“no no no…” he whispered. he felt his heart breaking.

“good morning…” she whispered waking up. damian watched horrified the way she kissed his chest, only stopping at his lips when she saw the paralysed face he had “did you have fun last night?” she asked “or are you already regretting it?”

“what…how? i-i don’t remember…”

“you’re hurting me saying that you don’t remember our night together” she said, faking being hurt “you don’t remember what happened?”

“no…this, this shouldn’t have happened”

“but it happened damian…and it was too good” she said, smile on her face, remembering how good everything felt “you came up to me at the bar last night, you said how good i looked, how much you wanted to fuck me…then you went talking about how unhappy your marriage was becoming, how unhappy your little wife is, how ugly she think she is, witch, frankly, she’s quite right…you should give her some exercises to do to lose that baby weight she still carries by the way…” the stranger started blurting out “then you got quite boring so i had to shut you up with a kiss. that kiss definitely became something more, judging by the way we are both naked under the covers…” she smirked but all damian wanted to do was to vomit and hide away.

he couldn’t believe he just cheated on you.

he couldn’t believe he rambled to a complete stranger about your marriage, about you. your wedding wasn’t unhappy, sure things changed after your daughter was born and you both needed to work better on this whole family thing but he wasn’t unhappy with you.

he loved you and your daughter isabel more than anything.

“i need to go…” he said not remembering her name.

“sheila, my name’s sheila…” she smiled at him.

he quickly dressed up, took his bags and went straight at the airport, all he wanted to do was to stay with you and isabel, and hold you all night long.

rhea knew something was up the moment she saw damian’s face at the airport.

“man, you okay?” she asked him.

“i fucked up rhea…i fucked up” he said.

“what you mean?”

“i-i i can’t even say it…” he whispered “i slept with someone”

“what the fuck are you saying damian?” rhea almost screamed.

she was your best friend. the person who always stayed by your side during the whole pregnancy. maybe she wasn’t a mother but she understood what you were feeling, probably more than damian did. she understood your fears and never judged you. she stayed with you before you gave birth and right after it. she comforted you when damian didn’t, she held you while you cried your problems to her, too afraid of being rejected by the man you loved. she reassured you when you told her you felt ugly, when you told her that you wanted to change your appearance because you didn’t recognise yourself anymore.

she was there for you and you were always there for her, so, damian telling her that he just cheated on you, was a low blow.

“i’m so fucking sorry rhea…i don’t know how it happened” he said, regret evidently showing in his eyes.

“she needs to know” was all rhea said.

“don’t give the treatment silent rhea…please, i can’t handle it right now”

“what do you want to say? congratulations on cheating on my best friend? congratulations on cheating on your wife and mother of your daughter? that’s what you want me to say? i can’t even imagine what she’s going to feel when you tell her, she needs to know damian” rhea said before boarding flight.

the whole flight home damian thought about how to tell you that he cheated.

how can you tell the person you love the most that you just cheated?

his heart broke the moment he stepped inside your home.

you coming to greet him with isabel in your arms “isabel look, daddy’s home” you softly said smiling at him.

“where’s my big girl?” damian said pretending everything’s fine. he noticed how isabel wanted to be held by him so he gently took her from y/n’s arms and started rocking her.

“she missed you a lot” you said watching the sweet scene in front of you.

“and you didn’t?” he smirked.

“a lot” you smiled back “i’m so proud of you baby” you congratulated him and he smiled at you.

he took time after he came back home. he put isabel to sleep, he unpacked his bags, he took a long shower and he made love to you, hoping that in his mind, he could cancel his irreparable mistake.

a week passed and you couldn’t help but notice something was wrong. damian’s behaviour changed, he was more present and constant with his role - not that you minded but it wasn’t like him.

“what’s going on?” you asked one night after you put your daughter to sleep.

“what you mean?”

“i mean, what’s wrong? you’ve changed…after wrestlemania…something happened but i can’t figure out what” you said staring at him.

“i cheated…” he whispered.

you froze.

“you what?”

“i…i cheated i’m so fucking sorry y/n…i didn’t know how it happened, i didn’t want it to happen” he apologised, a few tears running down his cheeks.

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. he just cheated on you. the man you loved, the man you married, the man you just started a family with just cheated on you.

“please say something…” he begged you.

tears falling down your face, your heart breaking in millions of pieces “what do you want me to say damian?” you sarcastically laughed “i just - i need some fresh air right now, i can’t even stand to be in the same room as you damian…isabel is sleeping in her room…”

“where are you going?” he asked you when he saw grabbing your car kids.

“away, i need to stay away from you right now” you said, more tears falling from your eyes.

“please…please don’t go…i’ll do anything, anything to gain your trust again…i’m so fucking sorry y/n” his eyes full of tears but you couldn’t be in the same room as him right now.

“i don’t care how sorry you are damian, i don’t give a shit. you want me to stay? fine. then you can go away, i don’t need you in this home, not right now damian…you just thrown away four years of marriage…we have a daughter, a daughter together…she’s only six months damian, how could you?” you cried all of your tears, not caring if you were screaming right now.

“i-i’m so sorry…”

“i don’t care! stop saying you’re sorry! i don’t give a shit! why? why did you do it?” you asked him.

“i-i don’t know…i was drunk okay? it was right after i won the title, i…was celebrating and - shit - i got drunk and you weren’t there”

“so now it’s my fault?”

“no…no, it’s not your fault y/n, that’s not what i said…” he tried to explain himself but only making it worse “it’s me, i’m the one who fucked up and you have no idea how sorry i am…i fucking love you and isabel more than anything, i love you so much y/n, i just made a huge mistake and”

“fucking someone else is not a mistake, it’s a choice…it’s a choice you made!” you kept screaming.

damian swore he never saw you so mad. you were usually the calm one in the relationship so seeing you so mad and angry was unusual for him.

“i know…i know and i’m…”

“don’t fucking say you’re sorry, don’t you dare damian…” you warned him “i can’t stay here with you right now, i can’t even look at you without feeling disgusted” you words broke his heart even more “you either go away or i take isabel and we’re going away…”

“don’t do this please…”

“you’re not giving me any choice damian…you made your choice that night, now you’re facing the consequences…it’s you or me and isabel, we can’t stay here all together like the happy family you want me to pretend to be…” you slowly dried your tears away.

“o-okay…i’ll go…but please, please, we can work this out together…please, i’m begging you y/n…i can’t lose you…” he said before leaving the house.

while he cried driving towards the hotel he just booked, you cried yourself to sleep, holding his pillow, and letting yourself fall asleep.

to be continued…

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #23] Cherry Picking

warnings: ohhhhh we have arrived!! okay! a lil (not so) dry hump, bird manipulation!!, panty sniffing!! panties in mouth??, titty sucking, fingering, oral (f receiving), jungkooks nose <3, kissing !!! oh god the loveliest of kisses!!! unprotected sex, 'baby', cum on tits, jk cleans her up with his tongue! a gentleman! over stimulation, squirting, (just friendly tho!!)

soundtrack: diamonds - luke hemmings, finally // beautiful stranger - halsey, ruin the friendship - demi lovato

a/n: just two updates tonight as it cuts off at the perfect place!

wc: 15k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"They'll be wondering where you are," you say quietly, as the door behind you clicks shut. There's a slight rustle - the synthetic material of your padded jacket rubbing against itself - when Jeongguk comes to stand behind you, before he drapes it over your shoulders.

"Shouldn't start the New Year with a cold," he simply states stepping over the stone bench to sit down beside you. It's cold beneath his body, but he's got his coat on too. You've a hand warmer in each pocket, so pass one over to him. "Thanks."

"I mean it, Gguk," you double down, voice soft. "It's nearly time."

He just shrugs. Looks up to the sky.

You're in the tiny courtyard that's attached to the staffroom; Jeongguk's secret hiding spot for when he needs to escape from the chaos of Dionysus. There are some sheets of plywood in the corner that Jeongguk needs to take over to Yoongi's studio, but he's still putting off the expansions his boss wants doing. Doesn't want to lose his little sanctuary just yet.

It feels like he's losing more and more comforts day by day.

His final university deadlines are approaching, and he's gonna have to decide if he stays comfortable or does something far more terrifying a lot sooner than he's really ready for.

Change can be daunting, so he's choosing to keep things as they are as much as he can. Feels safer that way. The curse of Jeon Jeongguk is his ability to let his fears control his life. He's always been this way. Fears he always will be. The irony isn't lost on him.

"They'll be wondering where you are, too," he says. Thinks that Danbi must be running around like a headless chicken trying to find you - but also knows she was holding Tae's hand as she was glancing around before he left, so maybe she'll be a bit distracted. Thinks it's about time. Tae's been looking at her like a lovesick pup for weeks, now. Months, even.

"Jiyeong-" You begin, but are cut off by Jeongguk.

He doesn't want to talk about her. Doesn't wanna have to explain what happened, because it feels embarrassing and bothersome. Pity looks so pretty on your features, but he doesn't want to be the recipient of such a gentle look.

"-Isn't gonna be a part of next year," he says. Though his tone isn't stern, it is incredibly final .

You bring your gaze down from the skies, and rest your chin on your shoulder to look at Jeongguk. His eyes are still searching for stars - the light pollution proves to make it impossible - chin tilted upward, dewy nose to the sky. His skin is beginning to blush from the cold. His lips are thin; folded in on themselves, lip ring shining ever so daintily as it flips in the corner of his mouth.

You've missed watching his piercing do the thing. When you've as much alcohol in your system as you do, you find it makes your tummy flip, too. It's silly of your body to behave like that. Drunk or not, Jeongguk is still just Jeongguk.

From the club, you can hear the echoes of a chant. The countdown has begun. If you ask questions now, he'll just brush them off.

You're a little too tipsy to really comprehend what he means, either way.

"We should go back inside," you whisper, eyes still on him, your chin denting down into the thick padding of your coat. You always think you look like an emo Michelin baby whenever you wear it. If Jeongguk heard the comparison, he'd laugh. Would agree.

When he turns to look at you, he barely notices the coat. Just thinks you look cosy. Is pleased to find the stars right here on Earth, instead.

"Won't make it in time," he says.

"Could try?"

"Why bother?"

"'Cause you should be around people who care about you when it hits twelve," you say, a little pout on your lips. He's being difficult.

And then he just shrugs. Knocks into your shoulder. Smiles. "Are we not already?"

There's silence for a moment. Just a second.

The sky above you both begins to sparkle; greens and blues erupting where darkness once was. They scatter into the night; pinks and yellows spiralling just like your mind so often does whenever Jeongguk speaks in riddles.

You're aware that the fireworks are deafening, but you're oblivious to the sound. All you can hear is the beating of your own heart. The explosions shimmer in Jeongguk's eyes, but it's still only stars you can see in them.

"Happy New Year," Jeongguk says quietly. Smiles tenderly. Fills you with a warmth that the frigid winter night had previously stolen. He doesn't look at your lips. Makes no indication that he's thinking about a New Year's kiss.

There are a dozen girls in that room who'd have jumped at the chance to lock lips with him, even if just for a moment as the bells rang out, and yet he's chosen to be with you.

He could have been with Hayun.

And yet he's chosen to be with you.

"Happy New Year," you smile right back. The exchange is soft, like mid-winter snow; warm like a breeze on a summer's day. Secure like a three-pin-padlock; secret, like the code written in the back of an old notebook.

"Hey, B?" He says quietly, eyes still on yours. The sky flashes a myriad of colours. They rain down on him; paint him better than Picasso ever could.

"Mhmm?"

He grins. You think his lip ring looks so pretty. Teeth, too. Pearly and perfectly proportioned for him.

"Stop looking at my lips," he teases. "Gonna make me think you wanna kiss me."

A gasp escapes your lips. You look away. Cover your mouth. Can't believe how fucking obvious you must have been.

"I was just..." you begin to excuse yourself, but then laugh. Choose honesty. "I was actually just thinking about the fact you missed out on a New Years Kiss."

Jeongguk shrugs in that boyish way he so often does, as if he has no care for the arbitrary realities of life. C'est la vie . He looks up to the skies, and lets his smile linger as the illuminations paint the midnight skies.

"Got all year for kisses, B. Only one chance to see the New Year in with my best friend."

And maybe it's because you've been rattled by Hayun, or maybe it's because he's one of the only good things to have come out of the past year, but hearing him claim you as his best friend makes you feel like a weight has been lifted.

"Best friend?" You question, just to make sure.

He nods. "Best friend."

It's laughable, really, how those two words take aim at the arrows shot by Hayun, and knocks them off course before they can really implode on your heart. Just a surface scratch, now. That's all.

"What about Jimin?"

Jeongguk tilts his head to the side. Considers it. "Family."

You're pleased to hear the conclusion of his consideration. You've a shared history with Jimin that could make things awkward between the three of you, and yet you all chalk it up to dumb drunk choices. Aren't the first you've ever made. Won't be the last.

"Be weird if I said you were like family, too," Jeongguk adds - then feels the need to clarify, even though he totally doesn't. "Fucked you. Would make for weird family gatherings."

You laugh. Nod. "Yeah. Probably best you don't ever tell girls I'm like a sister or anything like that," you muse.

He laughs, too, but doesn't say anything. Thinks of Hayun, and how he knows you had definitely had a spat with her before you left. Wants to know what was said. Knows it will be about him. Doesn't want to sour your mood. Is quite conflicted.

Luckily for him, your mind works in a similar way, and your filter is next to non-existent when you've had as many drinks as you have.

"I thought Hayun was your best friend."

Jeongguk looks over to you, his eyes a little hard, brows pinching above his nose. You don't look at him. The fireworks are dwindling, now.

"Friendships change," he admits candidly.

Won't tell you how the second he heard someone asking for star fuckers, he assumed it was you .

Won't tell you how he recited lines - already said to you - to her, because he wasn't comfortable enough in her presence to let his brain think of anything original. Went for something safe. Went for something nurtured with you.

Won't tell you how much the way you've subtly distracted him - with glitter and nonsensical conversations - throughout the night has helped him get his head straight.

Won't tell you how watching you leave felt like a sucker punch to the chest.

Won't tell you that he didn't even consider going over to his friends, because in that moment he was furious with the fact Hayun had made you want to leave so close to midnight. He likes to think it wasn't intentional, but celebrating with her while you would have been alone? Didn't seem like something worth celebrating at all.

If he hadn't been distracted (as always) by your disco ball eyes, and the way light shines from your very being, he never would have known you were speaking with her. Never would have seen her do that thing with her eyes - the cold, vacant, roll of them he used to know so well - that he hated so much. Never would have realised you were leaving.

You'd have spent New Year's by yourself, away from the people who love you, cold and quiet.

And it would have been her fault.

Mentally, he excuses her bad behaviour; tells himself it's probably a mix of alcohol and someone new taking her place that made her hostile.

But when he looks at you, and acknowledges the sadness that imposes on your features, the guilt creeps in. He blames himself . If he'd have introduced you two, maybe it would have gone differently. If Jiyeong hadn't been so rude to her, maybe Hayun wouldn't have been so malevolent with you.

Absolving Hayun of blame is something Jeongguk's been doing for years. Patterns of behaviour are easy to acknowledge; difficult to end.

He's trying. He's here. That counts for something.

You think Jeongguk is right. Friendships do change. You're scared that Hayun's presence will change yours.

"When do you clock off?" You ask, instead of venturing any further down the road of a topic you don't think will benefit either of you.

Jeongguk raises his wrist - the one without his watch on it - and hums. Pretends to read it. Makes you giggle.

"About five minutes ago."

The skies have settled once more. The only stars he can see are ones in his peripherals; the specks of glitter on his skin, and the girl beside him.

The chill of a winter freeze is sobering you up. You know that you probably can't walk straight, but you can think straight, and that's absolutely outrageous, as far as you're concerned. The night is still young and - as Jimin said - so are you. The heaviness in your heart is ageing you. You don't care for it.

"Starfuckers?" you propose - and the way Jeongguk smiles has you wishing you'd asked earlier.

"Thought you'd never ask," he grins, but catches himself.

Decides he needs to give you a little context on Jiyeong before continuing the night, 'cause he doesn't wanna talk about it when he's a few shots too deep to be sensible about things.

"Jiyeong gets really... argumentative when she drinks."

His slow speech makes it evident how careful he's trying to be. You know what it really means. Knows she must have said something awful for him to be mentioning it now.

"Was it bad?" you ask, a little clueless, and hating it.

Jeongguk nods. Bites the bullet. Doesn't look at you as he says, "She threw a drink on me."

"She what?!"

Jeongguk smirks, not because he finds it funny, but because he finds it awkward. Rolls his eyes, and shakes his head. "Was at the bar. Fucking mortifying ."

You study his face, looking for signs you might have missed.

"Where did she get you?" You ask, but realise as soon as your question finishes. You gasp again. Can't believe you hadn't thought to ask earlier. "The outfit change?!"

He confirms your suspicions. "Anyways, I'm sort of... done with her."

His hesitation is genuine, not because he's unsure of his choice, just because he's still worried about letting you down.

To his surprise, you're the one apologising.

The weight in your chest when he admits that he doesn't want to be with her is catastrophic. You thought you had picked well for him. You really thought maybe you'd helped him. You feel like the failure.

"Gguk, if I'd have known she was like that, I never would have set things up. I'm so so sorry. You didn't deserve that whatsoever."

"Not your fault," he says, offering you a sincere smile. "Just the way the cookie crumbles sometimes."

He's downplaying it, and you both know it. He doesn't want to talk about it though, so you won't push. Not now. Another time, yes.

Thing is, neither of you are at fault. C'est la vie.

"You know how many stars there are?" You ask, in a bid to change the subject to something a little easier to digest.

Jeongguk shakes his head. "Not a clue, B."

"Oh," you say quietly. "Thought you might. Always mumbling stuff about the stars, you are."

He smiles to himself. Thinks it's hardly a surprise.

Deflects, and asks, "You know much about manure?"

"What?" You chirp, then laugh. What a bizarre question. "No?"

"Oh," he hums, mimicking you. "Thought you might. Always chatting shit."

You tell him to fuck off, so he gets to his feet - but holds his hand out for you.

"C'mon," he knocks his head to the side. "Let's go get fucked up."

It's quarter past twelve by the time you make it back to your friends, Jeongguk double fisting drinks 'cause he's so far behind everyone else and needs to get fucked up.

It doesn't take much - four double dark rum and cokes, three purple starfuckers - for him to be doing the robot in a strange sort of avant-garde dance battle with Hobi and Jimin. You're not really sure what you're looking at as Jeongguk moves his body in a way you never need to see him move his body - but you find it hilarious. He's both smooth and awkward in his movements. None of it quite makes sense.

You smile through it all. Endlessly. Affectionately. Adoringly.

And then you're laughing, too.

Might just be the vodka. Might be the nerves of Hayun's eyes being on you. Most likely, it's because Jeongguk looks ridiculous. So sexy in one moment, and so goofy in the next.

You never know what's coming next. He almost stumbles over to you as you nurse on a drink by the sofas. Regains his balance. Tries to play it cool. Is suave as he says, "you good down there, B?" - but then he sinks down into the sofa beside you, a silly grin on his rum-drunk lips. You find that you'd welcome all his surprises, good or bad.

He hiccups. Scolds himself. Asks you how you are. Hiccups again. Listens as you tell him to hold his breath. Hiccups as he's doing it. Gives up. Hiccups freely.

He's still got a drink in his hand, so you take it from him and have a sip or two. He doesn't protest. Rabbits on about something neither of you will remember in the morning. The club lights hit him in all the right places, making his glittered cheekbones appear even more majestic than they already were.

"More glitter," you muse. "You need more glitter."

"Y'know," he slurs, looking all very poised and serious, a finger pointing as he speaks. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

He chats absolute shit while you dapple his cheeks with more pretty sparkles. They match his eyes, now.

You've managed to avoid Hayun since returning, and you're secretly pleased that Jeongguk has done the same.

Aside from a few awkward glances when you both arrived back to greet your friends, he's deliberately steered clear. Wants an orderly mind before they speak again.

He's still disgruntled by the fact you found her so intolerable you were willing to spend New Year alone just to not be near her. Trusts you. Trusts your judgement (even if you did set him up with Jiyeong). Trusts you always see the good in people, but knows you struggled to see the good in her.

Thinks maybe life would have been easier if he met you first.

Hayun over by the bar with Nabi and Tae. They seem to be her closest friends amongst the circle. Yoongi didn't say a single word to her all night, but Seoyeon was pretty friendly with her.

They left just after midnight, and were gone by the time you and Jeongguk returned from the courtyard. Namjoon's working the early shift tomorrow - "the news isn't gonna write itself" - so he'd dipped with them, too.

Like Yoongi, Jimin gives Hayun the cold shoulder. It's expected, given how close he is to Jeongguk.

You're unaware of the fact that she and Jimin go way back. Knew each other as kids. If anyone should have still been pally with her, it would be him - but he's the only one who knows how much Jeongguk suffered because of her. He knows the situation almost as well as he knows the plotline for The Notebook, and considering that it's his go-to hangover movie (while also considering how often he's hungover), it's safe to say he's got a decent understanding of it.

Jimin will never be on Hayun's side. He told her years ago that this would be the consequence of her dicking Jeongguk around, and is a man of his word when it comes to his friends. Used to really eat him up, how easily she let go of their friendship. Counts it as a blessing, now.

As he stands by the bar and notices what's going on with you, Jeongguk and a tube of liquid glitter, he smiles. Doesn't have a clue what happened with Jiyeong. Doesn't care. Really couldn't give a shit for any other girl in Jeongguk's life. Is just glad he has you.

You've been good for him.

"What's going on with them?" Hayun asks as she joins him at the bar. Is a little annoyed Jeongguk has been so... avoidant. It's a change to the norm. Jeongguk doesn't do change. Something feels... off.

Jimin's smile fades. She still tries to be his friend. It annoys him. "Nothing."

She laughs. It's insincere.

"I've got a pair of eyes, Jimin. He's sat there like a lovesick puppy while some girl covers him in fucking glitter," she sneers.

"So? Your point?"

"It's fucking weird."

Jimin rolls his eyes. Exhales a deep sigh. "You've not been here, Hayun. You can't come back and decide that everything is awful just because it isn't the way you left it. Life's moved on. You should try it, sometime."

"That's not it," she says.

"So what is it?" Jimin questions. He doesn't really want to be having this conversation, but everyone's fucked. He thinks he'd rather know if she's up to no good. Might not remember it in the morning, but at least he'll know now.

"He's changed."

"He's happy," Jimin says bluntly. "That's what's changed."

"She's not his girlfriend," Hayun states.

Jimin knows about Jeongguk's desire to call things off with Jiyeong. Doesn't know about the fact he kind of already has. Also doesn't think it's his place to air Jeongguk's dirty laundry, so he says the safest thing he can.

"Nor is Jiyeong, if that's what you're getting at. Not sure if you remember, but Gguk has a hard time saying no to girls who treat him like shit," he says with a little venom. "His relationships are frankly none of your business. You revoked rights to that sort of information years ago."

"I'm just concerned," she says - and she sounds like she actually means it. Jimin doesn't buy it for a second, but lets her talk. "I used to know him better than anyone. It's like looking at a stranger, now."

"And who's fault is that?" Jimin snaps, but either Hayun is too drunk to really notice or too narcissistic to actually care.

Instead of actually responding, Hayun muses aloud. "All of it...the glitter, the puppy dog eyes... her attitude problem... It all just screams quarter-life crisis."

She's unaware that your glitter session ended a few minutes ago. Is unaware that you've dashed to the staff room to put your phone on charge. Is unaware that you'd sent Jeongguk on the hunt for more drinks.

Doesn't realise until Yeonjun flashes a grin, and says, "fuckin' hell. Shoulda put a bet on you morphing into Disco Ball."

Jeongguk smirks, resting his palms on the bar. He is, admittedly, DB2.0 at this point. There's glitter in his hair . "Starfuckers?"

"Trust me to make them?" Yeonjun checks - not that Jeongguk is stepping a foot behind the bar, not when he's as trashed as he is. The palms resting on the bar aren't just because he knows he looks good - it's because he needs to steady himself.

He nods. Taps Jimin on shoulder. "Starfucker?"

"Stupid question."

"I think the word you were looking for is 'yes'," Jeongguk grins, turning his attention back to Yeonjun. "Three, please, mate."

Hayun doesn't hide the smile on her face. Some things, apparently, don't change. She likes Jeongguk when you aren't around.

"Hey, buddy," she smiles in that way she always did when she'd been up to no good and wanted him on her side again.

Jeongguk is silent. Isn't smiling. Doesn't look at her. Just simply says: "Careful, Hayun."

"Hmm?" she questions, wondering what on earth she needs to watch out for. The bar's nearly empty, now.

"Watch your mouth when you're chatting shit," he says dryly, his voice just as flat as his eyes are vacant. "You never know who's listening."

Yeonjun can't help but smirk. Has been watching Jeongguk's entire life blow up right in front of his very eyes all night, and it just never ceases to surprise him. Has no idea who this bitch is in front of him, but the way Jeongguk looks like he wants to chew her up and spit her out? Oh, he is living for it.

He pours the shots. Decides the bar needs a good wipe-down. Stays close just to listen in.

Is surprised when he hears Jeongguk mention you by name. Had almost forgotten you actually have one. Is so used to calling you Disco Ball.

Admittedly, he thinks there's a tenderness to the way Jeongguk says your name. Thinks it's really fuckin' sweet.

He says your name, knocks back his shot, then says, "I dunno what you said to her earlier, but you were outta line. She's our friend." He passes the next shot over to Jimin. Finally looks down at Hayun. Is surprised when it doesn't hurt like he half thinks it should. He's never spoken to her like this before. "So play nicely, and keep her name out your mouth unless you're telling her how pretty her glitter looks."

Hayun thinks Jeongguk's gone absolutely clinically insane.

Yeonjun thinks this is brilliant .

From the corner of his eye, Jeongguk notices the staff room door open and close, so he picks up the spare shot that Hayun mistakenly thought was hers. As you approach, glittery and gorgeous like always, he holds it out for you to take.

"Oh, you star. Thank you," you beam, accepting it without a second thought. You ignore Hayun.

"Charging?" Jeongguk asks, just to make sure the dodgy wire in the staff room is working. You nod, and assure him it's fine. "Dancefloor?"

Again, you nod. "Please."

Yeonjun thinks he's gonna watch the security cameras back later just to see all of that unfold again. He's never seen a face look so much like a slapped arse, but Hayun? Offt . She's going through it.

"Y'know, maybe he has changed," Jimin smirks. "Ain't that a blessing."

Hayun is silent. Jeongguk has never spoken to her like that. Ever. Not even when they were fighting. The life she's returned to no longer has space for her, or so it feels like.

You're too drunk to care. Decide that you're better off pretending like she doesn't exist. You derive no joy from her existence, and think that this year you should only do things that make you happy.

When Jeongguk forces you to dance with him? You're happy.

When he yawns, and starts talking about kebabs? You're happy.

When he holds your hand and drunkenly traipses down the clubbing district to the kebab place he swears down laces their fries with crack? You're happy.

Happy when Jeongguk insists you walk instead of catching a cab, happy when he offers you a piggyback, happy when he doesn't put you down, not even in the elevator of his apartment complex.

Doesn't put you down until you're both sat on the floor between his kitchen area and sitting room. The lights are off, but early morning is breaking; the city intruding on your privacy.

Your hair is so long now, he thinks. How long has he known you? He can't remember. But it was short when you first met. Just above your shoulders. Now, it finishes midway down your chest. You're not the same person as you were back then, and nor is he.

It's a realisation; he's still learning about you. If somebody had asked him even a day ago how quickly your hair grows, he wouldn't have had an answer. Had never noticed. Knows your roots need doing, but he likes them so never comments on them.

Jeongguk knows you so well, and yet not at all.

He knows your favourite drink in a dive bar, but doesn't know what you'd get at bottomless brunch with the girls. Knows that you demolish Psy's It's Art in a noraebang, but has no idea what your favourite song is. Knows so much and yet knows nothing at all.

Knows your fears; doesn't know your hopes.

The realisation upsets him.

And so he asks. Lets you drunkenly natter on about your childhood dreams; plays the band you said soundtracked your childhood from his phone. It's set on the floor a little bit away from you. He chooses not to play it through a proper speaker. There's an intimacy to this. Thinks it's important you keep this shit analogue.

There's a dozen birds above Jeongguk's bed that outline the a-z of your intimacy textbook, but none of them include this.

None of them mentions talking about your childhood pet, and watching Jeongguk's pretty little smile appear on his scrunched-up face as he enthuses over puppy pictures.

Not a single bird includes candid admittance of times you threatened to run away from your family home as a teenager; nor do they include the way the Jeongguk asks about your escape plans, and tells you how you definitely could have done it.

There are no birds that tell you to bare your soul, and yet, you do.

Jeongguk is so kind with it. Accepts it graciously, and touches it with tender hands; places it down beside his own, and finds you fit perfectly in the empty space.

He finds himself nervous. Not in the lip-biting, ring-flipping, unsure eyes kind of way you're used to seeing him in, well, any uncomfortable situation; but in a different way entirely.

He worries that the night will end. Is concerned that you'll leave, and that things will be cemented in this awkwardly 'okay' stalemate.

He knows more about you than he did a few hours ago; has learned itsy bitsy tales of childhood and saw your face cringe as he scoured your mum's facebook page for pictures of your teenage haircut that you swore was cool at the time (not that his mother's kitchen scissor bowl cut was much better).

You've an idea of the layout of his family home, thanks to an overly explained prank that he says he pulled on his brother, which you also learn resulted in no eyebrows for either of them (another thing to thank his mother for ( "a punishment to match the crime" is how Jeongguk phrased it as he mindlessly stroked over his since-recovered brows)).

These aren't little things to know about one another. They're candid revelations packaged in awkward smiles and tied with liquor-laced ribbons.

Little presents, squirrelled away in each of your minds; reminders that the most intimate we can be with another person is when we're fully clothed.

Foolish of you not to consider that. C'est la vie.

That's what Jeongguk worries about. He worries that you'll leave, and the physical intimacy won't have matched the emotional intimacy and it will fuck with your head. Will have you ignoring him, or avoiding him.

You don't say anything, but as you watch him get to grips with a karaoke mic by the sofa, a song about makgeolli playing in the background, his giggles echoing into the speaker system, you don't ever want to avoid him again. Hated the time spent keeping a distance. Life is so much better when he's around.

He encourages you up, and forces you to dance with him like a pair of lunatics to an old Psy song. It's one of the ones Psy would always sing at his university campus shows, and when you mention this, Jeongguk cannot fathom the fact you've seen him live . Forces you to find it on youtube. Tries to find you in the crowd - but it's like a game of where's wally.

Eventually, he gives up. Says he's found you. Points to the mirror in the corner of the room - and when you look over and see the pair of you as you are, you decide that maybe bad decisions would be a good idea.

Glitter speckled, you're both messes. Still in your club clothes, there's something funny about the way your hair is in a lopsided bun on top of your head, his hair kind of all over the place. You'd be forgiven for thinking the pair of you had been at it - when in reality, all you'd been doing was singing your hearts out in a make-shift home noraebang.

You're busy laughing, toying with his little tufts of hair that stick out on end when his front door beeps, Jimin finally entering the code to return home. Dawn is breaking, and you're surprised that he's alone. He's busy chewing on a sotteok sotteok stick - mini sausages and rice cakes threaded onto a wooden skewer - to pay you much attention. The spicy sauce drips into the container he's holding, which you both recognise to be from the convenience store down the road.

"Here he is," Jeongguk teases, as Jimin casts his housemate a small grin.

He's pissed - still drunk as a skunk - and slurs his words as he goes to speak. "There's a disco ball in our living room."

"It's not a party worth having if you don't have a disco ball," you assure him, to which he lets you know that it's not a party if there are only two people.

"When there's two," he mumbles through a mouthful of tteok, waving the half-empty stick in the air. "That's not a party."

"So what is it?" Jeongguk asks.

The way Jimin smiles before he starts talking makes Jeongguk regret ever asking.

"A couple."

Jeongguk shoos him away. Tells him he needs a good night's sleep before he inevitably watches The Notebook tomorrow morning, like he always does whenever he wakes up alone with a hangover. A depressing way to start the year, you think.

"DB, you like Gosling?" Jimin says, in his pants and t-shirt now, sitting on the floor. He's holding a glass of water like it's a sippy cup. You cannot believe you've had sex with him. Twice. "Wanna watch?"

"Prefer Reynolds," you say of the famous Ryan's.

Jeongguk squeezes your knee. Smiles. Remembers the Deadpool marathons with you and Danbi. Likes how much you've both integrated into one another's lives.

This is just reality now.

And for the first time in a long time, Jeongguk realises just how lucky he really is. His life may not be grand, and it may not be written about in history books; but it's a fulfilled life. He's happy.

Jimin falls asleep on the living room floor. Is dragged into his room by Jeongguk. Won't remember any of it in the morning.

When Jeongguk finally retires to his room, you're poking around at the birds on his desk.

"I missed some?"

He nods. Sits on the edge of his bed, legs spread, leaning back to rest on his elbows. He's tired. Doesn't wanna sleep. Has missed you too much. "Fell a couple of weeks ago."

You pout. "I've missed the kids."

Jeongguk is soft as he says, "they missed you, too."

Looking at you now as you scan his room, party dress sparkling as the early morning sun intrudes on his room, he struggles to remember what life was like before he knew you.

And then he wonders if he'll ever forget what it felt like to fuck you.

He doesn't mean to think about you improperly - he's just in that god-awful state of post-drinking pleasure-seeking.

He's not even gonna deny it. He wants you.

There's a dilemma that comes with Jeongguk's desire: morals.

He's not sure how drunk Jiyeong was. Isn't sure how intentional she was with her threats. Doesn't know if she'll remember what she did, or if she'll even realise Jeongguk called it quits when she wakes up the next morning.

If he were to check his phone, he'd see that one of the personal trainers from the gym had tagged him in an insta story with the caption 'come get your girl, bro', and said girl necking on with some guy Jeongguk wouldn't be able to pick out from a crowd.

He doesn't check his phone, though. Regardless of everything, he was never her boyfriend. The way she treated him is exactly why he never asked. She burnt her bridges time and time again. Jeongguk doesn't care to rebuild them again, not when she never lends a hand.

It's not that he wants to be cruel. It's not that he never cared. Nothing like that at all.

But he is drunk, and he is single, and fuck it's so nice to be around someone that makes him feel as lovely as you do.

When he holds out his hands, you gravitate towards him. Stand between his legs. Look down at his pretty face, hands delicate beneath his jaw.

Jeon Jeongguk is gonna ruin your life, you think.

As his hands stoke up your bare thighs, and encourages you onto his lap without a single word?

Life, ruined. You're certain.

The way you do whatever he asks of you has you considering that maybe your life isn't even yours anymore. His. All his.

You know you shouldn't entertain this. The Jiyeong shit is too fresh. Hayun, too - but that only encourages you. You have what she wants. You'd like to keep it that way.

His grip on your waist is tight as he pulls you up his lap, the thick ridge of his bulge beneath you perfectly positioned to rut up against you.

There's hesitation to your movements; delicacy.

His are the opposite. Decisive. He knows what he wants - and as he uses his grip to push you further down onto his crotch, your soft whimpers let him know that you want it, too.

"Gguk," you whisper, heart beating so fast you're scared it might short circuit. He nudges his nose against yours. Nods. Could kiss you, if he wasn't behaving himself.

It's laughable, really, how he's humping himself up against you, and considers it 'good' because he isn't kissing you.

Your voice is barely audible when you say, "I hate my rules."

Jeongguk's jaw tenses. His eyes close, nostrils a little flared as he tries to control his breathing. Nudges his nose a little deeper against yours.

"Me too, B."

He despises them. Loathes them. Will never break them. No matter how hard is cock is and how difficult it is to think straight when he's suffocated by your hair. They're yours to break. Yours alone.

So while the admission makes him needy - gets him squeezing at your soft flesh, body grinding a little faster - he keeps his lips away. Kind of. There's a very small gap for you to close.

You could do it.

Could sink your lips down onto his, and experience what it's like to feel his moans vibrate into your mouth. Could let his tongue lick against yours. Could hold his jaw, lips hard and deliberate as they press against each other.

Could do a million little things. Your nipples are hard just from the thought of it all, and your thin lace bra hides nothing. Nor does your dress.

Jeongguk can feel them against his chest. Can't stop himself from tightly squeezing at them, his thumbs settling over your hardened bud. He rubs against them, knowing just how sensitive they are, even through your clothes, and is pleased when your breathing starts to get heavier.

A moan gets trapped in your throat, nails scratching against the nape of his neck. You're matching his movement, hips grinding against him.

You wonder how long it's been since he used someone else to relieve him. Find yourself worried it hasn't been long enough. Don't want him thinking about her while he's with you. It's not like you can control his mind, but then again, you're unaware of the catastrophic hold you have on him.

He takes a second to scan your eyes, and as much as you want to hold his gaze, you're distracted by his glitter. His cheeks, the rogue specks on his nose, his jaw... along the indent of his cupid's bow.

Jeongguk has enough experience with glitter-induced mindlessness, so knows that's what's happening - but he wants to check that you still want this. Still want him . It's been a while, and he knows the fact he'd been with someone else could hinder your desire for him.

Funny. He's not thinking about the fact you hooked up with Jimin at all. Couldn't give a shit about that.

All he can think about you, and your wants, your needs. Brushes a strand of hair away from your face, as he says, "if this is too weird, we can stop."

But you just shake your head, a soft smile on your pouty lips. He licks across his own.

"I've missed you," you admit all rather foolishly. Laugh, then cover your face with your hands. Jeongguk likes the rings you're wearing. Always the same three. Thin and dainty, they're as much a part of you as your glitter is.

His fingers wrap around your wrists, as he pulls them down. There's a little resistance from you, but eventually, you concede. Look at him a little helplessly, but are pleased to see him smiling.

"Missed you, too."

When you chirp a small hum in reply, Jeongguk laughs. Holds your waist again, stroking your sides ever so tenderly. Reassures you. "Of course I have. You know how much I like having you like this."

You narrow your eyes now, but it's playful. Feign a little offence, just to keep him smiling. "Have me like what exactly, Jeon?"

He rolls his eyes, but just pushes the hair that's covering your neck away from you. Leans a little closer, and presses a kiss into your skin. The contact of his lips, a little wet and torturously firm, has you sighing, hips pulling up. He encourages this. Grips onto your waist a little tighter. Pushes you down onto his crotch. Lets himself grind up against you once, twice, then husks against your neck, "Like this, B. Like you wanna get that pretty pussy of yours all messy for me."

He pulls back. Holds you tightly in place over his cock, of which he knows is embarrassingly hard. Sometimes he thinks all you have to do is glance in his direction to get him like this.

The way you're looking at him - eyes all wide, lips parted ever so slightly - gets his hips pulsing again ever so gently. Your body moves with his, the sensation of his hardness beneath you making you feel a way that could only be compared to Nirvana.

You're the one who pulls him closer, now, a hand cradling his jaw, the other sinking into his hair. It's a control thing. Want him close, but can also pull him away. It excites him. Always does whenever you take the reins back from him.

As your grip tightens in his hair, his breathing shallows. Nose nudging against his, you know you're a little too close. Know you're being mean. Know how much he must be dying to close the gap, 'cause you are too.

"I do," you whisper back. "It's already messy."

"Hmm?" he moans an incoherent reply. Has his lips firmly pressed shut, cause he doesn't trust himself. Has closed his eyes, too. Can't risk it.

"Mhmm," you murmur back. "So messy, Koo."

The way you soften the sound of his name has him desperate to fuck himself into you. You're so soft, and tender, and everything he's been missing.

"For me?" He asks, because formulating words is the only way he can stay focused - but even that's failing him, now.

"All for you."

His cock throbs beneath you. He knows he must be messy, too, precum pooling from the tiny slit at the very tip of his cock. Hates that he's trapped in his clothes, but loves the idea of slowly getting you out of yours.

"All mine," he smiles to himself, lost in the way he feels. You nod. Giggle. Let your hair drape around his face as your forehead leans on his. He laughs, too.

You're both highly aware of the fact that this is wrong .

You shouldn't be acting like this. Shouldn't be feeling this.

But you are.

And you'll continue to do so until the night draws to its inevitable end.

"What should I do about it, then, huh?" Jeongguk asks, tilting his pretty face up a little bit. The glitter on his cheeks catches in the light of his bedside table. The room around you feels too big. You don't acknowledge it. Only him.

You're so quiet when you reply. Know that you're saying things you shouldn't be; tempting him like you're some kind of divine serpentine being. Jeongguk's got one trailing up his arm in thick black ink. He likes snakes. Likes you, more. Likes how delicate your voice is when you say, "clean it up."

One of his hands grips your ass. Squeezes. Hard. Makes you mewl.

"And how should I do that?" He asks softly, knowing that if he doesn't get some kind of release soon, the friction of your still-clothed pussy over the bulge in his trousers will end him. Write him off entirely. Might even make him die.

You could be demure in your answer. You could play coy. Stop this from escalating

Or you could continue grinding against him, breath laboured, heartbeat unstable. You could run your thumb along his bottom lip. Nudge your nose against his in that tender you always do.

And then you could simply say, "Eat me out."

"Yeah?" He would say. Would want you to repeat it.

"Yeah," you'd reply. "Eat me out. Please."

So that's exactly what you do.

Jeongguk's mouth waters at the mere suggestion of getting his tongue between your folds. Has thought about it so many times. Never thought he'd see the day that you ask for it.

The tiny 'please' you whisper? The way you beg for it? His cock aches. Needs relief from you.

You're finicky to a fault though. Smirk as you say, "Real shame the bird hasn't fallen, isn't it?"

There are a few birds on his desk, but none of them are that specific bird.

Of all the ones you wrote together, there's only been one that you've ever known the identity of as it watches over you.

There's a small mark on its wing. You'd been holding the pen between your teeth as you'd folded it, but been distracted by Jeongguk mumbling to himself. Had narrowly avoided leaving a blotch of ink on crisp white sheets.

Instead, you'd cursed a bird - and so for the past six months, you'd look up at birds and wonder when it would fall. It was the only one you felt apprehensive of, but that simply was down to fact you knew what it was.

"Maybe we can do an I.O.U. for the birds?" He offers. Is keen.

You know you shouldn't cherry-pick the birds. It goes against their free will. Playing God will only ever end in tears - but you're still tipsy, and all you can think about is how much you need this.

It's been so long since anyone has eaten you out that now the idea is floating, you won't be able to rest until it's happened.

His hands stroke up the back of your legs as you stand up on his bed. His head is level with the tops of your thighs, so he lets his lips brush against them. Presses wet kisses up them. Is slow. You take a little extra pulling the right bird down. Lean in such a way that he's dangerously close to your panties. He can smell your arousal. Wants to taste it.

You settle back into his lap, bodies close as you hand him the bird. He looks at you. Wonders if there's magic behind those starry eyes of yours. Thinks there must be.

When he opens it up, and is greeted with the exact same act you've asked him to perform, he knows there must be magic in you.

The truth of it all is that you'd just made a bad decision when you made it. Shouldn't have dropped the pen. But you did; and now you're here.

"Make me feel good," you implore as you toy with his hair.

He wants his lips on your body; wants to feel the pressure of his lips brushing against yours.

Just isn't brave enough to take things that far, yet.

He tucks a little bit of your own hair behind your ear. Studies your face.

"Look at me when you ask."

You're slow to do as he asks. Spend a little time toying with his necklaces, instead. You know his eyes are on yours. He could count your lashes if he wanted - but he doesn't. Mainly because he can't think straight, let alone count above the number ten.

"B," he encourages, index finger curling beneath your chin. He tilts your head upwards, your eyes trailing up his features until they settle on his eyes.

"Want you to make me feel good."

He nods. Is eager as he does so. It's so hard to not kiss you.

"I will. Gonna make you feel so good, Byeol. You want that? Want me to make your pussy feel good?"

You nod your head. Widen your eyes as you beg. "Please."

Jeongguk respositions you. Gets you sitting in his spot. Stands as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck and pulls it over his head. Chucks it at you. Makes you both laugh - but fuck. He's gorgeous .

He grips the bulge in the front of his trousers. Groans .

"See how hard you make me?" He asks. Waits for you to nod. Unbuttons his slacks and lowers the zip, so the top of his dark boxer briefs poke through. He palms at himself. Presses his lips together as a muffled grunt stifles in his throat.

The subtle movement of his muscles beneath his warm skin has you entranced. He's human, yes, but built like a God. Worshipping him feels like the only appropriate course of action - and yet as he guides you over and positions you how he likes it - face down, ass up - he's the one who's gonna be worshipping you.

Eyes closed, you smile into the scent of his sheets. Hadn't realised how much you missed how soft they always are; cotton fresh and a worthy home for the night. Of all the boys you've ever dated, not of them have cared in the same way that Jeongguk does about his laundry.

He's like that in all aspects of his life, though. Details. His senses. They align and overlap, and Jeongguk has to have things in a specific way, otherwise he isn't happy.

You confuse him, in that way. You're haphazard to a fault, and Jeongguk knows that glitter never really fit into his idea of what it takes to build a home, but he misses it being on his sheets.

He pushes your dress up, over your ass. Doesn't look at your satin-covered pussy 'cause he's trying to hold off. Grapples the flesh of your ass, then delivers a short, sharp spank. Likes the way you gasp, then sigh.

Doesn't like that he can't see the smile he knows is on your lips though.

It's all rather confusing. This is how he likes to do things.

And yet he finds himself getting you back into your original position. Walks over to his door. Checks it's locked.

Jeongguk turns around to look at you, eyes dark, his intentions perfectly clear.

He prowls a little closer. Taps on your knees and encourages you to open your legs. Not once does his gaze drop from your eyes. Not when your legs spread, not when he lowers himself, not when he can fucking smell your arousal. He wants to. Wants to look at your pretty little pussy so badly - but he'd locked in on your eyes.

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your dress to your hips. Your underwear is black, and your wetness has seeped through - but he doesn't acknowledge it. Not yet.

He lowers his lips, but keeps his eyes on yours still, as he presses a wet kiss to your thigh. Up he odesseys; one, two, three kisses. A trail of evidence is left, little dewy marks mapping out his journey. He leans over. Repeats it on your other thigh.

One of his hands grips your waist, while the other strokes your thigh that's without his lips. He's taking his time. Keeping his eyes on you. Can see how your chest moves; knows that you're as desperate for this as he is. He licks his lips, and smirks.

"So patient," he husks, oh-so-affectionately. Squeezes the soft flesh of your thigh. Loves how you feel. So warm, and soft, and made for him. "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

You nod, a tiny whine catching on your lips.

"What was that?" He asks, before his eyes finally glance down towards your covered cunt. It's only supposed to be for a second, but he didn't anticipate quite how wet you'd already be; how it would be shining through the fabric of your panties. They're silky today, and it just makes your slick look even messier.

He inhales a deep breath, and lets out a shallow laugh as his head drops in defeat. Can't even play it cool. He wants you. Wants you more than he needs air to breathe.

It's just pheromones, and he knows this. Knows how gets when he likes a girl. Knows how fucking nasty he can get in pursuit of her scent. In the very worst cases, he finds himself enjoying feet . Underarms. Underwear. Anywhere that's gonna release them.

He always liked the smell of your perfume; the fragrances you'd layer over yourself to mask your natural scent - but it's 5am, and you've been in a club all evening. Your perfume has worn off. This is all you.

And he knows he's utterly screwed.

His lips trail up your thigh. Head tilts. It's his nose, now, that's making contact with your clothed cunt. He's slow. Tepid. Taking his time, 'cause he's thought about this during so many lonely nights and doesn't wanna waste it.

His nose rests against the fabric that's keeping you away from him. His perpetually dewy nose dampens as he nudges against you. He inhales. Is shaky, in the way that he breathes. "Fuck."

The pressure of his nose against you deepens. He groans. Mumbles some incoherent shit about how fucking good you smell. Presses his lips against the soaked satin. Kisses. Get his lips all glossy.

He kitten licks, then drags his tongue up your underwear. Knows he'll get so much more of your taste if he just takes them off, but he's scared. Worries that having your cunt in his mouth will ruin him for the rest of his life.

And so he continues taking his time. Uses his tongue. Teases where he thinks your clit could be. He's not too far off, but it's hidden by your folds that have swollen quite considerably. He's teasing too much. Getting you too needy. His thumb presses over the wettest part of your panties, where he knows your hole must be. The way the material gives just a little, and the way you sigh into his touch only proves this.

"Please," you whisper.

Jeongguk nods, not once losing contact with your cunt, until he slowly pulls back. Runs his fingers over your soaked panties. Studies the way they cling to you. Looks up at you as he gently massages you. Runs his index finger under the laces edge of your panties. "You want them off, B?"

The way you're looking at him - eyes all wide, lips pouty - has him desperate for you. You could ask him to spend eternity with his face buried in your cunt, and he thinks he would.

He taps the side of your thigh - "hips" - and encourages you to raise yourself. His fingers hook over the sides of your underwear.

"Dress," he says, indicating his desire for you to take that off too, now that you can. Is too busy staring at your cunt, and the way your slick juices string to your underwear as he pulls them down to even realise you're taking it off. Bra, too.

Jeongguk is tentative as he gets your panties off. Hold your feet as he slips your ankle through them, and repeats. Doesn't get rid of them immediately.

He's so fucking hard he thinks he might die - and it only gets worse when he brings your sopping wet panties to his nose. It's lewd . The way he inhales your scent is erotic to the point of it being perverse - but it has you leaking for him. His dark eyes fall open, and land on yours.

The material hooks over his fingers, as Jeongguk reaches over to squeeze one of your tits. He's missed them. Will scream 'I'm an ass guy' until the cows come home, but knows it's your nipples he'll be sucking on when you inevitably milk him of his cum a little later. Your panties drag over the hardened bud of your nipple as he toys with you. Smears your juices all over it. Glistens as Jeongguk sits up a little to bring your panties to your mouth.

"Wanna see how good you taste?" He asks, as if you aren't parting your lips for him regardless. You nod, all pathetic and needy as your tongue rests flat for him to do as he pleases - which, at the moment, is pushing your slick-covered panties into your mouth. Thinks they'll probably help. Will muffle your whines, at least. Works a treat as you whimper a little when he taps your jaw. 'Close your mouth', he's saying silently - and so you do.

He pulls back a little, fingers dipping to slide between your folds, eyes on your face, still. Smirks. Uses the fingers that aren't exploring your slippery cunt to squeeze at your chest. Your eyes are so wide. You whimper. He deliberately didn't stuff your underwear completely in your mouth. Likes seeing the satin. Likes knowing how willing you are to do anything for him. His thumb swipes over the slick on your nipple. Massages it in - and decides it's a waste. Leans down to latch his lips around your hardened bud.

He's the one whining now. Loves the way you feel in his mouth. Loves licking the taste from your skin. The fingers toying with your folds search for your slit, and push themselves into you as Jeongguk sucks on your nipple.

Not a boob guy, not a boob guy, not a boob guy - and yet as he pulls himself back, releasing you with a slight pop from the suction of his lips leaving your nipple, he smiles. Watches the way your tit wobbles, all soft, nipples hard, desperate for his return. He pushes his fingers deeper inside of you. Tells you how much he's missed them.

He reaches up to hook your panties in his fingers again. Pulls them from your mouth. Tosses them down. The way you're whimpering deserved to be heard, he decides.

His lips press a chaste kiss to your other nipple. Tongue flicks. He sucks. Just for a second. He's got places to be; a cunt plugged with his fingers that he's dying to taste again. Trailing down your skin, his lips leave a pretty dewy trail.

You hadn't been expecting the night to end like this, so while you're nice and neat and trimmed, your pussy is a little less bare than normal. Jeongguk likes it. Would never impose his preferences, but knows that this is it. Always has been. Enjoys the way your slick catches in your hair; how messy you look for him. Your juices string across your folds, and decides he can't keep his tongue away any longer.

The first lick is slow. Flat. He whines against you. Stalls his fingers, 'cause he wants to focus on the sensation; how warm you are, how delicious he thinks you taste. His tongue flicks as he reaches the northernmost point of your folds, and the way your body shudders a little is indication enough that he knows exactly where to focus. Of course he does. Your clit has swollen just as much as your folds, desperate for a little relief.

He doesn't give you it. Not yet. The lewd sounds of his fingers pushing back into your cunt makes him smirk. You're so unbelievably wet. Wetter than he thinks he's ever had you - and you've never been exactly dry for him. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe you've missed him. Maybe it's both. When his tongue presses back into your folds, you know it's neither of those things.

You're soaked because he just knows what he's doing. Understands your body. Drags his tongue up and down your cunt, fingers fucking themselves into you. The sensation is unbearable. You need more - and more is what he gives you when his spare hand eases your lips apart, spreading your pussy so that he can get better access to your clit. The tip of his tongue massages against you ever so gently. He's careful not to be too aggressive - until he spits at it.

"Shit," you whine, letting your back sink into his sheets. You'd been watching, but now all you want to do is feel . You're scared that watching him - his pretty lashes splayed over the top of his cheeks, his dewy, wet, nose nudging your clit, the way his tongue laps against it- will finish you off too quickly. And that's before you even consider the mirror on the far wall, and the way his broad back looks perfectly positioned with your legs hooked over his shoulders.

He spreads his spit with his thumb. Smirks as your body shudders. "You okay, B?"

"Mhmm," you mumble, teeth biting the pad of your palm beneath your thumb. You're trying to keep quiet.

"Asked you a question," he says as his thumb builds speed, flicking over you gently. He's careful, but controlled. Your body writhes from his touch, legs pushing down on his shoulders, encouraging his face back to where he belongs. He almost whispers as his lips ghost your clit. "Tell me you're okay. Chess is always an option."

Why the fuck you'd wanna play chess is beyond you - and then you remember. Oh, he's so attentive. So kind. So gentle. So deserving of a blowjob.

"I'm okay," you promise, and Jeongguk finally lets his lips wrap around your clit. There's a provocative nature to the way he lets himself get all breathless and grunty. His tongue licks tenderly against your clit, but his fingers have been going for so long he's scared he'll cramp.

The way you whimper when he pulls them out is like music to his ears. Needy and pathetic. Gets his cock all hard.

You loved being plugged by him. Love the fullness he gives you. Hate to lose it.

His hands push back your thighs now. He studies you. Watches the clear fluid leak from you. Knows that your pussy must be desperate for his cock. Doesn't want to let any go to waste, so quickly licks it up. Sinks his tongue into the entrance of your hole. Can't go too far, but doesn't care to. Just wants to tease. To taste you. Drink nectar straight from the source.

One of your hands clasps over his fingers by your thigh. The other tenderly scratches at his scalp. You love his hair like this, all messy and indicative of the fact he's been up to no good. As he pulls away from you, lips glossy, a string of slick briefly keeping him attached to you, lip ring coated in the very essence of you, you decide you never want another face between your legs again. He's too pretty. You'll always compare.

He looks up at you with total adoration, a lopsided grin on his face as you scratch behind his ear. He's well aware he must look like a fucking puppy dog, but he doesn't care.

"You're so good," you tell him. Want him to know. Smirk, because you're aware of the dog parallels, too. "Such a good boy."

That shouldn't make Jeongguk's cock twitch as much as it does.

The hand in his hair encourages him back down, and he decides to show you just how good he really can be. His tongue roams between your folds, licking, and lapping. He's fast, and he's intentional, lips pouting as they press kisses against you, and even more so when they suck your sensitive bud between them.

Eyes closed, hands in his hair, legs wrapping around his head, you think of how pretty he is; how unspoilt his features are. You've never seen a nose so perfectly sloped or a cupid's bow so idyllic. It's the perfect ridge for your juices to gather, and Jeongguk knows this. Already isn't looking forward to his shower, 'cause he doesn't wanna lose the scent of you.

His pace increases. Fingers sink back into you. He's taking you for all you're worth; will win your orgasm fair and square. Needs it. Thinks he'll die without it.

The sounds of Jeongguk eating your pussy echo into his room; his fingers pushing you to the point of no return as his tongue massages you to a hedonistic state of being. The pressure in the very pit of your tummy builds. Your grip on his hair tights. You curse. Whimper.

"Right there. Fuck . Right there."

He doesn't ease. Gets faster. Edges and edges until he can edge no further. The wave crashes over; your release dizzying and detrimental all in one blow. It jolts through you, legs shaking, hot walls clenching, breathless mewls of pleasure letting Jeongguk know just how well he did. He doesn't stop. Pushes you further. Gets you gasping.

"Gguk," you whimper. "I- Fuck."

He nods against you. Doesn't stop. Lets his nose nestle into your folds. Holds his tongue back, just to say, "this cunt... fuck ."

You giggle, now. Jeongguk feels you tightening as you do so. Eases his fingers from you. Keeps you spread apart. Wants to see how messy you are - but is cut short when you say, "c'mere."

He doesn't even think about it. Just discards himself of his clothes and comes to join you on his bed. Will do anything you ask of him. There's a silly little smile on his pussy-drenched lips as his head nestles next to yours, face still covered in glitter. He's so heavenly like this; so angelic when he's unmistakably yours.

You aren't really thinking as you move closer. Your natural inclination is to kiss him, for a job well done. You realise just in time. Stop yourself. Grin as you nudge your nose against his, not caring for the fact he's covered in your cunt.

He grins, too. Laughs a little. "Was that okay?"

You nod. Wanna kiss him so badly. Speak, just stop yourself. Echo a thought you've shared before. "You really should start an only fans."

He laughs again. It's hearty and wholesome, and pure - or as pure as it can be, when he's covered in evidence of making your pussy cum. Neither of you really care for cleaning up just yet. His smile is too big. Dimples too deep. Lines beneath his eyes too telling of his happiness. God, he's missed you.

"I'd be no good on my own," he tells you. "Would need you to help me out."

You protest. Tell him to buy one of those fake pussy fuck-toys. Says it's all he needs. He corrects you. Tells you they're fleshlights, but doesn't tell you he's got one hidden in the back of his drawer from a particularly dry spell.

"No, not those," you say. "I mean like, the full torso ones. The ones with tits."

"Why would I want one of them?" He smirks, as his hands are quite literally squeezing at your boobs. He's just keeping them warm. That's all. "Ass guy."

You don't even dignify him with a verbalised response. Just tilt your head down to where Jeongguk is rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

"What?" He feigns indifference.

"Your lies will catch up with you," you promise him. He pushes your tits up as far as he can, dipping down to suck delicately on your nipples. Just for a couple of seconds. Maybe five. Six. Okay, ten - but you feel so nice in his mouth, so soothing - and then it's twenty seconds. Thirty. Forty.

He switches nipples. Repeats. Pulls away. Is so hard he thinks he might cum prematurely if he doesn't get a release soon.

You've completely altered his sense of desire. Ruined him for anyone else. You'd argue you've made him better. Deep down, he'd know it to be true.

"Gguk?"

"Hmm?" he mumbles a little lazily against your skin.

You toy with his hair, raking your finger through his silky waves. Any product he had been wearing in it seems to be redundant now, your hands too busy messing with it for it to hold its shape. He had looked so pretty all night.

Looks prettiest, now.

"I'm sorry I stole your chance to have a New Year's kiss," you say, thinking of how many girls must have wanted him.

The smile on his face falters a little. He's quiet for a moment, then speaks with absolute sincerity. "Meant what I said. I've a whole year for kisses, B. They can wait. Wanted to be with you when New Year came in."

"I feel bad," you whisper.

"Don't." He opens his eyes, and sees how stark your self-imposed guilt is. Your hands are still toying with his hair, so he holds onto your wrists and rests the pad of his thumb in the palm of your hand. Is contented when your fingers close down on it. He shakes your hand a little, and smiles tenderly. "Don't. Really, B. Are you sad?" He asks. "That you didn't have one, I mean? Did you want one?"

Answers are complex when they're both yes and no; much like this one. You would have wanted one for the sake of enjoying a silly little tradition - but you didn't wanna kiss a stranger, and didn't want to kiss those close to you, either.

And so you deflect with a joke. "Why? Are you offering?"

Stupid joke. Stupid fuckin' joke .

Jeongguk knows it's a joke. Weighs up how he could respond. Sincerity seems too heavy. Joking back seems too careless.

And so he tries honesty.

"Yeah," he whispers. "I am."

His lips ghost yours, 'cause he'll never be the one to put pressure behind them first. He wants to. Is dying to.

Thinks, in classic Jeongguk style, that he'll die if can't do it one day soon.

The way you always get so close to him, suffocate him in your hair and the scent of your perfume, drives him mad. He's spent so many hours trying not to kiss you. Has never shared the taste of your tongue, but has shared oxygen with you. Thinks there's nothing to be scared of - but knows that you are.

He'll never ridicule your fears. Not intentionally.

And so he is patient, and perfectly restrained with you.

Some say it's a virtue.

Yet as you wish he'd just do it - rip the band aid - you can't help but think of it as a vice.

He'll never do you wrong. Sometimes you wish he would.

But that's the thing about wishes. There's no divine intervention from an arbitrary God. No stars changing alignment. The luck you manifest is yours and yours alone. Wishes come true because you will it to be that way.

Jeongguks grip on your waist tightens as your nose nudges deeper against his. There's a deliberate nature to your movements; how your hand rests on his jaw and how your leg hooks over his hip. The fluidity of your bodies together makes it so easy.

The grip on your waist is diverted to your ass. His fingers squeeze. Lips pout. Hips roll.

He husks your name. Not disco ball. Not Byeol. Your actual fucking name. Fucking whines against your lips. Can barely fuckin' breathe. "Please."

Your lips brush his. No pressure. Just aligning. Seeing how his lip ring feels. Jeongguk's semi begins to stiffen as he rubs himself against you again. His breathing is fucked.

Slowly - nervously, timidly - you slip your lips between his. Sink into the space left between them. Your bottom lip is plush between his. He doesn't press down. He waits. Waits and waits and waits. Has been waiting for months. What hurt will a few seconds do?

The hand you're resting on his jaw pulls him closer. Dictates his moves. This is all up to you.

The way your body nervously awaits the pressure you're refusing to apply is so telling. The delicate buds of your nipples that Jeongguk has grown to adore are hard against his bare chest. He's having to be careful as he rubs up against you, because your pussy is getting wetter and wetter. Coated in everything you are, Jeongguk's throbbing cock slides between your folds, massaging you in a way that you'll never grow tired of.

Jeongguk wants to speak; to encourage you.

Any words spoken would result in the closing of his lips and the removal of your ability to choose this - and so he stays quiet. Moans a little when the friction of his foreskin sliding back against your wet folds gets a little too good.

You smile. Like the way it feels. Can feel the slick build, then leak from the depths of your cunt. Know that you're one overly-eager rut away from him fucking himself into you.

Maybe you should pull away. Maybe you should let him fuck you instead.

But you've come so far.

You're safe. Warm. Content. With your favourite person in the whole entire world.

If you can't kiss him, then who the fuck can you kiss?

You still your hips. So does he. Deepen the position of your lips, until you know they can go no further. His nose is nestled next to yours, a shallow breath reminding you that life will go on - you'll still breathe - even if your lips close down on his.

He's always told you that he's not scared of you.

It's time to reciprocate that.

And so silently, as you press your lips down into his, you let go of a fear that's been holding you back for far too long.

It takes Jeongguk a moment to kiss you back. He wants to be sure you're sure.

But you are.

His lips slowly accept this new sensation; the softness of your bottom lip, the feeling of your nose as it nudges against his, the pining sensation that's so often left on his lips being remedied.

He's kissing you. Slowly, silently, serenely. It lasts for hours, but also for just a second. You're not sure which is more accurate as your lips naturally part for a moment; to breathe. To assess. To realign. To repeat.

He kisses you again. Once. Twice. Deeper, a third time. His hips begin to rut. His moans vibrate against you. The slipperiness of your pussy is juxtaposed to the innocence of such pure kisses. Lips still on his, you reach down to where your bodies are so well acquainted, it's like interrupting a conversation. Your nimble fingers wrap around Jeongguk's length. He moans. Wants to say something, but can't. Doesn't want to stop kissing you.

You move your hips. Line him up. Nod into the kiss. A hard breath exhales from his nose against your cheek, his whine echoing into your mouth as the tip of his cock penetrates your entrance. The fit is tight - snug - but so welcome. It's like coming home, he thinks.

"You're so fucking good," he whines into your lips, then presses down against them once more. "Such a good fuckin' girl for me."

He means it. You are good for him. Give him somewhere he belongs; somewhere he'll never feel alien. A girl full of galaxies, yet he's home no matter which cosmic entity you remind him of on any given day of the week.

You whine a little as his hips pulse up, pushing his dick into you. He's so big, and you're still so sensitive from how well he ate you out earlier, but you think you'd rather die than not see this through. You'll take the overstimulation, take whatever he'll give you, just to feel that fullness you only get from him.

Jeongguk grunts as he fucks himself into you. Gets breathless. Gets moany. Gets mean. Nasty.

"Gonna nut inside you," he tells you. You smirk against his lips. You love it when he gets all chatty and tells you all kinds of shit he never would if he wasn't on the brink of an orgasm. "God, I'm gonna fill your pussy up with my cum. Gonna fill you so well. Fill you forever."

That's not exactly how anatomy works and you go to tell him as such - but he changes position. Gets you on your back. Sits on his heels. Grips your waist with one hand, your chest with the other. Squeezes. Gets you whining. He pulses his hips slowly. Once. Fuck . Twice. Yes . And then he's back to a pace that feels more like him; fast and rough.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours is almost as loud as the breathless moans you can't be bothered to hide. He's making you feel so good as he pumps himself into you. It's only fair he knows just how well he's doing.

He squeezes at one of your boobs. Pinches your nipple. Pulls a little. Makes you moan. Does the same to the other side. Watches as they move from the momentum of his hips. Is fucking obsessed. Can't believe he wasted so many years convinced he was an ass guy. Loves your ass, granted, but fuck .

And when your hand sinks down to play with your clit while he's fucking his fat cock into your tight hole? God. Jeongguk thinks he might just die.

Tells you so.

"Gonna kill me off, you are."

You giggle. The way your pussy throbs around him? Yeah. Chances of death? Rapidly increasing.

"Feel good?" you check, just in case.

He nods. Wishes you could experience what it's like to fuck you; how good feel. How much he loves being trapped inside you. Makes his already desperate cock throb when he has those moments of clarity; he's fucking you. His cock? It's inside you. It's a simple thought process, but one that always overwhelms him.

Sinking down to suck on your nipples, tits in a white-knuckle death grip, Jeongguk knows if he thinks in any great depth, then that will be it. He'll cum. He wants this to last. Knows it can - but also knows your pussy is gonna make him cum so so soon.

So lost in his thoughts, he almost doesn't notice when you call his name. If it weren't for your hand cupping beneath his chin and pulling him down, he might not have realised at all. "Gguk?"

He follows your lead. Is about to sink his lips in yours when he replies, "Yeah, baby?"

He doesn't mean to call you that. Knows he absolutely should not have called you that. Kisses you again to distract from the fact he did. Ruts into you faster. Harder. Revels in the tightness of your walls, and the softness of your lips.

Knows he should check what you needed, but it was nothing, Just wanted him to look at you. But he'd called you baby. Oh, you're all sorts of fucked up. Try not to think about it. Your distraction method? A kiss . The waters are getting so muddy. This is so bad. Detrimental.

But fuck. He's close. So close. Doesn't wanna stop; any of it. Doesn't wanna stop fucking you. Doesn't wanna stop kissing you. God. He can't believe he can . Can't believe he knows what your moans sound like when they're vibrating into his mouth. Can barely wrap his head around the fact your tongue is in his mouth. He thinks he's going crazy. Thinks he might have already died. There's no way he can feel this at home inside another person's body.

But he does.

Knows that there's no pussy that's ever gotten him like this. Would be foolish to think you're the only person who will ever make him feel this way, but he quite enjoys playing the fool.

Jeongguk's skin is clammy. Sweat beads on his skin. Some of it catches on your skin as you move your hands from his back to cup his sharp jaw, and find yourself obsessed . Primitive desire, you think. Just like Jeongguk's obsession with your scent. All just survival of the fittest, built to breed, type shit. Of all the people he could fuck his sperm into, his body seems to think you'd be a good match. He trusts it. Agrees with it.

"Fucking me so well," you tell him. "Working so hard."

He nods, forehead resting in the crook of your neck. "Working so hard, B. Wanna make you feel good."

There are no words to articulate the way Jeongguk feels inside of you. No size grand enough, no adjective complimentary enough. No sensation even close to the euphoria that comes with being fucked by Jeon Jeongguk.

You press a tiny little kiss to his lips. "You do." And then you kiss him again. Deeper. Tug on his bottom lip with his teeth. Get him whining. His cock stalls. Left leg begins to shake. His right will follow, but it's always in that order. Left, then right. The way he whimpers into your mouth makes you wanna edge him for all of eternity - but he deserves this orgasm.

"Where should I- Fuck. Byeol, I'm there. I'm gonna- Fuck . Where do you want it?"

"Tits," you say without a second thought. You wanna watch him cum. Wanna see it. Wanna see how pretty his cock looks as his cum pulses out of it.

You hate how it feels when Jeongguk pulls out - how empty you are - but when he's shakily getting himself in position, jaw hanging slack, brows threaded together, lewd moans escaping his mouth as he wanks him over your tits, you know its worth it.

"That's it," you encourage. "All over my tits."

Jeongguk curses. Tightens the way he's straddling over you. Tugs at himself. Loses his fucking mind when your hand wraps around his. He lets go. It's all you; one hand around his shaft, the other softly playing with his balls. "Yeah. Yeah, Like that. Oh, fuck."

His legs shake; torso tenses. Has to grab onto his headboard just to keep himself from fucking keeling over. He's stimulated to a point he doesn't think he's reached before. Doesn't even feel like his body is his.

"Cumming," he mumbles. "I'm fucking cumming."

The way his cock twitches, balls tightening, is enough to confirm this. You keep going.

"All over my tits," you say again, just to really drive it home. "Good boy."

His whimpers are quiet as he unloads his cum onto you in thick, creamy spurts. You hold his cock against one of your tits, and let his spunk trail down them. A few more releases drip onto your skin. He sits up straighter. Looks at the mess. Wants to fuck you all over again.

He grips his still-hard cock and spanks it against your cum-covered tits. Massages his leaky head against them; rubs his cum into your skin. Lets go of his cock. Grips your tits instead. Pushes them both together, and watches as his cum smears all over them. Squeezes your nipples. Wants them in his mouth. Moves a little down the bed, and positions himself beside you. Encourages you to face him as his tongue licks against your cummy chest. He circles around your nipple. Takes it in his mouth. Sucks. One of his hands grips your other boob. Holds it close to his face so he can switch between your nipples, of which he does. Sucks for a moment or so. Teases with his tongue. Then switches. It's a back and forth that has you going insane.

And when his spare hand dips down to play with your folds? Sinks a finger back into your soaked cunt? Heaven. He fucks a second finger into you. A third. Keeps his lips suctioned around your nipples, utterly obsessed with the way it feels to have them in his mouth.

He's a little careless with his fingers, but it's exactly what you need to come undone again. You need it rough. Need him to override the overstimulation you're fighting. It doesn't take long. Your body writhes, but he keeps you close. Doesn't bother talking you through it. You both know it's his tongue against your sensitive nipples that's working the magic. Words would be wasted.

Your orgasm hits you hard. Fast. It waves over you so violently that you almost kick him. Jeongguk smirks as he begins to feel your orgasm contract around his fingers.

Your wetness seeps from you, Jeongguk still plugging your pussy. Your muscles are tight in a way he doesn't think he's experienced before. Your climax is violent. All consuming. You have to bite his pillow just to stop yourself from screaming.

It's never felt like this before. He doesn't relent. Is obsessed. It's so much wetter than usual. Your whimpers are different, too. The way your legs shake? The way you can't fucking breathe? How your pussy is quite literally clamping his fingers inside of you? It's all different. It's so much more than an orgasm.

He's never taken you this far beyond the point of a climax. Didn't know you could do this. Has only ever seen it in fucking porn. Sort of thought it was a myth - but you're squirting for him. Because of him. On him.

He will die, and you absolutely will be the cause of it.

"Fuck, B," Jeongguk curses against your lips as he realises what's happening. Keeps going. Fucks his fingers into you, still. His hand is getting wetter, still . You shake, still ; squirt, still . Jeongguk's gonna fuckin' die. That's all he can think about. Death, and pussy. His, and yours. Hell, and heaven. "That's it. Squirt for me, B. Such a good girl."

You nod, almost delirious from the pleasure he's administering. His fingers fuck into you still, your pussy contracting around him.

Eyes closed, teeth pressing down on your bottom lip, you can't think of anything except the sensation of your pussy giving itself up for him. The wave of pleasure was so intense that you hadn't noticed your release at first; not until the lewd sounds of his fingers inside of you became louder, and Jeongguk himself had realised.

You don't even really have grasp on the fact it happened. Knew that it could, but you've been the only person to ever get yourself that far. Never has someone else ever made you squirt. You don't think you ever really trusted anyone enough with your body to give it up entirely.

But Jeongguk is Jeongguk. There's nothing to be scared of.

"Koo," you whimper as you finally get some control over yourself, body jolting from the intensity of it all.

He's slow to withdraw his fingers. Doesn't want to, but also knows he has to be gentle.

"I know, baby," he husks a little breathlessly, as he presses a kiss into your shaky lips. "I know."

In all honesty, he doesn't know. Doesn't have a clue what you could possibly be thinking. Just knows he's feeling all sorts of fucked up, and that you probably are, too.

It's been a long night. You've both been through it.

But you both feel overwhelmingly at ease.

"Sorry," he whispers. Presses a kiss against your hair.

"Mhmm?" You question, still deliriously spent. There's so much to do. Sheets to change. Showers to be had. You just wanna laze with him a little while longer. "What for?"

Jeongguk holds you close. Doesn't wanna lose this, either. He knows how you get once the morning comes and regrets start creeping in. He's doing damage control early. Letting you know that it's okay.

"I broke your rules," he says, as if you weren't a willing participant.

You shake your head. You kissed him first. Kissed him when he called you baby. Rewarded him for his misdemeanours. Of course he'd be a repeat offender. You're just as much to blame.

"Don't do that."

"Apologise?"

"Don't put all the blame on you. It's not," you say, before leaning up to steal an ever-so-sacred kiss from his lips. "There. I did it. I broke them. My fault."

"B-"

"If you try and apologise I'm gonna think you regret it," you tell him.

Jeongguk shuts up. Plans to remain silent. Can't help himself, though. Thinks it's important you know how he feels about you, and the birds, and this whole fuckin' mess.

"I've never regretted a thing we've done, B. Never."

His tone consumes you. Is so serious. So sincere. It makes you nervous - so you deflect.

"What about that time we accidentally ordered the extra spicy tteokbokki?"

He smiles. Laughs. Is serene as he eases up. "Okay. One regret."

You kiss him. Lips soft. Touch tender. Just 'cause you can. Just 'cause you wanna.

Have resigned yourself to the fact this is one-night-only kind of thing; that come the next morning, you'll laugh about it.

'Can you believe we kissed?' 'Let's never do that again.' 'So weird.' 'Just a friendly kiss. Sort of like kissing a fish, actually.' 'I'm gonna sew your mouth shut one day.'

And so for now, as Jeongguk encourages you up - "c'mon. Shower. You get in. I'll sort the sheets. Will join you in a second, okay?" - and kisses you again before you leave, you revel in it.

You stand alone under the crashing water, wondering what the fuck you've just done. Contemplating how badly this will all end up biting you in the arse.

Jeongguk does much the same. Looks at himself in the mirror; naked and alone. Can see evidence of you all over his skin - scratch marks, pretty purple bouquets delivered by your lips, the sheen of your slick - and decides he likes himself better this way. Doesn't think he'll look like himself when it's all washed away.

He makes up his bed. Puts a fresh sheet down, and tosses the old one by his door, ready for a wash. Goes to chuck his pillows on the floor - and then just doesn't. If you want the space, he'll give you it, no questions asked. He doesn't want the space, though. Wants you in his bed again. Wants you close.

And as he comes to join you in the shower, a protective arm slinking around your waist, lips pressed into your neck, you know that you don't want to be alone. Not for the rest of the night, at least. The glitter might wash away, but this feeling? He's not certain.

You're not sure that waking up beside him will be sensible for your fragile heart, but can't stand the idea of not falling asleep beside him. He's so warm. It's the smart thing to do. Will save on his heating bill.

A good decision, you think.

But since when have you ever been good at those?

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