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sugaurora · 4 months

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Dream Come True

Since your brother had warned you years ago that his best friend Seokjin was off limits, you’d only allowed yourself to safely fantasize about him in your dreams. You’re not sure why tonight his lips feel so much softer and his hands so much warmer than usual, but you’re also not about to complain.

Pairing: Med Student Seokjin x Plus Size Female Reader

Genre: Brother’s Best Friend; Friends to Lovers; Smut

Word Count: 16,800+

Tags: Profanity; Explicit sexual content; unprotected sex; Seokjin is a soft, sweet, gentle guy and I’m so gone for him, big dick seokjin, inexplicable amounts of cum???, dirty talk, cumplay, breastplay, oral (m and f), fingering, of course they kiss a lot because that’s my brand, brief blood mention, wound redressing

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Crossposted to AO3 and Wattpad

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“Oh! Y/N? I didn’t know you were here, love.”

Ahh, there he was again—the man of your dreams. And you had to be dreaming because, thanks to the rules, Seokjin could only meet you alone inside your dreams. You heard him loose a light groan of frustration, his voice so close by you should have been able to reach out and touch him. The world of your dreams was still dark though, the always breathtaking vision of him not yet fading in.

“Your brother would kill me if I let you sleep here all night.”

Dream Seokjin was right. Your older brother, Yoongi, had laid down his law years ago: his best friend was off-limits. No dating. No kissing. And definitely no fucking. Understandably, he didn’t want anything coming between him and the bestie he’d had since kindergarten, especially not a sour relationship with his little sister just in case things went south. So the only times you found yourself alone with Seokjin were here inside your unconscious dreams. Thankfully, your mind was kind to you and let him visit often. Unthankfully, it was so kind that seeing the man during your waking hours was sometimes a little torturous. It was why, even though Yoongi had given you permission to crash in Seokjin’s bed tonight, you’d ended up on their uncomfortable couch instead. Better a stiff back than the torment of smelling your one true temptation all night long.

You heard a light pop as Seokjin clucked his tongue. “The pull-out’s been broken for weeks. How could he let you fall asleep here?” The scene of this dream still had yet to form in your mind’s eye, even though Seokjin’s sweet voice still sounded so temptingly close.

Jungkook liked to joke that you spent your spare time fucking out your frustration over the cockblock. As your best friend and roommate, he might’ve been a little right in analyzing your bad habits. Though it was rich coming from him, a masochist in his own right. A photographer with a keen eye for gorgeous men, he’d called your brother his ultimate muse since the first day they met. But like most people, Yoongi never gave him the time of day and Jungkook had been nursing a pining blueball of his own ever since.

At least being barred from pursuing the man you truly wanted had never left you shy about pursuing your sex life. Maybe the constant temptation of someone you couldn’t have made you much more likely to seek out satisfaction elsewhere. Even if it meant you were never truly satisfied, leaving a trail of fuckbuddies who still wanted a bit more of you in your wake. Your habits probably weren’t helping to convince your brother that anything between you and Seokjin would ever be a good idea, and even though you would’ve enjoyed a chance to prove him wrong, you loved Yoongi just enough to respect his wishes. Mostly.

Seokjin had always had a different allure from your usual flings. Your history together since childhood stretched long and had formed in you a crush that ran beyond skin deep. You’d gotten reckless more than once, losing your sense and attempting to buck your brother’s request. And time and again, Seokjin had proven he wasn’t interested. No amount of revealing outfits, spicy innuendos, or inappropriate proximity seemed to phase the man. Considering how Seokjin spent almost all of his time consumed with school anyway, you should’ve given up ages ago. If only that one memory would stop resurfacing and making you wonder at the what-ifs. Still, he never seemed to notice you in that way, never acted like he would be interested in anything romantic with you.

Dream Seokjin though? Oh, that was a different story. He was always interested.

“I’m going to take you to sleep in my bed, alright?” he asked in a gentle whisper as though he were sharing a secret. Seokjin’s unforgettable scent that you’d been trying to avoid invaded your dreams despite all your best efforts. Fresh cotton, earthy cedar, and that subtle, sweet scent of fruit that always clung to him surrounded you, making you curse your own memory for being so potent. Your dream finally faded into vision just as you felt the soft pressure of his fingertips against the back of your neck. You were still in your brother’s living room, though the space was dimly lit and all you could see were Seokjin’s bare, broad shoulders, his skin the color of rich honey, damp and glistening in the barely there light. His dark brown hair hung around his face, slightly heavy as though still a little damp from a shower, curling just above the dark-rimmed glasses he usually traded his contacts for at night. You groaned internally, unsure why your subconscious had intended to be so kind, yet so cruel for the evening.

“Hey, it’s just me,” he said in that same soft rumble, the edges of his familiar, plush lips curving into the gentlest of smiles. “Go back to sleep, love.”

Love. Seokjin had called you that for years. Sometimes, when your pining got a little out of hand, hearing the nickname stung. But he’d been you and your brother’s friend before anything else and, no matter how much he’d made himself scarce since starting med school, you had no doubt he truly did love you.

Suddenly it felt like you were floating, though that feeling was overshadowed by the radiating warmth of Seokjin’s bare chest. You felt the impression of him skin-to-skin as his arms hooked you beneath your knees, his large hand splayed against your back, the blanket you’d curled around yourself falling away. In the waking world, you’d never considered whether he was strong enough to carry you. Compared to your svelte brother, you had inherited a much plumper body type, all soft rolling curves, rounded wherever you could be. Seokjin may have been taller, but you were surely heavier. To be fair, Seokjin had never lacked in athleticism. He’d been a track star his entire college career and still spent more than his fair share of time sculpting strong, lean muscles in the gym. He said it helped strengthen his constitution so he would rarely get sick at the hospital and it gave him the stamina to focus for his long hours of study. It may have also given him a fair shot at lifting you without much difficulty. Of course, even if he couldn’t, in your dreams it wasn’t surprising that he could do anything.

You were curious how this strange dream would play out though. You’d spent countless nights dreaming of him in endless scenarios, from pirating on ships and flying through outer space to driving in race cars and solving crimes between the stacks at his university library. Sometimes he spent the dream pleasuring you in any way you could imagine and other times you went on nonsensical adventures together, ridiculous in the way only dreams could be. But in your current dream state, you couldn’t recall one quite as ordinary as this. You curled into him as he carried you, letting the delicious warmth and fresh air of his scent envelop you as he moved and enjoying the feeling of the flex of his forearm muscles against your legs.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” you heard him say in gentle reassurance.

Fuck. As if you hadn’t suffered enough that day, clearly the night intended to be torturous as well. The race track where you worked was a lot closer to your brother’s apartment than the one across town you shared with Jungkook. So you’d sent a pleading message, asking if you could crash on their couch for the night. Since Seokjin was spending a night shift at the hospital, your brother had offered you his friend’s empty bed. And since you’d needed to avoid that torture, you’d chosen to use their wonky couch instead to etch away enough of your exhaustion to be able to function like a normal human being in the morning. Yoongi’s room was quiet, his door closed when you arrived. So you’d showered away the funk of the day in Seokjin’s en suite and borrowed one of his oversized t-shirts, saying a thankful prayer for his massive shoulders because it fit perfectly.

It occurred to you too late that his scent likely lingered on the clothes, triggering your poorly buried desires. Now Seokjin was in your dreams, smelling like heaven and touching your bare skin. Any dream with Seokjin was a good dream and, just like any other, you intended to enjoy the fantasy as much as you could. But no matter how much you enjoyed it at the moment, your misjudgment in borrowing his clothes meant you were going to wake up horny and disappointed.

You hadn’t realized your vision of him had faded out again until you felt your body being lowered into soft, cushioned sheets and a new blanket being drawn up over your body. You heard Seokjin curse softly under his breath, the darkened vision of him fading in once again. Why was he so hot when he cursed? Perhaps because it was so rare? The room was lit only enough that you could just barely make out his broad silhouette at the edge of whatever bed he’d lain you on. Could see his bare chest not far away from you in the dark, planes of skin that you longed to touch so temptingly close. Scratch that. Why was he so hot in general? Your narrow vision slowly faded and you thought the dream might be ending already, your body quickly slipping back into a deeper sleep. Then you heard the faintest sigh and felt the surface just next to you shift, the weight of Seokjin’s body settling into the bed beside you. You felt soft fingertips stroke your forehead, brushing lightly against your skin.

“I really hope someone’s told you how pretty you are when you sleep,” he said quietly. He faded back in then, hand outstretched in front of your face, lips slightly parted as he stared down at you in a look of subdued reverence.

It was enough. Even if you were cognizant that this was all a dream, that none of it could ever be real, you didn’t want to let your chance fade. Understated as it was, it was honestly the closest to the real Seokjin you’d ever dreamed of; thoughtful, doting, and kind in the selfless way you’d appreciated about him your whole life, in the way it took you a long time to accept that you deserved. Slowly, you leaned up, watching his eyes widen slightly as you did so.

“S-sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ll…” His words trailed off as you lifted your hand and pressed it against the side of his face, letting your thumb trace the soft skin of his cheek. He breathed in quick and sharp in response. Real Seokjin was visually striking. But the close-up of this dream Seokjin was starting to drive you mad. Between the level of detail your mind conjured, from the tiny mole just below his collarbone to the exact pink shade of his lips to the muscled lines of his bare chest, it was all enough to make you wish this fantasy would never end. Sometimes in these dreams, you kissed him roughly, took control of the moment, and loosed your sexual frustrations within the safest setting you had available. But since this Seokjin was so much more like the real one, tonight you wanted to meet him gently, experiencing a delicate pleasure you could never have in real life.

You let your lips meet his jaw first just below his ear, savoring the barely there shudder that rippled through his skin at the contact. You made a slow path of light kisses up and along the length of his jawline, savoring each time you connected with his skin. Finally, you let yourself indulge and pressed your lips firmly against the warmth of his mouth. You were happy you had taken your time to enjoy him. His lips felt the softest they ever had, better than your imagination had ever conjured before. You wondered if you’d wake up with one of Yoongi’s stuffy cardigans smashed against your face.

He didn’t respond at first and you worried you might’ve dragged the fantasy out too far, that perhaps the dream really was over, your brain overheating from bringing to life so much high-definition detail of Seokjin’s exquisite mouth. Then you felt a strong grip circling your waist, fingers skirting around to the small of your back and pressing you forward and into him. There was a shift in the bed underneath you as he leaned further into your kiss. Slowly, tentatively you felt his tongue seek lightly for entrance. You indulged, allowing this dream whatever access it wanted, not knowing when your subconscious would be this kind to you again.

You tasted the sweetness of his mouth as your lips parted, as Seokjin’s tongue grazed your own ever so lightly. He tasted like mint and sugar and you exhaled at the feeling of him pressed so close, your own hand still cupped just below his jaw, the raw pound of his pulse beneath your fingertips so surprisingly tangible. He breathed a delicate moan into your mouth and you felt him pull back just a little, still close enough that his breath ghosted against your lips as he spoke.

“We can’t…” he said, words tight and restrained. Because above anything else, Seokjin was a gentleman. A gentle man. He had never been anything but kind, fitting between you and your brother’s rash abrasiveness like a soothing gel. This close, you could see the desire floating in the rich, dark brown of his eyes, belying his words. Even here in your unconscious mind you knew this was wrong, that you weren’t allowed to be with Seokjin in this way.

You let your next kiss be your answer. Here, you could. Here, in the safety of this fantasy, you could have each other exactly as you wanted. As you greedily took up his lips again, as he responded with a greed of his own, tongue meeting yours, hand at your back pulling your body closer still against the bare of his chest and causing the blanket to slide away from your body, you knew you’d be masturbating to the fantasy of this kiss for weeks to come.

Seokjin’s light touch came to rest atop your thigh as he kissed you, sending sparks skittering against your bare skin and up between your legs. Since you’d only been able to find one of his t-shirts, you’d gone to sleep on the couch with that on and nothing else. And it seemed that had transferred to your dreams, his fingers dangerously close to the hem of a shirt with nothing underneath. Since your brain had put so much energy into recreating every detail about him, conjuring up pants likely wasn’t high on your subconscious’ list of goals.

“Y/N,” he said softly, pulling away from your kiss and instead brushing his lips against your cheek. “You’re not drunk or something, are you?”

You laughed air through your nose. What a weird thing for a dream to say. Though, what a very responsibly Seokjin thing to say. You pressed in for another deep kiss, desperate for yet another taste of his tongue. You wondered what you had eaten during the day to deserve a dream so vivid, so satisfying as the taste of him filled your mouth, the smell of his freshly washed body, the clean scent of his shampoo and soap filled your senses so strongly you would swear he really was right there with you.

Your own hands traveled down, fingers tracing the defined lines of his bare chest, over each of the stomach muscles he had chiseled to perfection. And hurriedly, before your alarm knocked you out of this bliss, you slid down to cup the firm impression of him on his lap that your kissing had produced, warm even through his shorts. It had always helped to fuel your dreams knowing how enormous his cock was. You’d seen the thick outline of it enough times over the years, straining against his basketball shorts or sweatpants, to know it was more than enough to satisfy you, to be able to imagine it well enough in your dreams.

“Y/N,” Seokjin moaned softly into your mouth and hearing your name in his voice, in that sensual and yet almost embarrassed quality you had never heard before sent a throbbing ache between your legs. His hand shifted from your thigh, fingers sliding upward to squeeze gently around your breast through the soft cotton of his shirt. Ok, maybe not weeks. As his thumb brushed lightly against your nipple. As his body began shifting, leaning you down into the bed. As his mouth got hungrier, intensely kissing you with a baser passion. As you felt his knee land between your legs, felt it press against the bareness of your heat there, you decided you would be getting off to this dream for months, maybe even years.

“Seokjin,” you panted, though your voice sounded too real, too raw, too desperate. Dream you never sounded like that.

He pressed his teeth ever so lightly into your lower lip in response. His hand moved from behind you as he laid you down and gripped your thigh, likely intending to reposition you beneath him for a new, more erotic purpose. You’d never get to know how or why. You hissed in response as his fingers closed around your fresh injury of the day and a sharp pain shot through your thigh, cracking through every layer of pleasure that the dream had built.

“Y/N?” Seokjin said in a panic, body instantly off yours, sitting back on his heels and staring down at you in shocked concern. “What is it? Are you alright?”

You froze. You felt your body seize up, fear blocking out the pain for a moment. Seokjin froze too. You stared up at his face in the dim light of his bedroom, at the dark hunger still swimming in his eyes even as worry set in, the flush in his too-warm skin, the bruising swell on lips you’d studied for years. At the blankets of his bed folded back beside you both. At the wall behind him lined with his collectibles and rows of medical books. At the clothes you’d forgotten to grab after you’d showered, left in a messy pile at the edge of the dresser just outside his bathroom. At Seokjin in front of you.

Seokjin. Real Seokjin. Your brother’s best friend since kindergarten Seokjin. Real Seokjin whose hand had been squeezing your breast, whose hard cock had been pressed against the palm of your hand, whose tongue had been dancing inside your mouth.

“Y/N?” he asked in a nervous breath, cementing the reality in front of you.

You gasped and jumped back until you ran into the headboard behind you. Seokjin was off the bed immediately.

“Shit, shit, I knew it. You’re fucking drunk. You don’t taste drunk.” His eyes widened at the implication of his own words, hands flying to his lips, then to his hair, ruffling his fluffy strands. “Shit, I’m so sorry! Fuck!”

It was so strange to hear Seokjin, who was usually so soothing and patient with his tone, spout off in this panicked cursing. The absurdity knocked you out of your shock and a sharp pain faded back in, forcing you to reach for your thigh again. You felt a warm dampness and looked down, noticing dark red had begun to seep through the flimsy bandaid you’d stuck on after showering.

“What…what happened to your leg?” Seokjin asked as his gaze followed yours down. You watched as his years of training began to overtake his panic at the other situation. “Wait. Let me get the first aid kit.” He was out of the room before you could say another word.

What the fuck had just happened? You replayed the events in your mind with a new, awake perspective. You had fallen asleep on the couch. Seokjin found you on the couch and brought you in here to his bed. But you thought it was a dream. You kissed him. It would be so embarrassing except…Seokjin had kissed you back. And as far as you could tell, he wasn’t drunk or half-asleep. He’d definitely kissed you. His hand had definitely just been squeezing your tit, right?

He returned with the first aid kit and, after switching on the lights, he set to work, peeling off your band-aid and assessing your cut.

“This happened at work?” he said with a disappointed huff.

You shrugged. “It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. Accidents happen.”

His grimace deepened, though the downturn only rounded the plush of his lips and drew your mind back to his kiss. “I already worried about you before when you worked at the shop,” he continued. “Now you’re already getting hurt at the track.”

That was enough to make you peel your eyes away from his lips and stare out across his bedroom instead. Unlike your brainy brother and his best friend, both of whom had run to medical school as fast as they could, you’d followed your childhood love of cars right into mechanic repair, much to your parent’s chagrin. It didn’t always pay the bills, so you’d picked up odd jobs over the years—barista, fitness instructor, delivery driver. But finally, finally this year you’d landed your dream job—working on race cars. You’d been at the track all day, getting to know the team and the workings of the raceway, and spent half the time touching cars you’d only ever watched in videos. It had been all your fantasies realized until another careless rookie somehow sent a tapered awl careening in your direction. Luckily, it had only grazed you before pinging off the lifted tire chassis just behind you and skittering to the floor. Still, it had sliced right through your jumpsuit and left you with a nasty cut on your thigh. After tightly wrapping it in some clean rags, you’d powered through the rest of your day, but by quitting time your body was at a new level of exhaustion. It was why you’d ended up here in the first place.

This new job meant everything to you and Seokjin knew it. Hell, he’d been there with Yoongi and Jungkook to celebrate when you’d gotten the offer. You didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt hearing that he didn’t approve after all, especially when you were so used to him being the first to back up your decisions, no matter how unorthodox.

“Hey, don’t misunderstand me,” he said and you forced yourself to look back in his direction. His eyes still didn’t meet yours though and you hissed a little as he rolled antiseptic onto your cut. “I know you’re passionate about what you do. I didn’t mean I thought you should stop. Just that I worry. I’ll take care of you no matter what, but I just want you to be careful out there, alright?”

“Take care of me?” you laughed. Seokjin was studying specifically to be a pediatric doctor. “You take care of children, Seokjin.”

His eyes finally slid up to yours and there was something new and unreadable floating within them. The sight sent a nervous shiver prickling down your spine.

“I know the adult body too,” he said quietly.

Your eyelids fluttered as his words flew straight down to your core and Seokjin looked down again, hands stretching a proper bandage. He patted the side of your thigh, encouraging you to lift so that he could wrap it properly.

“Why are you here?” you asked as you adjusted for him. “Yoongi said you had a shift at the hospital tonight.”

Seokjin’s eyes went wide for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued to bandage your thigh. “Low patient census so the preceptor sent most of us home. Your brother didn’t tell me he’d told you to come by so I had no idea you were here. I guess I walked right by you when I came in.”

Finally, he finished his work on your leg and you noticed the reddening blush spreading across his cheeks. You realized your repositioning for the bandage had given him a clear view between your legs, where you currently wore no panties. You lowered your leg and Seokjin repacked the first aid kit, determinedly looking anywhere but at you. You pulled the blanket across your lap in a belated effort to spare him the discomfort. You may have been confident in your body, and you may have craved Seokjin in a very carnal way, but forcing him to unwillingly stare at your vagina wasn’t high on your list of seduction tactics.

“I’m really sorry about earlier,” he said, voice wavering with embarrassment. “I hope you know I’d never, ever take advantage of you, especially not when you’re under the influence. There’s no excuse for-”

“What?” you questioned, cutting him off. “Seokjin, I’m not drunk.”

He paused, blinking up at you in confusion. You sighed, deciding it would be best to just be honest about it.

“I dream about you sometimes so,” you paused, chewing at your cheek for a few seconds. “So I thought I was dreaming.”

His face screwed up in disbelief, his perfect eyebrows pressing far too close together. “That doesn’t make it any better!” he whisper-shouted, voice pitched a little higher. He glanced at the doorway, then scrubbed a hand across his face. “Yoongi is going to absolutely murder me.”

He reached down to gather up the first aid kit and backed off of the bed, rushing to head toward the exit.

“Wait,” you called out after him. He was clearly uncomfortable and part of you wanted to let him leave if only to help him feel a little better. But Seokjin had kissed you back. His hands had been ready to explore your body in the dark. And after spending the past few years thinking you’d imagined him ever having a moment’s interest in you, you couldn’t let the night pass without at least finding out the truth. “What if...what if I want to keep dreaming?”

His footsteps slowed to a stop and he stared at you from just before the doorway, studied you for a long moment, the tips of his ears slowly growing redder.

“What about Yoongi?” he asked, voice quiet and sincere.

You blew out a laugh, though you could hear your nerves in it. “Well, I mean he’s not in my dreams. My nightmares maybe.”

“No, I mean...he said...and you…”

You patted the bed in front of you, encouraging him back to the space he’d hurried away from a moment ago. “What did he say, Seokjin?”

Seokjin stayed silent for a few seconds, staring back at the doorway as though it was his only path to salvation. You watched his free hand clench into a fist then slowly unfurl as he flexed his fingers and reached for the door, pushing it closed with a click that seemed to signify something definitive. He tossed the first aid kit onto his dresser and turned to face you on the bed, choosing to lean back against the wall instead of joining you among the covers.

“That no one’s good enough for you. That he thinks no matter who you finally settle for, they won’t be good enough for you.”

You blinked. Your brother had said that? The same one that gave you a hard time for dating or sleeping with whoever you liked? For not being ashamed of how much you liked to have sex? The same brother that shit on every reckless choice you made, whether it paid off or not?

“You’ve been off-limits to all our friends since you were in middle school,” Seokjin continued, rubbing a nervous hand along his arm. “I’ve even heard him threaten a few after they snuck out of your room.”

Alright, so maybe Yoongi had been a little more overprotective than you’d been aware of. But he’d also told you directly to stay away from Seokjin. Had he told his friend the same thing about you?

“What about you? Did he say I was off-limits to you?”

Seokjin hesitated. “Well, no, not in so many words.”

“Then why do you think that includes you too? You’ve been his best friend forever.”

“Would I stay that way though if I had an interest in his little sister?” he asked, though it sounded like it wasn’t the first time the question had come up for him. “I guess I’ve always been too chickenshit to find out.”

You held back a laugh. “If anyone isn’t good enough in this situation, it’s both of us for you.”

“What are you talking about, good enough?”

You shrugged. “You’ve always been the nice guy who’s friendly with everyone. You’d give the shirt off your back to any stranger who needed it,” you said, trying to focus on the conversation and ignore the fact that currently Seokjin had no shirt on to give away to anyone. “Yoongi and me, we…we’re the too blunt, too direct people that everyone avoids. We’re lucky to have someone like you in our lives. Someone that finds us tolerable.”

He chuckled softly, fingers stroking lightly under his chin in a moment’s contemplation. “You know, I wouldn’t even be in medical school if it wasn’t for you.”

“You mean if it wasn’t for Yoongi?” you tried to correct. After all, they’d applied and gone through this far together.

“No. I mean you.”

You cocked your head in confusion and once again patted the bed in front of you. On the practical side, it felt like the kind of conversation you should be having closer together. And on the emotional side, you suddenly wanted Seokjin within your reach, to seek comfort in his touch now that you were finally having this conversation.

Seokjin bit his lip for a moment before moving slowly toward the bed and sinking down in front of you, crossing his legs in front of him and facing you.

“You’ll remember I wasn’t the most confident kid.”

“You?” you asked in surprise, then slowly nodded in agreement after a little more thought. “Alright, I guess that’s true, though you’d never know it now.”

“Awkward, nerdy, thick glasses, more bad haircuts than a kid should be forced to live through.” He sighed. “It was rough there for a while.”

You giggled, memories of each of those haircuts rolling through your mind.

“When I got to high school I really wanted to make a change, to join a sport and make more friends,” he continued. “I thought track would be perfect for my build and stamina, but I was so scared to be teased or bullied, especially if I wasn’t any good. I remember Yoongi being home sick and me coming to walk you home from school. I told you I wanted to chicken out of the tryouts the next day. Yoongi would’ve told me to suck it up and just go. And I wanted so badly for you to tell me it would be okay to just give up.”

The memory of that conversation resurfaced in your mind too. And with it, one of a long list of your very poor life choices. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah,” he said with a stifled laugh. “You took off running. Telling me to catch you. Running right into traffic.”

You put an embarrassed hand to your mouth. Yes, you were only in middle school at the time, but your sense of self-preservation should’ve been much stronger than to make a decision like that.

“It uh…it made sense to me at the time?” you said with probably not enough mortification.

Seokjin let out a warm laugh, as though the memory was less terrifying and more heartwarming.

“I’d never run so fast in my life to get you out of the middle of that street. That multi-lane street,” he groaned. “We definitely almost died at least three times before I got you across and onto the sidewalk. And I remember you staring up at me and saying-”

“See, you’re a really good runner,” you said slowly. Seokjin breathed another laugh and his face warmed as his smile spread.

“Yeah. You were there for my tryout too. I remember all the adults getting upset at how loud you cheered like it was a football game or something,” he chuckled. “I made it in because of you, love. I got scouted because of you. And that track scholarship was the only reason I got to go to college in the first place. It’s the only reason I get to have this career that I already love so much.”

“Well, there’s tons of dumbass kids like me that are gonna need a doctor like you, especially if they don’t have any track stars there to rescue them from their mistakes.”

You both broke out into laughter at that and the sound of it filled Seokjin’s bedroom, warm and comforting like the perfect cup of tea on a cold winter morning.

“I forgot all about that,” you said, wiping away a tear from the corner of your eye. “You never even told me off for being an idiot and running into traffic. You just kept saying…”

“Be careful,” he said in the same soft, patient voice you’d been listening to since you were a kid, deeper, more mature now, but with the same soothing quality. Even then, even when you’d almost gotten both of you so seriously hurt, Seokjin was too kind a spirit to muster any scolding beyond looking after you.

“So if anyone needs anyone, it’s definitely been me that’s needed you. That’s not the only time you’ve been my much-needed confidence booster,” he said. You noticed then that he’d clasped his fingers together, fidgeting as he rubbed them against each other. “And I…I definitely find you more than tolerable.”

You took his cue, sliding forward across the bed until you sat just in front of him and slipping your hands between his. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” he murmured. He glanced behind you for a moment. Or maybe he was trying not to focus directly on your face when he spoke. “So you, uh, you really dream about me?”

“Oh, all the time,” you said casually. It was out now, so what was the point of being coy about it?

Seokjin blinked and scrunched his nose in the endearing way he always did when he got nervous. “I’m kind of afraid to ask what they’re about.”

You flicked through images in your head, some of which were enough to bring a little heat even to your cheeks. But you supposed it was now or never.

“A lot of things. We’ve been on a lot of adventures. Done plenty more stupid things. But most often? I dream about what it would be like to go on a date with you. To kiss you, cuddle with you. Put your enormous cock in my mouth. Sit on your dick.” You looked down at the plain, soft T-shirt you wore. “Though, in my dreams, I’m usually dressed in something a bit more flattering.” You glanced up at Seokjin before you continued and bit your tongue as you watched his eyes slowly widen. He’d always appreciated your straightforwardness, but this level of honesty may have been a little too far, regardless of how true.

Seokjin’s deep groan echoed lightly around the room.

“Wow, love. Your dreams sound a lot like mine. Even your clothes.” His eyes flicked down to your body draped in his shirt. “Especially in my clothes.”

You blinked, feeling happy, and yet a little frustrated at the admission. “I’m so confused. You haven’t acted interested at all in all this time.”

He actually snorted. “I couldn’t show it. I’ve had to run away from you so many times. Every time you wear something short and let me see those delicious thighs for free. Every time you lean over to smell my cooking and I fought with my own DNA to take my eyes off your chest. Every time…well every time you’re around I go a little more insane honestly. I use school as an excuse, but that’s not the only reason I can’t be around for very long when you come over. You’re so hot it makes my dick hurt.” He groaned again. “I’m ashamed of some of the places I’ve had to rub one out just to get you out of my head.” He pulled his hand away from yours, placing it over his mouth as though saying the words had burned him on the way out. “It never worked anyway,” he mumbled through his fingers.

Oh.

“It can’t just be Yoongi that kept you from telling me this. How come you’ve never said anything?”

“I…I didn’t think I was your type. Race cars, tattoos, cigarettes, bar fights. Not guys who don’t know anything about cars, who spend every weekend studying, gaming, or working. Not…me.”

Now it was your turn for reminiscing. “You remember my eighteenth birthday?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. You didn’t miss the newest rosy blush that sprouted across his cheeks.

“I’d spent half the day arguing with my parents about going to auto tech school, not even knowing if they were going to kick me out over it. It was the most miserable birthday of my life. And then you and Yoongi took me on that midnight boat ride.”

Seokjin’s smile returned as you recalled the memory, brightening up his whole face. “You caught the biggest fish I’ve ever seen. I’ve never been so put to shame before by someone who’d never been fishing a day in their life.”

“And then we came back and climbed onto the roof and you guys had baked me a little cake and you sang me happy birthday under the stars. It was…perfect.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice noticeably smaller, smile turning a darker shade of reminiscent.

“Seokjin.”

“Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

He stayed silent, worrying his plump bottom lip between his teeth.

That night, your brother had gone inside to get you all drinks. Seokjin’s long frame was sprawled out next to yours on the roof, bodies comfortably close as you both stared up at the star-dotted sky. He’d told you that he never doubted you’d always get exactly what you dreamed of. And that he and Yoongi would be there for you to support you down whatever path you wanted to follow. And then he’d sat up, his beautiful face hovering just above you against the glittering backdrop of stars, and given you the softest kiss, hot in a way that seared through your every layer, imprinting itself on your soul. You’d threaded your fingers into his hair and melted into his kiss and tasted the sweet of cake frosting and happiness and him. Your brother had come back just after you’d leaned apart and, though you’d never been able to forget it, neither of you had spoken about it since.

Seokjin hung his head, seemingly weighed down by the recollection. “It was the next day that Yoongi told me no one would ever be good enough for you. I never knew if he saw us or if he could just tell how close I was getting to you and he didn’t like it. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to ruin anything, so I…I just backed off.”

You nodded. “I don’t think it was long after that that he told me you were off limits too.”

“So see, even I’m not good enough for you, Y/N.”

“Seokjin, you’re not just Yoongi’s friend, you’re mine too,” you said, a little more defensively than you meant. “You know that right?”

“Of course I do, love,” he said hurriedly. He lifted your hands then, planting a soft kiss against the back your yours.

“You’ve supported me my whole life, through every misstep and triumph and doubt you’ve always been there for me. Studying, gaming, working, and being a great friend. I don’t care about all that other shit. I care about someone who’s kind to me, who respects me, who likes me for who I am exactly as I am. That’s my type. And that’s always been you.”

“Always will, love,” he said quietly, punctuating his words with another kiss to the back of your other hand.

“So,” you started, a little emboldened by his touch. You leaned toward him with a cautious grin. “You kissed me and then spent all these years running away from me only to go rub one out, huh?”

He groaned and pulled one hand away, pressing it against his mouth as pink blossomed in his cheeks again. “Why did I tell you that? That’s so embarrassing.”

“Oh, I want to hear more,” you said, sure your grin had turned mischievous. “I told you about my dreams. Tell me what else we do in yours?”

He swallowed and you watched as thoughts he’d clearly buried for a long time resurfaced on his face. He rubbed his fingers nervously against his lips and his eyes betrayed him, drifting slowly down to land on yours.

“I spend a lot of time dreaming about your mouth. Kissing you for hours. Biting your lips. Tasting your tongue. Though I suppose I’ve had some of that experience now.”

You leaned forward and met your lips to his again, starting out with the lightest press to test that he still wanted this. You felt his lips part slightly, felt him lean into the kiss, and you sank into him further. You swiped your tongue slowly across his lower lip and just as he leaned into you, preparing to reach for more, you pulled away. Seokjin looked a little dumbstruck, exhaling softly as he stared down at you, fingers of the hand still gripping yours clutching you tighter.

“Dreams can’t compare,” he said breathlessly.

You chuckled and sat back on the bed, slipping your hand from his and widening the space between you. It was selfish, but the look of desperation that flashed across Seokjin’s face as he watched you move away was worth it.

“What else?” you asked teasingly.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, or maybe to taste what you’d left behind, and a wave of heat swept across your skin as his gaze drifted lower on you.

“Kissing your neck.”

You leaned your head to one side, encouraging him to come and take an active part in his fantasy.

Seokjin didn’t hesitate, sliding forward on the bed this time and meeting your mouths together again. He cupped your cheek as his lips moved away from yours, kissing down your jaw until he landed on your neck. He kissed the skin there so lightly, so tender, and the effect was brand new for you. You had never had someone turn you on with so little while making you feel so precious. He kissed down to the base of your throat, pulling aside your shirt so his lips could roam across your collarbone, and finally returned to your neck with another tender kiss that became a slow lick that became a teasingly soft bite. Your mind was spinning at his achingly slow contact and you couldn’t hold back, letting a soft moan escape your lips. The sound seemed to shake Seokjin from whatever spell he’d been drawn into and he leaned away slightly, warm breath ghosting across your now damp skin.

“Keep going,” you encouraged, arousal already thick in your throat.

“I dream about touching you everywhere, beautiful,” he confessed, his own voice gone husky with his desire. “Your body drives me insane. You do.”

“So touch me, Seokjin. Just like you dream. I want you to.”

You nudged his face up, capturing his lips in another smoldering kiss. His hand moved up then, sliding under your—technically, his—shirt and cupping the full swell of your breast in a gentle squeeze. His other hand joined a moment later at your other breast and you arched into his touch, sighing contentedly into his mouth. He leaned back and released a shaky breath as his lips parted from yours. You started to pout until you felt the tug of him lifting your shirt, sliding it over your arms and off of you. His lips went back to your neck, maddening wet kisses pressed against your throat as his hands found your breasts again. He teased your nipple in slow circles with his thumb and you could feel his smile against your neck as your breath hitched in response to each stroke, wider still at the soft moan that broke free as he gave one of them a light pinch.

His satisfied groan rumbled against your neck. “If you knew how often I dream about putting your fantastic breasts in my mouth,” he said, tone gone dark and syrupy. His lips traveled down your neck again, your chest, a trail of hot kisses against your skin until he reached your breast and took a slow lick at the nipple he’d pinched. His hand still gently caressing the other, he circled the tender bud lazily with his tongue, leaving you panting, body arching into him.

“Your whole body. You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he said, making a wide, wet swipe with the broad of his tongue before pulling in your nipple again in a gentle suckle. You slid a hand forward, burying your fingers into the thick hair at the nape of his neck and tipping your head back. Your body trembled at the sensation of his mouth on you this way, naturally arching into his touch as he satisfied cravings you’d held close for so long.

Seokjin swapped breasts then, wrapping his lips around your other nipple and freeing his hand to travel further down your body. He caressed the soft of your belly and settled on your uninjured thigh, giving the thick of you there a firm, hungry squeeze.

“Touch me. Please,” you begged immediately and although he technically already was, you had a feeling Seokjin could tell exactly where you wanted to feel him right now. He hesitated for a moment, hands and tongue slowing to a pause. And though every part of you was aching for him, you waited for him, waited for his decision on how far he wanted this to go, ready to meet him where he needed. You felt his resolve harden as his hand continued its path downward, squeezing your inner thighs before finally sliding between your legs. Immediately, his fingers met your bare heat and the wetness that had been building since your kisses had first begun.

“Y-you got this wet for me?” he panted against your nipple.

“Seokjin, you’re the hottest man I’ve ever known. You’ve been shirtless the whole night, kissing me and sucking on my nipples and calling me beautiful. Yes, I’m fucking wet for you.”

Seokjin lifted his head from your breasts, angling up instead to kiss you, the firm warmth of his chest pressing against your own as his fingers stroked your wetness, back and forth. You inhaled sharply as he swept his fingers across your sensitive clit, breathing more of Seokjin, thinking that you could never tire of his tongue exploring your mouth again and again. You would never get enough of tasting him, of kissing him, of being this close to him. You slid your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer as his fingers alternated between stroking your aching slit and making slow, agonizing circles around your swollen clit.

“Hottest you’ve ever known, hm?” he said, breaking from your lips.

“You already know it, you just like having your ego stroked,” you offered back, though your words had a needy edge thanks to his busy fingers. “Got your hairstyle under control and we haven’t been able to stop you since.”

Seokjin only chuckled shyly. Though it was true that his confidence had grown to a healthy level over the years, his humility had grown along with it. Which was why, even though he knew what you said was true, and even though his fingers were between your legs, he still had the beginnings of a new blush spreading across his cheeks at the compliment.

Finally, he sank his fingers inside you and you leaned forward against him, burying your head in his neck and panting a whimper that ended in a fragmented moan. Seokjin paused his movements, much to your disappointment, and made a nervous glance back at his bedroom door.

“I think Yoongi and his date are asleep in his room,” he said softly into your hair.

His date? Yoongi hadn’t mentioned he had a date over when you asked if you could come crash. His bedroom door had been closed, so you’d assumed he was already asleep when you got here. You clenched down involuntarily around Seokjin’s fingers inside you and decided you really didn’t want to think about your brother at the moment.

“It’s alright,” you said. You reached down and cupped Seokjin’s hand with your own, pressing his fingers deeper inside you. “We’re only dreaming, remember?”

With another shy laugh, Seokjin curled his fingers, sending a ripple of pleasure through your body and coaxing another of your moans into the little dip just above his collarbone. His mouth found a new home at your earlobe, licking and biting softly as he found his rhythm in the wetness of your pussy. His other hand hadn’t forgotten its mission, not-so-gently squeezing the soft flesh of your breast and rolling the firm sensitive bud of your nipple between his fingers.

Before you lost yourself entirely to his touch, you reached down for him through his shorts, this time slipping your hand past the waistband and finally curling your fingers around his cock. He was so hot to the touch, the skin soft and smooth in an almost jarring way compared to how hard he felt. As you palmed the veined length of him slowly, you accepted that your imagination was highly inaccurate; Seokjin was more enormous in your hands than your dreams had ever managed to capture. You tried hard to focus your movements on him, but between his thumb circling your clit, the pads of his fingers rhythmically knocking against that sweet spot inside you, and his damn mouth, wet and teasing on your ear, you felt overwhelmed, only managing a few half-hearted strokes as your pleasure rapidly threatened to spill over.

“Seok…”

It hit you before you were ready, his name interrupted by your shuddering moans as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you. Seokjin didn’t let up, his fingers still stroking back and forth as you rode through your climax, his tongue still circling your ear. Once you finally stopped trembling he slipped his hand from between your legs and leaned back a little, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead. You looked up to meet the dark, polished amber of his eyes. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear the smile on his face was just a little bit smug.

“You’re so sensitive, love,” he said, purring the words like a satisfied cat.

“You seem a little too pleased about that,” resisting the urge to nuzzle your face into the warmth of his neck.

He stroked the fingers of his dry hand along your shoulder and down your arm. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

You pulled yourself up onto your knees and motioned for Seokjin to move further back toward the head of the bed. He obliged and you kneeled between his legs, leaning forward to kiss his lips. Seokjin’s hands went to your hips, but you backed away a little, instead kissing down his neck, pathing along his chest until you reached one of his dusky brown nipples. You teased the tiny bud with your tongue, listening to his soft whimpers at the attention. You pressed down on a soft bite and smiled at Seokjin’s responding half-moan, half-exhale.

“I’m not the only sensitive one,” you said. Seokjin only chuckled lightly in response and placed his fingers atop your head, making a gentle stroke across your hair.

You backed away again and curled your fingers under the waistband of his shorts, sliding them down past his hips. You blinked for a few moments, unsure when your hands had frozen in place in your mission to finally disrobe him. You just remembered staring, your mouth falling open at the sight of the biggest cock you’d ever seen, bobbing tauntingly against well-defined abs and the sluttiest slim waist.

“Y/N?” Seokjin asked, and the strained concern in his voice broke you from your reverie.

“S-Seokjin,” you managed to stammer, though you didn’t tear your eyes away from his lower head. “No wonder you’re so ripped having to carry this around all day.”

He breathed out a shy laugh.

“Your dick is…” Magnificent? Insane? The biggest, most glorious, breathtaking cock you’d ever seen? It all felt ridiculous and yet…the right words wouldn’t surface. Maybe there weren’t any words good enough. Yes, you had seen plenty of cocks, but apparently, you had never seen the cock until now.

It took you a second to realize his hands were moving down, trying, but naturally failing to hide his third leg. “You don’t have to…” he mumbled. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable so we don’t have to…”

You blinked, still working through your shock. Nothing in your imagination could’ve prepared you for this. But as his words finally sunk in, you looked up at him in confusion.

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yeah. It’s…some have said that before. So you don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“Are you kidding?” You brushed his hands aside, taking in the thickness, the deep pink of it, the tantalizing pearl of precum pooled at the tip that had you all but salivating. You wrapped your fingers around him and gave his full length a long, satisfying stroke and he whimpered at the movement. “I want nothing more.”

Seokjin’s hands were still close by yours, his gaze once again drifting past you.

“I just…I don’t know that I can…that I’m...what I mean is I haven’t really…”

His sudden communication struggle left you feeling unsure of what signal he was trying to get across. As much as you didn’t want to, you took your hands off of him.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“I want to!” he said, then bit his lip in embarrassment at his own enthusiasm. “Believe me, I want to. I…”

You let his words marinate, taking in the concern now pressed between his eyebrows.

“You’re worried you won’t fit? Because yes, your cock is massive, but I know you’ve studied enough anatomy to know that I can get you in me with no problem.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

You wanted to tell him you couldn’t wait for him to hurt you, but something about the uncertainty etched across his face had you changing your trajectory for once.

“You won’t hurt me. I don’t know what happened with your other partners, but we’ll go really slow, alright?”

Even with that, Seokjin still looked unsure. As kind as he was, it sometimes came at the cost of him hesitating to say what he really meant for the sake of others. Luckily for him, you’d never suffered from that affliction.

“What else? You’re worried…because I’ve had a lot of experience and you haven’t had much?”

He nodded.

“I do like sex, Seokjin.”

“I love that you enjoy sex. I love that you live so fully in your own body. I’ve always loved that about you.” His eyes drifted downward, settling on the sheets next to him, though you had a feeling he was looking at nothing beyond his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m messing this up. I’ve just thought about you for so long that I…I’m kind of terrified to disappoint.”

You leaned down, laying next to him and curling your body against his long frame. As you settled into the curve of him, Seokjin wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close against him, warm bare skin to skin.

“I mean, on the whole, sex is just sex,” you said. “And based on the fact that you’re even worried about it, I guarantee you’ll give me a better experience than anyone else.”

He made an unconvincing nod, turning his face to kiss your forehead once, twice, again. He was nervous, you could feel it radiating off of his skin, see it in the tightness of his jawline, and thanks to years of reading his moods, you could feel the hesitation in the air around him.

You spoke softly into the crook of his neck. “There’s no one else in this dream, right? Just you and me.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“You know me. And I know you. So there’s no pressure, no expectations. We can just enjoy being me and you, yeah?”

He turned to face you, finally focusing his eyes on yours. You waited, stared back into the beautiful brown of his, and let him search for whatever answer it was that he needed. Finally, he leaned forward, kissing you again, sweet and slow. He leaned away for a moment, slipping off his glasses and tossing them onto his nightstand before joining his lips with yours again. You sighed into his kiss and Seokjin’s arm wrapped around you tight as you kissed, and kissed, and lost yourself between his lips.

“I want you, Seokjin,” you panted when you finally broke away for air. “I want you so bad I can’t think straight.”

“Want you too,” he said in quick response, then immediately sought out your mouth again, tongue dancing with yours for what might’ve been hours. You both lie there, tangled in each other’s arms, kissing and making up for lost time and seeking solace and building trust together.

You hadn’t realized your hand had found its way back to the hard length of him until he gasped lightly into your mouth and you felt the heat of him in your grip. You nodded at him, making sure it was still what he wanted. When he nodded back, you slid your leg over his hip as Seokjin rolled onto his back. You leaned down to kiss him one more time, then up again as you lifted your hips to find the best angle to guide his enormous cock into you.

As the tip of him met your aching entrance, you had to remember to temper your eagerness with the reality that you would probably need to go very slow to adjust to the size of him. Between how wet he’d gotten you with his fingers and the glide from his ample precum, there was hardly any resistance as you slid him inside you. Except for…

“Fuck,” you hissed. “Your cock is so fucking big, Seokjin.” You had barely gone past the head, but it was already a tight fit. Seokjin hadn’t responded and you looked up to find his focus between your legs, watching as he slowly disappeared inside you. Plush lips slightly parted, he was already panting and looked about three seconds away from losing his mind.

Desire renewed, you lifted your hips and used the slick of you to slide down a little further. Your tactic worked, slipping in as much as you could handle, backing off, and slowly sliding him in again, his cock a little wetter from you each time. You took him slow inch by slow inch and feeling the gradual stretch of him inside you was almost as satisfying as watching Seokjin’s eyelids flutter as you sank down onto him. It took a little time and patience, but after what felt like a million inches later, finally you met the base of his cock.

“Holyfuckingshit,” he whined, words barely recognizable as they slurred together. You watched the knot in his throat bob, veins in his neck straining, head lolling back.

You had never been so full in your life. Even without moving, the feel of him pressing against your walls, taking you right to your limit, had molten heat collecting at the base of your belly.

“See? You’re just right.”

He finally leaned forward, staring up at you with half-lidded eyes. “You feel so good around me, love.”

You pressed your hands forward, finding your balance against his abs and slowly rocking your hips, moving the thick length of him in and out of you. Even at the slow pace, your breath grew shaky, the full stretch of him against your dripping pussy already tightening the coil inside you.

“So tight, beautiful,” he said, voice scratching low between his panting breaths. “So good.”

Seokjin’s hands slid up your thighs, landing on your hips as you guided yourself up and down. As your pace picked up, he quickly began to unravel. His grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into the soft of your skin. And slowly, his whimpers became throaty moans that rippled through you like little arcs of lightning, rolling in time with the press of him deep inside you, knocking against each perfect sensitive spot.

“Are you okay?” he asked between quick breaths.

“Better than ever. Please don’t stop.”

The mattress had begun to squeak lightly beneath you both as your rhythm built, but considering Seokjin’s dark stare, the expanse of his pupils taking in your bouncing body as if you were his own personal sunrise, you thought he’d long since lost any concern about what anyone outside this room might hear. You pulled one hand back to circle your clit, speeding you toward what felt inevitable.

“No, let me,” he said and for a moment your passion-addled brain wasn’t sure what he meant. He leaned up, lips closing around one of your breasts, tongue teasing your nipple. Then you felt his hand leave your hip and nudge yours aside. His fingertips grazed your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure to send your head spinning.

“Seokjin…fuck. I’m close,” you said, spilling the words out over your moans. You tilted your hips forward just a little and shuddered as the new angle had Seokjin’s cock hitting you in the perfect spot.

“Y/N,” you heard him pant between your breasts and hoped the adjustment was just as good for him. “It’s been…it’s been a while for me.” He leaned back his head and you looked down to see the muscles in his neck flexing, teeth clenched in his effort to hold back. You weren’t so far behind him that it would matter anyway.

“Okay. It’s okay.”

“No…condom,” he managed to grit out.

As if you wanted it any other way. Your only response was to squeeze down, impossibly tight around him, and Seokjin’s growling moan let you know he got the message. His fingers tensed where they gripped your side and he sat up further, lifting his hips and thrusting his cock into you with a renewed force. The plush of his mouth met your neck, your jaw, and finally, your lips again.

“Not without you, beautiful.”

He leaned back into the mattress, taking you down with him, lips never parting from yours. His free hand slid to cup your ass as he thrust his cock in and out of you faster still, his fingers between you circling your clit. You slid your hands up into his hair, gasping between drags of his lips and the moans pouring out of you every other breath. Each time his cock slid deep inside you could feel the cliff’s edge looming, the dizzying height leaving you a little afraid of the drop.

“Come for me, love,” he breathed inside your mouth, voice deep with a decadent richness you could almost taste. “I’ve dreamed about it so many times. I want to hear what you really sound like when you come on my cock.”

It was over for you. You moaned his name and perhaps a few expletives as your orgasm crashed into you, body quivering against him as pleasure rippled through your core and out to every corner of your being.

“Y/N,” Seokjin panted as he fucked you through every wave of your orgasm. You felt his hips shudder and tasted the growling moan on his lips as he buried himself deep inside you and finally spilled everything he had. His orgasm seemed to last for ages and you rode along with his every thrust and hip roll, your body close to teasing another tip past the brink as you drank in his pleasure.

Eventually, you felt his hips relax. He stared up at you, lips parted, shiny and inviting, eyes half-lidded and watching your body as it bobbed gently from the matching effort of both of your breathing. He slid both his arms around you, pulling you forward against his chest into an enveloping hug.

“Am I too heavy?” you asked, lips brushing against the searing skin of his neck.

“Don’t you move an inch, love.”

You lay there on top of him, planting soft kisses against his neck, surrounded by his intoxicating smell, mixed with the heady scent of sweat and sex you’d both created. You still felt so full even as he slowly softened inside you, the feeling of his cum leaking out around his cock adding to your satisfaction.

“So much better,” he whispered, nuzzling the tip of his nose against the side of your face. “Better than I’ve ever imagined.”

Finally, you felt his softened cock slip out of you and an unexpected, warm gush followed, sending a noticeable dribbling mess down your inner thighs.

“Holy shit. Do you always come this much? Though, I guess with a dick that big…”

His fingers roamed down your back before making a soft stroke across your ass. “You felt so good, love. I couldn’t hold back.”

“Well,” you say before playfully grazing your teeth against the skin of his neck. “You’re not done with me yet, are you?”

“I…I...” he stammered.

You let your lips brush against his cheek. “Unless you’ve had enough of me? No more dreams you’ve been dying to fulfill all this time?”

The hand at your ass paused and Seokjin bit into his bottom lip. Watching him sort through his thoughts with such a familiar, endearing habit was starting to melt you a little from the inside. It drove home how much you had missed spending time with him, that your busy lives and mutual pining had kept you apart far too much over the years.

“I do like you on top, but I’ve…I’ve thought about you a lot from behind too.”

Oh?

“Behind?” you said, both amused and pleased at his sudden straightforwardness.

He went quiet and you lifted your head, giggling as he tried to turn his head to hide his embarrassment.

“Seokjin, come on. You really don’t have to be shy about telling me how you want to have sex.”

“It’s not the sex. It’s…it’s you. I never planned on telling you how much I was into you and I…”

You quieted him with a light kiss.

“And since when have you been such a planner? Aren’t you the one who taught me to live a little without thinking to be happy?”

That got a laugh out of him. “I think I taught you a little too well, didn’t I?”

You nudged his shoulder in mock offense, even though he was probably right. “My point is, don’t worry about whatever you planned. It’s me. And you know me. So you know I want to hear everything. Just tell me.”

He hesitated again, having another of those internal battles, and you waited for him to decide how much he really wanted to share.

“Iwanttoburymycockinyouandwatchyouramazingassbounceagainstme,” he let out in one long, strained breath. He risked a nervous, sidelong glance at you once the words were out, gauging your reaction to his admission.

“Let’s get you ready then,” you said simply, following up with another kiss. Seokjin’s hand gripped your ass and you knew he intended to keep you right there, indulging in your lips while he hardened between your legs. But you’d already decided on other plans.

You sat up and turned your body to face away from him, meeting instead with the sticky mess that was his now wet, shiny cock. It fell limply to the side of his thigh, though even softened it was an impressive sight.

As you ran your tongue across the head, meeting the salty tang of the mixture of your arousal, Seokjin whimpered quietly from somewhere behind your ass. You smiled to yourself and took it as a sign to continue your work. You could admit to yourself that it was a selfish move since he’d clearly wanted to make out with you. But if one of his biggest fantasies was hitting you from the back, one of yours was definitely getting his cock in your mouth. Why not satisfy both goals tonight?

It didn’t take long for his length to start to thicken in response to the caress of your tongue. Gripping him at the base and slowly inching your mouth down him as much as your jaw would allow, the satisfying moans you coaxed out of him let you know that he was more than happy with your choice. Seokjin’s hands were on your ass and thighs as you worked, squeezing and stroking your skin between his slowly increasing breaths.

“Is...Is it weird that I like watching my cum drip out of you? It’s so hot.” He groaned. “You’re so hot, Y/N.” You felt his fingers spreading your pussy wide, felt another dribble of the mess he’d made leak again from inside you. How on earth was there still more?

“N-no, of course not,” you panted at the stimulation. “It turns me on more how attracted you are to me.”

“Look at you. My cum is still coming out of you.” His fingers spread your lips further apart and you felt a soft gush as more leaked from inside you. “I want to fuck it back inside of you, love. I’ve never been this turned on in my life.”

You moaned at his words. “I…I never thought you would talk to me like this.”

“Sor-”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I love it.”

You’d intended to go back to choking on his cock, but your plans were interrupted, a full-bodied moan tumbling from your lips as Seokjin slid at least two of his thick fingers inside your cum-soaked pussy.

“H-hey,” you breathed, though it didn’t stop the teasing rock of him inside you. “I said this was about getting you ready.” You let your hand continue where your mouth couldn’t, fisting his wet cock in a firm squeeze and coaxing another soft moan out of him.

“I was ready as soon as you got your lips on me, love. If you keep going much more, I’m probably not going to come where you want me to.”

You made a teasing wave with your ass, swaying back and forth in front of him. “Go where you really want then.”

Seokjin slipped his fingers from between your legs and slid from underneath you, positioning himself onto his knees behind you. As his hands landed on your hips, you felt another inexplicable dribble of his cum run down the side of your thigh. In as many partners as you’d had, you’d never had this kind of experience before.

“How long has it been for you that you had so much cum to give me?”

“It’s not time. I always…it’s always a lot. I’ve always been that way. If you like it…let me fill you up, beautiful.”

He bent forward and planted a light kiss on your shoulder that made you shudder, his lips slowly pathing their way down your back. You felt the bed shift beneath you and one of his hands leave your hip, and then the erotic press of the thick head of his cock between your folds.

You pressed your hips back in response and with all the lubrication he met no resistance. His cock slipped inside you and you leaned down a little into the bed involuntarily, raising your ass toward him, weak at the feeling of him inside you again at this new, satisfying angle.

Seokjin’s movements started slow and gentle, his thrusts hesitant as though you still needed time to adjust to the size of him. But you were far past the need for gentility. You wanted this man and his mammoth cock to turn your insides out.

“You can be rough, Seokjin,” you said, catching the desperate edge in your voice. It was taking all the strength you had not to slam yourself back into him, but this was Seokjin’s fantasy and you didn’t want to take over. A little guidance would have to do.

You looked back at him over your shoulder. He took a few moments to respond and you watched as he resurfaced from what seemed like a very deep focus on your rear end.

“…What?”

You licked your lips. “You wanted me from behind so you could watch my ass bounce, right? I bounce more if you fuck me. Hard. I like it.”

Seokjin groaned, fingers tightening the grip on your hips. “Shit, Y/N. You can’t talk to me like that.”.

“No? I’m just following your lead. You don’t like it?”

“I...I like it too much.” He breathed out in frustration. “I’m already ready to blow again because of your mouth on me, your pussy around me. Now your words too. You drive me crazy, love.”

“So don’t be gentle with me then. I can take your cock, baby. Fuck me, please?”

The moan you exhaled as he finally pressed himself into you to the base echoed around Seokjin’s bedroom. He pulled himself out and forcefully pushed back into you, this time letting his moans match with yours. As he found his pace between your legs, the music of the room only grew louder: the gasping breaths and satisfied whimpers between you both, the sticky, wet noises of your slick as his thighs met your ass again and again, the quiet squeak of his mattress in time with the movement of his hips, and the thrum of your heartbeat in your throat as he buried his cock deep inside you, filled you to your limit over and over.

As his hands made bruising grips on the thick flesh of your ass, you arched your back, letting go of yourself as he guided you closer and closer to your limit. Instead, Seokjin took the opportunity to pull you up toward him, the surprising change in angle making you clench down, though he continued fucking into you all the same.

“My cock fits in you so nicely,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot on your skin, voice a dangerous new level of addictive. “Keep squeezing me just like that, beautiful.”

You whined as his teeth sank into your earlobe, as one of his hands made its way to your breast, cupping it in his hand and teasing your sensitive nipple between his fingers.

“What…” you breathed, your brain finding it a little difficult to form words between all the stimulation. “What happened to staring at my ass?”

“I can feel your ass. Your whole body.” He planted a long kiss on your neck and another on your shoulder. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

His lips found a home on your neck, kissing, sucking, licking, and driving you mad. You felt the searing, sweat-lined heat of his chest against the skin of your back, the light pinches and caresses as his hand kept up its toying with your breast. His other hand made its way between your legs, fingers swirling around your clit, and the coil of pleasure building inside you warned that it wouldn’t last for much longer.

“Am I fucking your pussy hard enough, love?” he asked softly, breath tickling the skin he’d left damp. “Will you let me hear you come on my cock again, baby, hm?”

Your head was spinning, hardly able to believe your ears. “Kim Seokjin. You have a filthy fucking mouth. I’ve never heard you talk like this in all the years I’ve known you.”

“You’re a bad, bad influence, love. Answer my question?”

“Yes, Seokjin,” you breathed, leaning your body back against his and surrendering to everything he was offering you. “Yes, I’m so close. Please.”

“Please what?” He pressed his lips against your skin and you could feel the spread of his smile there. You lifted a hand, cupping the side of his face.

“Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he whispered. “I won’t.”

And true to his word, he didn’t. Your eyes rolled back as Seokjin’s vigor renewed, his cock pounding into the perfect spot inside you again and again and again, his thighs hitting your ass with enough force that your breasts shook each time he buried himself inside you, his greedy fingers rolling back and forth across your swollen clit, calling every ounce of your pleasure to him. It was all too much, the edge of release taunting you from a breath away.

Seokjin made a sudden half-groan, half-cry and your eyes fluttered open at the sound.

“Fffffuuuu,” he hissed, letting the curse trail off as his hips made you quiver. “Your pussy is squeezing me so tight. I..I…”

The guttural sound of his pleasure cresting, raw and vulnerable, was what finally sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed into you, shockwaves rippling through your entire body. Seokjin clung to you, hips jerkily thrusting his cock inside you as you squeezed down and milked every drop of seed he filled you with. Your hands went to meet his, gripping him just as close as you rode through your satisfaction together.

You’d never felt so full in your life. Even with him still buried to the hilt inside you, you could already feel hot cum leaking from around his cock, your womb overflowing. Seokjin held you for a few minutes as your breathing slowed, kissing your neck, your chin, your cheek. When you finally slid yourself from his grasp, your exhausted body leaned forward and collapsed ungracefully onto the bed. You felt all used up in the best way possible.

“Shit,” you heard him mutter from behind you. You glanced back to see him staring down at your ass, likely mesmerized by the mess he’d left there. You lifted yourself onto your knees and used the last of your energy to wave your rear end teasingly for him, hoping he could enjoy the show.

“I want to burn this image into my brain,” he said, swallowing hard, the knot in his throat jumping. “It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life “

You glanced back at him, biting into your bottom lip suggestively. “So take a picture.”

He blinked. “W..what?”

“Go on. I want you to look at it later and think about me.”

“I…” he didn’t continue, mouth hanging open instead.

“No plans, remember? Go on,” you encouraged. Seokjin was off his bed a moment later, grabbing his phone from his nightstand and angling it toward your ass. You turned away, not necessarily wanting your face in the picture, but if he minded that part he didn’t say anything.

You heard his phone land somewhere on the bed with a soft puff a few seconds later, his arm suddenly sliding underneath your body.

“Come here, love.”

He helped you up onto your feet and pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight hug. Respectfully, neither of you had anything to say about the inconceivable amount of semen currently dripping down your thighs and leaving tiny drops on the floor at your feet. You nuzzled your face into his chest, content to be in his arms again.

“You’re amazing, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I do,” you said with a confident giggle.

He put his fingers to your chin and tipped your head up, kissing your lips this time with a deep satisfaction, as though he’d finally accepted he’d left you well pleased.

“I could probably fuck you again in five minutes if we keep this up,” he said after finally leaning away from your lips. “But I’m also tired as hell.”

Oh yeah. That was what you were supposed to be doing right now, getting some rest. Your own exhaustion hit you then, reminding you that even mind-blowingly good sex couldn’t make it go away.

“You’re about to pass out. Let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep, love.”

You tilted your head. “You could tell?”

He tapped your nose lovingly with the tip of his finger. “I’ve known you since you were two. I’d be ashamed if I couldn’t. You’re about to fall over on your feet. Come on.”

After a quick shower in his en suite involving a healthy amount of sweet kisses and Seokjin palming your ass like he never wanted to let go, you were spent. Truthfully, you could’ve fallen asleep on him, standing there soaped up under the spray of the warm water. He’d gone out to change his sheets while you toweled yourself off, and while part of you wanted to do some kind of mental recap of the night’s events, the majority of you just wanted to find the sleep you’d been searching for before all this had begun.

You walked out of his bathroom to find him throwing a fresh blanket over the bed. His eyes flicked to you as he noticed your movement, lips lifting in a half-smile as he brazenly admired your naked body.

“So, can I still sleep in your bed?” you asked, your voice husky with your fatigue.

Seokjin’s smile turned warmer, spreading across his beautiful face. He crossed the room and lifted you into his arms just as he had before, carrying you to his bed and laying you down in his sheets. Only this time he climbed in next to you, pulling you into his arms. He reached up and turned out the lamp on his nightstand before burying his face in your hair.

“I forgot how exhausted I was,” he said with a sigh, heavy with contentment.

Reaching up for him in the dark, you slid a finger across the plush of his lips. “Even tired, you still have such a dirty mouth when you fuck.”

“Y…Y/N…”

“Sweet dreams,” you said with a quiet giggle, settling into his arms and let yourself drift away surrounded by the scent, the warmth, the feel of Seokjin.

You rose from sleep on wings of pleasure.

Seokjin’s body was curled against yours, warmth radiating from bare skin to skin. You felt his breath at your neck, felt his stiff cock pressing against the curve of your back. And most importantly, you felt one of his greedy hands kneading the soft flesh of your thighs while his other arm was wrapped underneath your body, hand cupped beneath one of your breasts making gentle squeezes. You felt him between your legs, not quite grazing your sweet spot, but close enough to ignite the beginnings of wetness he had been coaxing while you’d been slowly waking from sleep.

“Nn…Seokjin?”

“Good morning, beautiful,” he purred into your ear, and if you had only been a little wet before, the sound of Seokjin’s morning voice full of gravel and desire had just taken you the rest of the way. You arched your ass back against him, savoring the rumbling groan he made in response to the contact.

“Good morning yourself.”

He pressed a kiss into your neck, grinding his cock against you, and his hand squeezed at your thigh again. It felt good to wake up in Seokjin’s arms like this, to have his attention so fully, to know he was this attracted to you. But no amount of teasing morning dry-humping could’ve prepared you for his next direct request.

“Can I eat your pussy, love?

You froze, unused to having someone ask the question rather than either avoiding the act entirely or diving in as they pleased. Although, considering what he’d said about his past experiences…

“Has…has someone told you no before?”

“No, I just didn’t want to assume that you…” He trailed off and you felt his face dip a little lower into the crook of your neck. “I wanted to wait until you were awake,” he mumbled.

You barely managed to stifle a giggle. “We had sex half of last night. You really think I wouldn’t consent?”

“You could change your mind,” he said, the pout in his voice vibrating close against your skin. “I wanted to be sure.”

You turned over in his arms. Backlit by the orange and yellow beginnings of sunlight peeking in through his blinds, the sight of Seokjin this close threatened to take your breath away. His dark hair was still roughly tousled from the night and an interesting mix of sleepiness, arousal, and embarrassment hung in his eyes as she stared down at you. You let loose a half laugh before pressing your mouth to his in what you hoped was a confidence-inspiring kiss.

“Yes, Seokjin,” you whispered against his lips. “I’d love it if you ate my pussy.“

He didn’t waste any time, face lighting up at your permission. A quick kiss to your lips was followed with another to your neck, your collarbone, traveling slowly down your body until you felt his warm breath on your slit. You were already aching for him as his hands gripped each of your thighs, careful not to touch your injury as he spread them apart and gently kneaded with his fingertips.

“So pretty,” you felt, more than heard him say, the vibrations of his deep voice at the apex of your thighs. Looking down and watching him between your legs, Seokjin’s handsome face staring at your core with such reverence, you felt more aroused than you had in your life, tempered by a bashfulness you hadn’t felt in years. Only he could do that to you, make you feel like someone so sacred over something so erotic.

He first met your lower lips much like he would your upper ones, a gentle kiss against your folds that sent a satisfying shiver up your spine. Soft kisses turned to slow, teasing licks, gentle grazes with his tongue that coaxed quiet sighs out of you. Your body relaxed into the sheets, the tension in your muscles evaporating as Seokjin somehow used his mouth as a painter would, turning you into a masterpiece all his own. This felt so new somehow. Something that was usually so hard and fast, that others wanted to get out of the way. Not Seokjin. Not patient, meticulous, giving Seokjin.

When his pillow-soft lips finally landed on your clit, you whimpered in pleasure, your fingers reaching out and sliding into his hair. But there was nothing hurried in it, nothing taut. Only feeling, craving, only the slow, sensual build of something earthly and carnal.

Sunken so deep in the bliss he was giving you, you hadn’t registered the sound of your lustful moans until Seokjin’s fingers tightened against the flesh of your thighs. You realized only a moment before falling that he had no intention of satisfying you with anything besides his mouth. And suddenly your body bloomed with light, with heat and a pleasure like you’d never known. You lifted your hips as your orgasm vibrated through your body and Seokjin’s tongue met you through it all, lapping up your release with eagerness.

He kissed along your inner thighs as you came down, up the soft, round of your belly, lingering at your breasts before finally meeting your mouth with a long, satisfying kiss.

“Where the hell have you been hiding those pussy eating skills?” you asked in a breathless whisper when your lips finally parted.

“No skill,” he said, and you could hear that hint of smugness in his smile. “You just taste delicious, love.”

“Bullshit,” you said, but Seokjin only slid to your side and hugged you close in response, his noticeable erection pressing once more against your lower back.

After a few moments of letting the afterglow settle, you moved to get out of Seokjin’s bed. Before you choked on his cock again, which you fully intended to do, you were in desperate need of a glass of water. But his arm around your waist only tightened, holding you back. He pressed a light kiss to your shoulder.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said, words humming against your skin. “I don’t want to wake up yet.”

You raised one of your hands, laying it on top of his at your waist. “I’m just going to get a drink. What makes you so sure I won’t come back?”

“Will you?” he asked, and a breathless vulnerability hung between his words. “I mean, I want you to, but…” He huffed in frustration. “Look, I know this was only meant to be a dream, but it wasn’t just sex for me, Y/N.”

You turned over in his arms, making sure to meet his eyes as you spoke.

“You think I only dreamed about you for sex? You were in my dreams, Seokjin, not just your dick. You and your terrible jokes, and pretty smile, and brilliant brain. You, the kindest person I’ve ever known. You, my friend. I only dreamed about you so much because I never thought I’d really get to tell you just how much I like you.”

“I like you too.” His words came out rushed and you both laughed at the awkwardness.

You sighed. “I can’t believe I really spent all this time thinking you weren’t into me at all.”

“I did kiss you, you know.”

“Yeah. And then never again. I…I guess I didn’t know what to think. With Yoongi’s warning maybe I thought…I thought you didn’t like me after that or something.”

His fingers reached up, trailing along the skin of your arm in nonsense circles. “I like you,” he repeated slowly. “If you…want to try this, I’ll talk to Yoongi, so…”

You pulled his hand away from your arm, sliding your fingers between his. “We’ll talk to him. My brother’s an asshole, but not usually without good reason. Now that I know this is mutual between us, I want to know why he decided to try and keep us apart all these years.”

“Now that I get to kiss you, I don’t know if I care.”

“Does that mean you’ll stop kissing me like you’re not sure?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been hesitating, holding back.” You put your free hand to his cheek. “I’ve been kissed by you before, remember? I know what it feels like when you really mean it.”

Not one to ignore a request, Seokjin crushed his lips to yours. There was a new eagerness in his mouth this time, tenderness and need and the hint of starlight that you remembered. Your thumb stroked his cheek as he drank deep from your lips, as he finally made you believe in this kiss.

“Does this also mean I’ll get my friend back?” you said after you’d finally parted.

“Hey, what? You never lost me.”

“I kind of did,” you argued. “You buried yourself in school, I started working a hundred jobs and…I miss us. I miss late-night karaoke and video games and watching terrible movies until the sun comes up. I miss telling my bad ideas to someone who isn’t just as reckless as I am, aka Jungkook, or someone who won’t call me an idiot and walk away, aka Yoongi. I miss cooking and playing sports together. I miss…you. So much, I didn’t even realize it.”

“I miss you too. I’m sorry, Y/N. I got so focused on trying not to cross a line with you, I accidentally pushed you away.”

He pulled your fingers from the side of his face and kissed the back of your hand lightly a few times in continued apology.

“Do you have work today?” he asked.

“Later tonight, yeah,” you lamented. “You?”

“Nothing. Studying.”

“Well, I’d be happy to lie in your bed on days you study,” you offered to lighten the mood. “I’ll only distract you about fifty percent of the time. Maybe give you a little stress relief.”

His other hand gripped your ass, giving your cheek a healthy squeeze. “I’d better keep studying at the library, and you’ll be at the race track most days anyway. But I’d be happy to have you ass up on my bed on nights when you’re free. And…maybe a date here and there?”

“Is that you asking me out?”

He gave you a blushing nod. “If you want to see where this goes.”

You responded with a tight hug. “Of course I do.”

“And I want to hear about all your dreams,” he said shyly. “Learn everything you like.”

Your mouth was at his again and there was no more hesitation in his kisses, finally fully indulging in you, fully accepting that you wanted this with him.

“Is this going where I think it’s going?” he panted against your lips.

“Only if you promise the same as the kissing. You don’t have to fuck me like you think I want you to.”

The steel hardening in his dark eyes as he stared into yours sent electricity skittering across your skin.

“I wouldn’t fuck you then. I’d make love to you.”

A warmth settled in your chest at those words, unwrapping something new and exciting and yet so familiar between you both. “Do that then, Seokjin. Please.”

There was nothing left to say. Seokjin’s lips were on yours, his hands at your hips, molding your bodies into one blazing point of heat. He rolled on top of you, knees gently pressing your thighs apart, the thick tip of his cock finding your soaked entrance easily. Without ever parting your lips he was inside you in one dizzying thrust, thick, and long, and hard, and buried in you so deep you thought you might faint. Both your moans mingled with the wet of your kisses, as his cock paced slow alongside your pleasure. You slid your arms over his broad shoulders, burying your fingers in the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck while your body turned to jello beneath this man you loved so much.

Just like with his kiss, this was on a different level. You’d had plenty of sex before. Hell, you’d had sex with him just last night. This was an entirely different experience. Seokjin rocked his cock in and out of you with slow decadence, highlighting each second as its own special moment, as something to be treasured.

“Seokjin,” you found yourself whining, finally pulling yourself from his kiss, gasping for breath.

“Yes, love?” he said, voice honeyed and thick. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you breathed, not even sure what you were saying anymore. “Just you. Please.”

A growl escaped him and he buried his face into your neck. “Every time you say please to me, I lose a little more of my mind.”

“Please,” you rasped again, barely able to catch your breath, your grip in his hair feeling a little less anchoring, a little more desperate.

Seokjin’s hands slid under your hips, tilting them slightly and driving him inside you deeper, knocking against the very spot that made you cry out louder for him. The grind of him against your clit as he sped his thrusts inside you and the echo of his deep moans sent you on a spiral, chasing you toward an end you didn’t know if you could handle.

“Love,” Seokjin said in the gentlest whisper just beneath your ear.

It was your name. It was what you shared with him right now. It was the feeling you’d had for him your whole life, what you’d been missing for too long, what you craved with him more than anything. It was that single word that lit magic within you, your body trembling, Seokjin’s name tumbling from your lips as you came undone beneath him. He leaned to capture you in another kiss and swallowed your cries as you came, groaning into your mouth as he met his own release alongside you, as you clenched down tight around his cock, as he spilled inside of you and your womb swelled again with his seed.

Finally spent, he slid his body off of you and you felt the now familiar warm gush between your legs as his cock slipped from between your legs. He pulled you close, kissing your cheek gently, though you could still feel the pound of his heart against his chest as it rose and fell.

“We’re going to have to start putting a towel down or something,” you said as the mess he’d left behind started to collect again underneath your bottom. “You only have so many sheets.”

“I can buy more,” he said simply. “I want you dripping for me every time, love.”

With as much as he came, that wouldn’t be a problem.

“I never want my cum anywhere else but inside you ever again. Your pussy, beautiful. I need this pussy.”

You giggled and nuzzled your face into his neck. “There’s that filthy mouth again.”

Seokjin only chuckled in response and pulled your body closer.

After a visit to the bathroom, and borrowing a new shirt and a pair or shorts, you left Seokjin to once again clean up and headed into the kitchen to hunt down a cup of water and maybe get some coffee started.

On the upside, a pot of coffee was already brewing as you walked in. On the downside, it was Yoongi you found standing in front of the kettle.

“Sounds like it was a good night. And morning,” Yoongi said flatly.

“In spite of you, yes,” you quipped. Yoongi shrugged. Immediately your suspicion meter was rising. No smartass comment? No irritated huff? He looked almost...embarrassed?

“Oh.”

You heard Seokjin in the hall followed by a second very familiar voice muttering a quick, “Sorry.”

You turned to find a shirtless Jungkook walking alongside Seokjin toward the kitchen. You whipped your head in Yoongi’s direction, but he refused to meet your eyes.

“What the fuck?”

“I knew it’d happen sooner or later. You idiots are actually perfect for each other, you know?” You hadn’t missed that your brother was avoiding one topic in favor of the other.

“Then why’d you keep us apart all this time?”

“He was scared,” Jungkook offered. “He didn’t want to lose either one of you.”

“Shut up, Kook.” His eyes narrowed and you could see the reasoning wheels of a future psychiatrist turning behind them. “You two weren’t ready for each other yet. Y/N, you were still figuring your shit out, you barely had your own two feet under you. Jin, you’ve barely made time all throughout college to look at other people, let alone date someone. I didn’t want to be the third wheel without knowing the whole thing wouldn’t break down. I knew I had to step in after I saw you two trying to suck each other’s souls out on the roof. I figured you’d work it out when it was time.”

You and Seokjin exchanged a shy glance.

You’d probably never say it to his face, but Yoongi was right. If you and Seokjin had gotten together all those years ago, would either of you have been ready? Would you have lasted through the stress, the struggle of navigating your newly adult lives?

“Well, it looks like there’s four of us now,” Jungkook said with a smile way too cheerful for the moment. You snickered at your friend’s post-coital joyfulness, though how he’d managed to get past your brother’s defenses would have to be a long conversation later. Considering he was supposed to be at an important photoshoot all day yesterday, he’d better have a damn good explanation for how he even ended up here.

Seokjin pulled a pan from the cabinet, giving it a tiny spin in his palm.

“Breakfast?”

You leaned across the counter while Seokjin pulled another skillet from the cabinet and Yoongi started rooting through the fridge.

“So,” you said to Jungkook, leaning your face casually against your hand. “Did you take any good pictures yesterday?” you asked, barely holding back your smile as you watched the tips of Seokjin’s ears go a vibrant red out of the corner of your eye.

Taglist: @firesighgirl @yoosmekihyun @persnyako @angelsuni-ficwrecks @ikuyootori

#bts fic #kim seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #bts fanfic #seokjin fic #bts smut #dream come true #dct #writing #i have not posted anything in over 2 years #please be kind if my writing quality has dropped a lot i'm trying my best #i had a good time writing for the first time in forever so no matter what i consider this one a win #pls have a good time and stay safe

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m-ayo-o · 4 months

Text

O U I J A

you meet a demon of lust !

will you survive this deadly game of dares ?

18+ : sexual content starring: 21+ university student Megumi FUSHIGURO x younger [18+] inexperienced afab reader (nerdy, science type) a sweet junior student has a crush on her intimidating senior, but is too shy to act on it :/ you're only pushed closer thanks to a strange encounter with a powerful entity. its demands are scary, but megumi is there to keep u safe cw: i write megumi taller - over 6 ft. groping (demon → reader) violence (demon → megumi) explicit sexual acts: the demon forces you, but consent is established wc: 10k @nobody289x thank u so much for your wonderful megumi thoughts + proofreading + everything, u the best :3

note ⋆˚｡ this was meant to be for 666 follows... thank u !! <3

Upperclassman, third year student Megumi Fushiguro. He studies ancient history, specialising in the emergence of rare cursed techniques in the Meiji Period, with a minor in theology. His tongue is sharp, but his dress sense is sharper.

You've seen him around the university campus- training, with his friends, sometimes helping junior students. But it's safe to say you know a little too much about a man you've never actually spoken to. It's not like you don't want to. He's just so... intimidating. His intelligence is one thing, but the way he glares makes your blood run cold.

Every time you see him, you just freeze up and turn on your heels, presuming he's so far out of your league he wouldn't give you a chance. You know it's pessimistic, but it fuels your nightmares to think about being rejected by him. Even for a simple conversation. You can just imagine his face scrunching up with a disgruntled laugh, looking down at you with those dark, unforgiving eyes, telling you not to waste his time.

Unbeknownst to you, your presumptions were going to be proven wrong.

Given some time, and the terribly flustering coincidence that he started assisting in one of your labs- due to owing your professor a favour?- you get closer.

He approaches you in class, handing out the task notes for the day and checking you have all the right equipment ready. You can't believe how much taller he looks up close.

"Y-yes, I have everything I need. Thank you."

You curse yourself for still being so nervous around him. It's been weeks since he started helping your professor. It seems that they already knew each other, despite working in separate departments.

You're finishing up after a particularly challenging practical assignment when you hear your annoying professor singing your name, reminding you that you're on clean up duty this week.

Ugh.

You groan and sigh, but it doesn't make the mess go away. So you start collecting all the beakers and test tubes, trying to balance them carefully on the way to the sink, when you notice him.

He's at the sink already, his back turned to you, the water running with his sleeves rolled up. You set the equipment down and start helping him. It's quiet- the sounds of clinking glass and splashing water fill the room- and he passes you item after item, your fingers grazing over his while you glance to the side and dry them up.

"Thank you"

After today, you find yourself volunteering to clean up after class very willingly. You've gotten yourselves into a little silent routine; collecting the equipment- he washes, you dry (to save your fingers from getting all shriveled and pruney).

You have to admit that there's a certain kindness about him you hadn't noticed before. It's in his hands- how he holds the glass with such care- and in the softness of his voice. And you finally see him smile after going on an embarrassing ramble about why you're enjoying your course so much and what you'd like to do in the future. You assume he's smiling out of amusement- perhaps he's going to ridicule you.

"I- I'm sorry. That was, uh, too much information."

"Don't apologise. You're just... passionate. It's nice."

He encourages you with yet another small but sure smile, and your heart nearly melts on the spot. The way his features soften is just so endearing.

I was so wrong about him. Nobody with a smile like that could be mean. Or rude. Maybe I should just ask him out? At least he'd turn me down politely.

And you can't believe you're here, with him, starting to open up after his considerate questions- which you return, getting little insights into his mysterious life. You didn't realise he was already working while keeping up his studies, with additional martial arts training, and now assisting in your labs despite being in a different department entirely- his schedule is packed. With every sentence he speaks you seem to respect him a little more, and you slowly realise that he doesn't bite.

He catches you off guard, casually offering to help with your stats course after a one off comment that you were struggling.

So he comes over the same evening, where you awkwardly introduce him to your housemates, then show him to your room, where he sits on your bed.

You dig out your dreaded stats folder and sift through your test papers, showing him the scores and explaining how you were unhappy with them.

"But your grades are still..." he arches an eyebrow, scanning the papers, "above average."

You've been aspiring to get a near perfect score in all of your classes, desperate to attain a first class degree and potentially progress into a research role, and there's something about that inner perfectionist that speaks to him. So he settles in and gets comfortable on your bed, watching you work, then eventually gets out his phone when he realises he's distracting you.

And when you're done he sits on the edge of your bed, getting closer and closer till you're just staring. He helps and corrects you so softly. You keep staring... at his dexterous hands, the way they move and grip the pencil, how his knuckles flex, the way his blue veins show through his pale skin. Then up his muscular arms, studying the masculine angle of his jaw, the feminine curve of his pure black lashes. Then his eyes; you're captivated by the deep, navy colour, their shape- so elegant and sharp. And you wonder if his always clean-shaven face is soft, whether he uses product in his hair... and what it would feel like to run your fingers through it.

"[name]?"

How long have I been staring?

"I've finished marking it now."

Over the weeks of being Megumi's student, you realise that your grade is getting very close to where you want it to be, and you start thinking...

If I get one more paper over 90% he is going to stop tutoring me. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to fabricate some incorrect answers... would it?

So you start making mistakes on purpose. You know it's cowardly and misleading, but you can't stop. At the same time, you can't admit how much you've been enjoying your study sessions- just having him to yourself, getting his attention, his praise.

But when you do something wrong... it makes your heart pound.

He taps a finger on your paper, over the question number, giving you a glare before elaborating.

"Come on, you know this."

You act dumb. He leans over to correct it for you.

"Hang on, let me-"

You can smell his cologne. You can see his collar bones where his shirt dips away.

"Do it like this- yeah, good-"

Good girl.

He wishes he had the guts to say it. He'd love to see your reaction. But he just watches you continue, completing the calculations by yourself.

But after making a few too many mistakes, he starts to cotton on.

"You answered a question nearly identical to this one last week. You did it perfectly."

You fidget about, reorganising your stationary while he flicks through your work.

"See?"

He holds up two of your papers. And he's right- of course he's right. This one was way too obvious. Your eyes shift around the room nervously, looking everywhere but at the papers, until you settle on his eyes.

"You... you're not doing this on purpose, are you? You know that would be wasting my time, right?"

You can't deny it. You don't want to lie to him anymore.

"You are?"

You look down at your lap and nod.

"You're a smart girl. Why didn't you just ask me to stay?"

You can't answer. Your stomach has relocated to your chest and your tongue is tied in knots. It's all twisted up, around words you wish you could say.

I'm afraid you don't feel the same way. I couldn't ask you to stay because I don't want you to leave.

He can see your eyes going wide. He knows he's put you on the spot (rightfully so). But he sets down your papers, nonetheless, giving you a slightly exasperated look.

"We can just hang out, ok? I don't have to come here for a reason."

He puts your papers back on your desk and you pack them away sheepishly, watching him sink to the carpeted floor and lean up against your bed.

"Come on. You wanna watch a scary movie or something?"

He's already seen the posters around your room.

"Sure."

And so started your late night meet ups with Megumi, under no false pretenses of studying, sitting on your bedroom floor with pillows and blankets... then moving up to your bed... then hugging when he leaves. You don't know when that started, but it feels right.

You get comfortable with one another. You invite him in as if he's just another friend.

Yeah, a friend. A friend who makes your heart race. A friend who makes you blush. You have no other 'friend' like him.

You have no other friend who turns to you in the middle of The Ring- when you have to look away from the screen because there is a girl crawling out of the TV- with a smile on his face.

He's getting closer. His lips... are so close.

"This movie is dumb."

You shiver a little, feeling his breath fan you.

I want to kiss her... so bad. Would she let me?

You have no other friend who gets you so hot... just from looking at you.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes so he backs off and you have to cool the situation down a little. You're already bored of the movie, so you have a great idea.

"Can I show you something?"

After finding it in the summer, you've been too scared to investigate the strange artefact by yourself. Maybe he could help you.

"It's under the bed."

"What are you doing," he pulls it out, his eyes scanning over the markings on the dark wood, "with this?"

"I found it-" you shift about on the chair, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under his now intense gaze. You don't know what this object is, but you can sense something dark when you touch it, or even look at it.

"Found it at my parent's... in the basement."

"You know what it is?"

You shake your head.

"It's a Ouija board."

He explains what such things can be used for.

"If you're successful, you could end up contacting a spirit. You want to try?"

Your heart beats a bit faster, feeling excited as you keep asking questions until you're starting to set your room up to attempt to use the board.

With candles lit, lights dimmed and taking your place on the carpet opposite Megumi, you cast your nerves aside and put your hand on the wooden arrow with his.

"So uh, what are we supposed to say?"

"You just have to ask a question."

It can't be that simple.

"But are there any... rules?" You can't help the shakiness of your voice now, while he sits looking at you, raising his eyebrow.

"Too scared?" He scoffs, "Ok, I'll start."

"Are there any spirits," he looks around the room- he knows there's no curses here, at least, "or dead, residing in this building?"

There's a long pause. You watch the candlelight flicker over his pale face, illuminating his dark eyes.

"Any ghosts?"

He keeps asking, while you sit tight, holding your breath.

He looks back at you now, apparently taking amusement in how you're shifting about nervously.

"Demons?"

There's a loud bang from outside that seems coincidental, but no movement on the board.

Still, you both keep your fingers pressed on the arrow.

"Why don't you ask?" He glances down at your smaller hands, "Maybe a spirit would respond to... someone like you."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Someone innocent," he smirks, making your stomach twist up.

"Megumi I-" you're about to defend yourself, but the blush creeping up your cheeks is not helping in the slightest.

So you open your mouth and ask the still, dark room if there's anybody there.

There's a silence that swallows you both up, you feel your mouth go dry, and you look back at the board to see the arrow starting to shake.

Your fingers are dragged over the board, the arrow sliding to mark-

"YES"

You weren't expecting it to actually work.

"Who?" Megumi asks with confidence.

Again, the arrow trembles around. This time, moving to the letters...

L - U - S - T

"A spirit...of lust?" Even he has to admit this is unusual.

You swallow, watching him speak to the entity freely.

"YES"

"Ok, and how did you- die?"

Silence. No movement on the board.

"Do you have any regrets?"

The arrow starts shaking again, this time uncontrollably and without direction. The board starts to quake, lifting off the carpeted floor, and you feel the temperature of the room dropping drastically.

"Megumi, wait- what if it... doesn't want to answer- those questions?"

You seem to have got the gist, as the board starts to settle down.

"Right," Megumi's eyes glance up at yours, "so tell me [name], what should we ask?"

"Ah..." you fidget around for a second, eyes flitting about the board, then to a small flame of a candle as you ponder.

"Is there anything... you enjoyed, while you were alive?"

You hold your breath again, watching the arrow spring to life.

It drags over the board, slowly.

You want to look away, but you just can't.

Shit. Why would you ask a self proclaimed spirit of lust that question?

Megumi clearly notices the embarrassed tint on your cheeks, but doesn't seem dissuaded from the conversation himself.

"Hah, checks out. Who did you fuck?"

His words come out surprisingly crass, making you intake a little breath.

And the spirit didn't seem to like his question either. The room gets a little darker now, colder still, making those terrible goosebumps prickle on your neck.

The board starts tilting around again and the candles flicker violently, then suddenly die out.

"M-Megumi-!"

"Just, hang on- let me flip the board over. We can stop."

He goes to move his hand from the arrow, but it suddenly slides to:

"NO"

"Shit."

Even you know this is bad. You're trapped.

You start to panic, looking between Megumi and the board, trying to decipher what on earth you can do, and you feel something cold on your back.

"A-ah-"

"What is it?"

It travels down your spine and you feel a firm squeeze on your waist.

"Megumi- I, I don't like this- please-!"

"What's happening, tell me?"

You get another grabbing sensation, this time on your ass.

"It's touching me-!"

He can tell you're not lying from the way your voice is shaking.

"Ok, ok," he tries to keep his cool, but internally he's losing it. If this thing hurts you... there will be hell to pay, whether it's dead or not.

"Come here. Just sit in front of me."

You nod and quickly move into the space between his crossed legs with your hands still on the arrow and your back pressed to his chest.

"Don't fucking touch her."

He sounds suddenly aggressive- you can't deny how it makes you feel protected.

"Thank you," you murmur and take one hand off the arrow to brush away a tear you hadn't realised was spilling down your cheek.

"It's ok, just sit still and let me figure out how to finish this."

One of his hands leaves the board to wrap around the front of your shoulders. How he can feel you trembling is worrying him, so he pulls you in closer.

"I'm sorry, I wish I never... found this thing," you sniffle a little as he tries to comfort you.

"It's ok."

His eyes study the room, how everything is becoming still and gloomy and filled with such an electric tension.

"It's not your f-"

His breath is caught in his lungs, feeling a sudden pressure over his mouth.

"MMhh-MM-"

You twist your body back to look, while you both struggle to keep your fingers connected to the arrow- the only rule you knew coming into this that removing your hands could result in severe consequences.

But you feel the situation has escalated enough for you to take the risk, so you pull your hands away and up to his face, your thumb helplessly pressing on his lips to try and open them.

You tug and panic, then suddenly realise he's not breathing through his nose either. His eyes are terribly wide. He looks scared.

"Fuck! Stop it! Stop, just let him go! Please, I'll do anything!"

And with those last words, the spirit lets go and Megumi collapses, gasping and coughing as you lean back to give him some space.

He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and reaches a hand out to yours.

"I don't know what's going to happen next." His skin has never looked paler, his voice never more serious. "Just please don't let go."

So you nod and thread your fingers together, sitting side by side, and return to the board.

You feel a cool drop of sweat running down your spine when you see the arrow moving once more.

A - N - Y - T - H - I - N - G ?

We have to do what it says now.

This thing could really hurt us.

You look at each other and back to the board, glad that you're still alive, and you nod.

T - O - U - C - H

"What?" He responds quickly, hoping to fix this situation as soon as possible.

The arrow swivels on the board, pointing directly at you. You're already holding hands, so you assume the spirit wants a little more from you both.

You bring a hand to your face. You could see this coming- you honestly want him to touch you. Of course you do- how he makes you feel so nervous isn't just down to his damn intellect. He's gorgeous and you can't deny you want his hands on you.

But like this?

You sigh and turn to face him, trying desperately to keep calm so you can work this out.

"W-we don't have to-"

You swear it's the first time you've heard his voice shake like this.

"We could just- burn the board, we just need to, to-"

His head suddenly whips to the side and he lets out a shout.

"Fuck!"

"Oh my god!"

He turns back to face you with a split lip and a little trickle of blood running down his chin.

"It's ok, it's-"

Before he can finish you're already wiping his lip with the sleeve of your dress.

"This is getting serious now..." you murmur and finish cleaning him up, smoothing your hand over his cheek, comforting him whilst hoping to appease the spirit. He pushes into your hand affectionately, much like a cat, which brings a small smile to your face despite the bleak situation.

"Hm," you slide your hand up into his hair, seemingly forgetting about the deadly game you're caught in for a second, "you really don't use product?"

He lets a little breathy laugh escape his nose, looking quite flattered now your hands are stroking his black strands. You both start to sink in and enjoy the moment, until your attention is caught by a rattling noise.

M - O - R - E

He sighs, casting a frown at the board.

He's annoyed that you were interrupted. It makes him realise just how much he's enjoying you touching him. Regardless of the spirit's creepy demands, he really doesn't want you to stop.

"Just- stroke my neck, is that ok?" He suggests with a less confident tone.

"Yeah" you nod and hesitantly bring your hand lower, feeling the fuzzy shorter hair at the back of his head, then make contact with his skin. His neck is elegant, muscular and slim, just how the rest of his body appears. And your thumb starts to trace up and down his throat, feeling the hard peak of his adam's apple, then dips back down near his collar bones.

You feel content for a moment, then you realise Megumi's expression is shifting.

"What is it?" Your voice is soft and low. You don't have to speak loudly now you're sitting so close, face to face.

"My hand-"

He looks down to his left hand that was resting in his lap, which is now twitching and struggling up towards you.

"I'm not, I'm not moving it. I can't- ah, wait, you can't do this!"

He shouts and presses his eyes closed, afraid of where his hand is going to end up.

He makes contact with your warm skin.

"It's okay."

He peeks his eyes open to find his palm resting on your shoulder, where your dress exposes your body.

It did order him to touch you, after all.

"How is this ok?"

He looks a bit upset now, looking down at his lap again. It feels different now he has his hand on you.

"Because..." you're feeling nervous about admitting this, especially right now, but you want to encourage him so you can make it out of this, and it really is true that-

"it's ok because I want you to touch me."

You feel the room warming up again, some of the tension begins to fade and a single candle, out of the five you had placed around the room, flickers back to life.

You can see him clearer now, in the faint, warm glow, and he raises his head to give you a long, deep stare.

You wonder what he's thinking.

"That's... good," he looks endlessly relieved, with a hint of a smile returning to his lips, "because I want to touch you too."

So with your permission, he starts moving his thumb, just rubbing gently. You've started to truly realise your difference in size now he's touching you... his hand covers your whole shoulder.

He pushes your dress down a fraction, touching the top of your arm, then back up, tracing over your collar bones, over the dip below your neck and up your throat.

Everything about her is just so delicate.

He hesitates for a second, his eyes flicking up and down your face, and his thumb finds your chin. He strokes your jaw, up to your cheek, then rubs a circle over your lower lip.

You have a sudden urge to pucker your lips into a little kiss, but he moves away, taking your chin between his index and thumb.

"Your fingers are..." your gaze flits down to his hand, then up to his eyes again, "so long."

The comment was meant to be innocent, but the way he raises his eyebrows at you, looking down at your lips, is getting you notably flustered.

You shake your head and he laughs, then smooths his hand over your jaw to take a slightly firmer grip, and looks you right in the eyes.

"You really are sweet."

He can tell his compliment stunned you- you try to look away, but he moves his hand to the back of your neck where he holds you tighter. He wants to make you look like this all the time.

"And pretty."

He pulls you in gently, bringing you to kneel right in front of his crossed legs.

You swear he's inching closer, starting to tilt his head to the side when you hear a sudden tap tap tap and you remember you're not alone.

You give each other a little hesitant look, as if you didn't want to stop, then turn to face the board again to see the spirit's next letters.

U - N - D - R - E - S - S

Shit- Megumi's going to lose it in a second- couldn't we kiss first?

Regardless, the demon is demanding it in this order. So you nod and give him that wide eyed look that could bring him to his knees.

Before he realises what's happening your fingers are already pulling up the hem of your dress.

"W-we should hurry."

He hears the fear in your voice. He wants to make it go away.

So he quickly strips off his shirt and watches you pull the black material of your dress over your head, exposing the cutest underwear he's ever seen. And your body... he tries so desperately to look away to give you some privacy, but it would be a shame to look anywhere else.

He lets a long breath escape his mouth, trying to cool himself down.

"You look like an angel."

Fuck- so stupid!

To his relief, you giggle and edge closer to him with a little shiver.

"I'm... cold."

"Here," he shuffles back to find the side of your bed, propping himself up against it and sitting with his legs spread, "wanna sit on me again?"

But the way he looks now, with all his muscles exposed, the soft lighting illuminating each dip and ridge, is making you feel nervous all over again.

"Come on, let's stay warm, ok?"

You nod and climb into his welcoming embrace, perching on his thigh that you hope won't go dead anytime soon, while his arms circle round your body.

Needless to say, with your bodies pressing together like this, you're both getting pretty flustered.

"I'm sorry," you hear him mumble, where his lips are pressed into your hair, "I shouldn't have touched the damn board. This is all my fault."

You personally don't feel too sorry now you're in his arms, but you return the sentiment and push your head under his neck.

The spirit lets you sit quietly for a minute, then brings the board to life with its next instruction.

K - I - S - S

You feel Megumi fidget a bit, then he takes one of your small hands in his.

"Ok," you look up to see him give you a smile, then he presses the softest, most sensual kisses over your fingers, kissing each one individually. He closes his eyes, bringing his lips to your knuckles, then the back of your hand. Although the bleeding has stopped from the hit he took earlier, his lower lip is coming up in a puffy bruise.

"Ah-" you let out a sigh, totally by accident. You've never experienced anything so... romantic. But in reality, you thought he'd be like this.

"Megumi, are you starting to like this game?"

"It's... ok," he returns a flirty expression, his dark lashes dipping when he makes direct eye contact, "I'm just glad, I'm playing it with you."

The board interrupts you again, demanding your attention as it swivels to face you on its own accord, ensuring you can still read its message.

L - I - P - S

"Oh" you let out a little noise, biting your lip a little too late.

"Did you like that suggestion?"

His voice makes you nervous, but the way he touches you calms you again.

There is no rush in his movements. He's not forcing you. He caresses your jaw then takes your chin between his index and thumb, tilting your face up to his.

I can't believe I have to kiss her with this damn split on my lip.

"I'm sorry... about this."

"It's okay."

Let me... kiss it better.

The kiss is soft and slow- he focuses on your lower lip first, then your upper, giving you the most gentle pecks.

He pulls away, sucking gently.

You look stunned, and so pretty, as if he's just put a spell on you.

"Was that," his hand moves to cup your cheek, "ok?"

"It was... nice," you nod and look into his mysterious eyes, wondering what he's going to say next. Perhaps he's thought of a plan for you to exit the game and ditch this creepy spirit.

But it seems that his rational, logical mind is getting sidetracked.

"You want some more?"

"Uh," you dip your head a little, feeling a sudden blush cover your cheeks, "yes."

"Up here then, pretty girl," he tilts your chin and claims your lips again.

This time he takes you for longer, holding your hands. His fingers thread with yours and he pulls you round to face him, so your legs are spread over his body. He still kisses you softly, starting to cautiously suck at your lower lip, leaving the faint coppery taste of blood lingering there.

He feels how you're reacting to him, letting go of his hands to touch his hair again, where you stroke and tousle and push closer, till your chest is flush with his.

And now he can feel your warmth, and the way your thighs are spreading wider over him, he starts opening his mouth.

"Ngh-"

A little vocalisation spills from his throat. He suckles at your lip more fervently, guiding you to mimic his movements as you part your lips, following his lead.

As soon as you reciprocate, you feel his hands on your body, gently holding your waist. He tilts his head further up to you and strokes your bottom lip with his tongue.

"Ah-"

You let out a quiet sigh into his mouth, getting a feeling of relief and arousal when your tongues slip over each other.

You settle into the intimate, pleasurable feeling of his tongue sliding in your mouth and it suddenly dawns on you that you're french kissing Megumi Fushiguro. You feel your heart jumping in your chest- you almost jump and open your eyes. But his hands, one rubbing gentle circles near your hip, the other slipping up your spine to find the back of your neck, ease your nerves.

Now you find a rhythm of sucking and tonguing each other, your hips start moving on their own. It feels so natural.

But you're feeling quite embarrassed about the damp patch that's pooling between your legs. You just keep kissing him and hope that he can't feel you leaking over him through the thin material of your thong.

He gives your lip a particularly hard suck, making you whimper almost inaudibly before he pulls away.

His dark eyes shift over your body for a moment, taking you in, wearing that cute bra and those panties that, to be honest, may as well not be there.

He returns his gaze to your eyes. It makes you shiver when he breathes over your lips, "Can I touch you?"

You give him an easy nod. Thanks to him, you're so relaxed now, perching on his lap like a doll. So he runs his fingers from your waist right to the centre of your panties.

He starts rubbing you through the material, in circles to start with, then up and down and pushing in very gently, until you just can't take it and you have to bring your lips to his once again.

You feel him smile, kissing you back with his fingers dipping past the material to smear your silky juices over your clit.

"Wet," he slides up and down, "oh you're really wet."

He sounds excited. He wants to feel more.

"Fuck- let me finger you, please?"

This is going well outside the scope of the game you're ensnared in, but neither of you could really care. As long as you're safe and following the natural cadence of each other's bodies.

"Mhm," you nod and squeeze his shoulders tighter, feeling his fingertips start to spread you.

"Can I… go inside?"

He stares at your lips, then your eyes.

"Yes- yess,"

"Wanna make you feel good."

He mutters and sinks two fingers in, up to the first joint, getting his hand in your panties. He pauses there and slots in and out, watching a dizzy look appear on your face while you feel the soft pads of his fingers teasing you open.

"That's tight-" he tries desperately to push out thoughts of how you'd feel around his dick.

He pushes in some more, slowly working you open, while your head starts to dip down and you press little kisses on his neck.

"No, no," his other hand tugs at the back of your hair gently, "look at me while I'm fingering you, ok?"

"Ngh huh"

"Good," he presses another kiss to your lips, "good girl."

With your eyes starting to get all hazy and filled with lust, he can tell you're loving this so much, so he takes you up to his knuckles and you moan.

It's loud, and now he can hear you, he knows you're gonna make him crazy tonight.

But he's so gentle with you, for now, and he starts fucking you slow with his middle and ring fingers.

He sinks in and out with deep, long strokes, curling his fingers right inside you, suddenly reaching that sensitive spot you can barely touch by yourself.

"Nhh- ah~!"

"Oh, is this it- right here?"

His voice has gone deep and husky now, with his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

"Mmmm- mhm-"

You nod and watch that pretty smirk form on his lips again.

"You want me to touch you there some more?"

"Y-yea, yes-" you nod and he kisses you again, so delicately compared to his lewd movements in your core.

"So you won't mind…" he strokes that spot again, keeping his fingers pressed there firmly, "if I do this?"

He pushes harder, forcing a whimper from your lips.

"N-no," you shake your head.

"No, you don't mind? Or no, you don't want me to?"

"I- I don't mind-"

He's so pleased with your reactions that he treats you to that deep and skilled finger fucking until you're getting so wet that the most embarrassing squelching noises start leaving your pussy.

You try to bury your face in his chest while you cling onto his shoulders, but he can't stand that for a second.

"Ah ah," he nudges your head up again, connecting your lips once more, "what're you being so shy for, hm?"

"The- the sound…" it makes you cringe so bad.

"Hm, you're funny, sounds hot to me…"

He gives you a deeper kiss now, sliding his tongue in with his fingers slipping through you, his thumb starting to circle your clit.

"You know I'm just as turned on as you, right?"

He asks, pushing his hips up into you so you can feel the length of his cock.

"Oh- oh my god" you're shocked to feel how hard he is. How big he is.

"So don't be shy, ok?"

"Uh- uh huh" you manage weakly, and let him finger you how he likes it; with your eyes on him, his lips on yours, and your juice all over his hand.

You're barely cognizant of anything else happening around you at this point, as he has captured your full and undivided attention. But you notice the room getting warmer- the nasty biting chill is fading.

You take a little look to the side, noticing another candle has been relit. It feels so sensual and calm now with the soft light. And as your pretty head tilts like that, you feel Megumi leaning in and pressing his lips to your neck.

"You shouldn't have done that," he mutters against your skin. He's not sure how much longer he can keep this up, being so soft with you- especially when you present him with the slim muscles of your neck so willingly.

The angles and dips in your skin look ethereally beautiful, and as a man who loves to explore pleasure with his mouth as well as his hands, he can't help but kiss you there.

In this new, soft spot he has found on your throat, he starts tonguing and sucking. It starts off as gentle kissing, but when he starts going harder he has to tell himself;

Slow down, Megumi. Slow down. I can't stop, I can't stop it-

"Please let me," he rushes to get his words out, whispered against your skin, "let me mark you."

Nobody has ever put it quite like that before. The way he sounds is doing something terrible to you, something that you can't control.

"You mean-hh- a love bite?"

"Mhmm" he hums lowly and closes his eyes. You can feel his long lashes kissing your skin.

You never knew this game would take this kind of a turn. You've never experienced anything so sensual.

"Ye-ah, you can, mm"

"Mmmh" he groans and you immediately feel his teeth.

"Ah, ah!"

You're shocked by the sharp sting of his canines, but the pleasure that comes along with it, especially with his fingers knuckle deep in you, is overwhelming.

"Too much?"

"No, no- more, please-"

"Hmm" he hums and closes his eyes, letting the feelings take over.

The feeling of your soft and supple skin when he sucks and bites, knowing he's going to leave a beautiful red mark that will eventually fade to purple, and knowing you're hurting in the most incredible way... hearing those noises from your throat- whimpers that tell him you're loving this as much as he is- it makes him want to swallow you whole.

I want to cover her neck. I want to lick and bite her till she tells me it's enough. Even then... could I stop? Fuck, I want to taste her.

He grapples his body under control, slowing his motions, as you both notice the room is getting hot.

He pops his lips from your neck and you look around, seeing more candles are lit. It seems the spirit may be quite pleased now.

But in all honesty, the game may as well be non-existent at this point, with the way you're both getting so carried away.

Carried away with each other.

He kisses your lips again, pecking gently and sliding his soaked fingers out to work over the little bud of your clit, and he suddenly gets a tugging sensation on his leg.

"Hm?" what now.

He pulls away to squint at the board, peering around your body.

He reads it aloud for you.

"L, i, c, k."

You giggle at the embarrassed look on his face.

"Where?" He rolls his eyes and asks.

"P, u, s, s- okay I think you get it-"

The heat on your cheeks is unbearable, especially when Megumi opens his mouth to say his next words.

"I was going to anyway... if you wanted me to."

You trade places and he passes you a pillow, so you can sit comfortably against the bed while he gets on his knees. He helps you slip your bra off, telling you how beautiful you are while sinking down... lower.

"Can I touch your legs?"

"Mhm," you nod, watching him instantly bring his hands to your ankles. He pushes all the way up to your thighs, feeling their soft roundness in his firm grip.

"Mm-" you can't help the little noises that leave your throat when he squeezes you so tightly.

So he does it again, working his way up, till he finds the hem of your saturated panties, giving them a little tug.

You start helping him to push them down before he has a chance to open his mouth again, and you watch his eyes light up when he sees you... completely naked. He tosses your thong over his shoulder and returns his lazy stare to the puffy folds of your pussy.

He takes his thumb to your middle, slowly spreading you as his mouth starts to hang ajar.

"Megumi..." you look down at where he's touching you, "it's not just about the game. I-" you hesitate and bite your lip.

He drags his eyes up to focus on yours once more.

"I actually... want this. I want you."

He sighs with a relieved smile, his thumb still tracing through you.

"I know," of course, the way you’ve been reacting has told him nothing less. But it's so reassuring to hear it out loud, not to mention the way your sweet words stroke his ego.

"I want you too, don't worry."

You let out a sigh, feeling a little more relaxed, then feel his thumb trace over the raised bud of your clit.

"Ah-Megumi-"

"You don't have to say anything- just, know that this isn't a game for me."

You shake your head urgently.

"Me either, really- ahh~"

You sink back on the pillow now, easing into the pleasure of his gentle tapping, followed by swirling and circling. You have to admit, most guys around your age (university students) have been no less than underwhelming when it comes to... pleasure giving. Clueless, even.

You know he's a couple of years older, but surely he's racked up some serious experience to get this good.

"H-how many people... have you slept with?"

Your sudden question takes him off guard.

"Not as many as you'd think," he replies with a subtle but cocky smirk, "now relax."

He sinks down further, kneeling in between your legs almost like he's worshipping you, and connects his soft lips to your folds. He teases your labia expertly- you've never even thought to touch yourself there. Then his wet tongue slides up and down, through you, every movement so slow and sensual while he keeps his eyes on you to make sure you're okay.

And you are. He sees your eyes pop open with shock and sheer pleasure when he sucks on your clit and he nearly lets out a laugh. Meanwhile, you're coming to the realisation that you aren't going to last very long at all.

How cute. Nobody's done this to her before.

And he's thrilled that he's the first to twist his tongue around your clit and work you up so close that your thighs start trembling in his hands. But he stops and slides his tongue down and up, teasingly slow. You're obviously confused at what he's doing.

You can't tell if he's doing it on purpose or not- as if he'd suddenly forget how to eat pussy- and he's finding it all very amusing.

Oh, this is too good. She's never been edged before. Wonder if she's even done it to herself.

So he has his fun with your clit for a while, until you get so pink in the face with impatience that he just lets off a little chuckle.

"Fuck- you're so cute."

She has no fucking idea what she's doing to me right now. She's so sensitive, I need to go easy on her. But I can't... I need to taste her, I need to stick my tongue inside her so badly.

The blood has flooded away from his brain so quickly he can barely think, making his dick swell so full it almost hurts. He can't ignore his urges for a second longer so plunges his tongue into you suddenly making you gasp, your hands balling into tight fists.

He notices you going rigid with the intensity of his tonguing.

"Relax. If you want to grab onto something, put your hands in my hair."

He takes one hand away from your leg and reaches for one of your tight fists.

"Come here," he opens your hand up and threads your fingers into his hair, and you sigh at the contact. It feels good. You bring your other hand up to his head and you can't help but start tugging. He encourages you with soft groans and before you know it you're grabbing harshly at his strands, letting off that pent up arousal from how good he's tongue fucking you, and it's distracting you so much that you forget to hold back your moans so much. And when he hears you, god, now you've got it coming.

He tongues you deep and hard, suddenly pulls out and swipes your clit- and his favourite part, watching your first ever orgasm through receiving oral- you whimper embarrassingly loud and he sucks every ounce of pleasure from your core.

Oh god, look at her. I'm so fucking lucky.

You're breathing hard and bringing a hand to your flushed face, watching him pull away slowly, licking his lips and looking like he wants to do it all over again.

How embarrassing!? I came so quick.

"Did you-?" he knows, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Yes-" you give him a little glare and bite your lip.

"Fuck-" she really wants this.

"You just- you were touching me... for ages" you whine, making him chuckle and sit up on his knees.

"Ok, ok, I didn't say anything!" He laughs at you, making your face turn a new shade of red when you hear such a beautiful sound, until you're interrupted by the board tapping again.

It seems less urgent now, less pressing, as if it's not going to snap and hurt you at any moment.

But its next instruction leaves Megumi reeling. You see him scowl at the board, his black eyebrows furrowing before bringing a hand to his face.

"What is it?"

You peer over at the board. It seems to repeat itself for your eyes.

S - U - C - K

You let out a little nervous laugh, but you have a plan.

"Just- come here," you murmur- he seems embarrassed now.

You want to use Megumi's technique from earlier- how he kissed your hand rather than your lips.

"Give me your... fingers."

Your voice is quiet, but he hears you and brings his hand to yours, where you pull him closer in between your legs, till his knees are either side of your waist and he's nearly sitting on your lap.

It's just to buy you some time, really, before the spirit inevitably interrupts you again. And he seems pleased with your idea, watching you give his fingers a few gentle kisses before taking them inside your mouth.

He holds back a groan, feeling you start to suck, licking with your warm tongue and sliding your pretty lips over him. Your movements aren't meant to be overly sexual. You're just moving in the same way you were earlier, when you were making out. You close your eyes now and let out a little hum.

He wants you to obey the demon. He really does.

But now he's on the receiving end, he understands how you've felt... with such commands, telling him to touch you and pleasure you.

It's different now.

You see that look of concern build on his face. He looks so conflicted.

"Mm," you pop his fingers out, "Megumi- don't look so worried. The same goes for you."

He bites his lip with quite a pitiful look.

I can't force her to do this. I'd rather take another beating from that spirit.

"I want to," you mutter, turning his hand over to study his palm, while kissing and licking the pads of his fingers so cutely. Your shyness is fading away and you're feeling more comfortable- from how he treated you, and now seeing his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose light up the prettiest shade of pink.

"I want to..."

You don't want the spirit to interrupt you again, but you swear you've never said anything so dirty.

"suck you off."

"Uh-"

The sound from Megumi's mouth was half... hesitation, half something else.

He knows it was arousal.

His eyes flit about the room, noticing another candle relight itself.

"I-, uh..."

I want you, too.

I want your lips.

I want your mouth.

I want your tongue.

"Please let me?"

You've never done this before.

Your heart is pounding, but you'd do anything to make him feel more at ease right now... more comfortable with this situation.

"Y-yeah, um, do you want-"

Why am I so fucking nervous? Shit. When was the last time I felt like this? She's too beautiful to be doing something like this...

"Sit here." You tap the edge of your mattress, and he gets up to perch there, with you kneeling under him.

"You- yea- uhh- ok, ok-"

Your hands pressing his thighs open are a sure sign. He's starting to accept it now- starting to realise how much you want this.

"There's no rush- ok," one of his hands wraps around your wrist, before he starts to unzip his black jeans. The strain on his cock is slowly released- it's been pressing so uncomfortably since the second he had his hands on you. He reaches the button and pops it open, with you tugging eagerly at his belt loops.

"Ok, just-" he sits up and lets you get his jeans past his ass.

Now you can see the dark, wet stain on his black boxers. And how fucking tight they are.

"Megumi, you're-"

So hard.

So big.

"How-"

is he going to fit in my mouth?

You were feeling so confident...

He sees your wide eyes and takes one hand to palm the back of your neck. It's so obvious to him now.

She's never done this before.

"It's ok- just take it slow."

He moves his hand to cup your jaw, where his thumb presses over your lip.

"I'm very patient."

I can pretend to be patient. For her.

You edge closer, tentatively pressing your lips to the hard swell in his shorts.

He's so warm here. It feels wet.

You tug at his waistband now.

She looks so pretty.

He allows you to pull down his shorts…and close your lips over-

"Mm-"

I want to fuck her mouth.

I want to fuck her throat.

I want to cum on her lips.

"That's it-"

Am I doing it right?

Can he feel my teeth?

I want to make him feel good.

His expression tells you that it doesn't feel bad at least. So you keep going, now experimenting with your tongue- you slide it over his swollen pink tip, up and down the middle.

Then you feel his hand on the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer.

"Yeah, j-just open- oh-"

The fat swell of his tip is fully in your mouth now, and your lips are being guided further down.

"Good- so good-"

Now suck, suck it, just like you did with my fingers, please.

"Mmh– fuck!"

You have no idea what you're doing, so you keep looking up at him for reassurance.

He nods stiffly with his lips pressed shut, his hands now balled into tight fists around your sheets in a desperate attempt to tame himself and those strong urges...

I want to grab her neck.

I want her to choke on me.

I can't do it. Not to her.

He keeps his hips still and lets you do it at your own pace.

You bob your head up and down slowly, hearing him let out little sighs.

"Mm, keep- keep doing that-"

"Mhm-"

If she looks at me like that one more time I'm going to cum.

He brushes a stray hair out of your face, looking at your wide eyes... and even wider mouth, spread so beautifully over his dick.

"C-can you use your tongue for me?"

"Nng-"

You push your tongue along the underside of his shaft, sucking and licking and getting him all wet with your saliva.

"Th-that's it-"

She's gonna make me cum like this. I can't cum in her pretty mouth… not over her lips… or her face.

"F-fuck–"

He tries to push out those terrible thoughts… of your body covered in marks, with his cum dripping down your chin. However hesitant he was about this, now you're doing it he never wants it to end. But he has to- he can't do it. Not like this.

"Sstop- stop!!"

"Ngh- sorry- d-did it feel bad??"

"N-no- I was about to…"

"You don't want to-?"

"No! Well, yes, but just… not in your… mouth."

Fuck. He can tell his cheeks are bright red.

"Then where…?"

She's so innocent. Does she know what she sounds like? Can she hear her own voice like I can?

He looks you up and down, then starts to stand up, kicking off his pants and shorts completely. Sinking down to his knees, he gets up close and ushers you back, crawling forward and pressing you down onto the carpet.

Your back hits the wooden board and you nudge it out of the wayso you can lie flat, surrounded by the candles you lit earlier. Megumi lifts the board and places it outside the soft ring of light.

Turning back to you, he gets on top of your body, with your legs surrounding his waist.

"I want to have sex with you."

"It- it's ok- the board didn't t– mmff–"

He kisses you hard.

"The spirit is gone."

You can feel it now. The heavy tension in the air has cleared and it doesn't feel like there's anyone watching you anymore.

"It's just me and you."

You let a nervous breath pass your lips.

If it's gone, wouldn't he want to stop now?

But without the spirit, everything feels warmer- his body feels warm over yours, and there's an incredible intimacy that surrounds you both.

You've been touching each other all evening, but this is different. Now your bodies are both completely bare, and you're alone, you're feeling more nervous than ever. Your hands lay at your sides, feeling the fibres of the carpet as your palms get clammy and hot. Your mouth feels dry and you don't know where to look. His body just gets your stomach in knots and his eyes… there's such an intense look there, as if he can see your thoughts.

At least, he can tell you're nervous.

"You don't get it, do you?"

It's almost as if he's scolding you. You keep your mouth shut, eyes wide and on his, looking confused but terribly pretty.

"It's not about the game. I want you…"

How are you supposed to tell him this is your first time??

"Megumi– I, I–"

I want you too.

I want to have sex with you.

"I've never done this before!!"

"It's okay, don't be scared. I can be gentle, if you want."

It's kind of mortifying that he's comforting you like this, but he's enjoying it a little too much.

I don't mind that you're a virgin. I want to show you what it's supposed to feel like.

"You should do it... how you like it."

You're embarrassed to say stuff like this but you really don't want him to be disappointed. It's not as if you have any clue what you're doing, so you'd prefer if he took the lead.

Oh, no. There's no chance you're getting it my way.

He can't stop the thoughts of your slender wrists bound behind your back with your ass slapped pink.

No, no, no.

He shakes his head and lets out a breathy laugh.

"You have no idea what you're asking for, do you?"

"No but- I, I just want you... to feel good."

He starts to open his mouth again, but you seal his lips with a kiss so sweet and tender it makes his heart melt.

"I'll take it slow, I promise, just tell me if it's too much okay?"

"Yeah"

Your lips are kiss swollen, parted and trembling, tears threatening to spill from your glassy eyes, but you draw in a deep breath and...

"Give me your hand, yeah hold me here. Is that good?"

...he's inside you.

Why can't I say anything?

Your mind has gone blank… the words are all gone.

"Are you okay?"

"Ye-ah–"

It's not just words you're struggling for.

It's your breath.

Now, little moans are choking up and you take your hand that's been clasping tightly at the back of his neck since the moment he sunk into you and you press it across your mouth.

It's so embarrassing. Why am I making these sounds?

But they're being pushed out. You can't help it. With every one of his slow yet firm thrusts you feel your back arching off the carpet and your throat getting tighter. The heat rising in your abdomen is creating such an intense pressure you're sure you're going to explode any second.

"Don't be shy," his cool fingers wrap around your wrist and he tugs gently, "please."

"Hah-ah-" your mouth is uncovered but you wish it wasn't.

A new pink flush floods your cheeks and you go to bury your head in his neck, but he doesn't let you.

"No, let me see you."

He stares into your irises intently. You blink back at him and try to focus on what to say. You have to say something… anything.

"W-hy am I…?" you make a weak gesture, just a glance, and he knows you're feeling conscious about the sounds you're making.

"It's natural, I promise."

"But– mm– I can't control it– isn't that… weird?"

I could make you moan louder if I wanted.

He looks you up and down, biting his lip. You wonder what he's thinking.

"No, it's totally normal for girls to… moan-" he gives your lips a look of seduction that could make you faint, then your eyes get the same treatment, "during sex with me, anyway."

He keeps going and pins your hands above your head, interlocking his fingers with yours, making sure you don't try to cover your mouth or restrict yourself in any way.

He wants to see you. He wants to hear you. He wants all of you.

"Ngh- w-ait–"

He's getting deeper… bigger?

Your head hits the carpet and he dives for your neck.

"Fuck– you're so pretty here."

He kisses you tenderly, but his movements are getting… harsh. The way he's grinding into your core is making you feel weak. Your mouth hangs open now– you need to fucking breathe.

You let out a few more whimpers– he feels the vibrations through your throat and he nearly loses his mind.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Uh– uh huh"

The feeling is… unmistakable. You've never done this before, but you know what's coming. You trap your lip between your teeth and your eyebrows screw up, as if you're in pain, but what you're feeling is so far from that...

"Does it hurt?"

No, no, no, I'm just about to–

"Nnhh– it– it's–"

Too hard.

Too much...

Too late-

"Fuck– oh fuck–" you watch his eyes lose focus on yours, for the first time.

"You're fucking squeezing me– sso– tight–" he groans- it's such a deep and full sound, right from his chest.

Your body hums and you let him take you through it. He keeps thrusting, controlling the flow of your pleasure, until he has to slow himself down. He's so thankful he has self discipline on his side, or he's pretty sure you'd be getting pregnant tonight.

"Gonna– fuuuckk…"

He slips his dick out when you're done and presses down hard against your stomach, where he rubs himself and spurts hot, white cum up your body.

He came so much… all he can do is moan and move his body slower and slower, sliding his tip through the liquid on your stomach. His moaning soon turns into soft giggles– you join him, in the ecstatic post high of love making– and he presses his now flushed face into your neck.

"S-sorry I made such a mess…" he half whispers.

He finally lets go of your hands and sits up, allowing you to catch your breath and come down for a moment, before he helps you up and gets you all clean. Luckily, there's a bathroom right next to your room, so he runs the water hot and fills the tub.

"Is it warm enough? Good, let me help."

No, he doesn't do this with everyone he's slept with. Why is he doing it with you? He doesn’t know. Why is he climbing in the bath with you and caressing the marks on your body like he didn't just put them there himself? He doesn't have the answers, but he does know he's staying with you all night. And in the morning he'll walk you to campus. He won't forget anything that happened with you last night. He'll remember every detail and they'll play through his head all day– he'll recall them so vividly that the tips of his ears will be constantly pink throughout the day. His friends will comment that he looks particularly distant, but he'll deny it and hope they don't notice how he's totally smitten, daydreaming of you.

He manages to keep up this weak act until he sees you again. That's when all his senses just fly away and he wants to hold you in the middle of your lab. He wants to unbutton that oversized white coat and just strip it off you– he's almost annoyed that he can't see your figure, as if he's entitled to it.

But that would probably make his situation worse. It would only make that yearning, soft feeling in his chest grow– and it does. With the days and months passing, he only chases it… chases you. Until he can't take it anymore and only wants to be by your side, suddenly but assertively asking you to be his. And the way you look at him makes him panic for a few seconds– you're just so shocked. Perhaps he was too urgent? Too forceful?

His words kind of came out a little aggressive. Perhaps a little desperate. But he couldn't help it.

And the way your body is pinned under his on your bed with your pupils blown wide and your mouth gasping makes him want to do terrible things to you. But not without this. Not without you agreeing.

"Yes…"

You don't know what it entails "to be his" but you get the feeling he means… he wants you to be his girlfriend.

Megumi Fushiguro's girlfriend? Now, that doesn't sound too bad.

tysm for reading, lmk if u like longer stuff like this, i hope to write more :p

megumi | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #female reader #megumi fushiguro #18+ content #megumi x reader #666.event #ouija 666 #666 followers #megumi imagine #megumi fic #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #megumi fanfic #megumi <3

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doremimosasol · 5 months

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 - 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ✧

Hufflepuff!reader here

Slytherin!reader here

Gryffindor!reader here

warnings: suggestive? idk

word count: 1,2 k

requested

Mattheo definitely makes fun of Ravenclaws for burying their noses into books so much

because I believe he doesn’t need to study a lot at all to score high (Tom’s son after all)

though he’d secretly read a lot himself (no one knows this, not even his closest friends)

he reads lots of classics before he goes to bed to help him fall asleep

reading calms his mind and makes him forget about his worries and problems at home, it’s a form of escapism for him

he’d make fun of Ravenclaw, mock them, pull pranks… anything to annoy the house

he didn’t know why, he just loved the smart remarks he’d get in return

maybe he saw them as equally intelligent to argue with did he really?

his luck, of course, a Ravenclaw caught his eyes

he noticed you for the first time in 1st year on the Hogwarts Express and there was just something about you that made you stand out

the way you carried yourself was something that made you stay on his mind for weeks

your smile that came back into his mind, every time he closed his eyes

he didn’t want to come to terms with this little crush he developed the first few months so he’d ‘bully’ you a lot the first few years (playfully though, nothing too serious)

he would never hurt you and would never let anyone hurt you either

this man would NEVER leave you alone; everywhere you went, he went

he’d walk next to you in the hallways, annoying the shit out of you

he’d jumpscare you at any given time

he’d go to the library, specifically to interrupt your studying

as the years progressed, it turned into academic rivalry

it was something to keep himself entertained because let’s be honest he didn’t care about grades, he only cared about getting on your nerves by being better at something

because god forbid all that studying would give you good grades, right?

but he didn’t just study more, it’d go as far as sabotaging your tests

sneaking into the office of the professors who were dumb enough to keep their classrooms unlocked

he was that driven to get on your nerves, all that because the childish boy was too scared to give in to his feelings

he’d observe your manners and likes a lot over the years, following you every place you went (not creepy?)

in 6th year he’d finally gather the confidence to ask you out for the Yule Ball

in combination, he’d also gift you a stunning necklace to wear with your dress (something he’d wanted to give you for years now)

it matched with the tie he wore to the event, something to make it clear you were already his before you even knew it yourself

because he was the only one who could tease you and the only one that could have you in the end

you’d have an amazing night, dancing until your feet and legs hurt

it’d surprise you how sweet he could be after all these years of teasing (could it be you had grown to like this man?) he was just a little tipsy

after the ball, he’d take you to the astronomy tower to watch the stars

he’d give you his blazer so you wouldn’t get cold, he didn’t care if he would; the only important thing for him was for you to be warm enough and not catch a cold

he’d never admit he cared though

there, he would finally confess his feelings to you (shocker, honestly? not really)

of course, you said yes, how could you not?

even after all these years of teasing, pranks being pulled, and rivalry you had grown a liking for him

you started to like Mattheo fucking Riddle

the person who’d gotten on your nerves for the last years, now finally made his way into your heart

because deep down he was the softest person you’ve ever met, and that was proven after this magical night

he’d shown himself like he never showed himself in front of anyone else

you were the only person that made him act like that

and it’d drive him mad that anyone in this world had gotten him to go soft

gotten him to care

gotten him to open his heart

gotten him to fall in love

because deep down he knew he could trust you after all these years

that you would keep his heart save

something he had to protect so badly with frozen locks that you had seemed to melt

even though you were complete opposites, it felt like you two fit like puzzle pieces

those kind of puzzle pieces you couldn’t find until the end of the puzzle

you’d stare at the stars all night, you pointing out all constellations while he looked at you like you were his own personal star on earth

you knew he would kiss you if you even moved your head an inch to face him, so you tried to keep your eyes on the stars

this would drive him mad and eventually, he’d take your chin between his fingers to make you look at him

never could a first kiss have been better than this: one hand in your hair, the other on your neck

slowly moving his fingers over your scalp as he deepened the kiss

all the passion and pent-up frustration of keeping this crush hidden were shown by just the touch of his lips

after that night you started dating

he’d accompany you to the library, studying together…

‘studying’ together…

more like him whining about you not giving him enough attention

he’d put his hand on your thigh, slowly creeping it higher until he got the reaction out of you he wanted

and he always got it, that’s why he kept doing it

it wouldn’t be a lie to say he made your grades drop by some points (was this his whole plan?)

this would always result in you getting annoyed, rolling your eyes, and trying to make it obvious you wanted to study

“Come on y/n, studying can’t possibly be more important than me, right?” he’d whine continuously in your ear, playfully biting your neck in the process

he’d smirk against your neck “I know you like it when I touch you like this. Don’t lie to me, love.”

after that, you’d slam your books shut and pack your stuff before dragging him to your room, furious most of the time

he didn’t mind, because once again he got his way

during private study sessions, he’d sit you down on his lap, making you face him

he’d question your knowledge with the flashcards you made and every time you got something right he’d give you a quick kiss

though those study sessions would eventually turn into make-out sessions

make-out sessions would turn into you ending up late in class the next day

with the wrong tie

I mean, it’s Mattheo after all

I believe a relationship with Mattheo and a Ravenclaw would be really could when they got together but EXTREMELY slow burn

also academic rivalry duhhh

#harry potter #fiction #benjamin wadsworth #slytherin #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle #headcanons #headcanon

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macfrog · 8 months

Text

hits different cowboy like me chapter twelve

oh, my, love is a lie! are we all ready? do we have our coping strategies in place? have we prepared ourselves for impending doom? then gather round, my dear children, for i’ve a tale to tell. and it’s a SORE one

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: still reeling from your fight with joel, you seek out an effective way to deal with it: a night of sambuca shots and no second thoughts

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) alcohol + drug consumption (reader gets hammered), heartache, angst, unwanted touching, intended sexual assault, drink spiking, descriptions of blood and bruising, protective!joel gets into a quick barfight, more discussion of cheating(?), joel won't admit feelings, pain pain and more pain, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 10.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel takes a beat to answer. Like he’s waiting for your voice to fill the space, the way it usually would. What’s up, old man? How hard is it to copy an address right? Lois not as good at typing as she is at sucking your – “You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.” The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

Of course he went to see Lois. He’s probably been seeing her for some time now. A nice lady, his own age, his line of work. You’re pretty sure she has a son, too. And your dad would love her, would love to think Joel was shacking up with some plant hire receptionist. She could turn your life around, son, he’d said. They fit together like a couple of jigsaw pieces. What the fuck would he have ever seen in you, past some young, tight thing for him to fuck? Just a placeholder. Just a time-waster.

A twenty-three-year-old; enough energy to keep him on his toes, cure his boredom. Fill his summer with something to do. And close enough to him, too, that he reeled you in with minimum effort. One stupid look at you – one stupid, stupid glance and you were hooked. High as a kite on him. All the touching, all the whispering. That fucking – the fucking bottle. The video. All of it, every second he ever spent near you – it all makes you cringe now.

And then, once the embarrassment of being played by your dad’s best friend passes, there’s the hurt. The aching. Fuck, the aching. The way your chest swells, feels like it might rip at the seams and burst open. The sting behind your eyes anytime you picture his smile, the way he’d look at you. The feeling of your throat closing up whenever you go to speak, windpipe constricting around any words that aren’t his name, and using them to choke you.

And it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it. Can’t have a heart-to-heart with your dad, have him make you a tea and sit him down by your window, ask for advice on heartbreak and getting over his best friend. You’ve been excusing your reclusiveness by telling him you’re on your period. That’s why you haven’t left your bed in four days.

It was just all so fucking believable, wasn’t it? So good, you thought you were dreaming the entire time.

And here he’d just proven you right. You dreamt it all up.

Has he fucked her yet? Lois. Is she one of the ten he told you about the other night? Has she touched him the way you have? Has he touched her, the way he did you?

Does she know how he sounds when he comes undone? How he looks? How he feels? Does she do it for him the way you do it? And what does he call her? Baby? Darlin’? Or something different entirely?

Now you’re wondering when he started seeing her, and then, if they have slept together, when the first time was. Whether or not you cross over with her. Maybe he went and fucked her after you argued. Let off some steam over at her place, while you sat in his house, smelling his shirts and reading his stupid fucking Alcatraz books. While you paced around, practicing the words you’d say to him when he came back.

All you wanted was for him to come back. You wanted him to come find you upstairs, take the book from your hands and lean his head down on your chest, mumble an apology into the material of your shirt and then kiss you, and kiss you again while he pulled the clothes from your body, and kiss you while you were naked underneath him, and kiss you while he rocked his hips into yours.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You think you hate her. You don’t even know her. Don’t know what she looks like, only heard her voice. She’s probably gorgeous. Probably a really sweet woman, helps out on the PTA, the type that stops to read missing dog posters so she can keep an eye out for them. Probably knows Joel well enough that she writes Sarah a birthday card every year. Just a real nice, Southern lady.

And you fucking hate her.

That’s not fair, though, and you know it. She didn’t do anything wrong. Joel’s the one who screwed you over – screwed you both over. Really, you and Lois are one and the same.

Except that she’s taken away the only thing to put a real smile on your face since you got home, and for that, you fucking hate her.

What had he said again? That night he drove you home from Sal’s, the night your dad asked him to stay for pizza. …said she’d like to go for a drink. I said maybe sometime. Maybe he’d organized that drink, in the midst of whatever you two had been doing. Thought nothing of it – you said it yourself: you were just messing around. Said it, like, three times to him. Good fucking job.

And that adds to the hurt. That neither of you seemed to care enough to call it anything more. Because now, sitting alone in your room, desperately checking your phone for a missed call or a text message from him, ears pricking at every sound your dad makes downstairs in case he’s answering a call from Joel or welcoming him in through the front door – you wish you had called it something.

Wish you had just fucking said it. Told him outright about the feelings you had. You were thinking about them enough – the thought circled your mind any time there was a moment’s silence between you.

Sometimes, the way he’d glance over to you, the way his hand would brush against yours, the way he’d say your name…he felt like…

Yours. He was yours. He was so fucking close to being yours.

You almost said it, once. Almost admitted it to him. Couple times you saw it flash behind his eyes, too. And it’s a damn good thing neither of you did say it, because it would’ve been a mistake. Would’ve been lies.

You don’t love him. You never did. You were in some fantasy, built by Joel. There ain’t no love between you. None from your side. And definitely none from him.

Definitely – none – from –

him.

----------

Anna’s been at you all week. She text you on Monday night, but you were about four layers of blanket deep in your bed, weeping into a box of dry cereal and listening to some sad girl playlist on repeat. You fished your cell out from under your mattress the next morning. Your dad had to call it to help you find it.

Anna: Frank’s again on Friday? Rodeo night round 2!!!

Tuesday, it was Please?? It was so fun on Sat. Cmon, Kara’s coming again. Sam’s working but that means free shots so.

On Wednesday, she tried a new approach. I’ll cover any shift you want.

Any two shifts……

Ok three????

Thursday, she started to get desperate. I’ll spill all your secrets to my dad if you don’t come. And you know he’ll tell them all to your dad lol

By Friday morning, though, she’d decided you had no say in the matter: you were going, and you’d be happy about it. And you didn’t have it in you to fight back.

She’s standing at the side of the mirror, scanning you from head to two.

“All black? Again?”

“I look good in black.”

“You look good in anything,” she agrees, turning to sift through your closet, “so why don’t we go for…?”

“No,” you clip, holding a finger up to the red dress in her hands. “No.”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s hot. C’mon.”

“Why do I gotta be hot?”

“I mean…is Mr. Miller gonna be pickin’ you up again, or…?”

You lob a previously discarded dress at her and she snorts, turning to slip it back onto a hanger.

Even his fucking surname sends a pang of pain through your body. Your heart jumps at the sound of it, like its hopes had risen for a second, but then it plummets with the realization that it’s not really Joel, and he’s still really gone.

You’re in a plain black slip dress, black denim jacket slung over your shoulders. Black lace-up boots, too. It’s like rodeo night, except without the fun and excitement of Joel waiting for you at the end of the night. It’s basically rodeo night’s funeral. And good fucking riddance.

Anna – always glittering, always in some sparkly getup – leads you out of your bedroom and down the stairs. Your dad agreed to drop you guys off, seeing as he’s out working later on.

He’s sat in his armchair, glasses on the tip of his nose, squinting down at the instruction booklet to that fucking Garmin he’s still wrestling with. He looks up and claps his hands once.

“Ready, girls?”

Anna nods eagerly and you lift your eyebrows, thinking about how Joel would laugh at the sight of his buddy still fighting a very obviously lost battle to a GPS. Then you think about how he’d tell you quietly, You look beautiful, darlin’, and ask you to text him when you got home safe.

And finally, you think about how much of an ass he is, and you blink the tears from your eyes before following the two blurry figures out to the car.

Anna snaps a couple selfies as the car winds out of the neighborhood, angling her phone to pull you into shot. The sun setting over the roofs of the houses dazzles your eyes. She tuts, tells you to Look like you actually wanna be goin’ out, and sends them to Kara, letting her know you’re on your way.

You’re watching her reply to a text from some boy she’s seeing when your dad’s ringtone echoes throughout the car, the name on the tiny digital screen the very last name you want to see right now.

Or maybe the very name you’ve been waiting all week to see. Just, on your screen instead of your dad’s.

“Hey, Joel,” your dad calls, and your body instinctively leans in to listen better. Drawn in like a magnet to just the sound of his voice.

“Hey, bud,” he replies. It’s like a punch to your chest. Hands around your throat. Salt behind your eyes. “I just got off the phone with Clark’s, they just dropped that equipment off at the site. Said there wasn’t nobody around to sign for it, so they just left it at the gate.”

“It’s a manned site, what do they mean there wasn’t–?”

“No idea,” Joel says, cutting across him. “Just said there wasn’t anybody to take the delivery.”

Anna’s head slowly turns in your direction, likely to take another dumb selfie or to ask some random question about your outfit, but you turn away, refusing to meet her hazel-eyed stare. Refusing to let her take your attention away from this phone call. From Joel.

Your dad sighs, runs a hand down his cheek. “I hope it’s still there when I get to it. Sure you gave ‘em the right address on Monday?”

“I wrote it down exactly how you text me it.”

Joel’s voice sounds flatter than normal. Less trademark Joel grumbly and more tired, deflated. A little irritated. It bruises your heart hearing him and not chiming in, not teasing him for potentially getting the street name wrong or something. Not letting him know you’re here.

Your dad does that anyway, though.

“Well,” he sighs again, hitting the turn signal, “I’m on my way to Frank’s – girls are havin’ another one of their wild nights out. I’ll head straight from there to the site ‘n make sure everything’s in place. Thanks, Joel.”

“You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.”

The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

No. He was talking to you. He knew you’d be listening. Knew that conversation would mean much more to you than it ever could to your dad. And he knew you’d be hanging on to every word he spoke.

He’s home all night, which translates to: he’s only ever fifteen minutes away if you wind up needing him. If you end up wanting him.

You’ve spent the last four days purposefully stopping yourself from wanting him. Your thumb has hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d care to admit. Mostly at night, when your dad goes to bed and there’s eight hours of quiet – quiet you’d usually fill by annoying Joel, striking up a conversation at midnight when he’s about to sleep.

What the fuck would you even say if he did pick up? Would you be mad? Would you yell? Or would you just break down, sob a few incoherent sentences down the line to him and pray that he doesn’t hang up?

But then – would he even pick up? It’s not a thought you want to entertain much. That sound of ringing and ringing, and no gruff, Hey, baby, at the other end.

Your chest hurts. You take a gulp of air.

You’d happily have him never touch you again if he’d just come the fuck back.

Anna slaps your arm and Joel’s face is wiped clean from your mind. “C’mon,” she chirps, and nods out of your window.

You turn to see the faded blue brick walls of Frank’s, clusters of people outside clutching cigarettes and glasses, holding hands up to shield their eyes from the sunlight and tipping their heads back in laughter at one another. Kara stands among them, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. She waves when you catch her eye, stumbling out of the car in a daze.

Anna’s arm links through yours, almost violently, and she skips along the sidewalk to Kara, who joins your chain. The three of you stroll into the bar together and over to Sam, who smiles genially in welcome.

“Hello, ladies,” he sings, leaning in. “What can I do ya for?”

“Get us drunk, Sam!” Anna exclaims, rapping her knuckles on the bar top, and, for the first time tonight, you find yourself nodding in agreement with her.

Get me –

fucking –

hammered.

----------

You get your wish. Sam hands you a cold beer, and within twenty minutes you’re ordering a second. Anna and Kara opt for cocktails, some bright pink concoction that you don’t even bother to ask the name of, you just lean over the bar and tell Sam to make up a third.

And then there are the shots, two each, which are a hysterically terrible idea. You know it as you tip your head back, sickly taste of sambuca spilling down your throat and taking with it the very last of your good sense, apparently.

All the while, that phone call rattles through your head. Joel’s voice swings between your ears like a pendulum. His dry tone, the borderline contempt he spoke to your dad with. The thought of who he’s been with and what he’s been doing either side of that call burns like the drink in your belly, and forces you back up to the bar for another to wash him away with.

You rock against the dark wood, sticky with alcohol, and hoist yourself up onto a stool. “One peer, blease, sir,” you garble to Sam, one finger in the air. “Oh, wait…”

You throw your hand down onto the bar with a roar of laughter and lean back, forgetting there’s no back to your chair. It tilts back, and your hands fumble to grab the edge of the bar, but it’s too far, too late, and you land on the solid floor with a clatter – metal leg of the stool digging into your own.

“Fuck,” you hiss, dragging yourself back to your feet. A thin line of dark red blood cuts from halfway down your calf, streaming down into your boot.

“Are you okay?” Sam yells, stood frozen with the beer and bottle opener still in his hands.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, clambering to your feet. You don’t even convince yourself.

Sam doesn’t let go of the bottle when your fingers curve around it. He looks you dead in the eye and asks, “What’s goin’ on?” and you know he won’t let go until you answer him.

“Nothin’. I’m fine.”

Until you answer him truthfully, that is.

“I’m…It’s just…I got a lot goin’ on up here.” Your shaky finger draws a circle against your temple, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I can see that. Is this really a good ide–”

“Well, howdy, clumsy!”

The owner of whatever fucking annoying voice just shrieked through your ears slaps his hand down on your shoulder, almost toppling you for the second time in five minutes, and you twist around to find a pair of red, blotchy cheeks and almost equally red hair to match, stood before you.

“Hi…?” You squint your eyes to get a better look, the figure swaying with the room behind him.

“Hi.” He’s still smiling. Two huge front teeth, like a pair of overgrown Tic Tacs. “You have no idea who I am, do you? That’s…embarrassing for me.”

“Zack!” another voice screams over the bassline of the music. “Are you fucking coming or not, dude?”

A pale, jittery guy with a dark green t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame barges into the red-haired boy’s side, and a few seconds after his mouth stops moving, you register what he’s said.

“No – f-fucking – way,” you breathe, staring him up and down. His red flannel is tucked into his jeans, sealed by a brown leather belt. There’s a longhorn head on the buckle. “Zack? From Costco? What the fuck’d you do, stalk me?”

He laughs awkwardly, looking from you to over your shoulder, where Sam’s still holding your beer.

“Sorry–” you mutter, shaking your head. “I’m not at my best right now.”

“It’s cool,” he replies, grinning. “You look like you’re having a good night. I’m out with my buddies. This is Eric.”

Eric gives you a nod – his blond fringe jumps, and he jerks his head to sweep it back out of his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says, before rounding again on Zack. “Seriously, bro, he says he’s not waitin’ around this time. C’mon!”

“We were gonna head to the rooftop if you wanted to come?” Zack raises his eyebrows, pointing a thumb over his shoulder as Eric and another two figures make off for the stairs at the other end of the bar.

“Sure.” You blindly reach for your beer and Sam relents, letting it slip from his grasp. He calls your name as you trot off, and you turn for one second to give his worried stare a thumbs up, before swirling back toward the stairs. No second thought.

This isn’t the night for second thoughts.

The rooftop is quieter, less crowded. Background noise made up of passing cars, a siren in the distance, and the muffled music from downstairs. You wander over to where Zack stands with Eric and a couple others: a short guy with wireframe glasses, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, and someone you think you almost recognize.

His black V-neck looks like it might burst at the seams around his chest, swollen with muscle. Thick neck, holding up a square jawline, and a face heavy with features which mirror the broad body below.

And a thick smell of marijuana which follows his every move.

Zack shuffles to the side to let you into the circle. You shimmy in between him and Eric.

V-neck pulls a small metal case from his back pocket and fishes a cigarette out of it. Eyes start to shift around the group, the boys glancing over shoulders to check who’s watching.

“Are we…? Is that weed?” you blurt out.

“Shut the fuck up!” Eric hisses, jabbing his elbow into your ribcage.

V-neck eyes you down quickly. It’s the first he looks at you, and it puts a sickly feeling through your body. Sends the alcohol hurtling over itself in your stomach.

You raise your eyebrows and wrap your arms around yourself, your beer bottle against your lips. “Sorry, jeez…”

“This is Knox,” Zack mutters, as Knox lights the cigarette.

He takes one hit, inhaling deeply with his chin in the air, and passes it to the boy in the hoodie. Another cloud of smoke joins Knox’s, slowly dispersing above your heads, and then it’s Eric’s turn. With a cough, his fist against his lips, he passes it to Zack. Soon, the air around you is thick and white, and Zack’s handing you the joint.

You lift it to your lips and inhale. The feeling hits you instantly; your body feels light, your face warm, your eyes blink in and out of focus, watching as a blurry shadow begins to follow your hand when you pass the joint back to Knox.

A couple more circuits, and the roach is pressed into the ground by Knox’s boot. The group separates; Zack and his friends fall into some metal chairs around a table, sparking up a debate on the best Lord of the Rings film, and you float around nearby.

“You a friend of Zack’s?” Knox asks, downing what’s left of his whiskey.

“Hm…Not really. We met at Costco, ‘cause I was there to get some party stuff for my dad’s friend’s daughter’s– Well, she’s my friend, too, and she wanted this garden party, and my dad’s friend was like, What the fuck is a garden party? you know, so I had to go help ‘im get stuff for it, with my dad, who was kinda a buzzkill, but anyway…Z-Zack helped me lift some sodas into my cart.”

Knox nods once. Fingers locked tight around his empty glass. He’s staring you down like you’re fresh meat.

You purse your lips and stare back, but quickly get bored when he doesn’t speak, and you miss Anna and her selfies and her sambuca shots. As you’re about to wander back to the door, though, Knox steps in front of you.

“So, you’re here often, then?”

Your shoulder knocks into his. “Huh?”

“Saw you last week. You were pretty spaced, don’t know if you remember.”

The memory whips past your eyes quicker than you can catch it, frames lingering only long enough for you to see Knox’s thick arm linked with yours outside Frank’s, the smell of weed in your nostrils, and the bright lights of Joel’s truck. And then it’s gone, before you can get a good grip of it.

“I’m…I remember now. Yeah. No, I’m not here much, I just…Rough week.”

He nods again, and you suspect he hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said since he got you alone. “You want another drink?”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel more and more nauseous. Makes you want to turn and run back downstairs, slot in beside Anna and Kara, bury yourself between their shoulders and stay there until they decide they want to go home.

It makes you feel the way it felt last week, when he halted you outside the bar on your way to Joel. And suddenly the memory is soaring in front of your eyes again.

Your hand on Joel’s elbow. The frown on his face. Whitened knuckles around the steering wheel. ‘s go, pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl.

“Yeah,” you tell Knox. “Yeah, I do.”

You follow him downstairs where he nods to Sam at the bar.

Sam ignores him, instead glares at you. “Can we talk…?” he asks, but Knox cuts across him.

“Beer, right?” he checks with you, and you nod. “And another whiskey.”

Your friend hesitantly grabs the drinks, glancing up at you every five seconds in a question. You respond by nodding slowly, feeling your head bounce each time you do.

You lazily scan the room for Anna and Kara, who you spot in a booth over by the window. The spotlights overhead reflect in the sparkles of Anna’s dress; Kara’s holding the straw of her drink between her lips, bobbing her head to the music. You saunter over, twirling on your way.

“Where have you been, baby?” Anna calls, giggling when you fall against the booth, palms flat on the wooden table.

“Upstairs,” you mumble, and then feel a tap on your back.

“Forgot this,” Knox says, pushing the beer into your hand. “You wanna go dance?”

Anna’s face twists into one of worry, and you give her an apologetic smile and spin off, following the wide frame to a dark corner of the bar where he takes your wrist and pulls your body against his.

He’s not doing much dancing, rather, he’s just keeping a solid grip on your waist, watching as you rock side to side, taking a couple shallow sips of your drink. You pull on his arm, Fucking move, dude, but he only leans further back, until he’s shrouded in shadows and pulling you into them with him.

When he leans into your space and snakes a drunken arm tight around your neck, you don’t retreat. You lean in, too, and plant your lips on his.

It’s messy, it’s a little gross. He tastes sour, weed and alcohol on his tongue, and it makes you wish you’d never started kissing him. Still, you take it further. You open your mouth more, letting more of him in, soak your own tongue, wet your lips. You barely even feel it when his hands move south and cup your ass, and it’s only when he squeezes that you wriggle out of his grip.

“Sorry,” you mumble, taking hold of his sleeve to steady yourself. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, says something short that you don’t hear, and you lean back against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He’s smaller, much shorter than Joel. Your shoulders almost match the height of his. But he’s more built, he’s bulkier, in an uncomfortable way. Like trying to put your arms around a giant balloon or something. There’s no softness, no enclosing feeling when your weight presses against his. Just the huge surface of his chest, the hollow feeling of two mismatched bodies unwillingly pushed together.

Not strong. Not safe. Not secure. Not him.

But you’re kissing him again, because it’s the first time in five days you’ve felt something other than your aching chest and heavy head. You’re kissing him because you feel unwanted and unloved and, even though he seems almost as hammered as you are, it feels good to have someone want to be on you.

You’re kissing him because you’re trying to pretend it’s Joel.

Only he tastes…well, disgusting, and he smells different. He’s sweating from the heat in the bar, and his arms aren’t placed somewhere to make you feel wrapped in his grasp, they’re placed anywhere that he can pinch, squeeze, or otherwise fondle.

Joel’s face swims in and out of your head; a smile as he pulls you in for a kiss, a smirk when he’s telling you off, soft eyes when he’s listening to you talk. It makes you want to throw up.

That might just be the drinks.

Someone taps you furiously on the shoulder, and you push Knox off your body.

When your eyes fail to meet Sam’s, he takes your wrist and drags you behind the bar, ripping the beer bottle from your grasp and almost launching it into the sink. It smashes, and the liquid pours down the drain.

“Hey, what the f–?”

“I’m gonna call your dad,” he yells, deafening to your numb ears.

“Do not fucking call my dad,” you slur, laughing a little. “I’m fine! I’m having fun.”

“You’re fucking wasted. And that guy – he’s bad news.”

“Does it matter?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Who even are–? What the fuck is up with you right now? Yes, it fucking matters!”

“Not my dad,” you repeat as you back away, staggering over to the booth where your friends sit.

Anna storms over to meet you, slipping her wrist around yours and bringing you to a halt. “Did Sam find you?” she asks. Her hands plant on your shoulders, and she dips her head until you’re eye to eye.

She’s blurry. She’s nothing but shapes, and movements, and noises. And she’s fucking pissing you off.

“Can everyone just – get the fuck off of me?” you groan, stumbling backwards, and Anna links her hands with yours to stop you from collapsing.

She pulls you back upright, leaning in close. Her head shakes, you can see that much. But her expression is cloudy, and her hands don’t let go of yours so easily when you try to pull away. The orb-like shapes in front of you mutter your name, only it’s not Anna’s voice, it’s his.

Anna’s babbling, panicked tone drives through your skull. “She’s been drinking, like, a lot, and I think she might’ve had some weed upstairs. But Sam said he saw –”

“C’mon, kid,” his voice says again, and there’s a heavy arm pulling you off to the door.

“Get – off – of – me.” You struggle in his grasp, pushing his body away from yours, fingers expecting to find the V-neck collar of a black shirt and instead finding –

Buttons. The edges of a green flannel shirt. And a soft cotton tee underneath. And then his scent washes over you: warm, sweet, earthy. Grounding.

“Joel…” you whisper, thick with fear and intoxication and need.

His jaw angles down, you catch one fleeting glimpse of his chin, graying beard, tight lips hidden beneath it, and then you’re shoving his chest again, attempting to push him as far away from your own body as he’ll go.

Only he doesn’t move.

“Fuck off,” you seethe, palms flat on his pecs. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He says your name in a hazy blur, says, “We’re goin’ home,” and you almost laugh in his face.

“I don’t f-fucking think so.”

“Yeah? Well, I do. Thanks, Anna, I got her.”

“Hey,” a fourth voice joins the chorus, “hey, you know this guy?”

Knox pushes past Joel’s arm, unlinking your fingers from his, and takes your shoulder with one rough hand. All your anger, all your rage at Joel, and yet, the second you’re separated from him, the only thing on your mind is having his hand back around yours.

Joel’s upper lip twitches, he stares at the back of Knox’s head and then scoffs, reaches by him again to take your wrist. You let him have it. “Come on,” he says.

Knox is rounding on him, holding Joel back with a palm flat to his chest. “I ain’t too comfortable lettin’ her head outta here with some random old man, dude…”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the –

Joel’s jaw ticks. His expression falls blank, narrowed eyes looking up and down Knox’s frame as you tremble behind it, Anna’s steady arm around your shoulders.

“Take your hand off of me, and move aside,” he snarls, voice dangerous. You can hear the threat, and at the same time, the desperate attempt from within himself to hold off.

“Hey,” Anna reaches forward, tapping Knox’s shoulder three times with a glittery nail, “she knows him. It’s fine. He’s fine.”

“Nah, man,” Knox hisses back, “who the fuck even are you? You ain’t takin’ her anywhere.”

You step forward, putting yourself between the two of them, hands clumsily landing on each of their shoulders. “He’s a f…my dad’s friend,” you slur, eyes unfocused.

Knox isn’t listening. He hasn’t listened the entire fucking night. His eyes are set on Joel’s as he wraps a tight fist around your free arm, trying to pull you closer to him. Only he’s hurting you, and your fingers struggle to pry yourself free, so you look up at Joel.

You couldn’t see Anna’s expression. Couldn’t make out the worry on her face that her voice clued you in on. You could barely even see Sam, when he dragged you out of the dark corner of the bar.

But you can see Joel. See the shadow his brows cast over his glower, see his thin lips, see the tightening of his jaw. See the rage inside him like it’s an alarm beacon, flashing red from behind his eyes.

Knox tugs angrily on your wrist. “You just gonna let this asshole ruin your night?”

“Let go of m-me,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the bar’s eyes on you. Your face reddens with heat from the alcohol, doubled by your embarrassment.

When he hears you, Joel’s face contorts into one you’ve never seen on his face in your life. Fury, disgust and fury, twisting his lip and tugging on his brows. He leans in and rips yours and Knox’s hands apart, pulling you free and shifting you behind his body with as much effort as it’d take him to click his fingers. Your weak hand reaches out to take a fistful of his shirt, holding onto him at his spine.

The men square up to one another, Joel at least four inches taller and, despite Knox’s built form, far broader. Knox takes a step forward and Joel matches.

“Joel…” you whisper, catching Anna’s gaping stare over his shoulder.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Miller?” Sam edges in from behind Knox. “I’m gonna have to ask that you…don’t…do this, but if you have to, can y’all maybe move it out to the street?”

“Do I gotta do somethin’?” Joel asks Knox. You pull in closer to his back, trying to hide your face from the spotlight cast on you by what feels like thousands of drunken eyes staring directly at you.

Knox thinks it over for a moment. You can see Zack watching like a deer in the headlights from behind his buddy. He’s seen Joel before, and you know from the way his eyes stick on him that he recognizes him. Remembers how briskly he swept you out of the soft drinks section, how blunt he was about it.

The V-neck swells with the deep inhale its wearer takes, and then he shakes his head, sighing. Smug smirk thick across his lips.

“Nah, man. I didn’t think she was gonna be worth the fuck anyways, so.”

Joel clicks his teeth, gives his head one quick shake, mutters a resigned, “Alright,” then reaches back, and nudges you gently by the stomach until you’re safely out of reach.

And then he swings.

Once, catching Knox across the corner of his jaw, sending his face skyward. The crowd around the three of you gasps. Knox’s burly chest twists, and he staggers backward. His hands come up to clutch his face before Joel’s taking the collar of his shirt in his fist, reeling him in and holding him steady.

“Joel!” you yell, but he doesn’t fucking hear you.

His second blow lands square on Knox’s nose with a crack loud enough even for your numb ears to hear over the thudding music. Blood sprays from his nostrils and floods down into his mouth, smearing across his cheek as Joel’s knuckles ricochet off the square face. The crimson pours down his chin, spattering onto his shirt, bright and shocking against the stretched black material.

Joel lets him drop and he collapses onto all fours, coughing blood and spit and whatever the fuck else onto the dark floor.

“Fuck!” Knox screams, fingers trembling over his burst nose – thick, dark droplets running down his hands. “You motherfucker, you broke my fucking nose!”

Joel stoops down, takes the back of Knox’s shirt in two rough hands and hauls him up until he’s limp on his knees.

“I ever see you around here again,” he growls, “I ever find out you’ve been anywhere near her, as much as looked in the same fuckin’ direction as her, I’ll do worse ‘n break your Goddamn nose. You hear me?”

Knox whimpers, more blood dribbles from between his lips, and Joel throws him down. He turns back to you, massaging his knuckles with his thumb, and grabs your hand.

Your voice is weak with shock. “What the f-uck was that?”

“Just – come on,” he says, dragging you out of Frank’s without another word.

He leads your wobbly form down the street, past chattering crowds toward his black truck, opening the door for you and helping your unsteady limbs up into the passenger side, before he closes the door over and strides around to the driver’s side.

When he shuts his door – more of a slam – he sighs, head leaning back. His hand clenches and then relaxes, loosening his knuckles, hissing anytime the quickly-darkening skin stretches.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“What you sorry for?”

You shrug. Your mouth trips over words. “…gettin’ you into a barfight.”

He doesn’t look over at you. Just Hms and switches the ignition on, pulling away from the busy curb.

“Where’s m-my dad?” you slur.

“Work. Site inspection, remember?”

You nod, turning back to the road when you start to feel motion sick. Your eyes feel like they’re spinning in their sockets, your stomach flips with the slightest turn. “He get that delivery?” you ask, letting Joel know you heard the phone call earlier.

His jaw turns in your direction. Letting you know he knows you heard it. “Yeah. He’ll be home in a couple hours.”

“Did Sam c-call him?”

“No. Why?”

You lean your head against the passenger window, the cold distracting your brain from the ache in your head. The streetlights sail by in a blur. The engine rattles through the glass.

“Asked ‘im not to.”

“Yeah? ‘n why’s that?”

Your head rolls back onto the headrest as you decide on an answer. I didn’t want him seeing me drunk and high. I don’t care about you seeing me drunk and high. I just wanted to see you.

“’s never seen me drunk.”

“Or high?”

You snort. “I’m not…”

When your head slants to the left to look at Joel, his face turns from yours. He was just looking at you, and you missed it. Probably had that look on his face, that Nice try, kid expression.

“Okay…” you admit, spiritless, “a little high, then.”

“Anna was the one who called,” Joel says. “Said you were hammered, some guy was all over you, ‘n Sam watched him put somethin’ in your drink. They couldn’t find you anywhere. She was fuckin’ hysterical.”

Your head bobs with the moving truck. “When’d he put someth…?”

Joel shrugs. “I dunno. But I believe it.”

So do I, you think. Knox was on you from the minute he saw you. Tight grip around your waist, your wrist, drawing you into him with beer and weed and whatever else he had in his pockets. The comment that had warranted him two bone-breaking punches from Joel all but confirmed the intentions he had in mind. And now you feel fucking stupid.

“I didn’t really…I only had a couple sips of it,” you hear yourself saying, head heating with embarrassment – an attempt to convince him, or maybe more yourself, that you’re not as dumb as leaving your drink to be roofied.

Your voice sounds pathetic, though, and Joel doesn’t say anything to make you feel better. Doesn’t say anything to make you feel worse, either – the silence does that by itself.

You bring your knees up to your chin, nestling a little into the seat. It could almost feel like nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed, except you’re intoxicated, and Joel’s hands are firmly by his person. Not on your thigh, or tangled between your fingers like they usually would be.

You study him. Stare at every part of him like it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see it, until the gentle curve of his nose and the glint of his watch face are burned into the back of your eyelids when you close them over. Face lit red from the brake lights in front, right hand sitting idly on his thigh.

He looks like your Joel. Almost. Just a little closed off. Distant.

But he came to get you, right? Damn near punched Knox’s lights out, took you by the hand, led you back to the safety of his truck. He came straight to Frank’s as soon as Anna called. And he’s taking you home. He’s looking out for you.

So why doesn’t he feel like your Joel?

Well. You can wager a pretty solid guess. It starts with L and ends with comma, Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire.

The dark silhouette of your house looms overhead as Joel pulls into your drive. Sure enough, your dad’s not home.

The engine cuts and your head drops, eyes fixing on your hands clasped in your lap. You know Joel’s watching you. What the fuck is he thinking about?

Fuck that. Don’t think about that. Let’s not dive into that pool of imagination.

“Well, thanks.” You do your best to smile, without really looking at him. Your fingers find the door handle and you tug on it, pushing it open and spilling out onto your driveway.

You hear Joel sniff behind you. “Need a hand?”

“I’m good,” you call back, only just managing to stay on your feet.

The cold air helps a little to waken you up, sharpen your senses, but the world around you is still a whir of dull color and shapelessness, and you wobble across to the house in a route of zig-zags, boots almost tripping over thin air as you go. When you reach your front door, you hear his truck lock and the shadow of him appears by your side.

“I said I’m good.”

“I ain’t leaving you, kid. You’re hammered.”

You roll your eyes and open your mouth to protest, but then he’s taking the keys out of your hand and unlocking the door himself, hand on your back as he ushers you into your own house.

“I’m f-fine,” you repeat, tripping over the doorway.

“Look it.”

You meander over to the stairs, and when your foot manages to find the first step, Joel says your name. Your gaze sweeps across the floor until it meets his boots, travels up his legs, and finally rests on his outstretched hand.

“Water,” he tells you.

“I’m fine,” you say, the word losing meaning the more you utter it. “I wanna go – to bed.”

He shakes his head, and then tilts it in the direction of the kitchen.

You groan, mumble something about him being such an asshole, and walk straight by his hand.

Joel doesn’t react. Just follows you and hits the lights, which burn your eyes when they flicker to life. You wince and point up to them.

“Off,” you bluntly order, and he grunts, stepping back to oblige. You’re plunged straight back into darkness.

You’re holding yourself unsteadily against the edge of the kitchen island, whole body swaying. The room is fucking spinning, the lights out back swirling with it in a blur of white motion before your eyes. You swallow dryly and turn around to focus on Joel.

He’s filling a glass over the sink. “What happened to your leg?” he asks over his shoulder.

You turn your knee, examining the dent in your calf where the stool leg cut into you. The dry burgundy stain like a backwards seam line on your skin, emerging from a bright red bruise slowly fading to deep purple.

“Fell off a stool,” you mutter, angling it in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Joel Hms again. “You got anything to cover it?”

You shrug, having lost any and all energy to barter back with him. He slides the glass across the countertop to you, followed by a bottle of painkillers, then turns back to the open drawer he pulled them from and begins rummaging for a band-aid.

Your shaky hand lifts the glass to your lips. It’s cold and slippery in your grasp, drops of condensation running over your fingers like the blood from Knox’s nose had run over his. The more you tighten your grip, the harder it becomes to hold, until it’s sliding from your clutch.

“Easy,” Joel murmurs, appearing at the side of you and placing his hands over yours, holding the glass still.

“Your knuckles are bleeding,” you say, eyes focusing and then unfocusing on the marks at the base of his fingers, the dabs of dark red where the skin has burst.

He slowly lowers your hands until the glass is safely back on the counter, and then pulls away from you, drawing his swollen knuckles in to his body.

“They’re bleedin’,” you repeat, looking up at him.

“I know they’re bleedin’.”

“Let me see,” you step forward, “Joel. Let me–”

He catches your hands in his. Pushes them back down. Stares at the counter, sighs instead of replying.

Your eyes sting, filling with tears that crowd your already-blurred vision. The punch you feel to your gut brings you to your senses as if it drains you of every substance in your system all at once.

It’s like he’s broken up with you all over again. And it pisses you the fuck off.

“Fuck you,” you whisper into the dark, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his eyes, doesn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, so much.”

You’re staring him down, what little you can see of him in the pale light cascaded onto him through the shades. The crease between his brows, more prominent with the frown on his face; the line his lips form with the tight clench of his jaw.

Fucking look at me, you think. He can say something back – anything. You can stand and hiss horrible words at one another, yell at each other if that’s what he wants to do. Argue until you’re blue in the face, until the alcohol’s all dried up and the moonlight on his chest is replaced by sunlight. Just fucking look at me.

“You’re an asshole and a liar, you know that?”

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah,” you decide. “Just stringing me along this whole time.”

You blink away the tears before they can fall, making room for more. They’re forming rapidly, each time heavier, and thicker, and angrier. But fuck it, right? This is over. He’s done, and you’re done. Just ignore the pain of it, stick your finger in the wound and keep pushing until you hit bone.

“That guy you punched? He was all over me. All fucking night.”

Joel’s voice is toneless. He’s already over the conversation before it’s begun. “I know he was, kid.”

“We kissed.”

“I know that, too.”

“Had his hands all over me. ‘n if it hadn’t been him, it woulda been literally any other guy in there.”

The words are starting to bleed into one another in your inebriated state. Anger turning to rage turning to fear turning to shame turning to hurt turning back into anger.

“Woulda kissed any one of ‘em. Mighta let them take me home, mighta let them fuck me.”

His head gives an involuntary shake and he blinks. Like he’s trying to wash the thought away. The image of you under someone else, moaning someone else’s name, pulling someone else into your body.

“That piss you off? It make you hate me?”

And then he looks up. Finally, his gaze locks with yours. And his eyes are just as glassy, just as fucking full of tears as yours. He replies with the worst thing he could possibly come up with. It forces the breath from your lungs in a painful exhale.

“There ain’t a thing in this world that you could do that would make me hate you, you know that.”

And then your tears start to fall. Your façade breaks. Stone crumbles. Dam bursts. They fall onto your cheeks, searing on your heated skin, rolling down onto the front of your dress in dark splatter marks.

Through a sob, you choke out another, “Fuck you, Joel,” and then, when you catch your breath, “you don’t get to – to sleep with someone else, and make me feel like the idiot for it.”

He looks up at you with a dark expression, lips locked tight like he’s refusing to let something slip. He shakes his head, and then says, “Can we not have this conversation right now?”

You scoff. A drunken, angry scoff. “You don’t wanna talk about her? When’s a good fuckin’ time, then? When suits you and f-fuckin’ – Lois?”

He falls quiet. Presses his fingers into his eyes. Sighs. “Baby,” he says into his palms.

“’m not your fucking baby,” you whisper between your teeth.

“Baby.” He drops his hands. Looks you dead in the eye. “I did not sleep with Lois.”

You’re frozen to the spot. Your lips fall apart, coated in salty tears. You’re holding your breath, though you’re not sure what for. The room stops spinning for all of ten seconds until he speaks again.

“I didn’t. I know what that message sounded like. Know how you musta heard it. But nothin’ happened, nothin’ has ever happened. Nothin’ would ever happen,” he says, a little more animated, tossing his hands in the air.

You stare between his eyes. He’s still enough that your fucked brain can focus on them, can see plain as day – even in the dark kitchen, even through your cloudy tears and all of the poison in your blood – that he’s telling the truth.

“Ex-plain,” you say dryly, looking down to his lips.

Joel sighs again. “I told you I had work to do. Had to head over to Clark’s to order that stuff for your dad. Saw her there, said hi. ‘n that’s all.”

Your eyes slowly close over, wet lashes on hot, dehydrated skin. Your ears are ringing, your body aching. You breathe a sigh as what he says sinks into your slow, throbbing brain, and then lull to one side, slumping against the counter.

“You didn’t…you didn’t think this was worth tellin’ me on Monday?”

“Tried, baby. You were gone. You were so angry; thought it’d be better if I let you cool off.”

“You’re – a fucking – idiot,” you seethe, shaking your head. It’s starting to pound again, sharp pain right behind your eyes like they’re being tugged backwards.

“Well, tonight, I guess that makes two of us.”

You grimace at him. “Lettin’ me go for four fuckin’ days thinking that –”

“– thinkin’ that I would actually cheat on ya? ‘s that what you think a’ me?”

“What did you ex-pect? You didn’t exactly try to – c-clear it up.” You step back, lifting a hand to cup your forehead with a groan. A mix of frustration, pain, and exhaustion in the form of a slow-moving ache hauls its way from one temple to the other.

“Baby, I gotta get you to bed,” Joel says, stepping forward. “We can talk about this when you’re able to see straight.”

“I’m fine,” you whimper, but it’s the least convincing you’ve sounded all night.

“Kid–”

“Don’t fucking call me kid. Like it’s some pet name, like you give a damn about me–”

“You think I don’t give a damn about you? You think I don’t care?”

Your head wobbles in response. It sends the room hurtling again, Joel’s figure swimming in and out of your vision. You grab the countertop again in attempt to freeze him in place.

He tuts and turns his jaw. “You know how much sleep I’ve had these last few days? Not a fuckin’ minute. I ain’t slept a single night, worryin’ about you ‘n what’s goin’ through your head. Like I give a damn about you. I wish I didn’t give a damn about you, baby. Make my life a whole lot easier.”

“Then, show me. Fucking prove it to me.”

“Prove it to you how? Break some asshole’s nose in a bar? Take you home when you’re wasted?”

Yeah. And also, no. Not just that.

You seethe. “You know what the fuck I mean. Do something about it.”

“I can’t,” he says, raising his voice. “Can’t take you out on dates, can’t put my arm around you, can’t kiss you ‘less there ain’t nobody watchin’. I can’t do none of what I wanna do. This is – it’s fuckin’…”

“…impossible,” you breathe, thick and slurred.

Joel lifts his head then, sees the look in your eye. He sniffs. “’s pretty damn hard, yeah.”

You tip your head back, feel the weight of your tears and your eyes and your brain slap against the back of your skull, a nauseating pull at the nape of your neck. You’re defeated. Nothing left in you to argue, talk, even so much as breathe.

Your words drag between one another, each one beginning with the remnants of the one before it.

“Just - take me to bed.”

He’s standing inches from you, hands hovering over your own, hesitant or unwilling or fucking afraid to touch you.

You ball your fists against his chest and give him one tiny, ineffective shove. But he’s bigger, stronger, sober. He doesn’t budge. Accepting defeat, you breathe one last, “Fuck you,” and brush past him, staggering out of the kitchen.

Joel – water and painkillers in hand – watches you like a hawk going upstairs, arms braced for you to lean on anytime you begin to tumble backward. When you do, his hand brushes your elbow, and you whip it out of his reach and reel it back in to your body.

He settles you on the bed just like he did six days ago, after your rodeo night. Only he doesn’t kneel, doesn’t take your boots off. Just walks away, grabs a tee from your chest of drawers and hands it to you to slip into by yourself.

You don’t even have to open your eyes. You know which one he’s given you. Can tell from the feel of the material, the cracked lettering on the chest, that it’s his Rangers shirt, the same one he put on you the first night you slept together. Smells more like you than it does him these days, but feels just like he always does. And as he waits a safe two-feet from you for you to change, no hands reaching out to help, to fix your hair, to stroke your cheek – you think the shirt will just have to do.

Everything he does is close enough for you to recognize him as Joel, and yet distant enough for him to be someone totally different. Every move he makes is pre-determined, all outcomes already analyzed and mapped, all risks carefully averted. It’s like he’s walking a minefield.

He hands you a couple of pills and helps with lifting the water to your lips. Then he sits at the end of your bed and applies the band-aid while you drag a makeup wipe clumsily over your face.

His thumbs linger on your fucked leg, rubbing over the padded dressing a few times after it’s stuck on, gentle and slow. Eyes never leaving the spot your skin broke open. And then, when you’re done with it, he takes the makeup wipe and quickly runs it down your calf, cleaning the dry blood from your skin.

Touch as delicate as though he were holding a rose – fingers brushing over your body like you might tear or fall apart at the slightest movement. When he’s done, he makes his way around to the opposite side of the bed.

“There’s a sleeping bag in the hall closet if you’d rather take the floor,” you tell him, rolling back and pulling your knees to your chin.

“Nah,” Joel says with the groan of a near-fifty-year-old man, kicking his boots off and propping his pillows up. “We’re close enough by now.”

He pulls the flannel from his shoulders and tosses it to the end of the bed, then slips in under the covers beside you, clasping his hands on his chest. His entire body a perfectly polite distance away.

Your wrist lifts, weak and limp, and your fingers ghost across his red wine knuckles. He winces a little, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you trace the curves of his hands, surfing the valleys where the bone drops, then back up to the peaks where the blood breaks from his skin.

“You didn’t have to…” you whisper. “He was just some dirtbag.”

He sniffs. Replies to you in his head, translated through the look in his eye. Wasn’t all about the dirtbag.

And you know it. Knox was just an asshole who took the hit for the last four days. Sure, he deserved it. But his big, ugly face and the uglier words which happened to tumble out of it were simply a punchbag full of sand; Joel’s fist hammering into it was as much about defending you as it was about punishing someone, anyone, the first fucker who wound up on the wrong side of him, for everything that had happened.

He's angry. At himself and at you and at this entire fucking mess. And you’re angry. At yourself and at him and at the very same thing. The two of you lie side by side in the dark, both broken and bruised and bleeding. You let out a small, pathetic sigh, and Joel echoes it.

His eyes close over and you stare at him. Stare at the faint lines on his face that slowly fade as he relaxes more, falls closer and closer to sleeping. Watch his chest slowly rising and falling, and his hands moving up and down with it. His entire body is still. Like it’s the first calm he’s had in a while. The first time he’s been able to settle.

And you stare at him. For hours, feels like. You stare at him until sleep, or alcohol, or something stronger coats over your vision and sweeps him out of focus.

----------

The wall opposite your window is lit with a single stripe of bright, nauseating orange, the sunrise staring in between your drapes. There are birds screaming outside. Your head is still throbbing and your throat feels like splintered wood and the other side of your bed is empty.

He can’t have left long ago. The mattress is still warm under the sheets he’s folded back over. His shirt is sat folded on the pillowcase.

You grab it and haul yourself out of bed – head still spinning, you trip out of your room.

He’s gotta be in the kitchen. He’ll be standing at the counter drinking a coffee, he’ll mumble a Mornin’, then pull you in and kiss the top of your head. He’ll ask how you’re feeling and if you want some breakfast. He’ll be Joel again.

“Joel…?” you call, rounding the bottom of the stairs toward the kitchen. No response.

The clock on the oven reads 5:57. The kitchen is deserted. When you loop around the island – as if he’d be crouched behind it or something – you notice an empty mug sitting in the sink, trails of black coffee at the bottom.

Your shaking hands cup around the ceramic. It’s cooling, but it’s warm.

He’s been in here.

“Joel!” you yell. Come out, now, this ain’t funny anymore.

You hear the squeak of wheels rolling to a stop outside and flee over to the living room windows, daybreak burning your eyes when you peer through the shades.

You’re frantically searching, going blind with the bright rays singeing your corneas, pacing back and forth between each window to get an angle on the street that will show you his truck. Show you him.

You don’t even notice the sound of keys in the door, or the rattle it makes as it pushes open.

“Hey, kiddo.”

You whip around. The owner of the voice lifts a hand to his puffy eyes and rubs them, yawning.

“H-hi, Dad.”

You look fucking insane. Hair all over the place, makeup haphazardly removed, Joel’s flannel shirt hanging from your fist. Wearing nothing but a long tee, a blood-seeped band-aid on your calf.

“Good night?” he says with a sleepy chuckle. “I am pooped. You want anythin’ before I head up to bed?”

You shake your head, but he’s not looking. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“Alright, I’m gonn–”

“Where’s Joel?”

Your desperation has reached a new high. Your pride, a new low. You just want him back, don’t care who knows or thinks or suspects what. Just come back.

“Huh?”

“Joel? He brought me home and I woke up and he’s gone.”

“He – Well, I…I suppose he’ll be at work, hon. He can’t stick around here all day.” He smiles weakly, and then swivels on his heels.

“He text you?”

He sighs, his back still turned. “What has gotten into…? Here.”

Your dad twists and throws his phone toward you. It lands on the carpet at your feet. Then he turns back and begins climbing the stairs.

“See ya in a few hours.”

When he turns the corner on the landing and his footsteps fade out of earshot, you bend and your fingers clutch his phone.

He has one unread text from Joel.

You unlock the phone with a click and open up the message thread. Your half-drunk, half-sleepy eyes flit across the screen, leaning back against the arm of the couch to read every word he ever sent your dad.

Joel: She’s in bed. Sat with her for a bit to make sure she didn’t roll onto her back. She’s a little worse for wear. I got a job up in Waco I need to be at in an hour, so I gotta head.

You scroll further back.

Joel: She okay?

Joel: Sarah says she hasn’t heard from her in a few days. We can come over for dinner tonight if you reckon that might help?

Further back still.

Joel: Sure, not doing anything anyway. Sarah in Nashville. Tell her to text me when she’s ready to be picked up. Hope she enjoys her rodeo night 🤠

Joel: Table booked for 6. Get you both at 5:45. Looking forward to it.

You scroll until your eyes hurt.

Joel: No answer. She’ll be home soon I bet.

Joel: You ever seen Grey’s Anatomy? Pretty good TV

Joel: Your daughter available tonight to help me put up stuff for Sarah coming home? I fear what might happen if I attempt it myself

You read the final message, the first thing he sent your dad after you got home. Six days in. He’d driven you home from work.

Joel: No problem, wouldn’t have her walking home in the rain. Was nice to see her again. She’s a sweetheart.

You’re laid back across the couch, your legs hanging over the armrest. You drop the phone to your chest and stare up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling a lot more sober.

She’s a sweetheart.

Your throat tightens around a sob. Like a fist clenching around your neck, crushing your breath to nothing. Your eyes well, tears slowly flood across your vision and then spill over, running rapidly down to your ears and seeping into the fabric of the couch. You’re still silent. Still unable to open your mouth.

You’re doing everything you can to hold back. To stop it from happening. But your chest feels like it could burst, and your eyes are screwing shut tighter and tighter, and your body curls up like an animal succumbing to a mortal wound, and then –

Then, you break.

It forces its way from your throat, hammering against the sides of your mouth before it’s escaping, tearing away from your lips and hurtling skyward. A deep, violent exhale. Broken, and painful, and heavy.

There’s no one to hold back for. Just you, sat in your living room, clutching the flannel of a man who doesn’t want you anymore.

Your breath stammers, shudders against the palms of your hands as your fingertips massage your eyes. You’re crying like a little kid, and it’s not making you feel any better, but no matter what you do, it won’t stop.

And you don’t know why. You tell yourself that: I don’t know why I’m crying. Almost laugh when you think it through to yourself: sobbing at 6AM over someone you were sleeping with, for all of, what, four weeks? I don’t know why the fuck I’m crying.

Except – you do. You do. And you’re totally, completely, undeniably fucked.

You sigh and close your eyes.

You are – fucked.

----------

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messydiabolical · 8 months

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i’d once read a Mass Effect take that has been stewing in my melon ever since, about Wrex and him demanding a cure for the genophage during the war in 3. (I think it was on twitter but I can’t remember for sure. Just the idea of it stuck with me.) The general sentiment was that this was a dick move on his part, that there were “bigger problems” and this wasn’t the time and it was cruel and manipulative of him to put Shepard in that position. He should have helped out first and Shepard would have helped him back once the war was over. A lot of people chimed in agreeing, saying how they stopped liking Wrex after that. It bothered me for a bunch of reasons I didn’t feel I could adequately articulate, but i’m gonna try now. Prepare for my meandering thought style! The governing bodies of the Mass Effect Galaxy have repeatedly proven that they believe themselves superior to other species and know what’s best for everyone. They don’t let all species have a say in the council, always look out for their own species’ interests in so much as it pertains to keeping things as they are, and will happily go along with literal genocide to aid this. They approve of secret police and biological warfare espionage tactics. They weaponise bureaucracy to hide their cruelty behind ‘oh red tape has us bound, sorry uwu’. I’m going to try to remain pertinent to the Wrex subject but as one great example of these governing bodies ways of dealing with percieved outsiders: The first contact war is a great example of how ludicrous and fascist things are.. ‘It’s ilegal to use this thing so we’re going to kill you for it’ without so much as a heads up. How were humans supposed to know that, exactly? The governing bodies of this place do not care about anyone outside their own self interests. Fall out of line and they will work to end you. Until you prove you might be useful or of interest to them in some way (or a threat). And then of course we later learn the asari were breaking these laws themselves, hoarding this tech to stay superior. Classic. Anyway, back to Wrex. Wrex knows this. Wrex has seen how the krogan are regarded and treated, the dangerous monolith species, outsiders who can never be let in, never forgiven, never given a chance to grow or change. For a long arse time. “But the krogan were getting out of control and also committing genocide, the genophage was a last ditch resort to stop a galactic war” … And it’s been hundreds of years since then. That 'last ditch resort' wasn’t used as a stop gap, a reset to even out the playing field so that new negotiations and relations could be developed. It was used to end the krogan, and has been actively maintained to continue that, ever since. Do you really, truly believe that if Wrex petitioned the council/ world leaders to negotiate reversing the genophage, they’d even let him have an audience with them? And if they did, do you really think these people, with their history and all the shit they pull, would listen and be reasonable? I can already hear the responses, that weaponised bureaucracy (“you raise an interesting point Mr Wrex but unfortunately we are recovering from a war don’t you know, please come back in 300 years for review, we are very interested in discussing this further then!”) Wrex is old, wise and knows exactly what is up. The only way the governing bodies of power were ever going to have a listen, was if he had something they needed. The war with the reapers provided that. And even then, he knew that they wouldn’t listen outright; having Shepard’s voice was a way to get the foot in the door. It makes my heart hurt to think about that honestly; how dehumanising (dekroganising?) it must feel to be the ruler of your people and know that you have to rely on your alien friend to even get someone to listen to you, when what you want to say is an extremely reasonable “hey committing genoicde against my people sucks, stop that now”. Anyway, Wrex was right, this was his one chance to save his people and he took it. Good for him.

#mass effect #urdnot wrex #wrex #my hot take of the day #I usually avoid hot takes because discourse is exhausting #but this one has been revolving in my mind for like a year since I read it #and I read that great post about how dystopian mass effects governments are earlier and my mind has THOUGHTS now

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comicaurora · 3 months

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In your asks and other outside-of-comic statements, you seem to draw on parallels to programming a lot when talking about lacrimas.

And this makes me think as a programmer: the primordial rules that are used in Auroras to do magic and lacrimas are part of the primordial language. You are literally telling the primordial's dead bodies what to do, and they obey.

Yet, the difference that comes to my mind is that Primordial was at one point a language actually spoken. Used to communicate in day-to-day life by normal sentient beings. That's quite different from programming languages, which aren't meant to be talked in at all, and are built from the ground up purely to convey a series of precise instructions. They're very formalised and structured. There are no synonyms, no double meanings, no altering of word order, no redundant information etc. It's extremely rigid, much unlike languages people actually talk in, for which a degree of fluidity and ambiguity is essential.

And in Aurora it would seem the latter is being used as the former.

Have you ever thought about this tension/contradiction/conflict? How it affects the world, how it affects your writing, etc?

Or has this distinction never crossed your mind?

Or was this something you have noticed, but never really had the right knowledge to engage with much?

Or any other thoughts on the subject, really

So! This is an interesting thing I have actually thought about.

When the Elder Races were first created, they were born knowing and speaking a language innovatively called the First Language. Every new Young Race is also initially created speaking this language. The language then drifts over the generations, developing into regional dialects and then into separate linguistic descendants if given enough time.

The Ancients spoke a close descendent of the First Language for most of their time in existence, and made a writing system of their own very early on, which has no innate power. But in the early days of the world, the generally accepted story is that a god granted the three elder races knowledge of the written Runic language, which could command the elements. The Ancients acquired it late and used it very sparingly, only for the programming of lacrimas, but for the Elves and Humans living in the depths of the Caves, this was their first and primary writing system. It's even possible that a rare cave-dweller brave enough to venture to the surface was the one who taught the Ancients these runes in the first place.

It's posed an obvious question, of course. Why does this one specific form of writing manifest as a language of magic? Why can it command the dead Primordials? Why is it so well-suited to the phonemes of the First Language that every child of this world is created speaking?

The predominant theory - and, with two living primordials to check with, one which is potentially on the cusp of being proven - is that the First Language and its runic writing system are the language that the Primordials spoke. Its words, written or spoken, can be understood by the remnants of thought that still linger in the sleeping, dead-but-not-entirely-gone primordials that make up the world.

Primordial magic is different from programming in one key way: real computers are entirely unthinking entities. They are not in any way smart - not even smart enough to be stupid. A computer parsing a program cannot observe a missing parentheses and compensate like a human could do in their sleep - it simply fails to parse, because the mathematics don't work out.

Magic in this world is like what every programmer wishes programming could be. Tell the computer what to do, and it might be a little confused, but it'll get the gist. Tell Fire to burn in this direction - Fire, even if it's just running on an echo of a seven-thousand-year-old memory, knows what that means. Tell the wind to printf this statement to this recipient, it'll try to find them and send the message. Tell Life to make this body do what it's doing faster, it can do that. It's simple executions of simple commands, almost reflexive - things that require no complex higher thought from a being that is no longer alive enough to have them. They're not as unthinking as computers, and that means the nuances of language can actually have an effect on them. Some mages think more poetic and emotionally-charged spell invocations can lead to better, more efficient results - an appeal to a long-dead emotion might be easier for the Primordial to execute than an appeal to a half-forgotten complex thought.

When a mage takes direct control of a magical energy and funnels it into an elemental effect, their own higher thought allows the element to do more complicated things - Fire can't transmute on its own like it could when it was alive, but it can when bent to a mortal will. No need to translate a spell into the language of magic when the mage can simply use their own mind to shape the effect. This is the primary advantage mages have over lacrima-users - flexibility, complexity, and speed.

Another interesting factor. Alinua's dynamic with Life demonstrates what a living Primordial's living thought can do when in the hands of a mortal. A normal, simple healing spell cast by anybody but her just accelerates a body's own healing, but with Alinua's guidance steadying Life's hand, they can do much more complicated things of her own free will - things Life knows how to do that no mage knows how to command her to do.

#asks #aurora

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desperate-gay · 7 months

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leah being boyfriend leah (cause we al love boyfriend leah) and trying to get the reader to take her medicine AND then BOOM teammates walk in (specify if you like) and like nobody knew they were together they though like FRIENDS

HAVE FUNN ILYYY DOMESTIC

Medicine

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

It was the time of year when the weather started to shift a little and everybody got sick. You, of course, are one of those lucky participants. This morning you woke up congested with a pounding headache, and your girlfriend took quick notice of this.

And here you are, still in bed arguing with Leah that you are perfectly fine. She stands at the end of the bed in a tank top with her arms crossed over her chest, giving you a look.

“Baby, I’m fine.” You assure her, yet you still remain in bed with the covers resting over your body. Your girlfriend has noticed you kicking and pulling the blankets up constantly through the night and morning, most likely because you have a cold and you’re experiencing temperature fluctuations. But you being you, you are too stubborn to let her know she’s right.

“I will give you €20 and I will leave you alone if you close your mouth and breathe through your nose.”

You squint your eyes at her, knowing where she is getting at. The chances if you do follow through with it, you’ll either suffocate or you will get proven wrong. Her eyebrows are raised, waiting for you to do something. You shake your head and get up out of bed.

“I gotta pee.”

Leah rolls her eyes at your obvious attempt to avoid the situation. “Would you stop being so bloody stubborn and just admit you are sick!” She shouts over the closed bathroom door. After a few seconds, she hears the toilet flush and the door open. You step out for just a second and give her a pointed look.

“I am not sick.”

Turning around, you make your way back into the bathroom to brush your teeth. “It’s not a bad thing you know. It happens to you almost every year.” Leah follows you, demanding that you give up on your front.

“Well lucky for me, it’s not happening this year.” Your words are muffled by your frothy mouth, but Leah understands every syllable. She sits on the standing tub and just stares at you through the mirror.

Once you’re done, you wipe your mouth with a rag and turn your body to look at the blonde. You place your hands on the counter behind you and look back at her. Finally, she stands up and puts her hands up in surrender.

“Fine. Then I guess you wouldn’t mind on Mills and Rach comin’ over, would ya?” Leah was already walking out of the bathroom, too ahead to see your eyes widening. Of course, you love the two but together? Together they are chaotic. And that would just add more pressure to your head, but you have to act like you’re excited to see them or Leah will question why you don’t want them over. While walking away, the blonde has a smug smile etched on her face, knowing exactly what she’s doing. She just wants you to admit that you’re feeling under the weather so she can wrap you up and take care of you.

“That sounds great, baby!” Her smile drops at your reply, and little does she know, so does yours.

—

A couple of hours later, both you and Leah lay on the couch, snuggled up in a blanket, watching Brooklyn 99. Your head leans on her shoulder while her arm is wrapped over yours, her hand rubbing up and down your arms, keeping you close. You feel a tickle in your throat and you bring up your fist to try and muffle your cough, but Leah notices your body jerking.

“Alright, that’s enough. I’m getting you some medicine.” She gets up from the sofa and heads toward your bedroom to get the cold medicine.

She returns to the living room with a spoon in one hand and a bottle in the other, making your eyes pop out of your head. “Leah, I am okay-“

“No, you’re not, and you are going to take this medicine right now.” Her voice is stern as she pours the syrup on the metal. You bounce up and start to make a run for it. “Y/n, I swear to god!” She places the spoon gently on the table and runs to find you.

As Leah is chasing you around the house, the door opens revealing Millie and Rachel with a few treats in their hands. They’re about to call out for the both of you before they are cut off by you sprinting past them, Leah hot on your trail.

“You will never catch me!”

“I will force this down your throat and you will take it!”

Both of the guests' eyes widen and they look at each other, Millie mouthing a wow as Rachel nods in agreement. They hear a huge thump along with a few screams.

“Get off of me!” Leah had somehow tricked you and hid herself in a corner where you were running past, giving her a chance to tackle you to the ground. Her legs clutch together your legs while her arms pin yours to the wooden floor.

“Millie, Rachel! Get me the syrup from the table, now!”

“Don’t listen to her, you guys!”

The two cluelessly drop the snacks and grab the medicine to give to Leah. When they come into the kitchen, they quickly hand the defender the spoon and bottle and back away, seeing you struggle underneath her. You gasp and look at the two.

“Traitors.”

Leah moves up so her knees are pinning your arms, leaving her hands free to gather what she needs. You continue to move your legs, hoping she might spill and give up, but much to your dismay, she has a steady ground. Millie and Rachel have already made their way to the living room to find something to watch so they can eat their food.

Your girlfriend pours the red liquid onto the spoon and starts to move it towards your mouth. You continuously shake your head back and forth, making it almost impossible to make it in your mouth, but the blonde uses her other free hand to grab your jaw and hold it in its place.

“Baby, please. We- we can talk about this.” You try and reason, but she just shakes her head with a smirk on her face.

“Nuh uh, now open wide, doll.” Her hand squeezes your cheeks, causing your jaw to slack open. The cold metal clanks against your teeth as the cherry syrup glides its way down your throat. You squeeze your eyes in disgust, hoping for the taste to go away as soon as possible. “See that wasn’t that bad.” Leah smiles when you open your eyes and leans down to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

Your tongue hangs out in disgust to show that it really was that bad. Your girlfriend rolls her eyes and gets off of you, offering you a hand which you take. The two of you walk into the living room to see Millie and Rach laughing at what seems to be the movie Grown Ups on the TV.

“Hello there, love birds!” Rachel says with a laugh. Leah places her arm over your shoulder and chuckles at your pouting face. She brings you back to the sofa to resume the position you were in not too long ago.

—

By nighttime, the duo left, leaving you and your girlfriend in the house alone. Your headache had luckily gone away, but your nose was still clogged, you constantly felt like you had to cough, and your hearing felt muffled.

Once in bed, you cuddle up to Leah with your head on her chest and her arm wrapped around you. Her eyes are closed but yours are still open.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m sick.”

With her eyes still closed, she laughs at your final admission and kisses you on the forehead, pulling you closer to her.

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #leah being bf #bf leah williamson #leah williamson #woso #lgbtq

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ugotcooneycrossed · 4 months

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im so obsessed with your ex! • courtney nevin // kyra cooney-cross

w/c: ~1k

you're with courtney now- but courtney was with kyra- and maybe- you're just a little too obsessed with her ex

------------------------------------------------------------

you watch your girlfriend warm up before her match- smiling at her when she grins and pulls faces at you from across the field. your vision only slightly obscured by the beanie you’ve stolen from her.

with winter well and truly arriving in england- you’re left shivering on the sidelines once again.

you wouldn’t trade it for the world though.

courtney abandons warmups in favour of running up to you on the sidelines- and you open your arms to let her crash into you.

“hi!”

“hi baby!”

she grins at you- pecking your lips and pulling away, her hands still hold your own, rubbing her gloved ones to warm up your bare ones.

“ready for the game?”

“ready to watch me win?”

she counters- flexing her arms with a grin.

your brief moment together is cut short- courtney getting called away, back to warmup with her team, and your attention falls to the commotion starting near the tunnel.

the other team- arsenal, make their way onto the pitch, and you can see familiar faces- courtney’s national teammates, and well, of course- her ex-girlfriend.

kyra cooney-cross is a name you are very familiar with- not that courtney knows. she’s only talked about her a couple times, always with a roll of her eyes and in a tone that makes your stomach drop.

you’re not exactly sure what happened between them- but just that it was over a year ago now, and you’ve been with courtney just a little bit less than that.

your eyes leave your girlfriend and drift towards kyra involuntarily- she’s loud, even over the chattering of fans nearby you can hear her laugh, watching her jump on her teammates and run from them when they turn to chase her. your mouth ticks into a smile and you don’t notice courtney frowning at you on the other side.

both teams retreat back into the tunnel to change for the game- and return back onto the field shortly after.

and when they go to shake hands, kyra and courtney skip over each other- and if you weren’t so focused on them you would’ve missed it.

the game begins and your cheering rings out from the crowd- and it only increases tenfold when leicester score twice in a row.

courtney blows you a kiss at halftime and you catch it with a grin- arms pumping in the air. she copies you- catching remy when she jumps on her, and you watch them practically skip together to the changerooms.

your eyes drift to the arsenal girls again- and a pair of brown eyes catch your own, kyra stares at you- a look you can’t quite decipher on her face, and you wave a little- frowning when she turns on her heels and walks away.

you don’t know whether arsenal have sacrificed a fan at halftime- or if they called leah williamson to yell at them, but whatever they did- they’re absolutely ruthless and you can

tell it’s getting on courtney’s nerves.

you wince when she takes out kyra- walking away without acknowledging the other girl, kyra- on her part, picks herself up, and dusts herself off, getting ready for the free kick. her free kick which results in a goal- arsenal’s number 24 nudging the ball into the back of the net.

the game ends, 6-2 arsenals way.

and you know courtney will be quick to shower to leave the stadium.

you’ve moved away from fans now- standing alone to wait for your girlfriend.

you’re proven right when your girlfriend emerges from the tunnel minutes later- waving you over.

“hi.”

you pull her into a hug- and she collapses into you, rubbing her back, you kiss the side of her head.

“you were amazing- im so proud of you baby.”

she hums at that- sighing quietly, and pulling away from your embrace, she stretches her neck, rolling her shoulders back. she grabs your hand- leading you towards the exit. remy joins you both- following along on courtney’s other side- the pair chatting quietly.

a voice calls out to your little group.

“court! remy!”

you look up- smiling at steph as she approaches, flanked closely by caitlin.

you stand a little behind courtney- letting them chat and catch up, still a little unfamiliar with the pair.

another person approaches from behind steph and caitlin- swinging their arms onto the aussies shoulders. kyra- she mutters a quick hello when she sees courtney- arms dropping from steph and caitlin, choosing to hover behind them instead- head nodding along to what is said.

you stare at her from over courtney’s shoulder- eyes tracing the features of her face.

you can definitely tell why courtney had a crush on her.

kyra looks up at you- as if she knew you were staring, and you look away just as quick, moving to grab courtney’s hand again.

kyra smiles at you this time though- and you can feel courtney’s hand tighten around yours.

the journey home is tense and quiet between you and courtney- you stopped trying to initiate conversation with her a few minutes in. and when you do finally get home- she disappears off into the bedroom while you make your way to the kitchen to start dinner.

she returns half an hour later- her arms circling your waist from behind, her head resting on your back.

“you okay?”

you question her.

“yeah fine.”

she pauses for a second- pulling away from you.

“i saw you staring at her today.”

your eyebrow furrows.

“who?”

“you know.”

you pause- racking your brain of what to say.

“there’s a reason we don’t talk anymore you know.”

“i-“

“don’t. just let me talk- we used to date, i know, you know that. and i know you want to know why we split. she’s jealous- like, a very jealous person, and we fought a lot- over lots of stupid things. so you’ve got no reason to be jealous of her baby.”

“right. okay good! thanks for telling me court.”

you wrap your arms around her neck- pulling her into a hug, squeezing tight.

“of course- i love you, and only you know.”

she squeezes you tight.

because that’s all you were- just jealous.

courtney falls asleep against you hours later- her arm wrapped around your stomach as she dozes off. your phone lights up- illuminating the dark room for a second. reaching over carefully, you grab your phone- eyes squinting to adjust to the bright screen. one notification stands out from the rest.

kyracooneyx has requested to follow you.

#kyra cooney cross x reader #courtney nevin x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

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bradshawsbitch · 1 year

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halo effect | bradley bradshaw x reader

PLEASE, heed these warnings. this is porn without plot, 18+ only, minors absolutely do NOT interact!!

disclaimer; this came about after an unhinged convo with @whoreforseresin thank you sofi!!! this is just a smidge dark. hyper realism(?).

Bradley is in his late thirties/early forties. daddy.

this one goes out to all us fatherless girlies 🫶

plot: Commander Bradshaw is content with his job as a Top Gun instructor and mentor, and very careful to never abuse his power...

word count; 2.8K.

warnings; female reader, afab, daddy kink, ddlg, abuse of power, power imbalance, naval inaccuracies, condescencion, dumbification, sub space, ass play, spit kink, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, hair pulling, spanking, dry sex, size kink(?), rank kink(?), uhhhh rooster has a huge cock we been knew.

tagging people who might like; @notroosterbradshaw @roosterforme @mak-32 @roleycoleyreccenter @lewmagoo @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @hangmanbrainrot @sebsxphia @roosterbruiser @theharddeck @gretagerwigsmuse @mothdruid @laracrofted @sunlightmurdock @topguncortez

Nothing could have prepared Rooster for this situation. For how he had so easily fallen into skewed morals and excuses. After climbing the ranks and being honored to come on as an instructor for Top Gun as he neared his forties, Bradley felt comfortable in the choices he’d made, the views he had - and he felt very strongly about right and wrong, and not abusing the power he held as a higher ranking officer than some of his pupils.

Commander Bradshaw was still flying most days, spending countless hours researching and learning more of new technology, working closely with engineers and lecturing and offering advice to those attending his lectures. Just recently, he’d been assigned a trainee, a woman in her mid to late twenties, who’d finished up at Top Gun just the year before. That’s where it had started.

In the beginning, she’d been like any other colleague, and Rooster had been careful to treat her as he would any other individual he was the responsible supervisor for. He was supposed to help her in her path to becoming an instructor, just like himself. She was sharp. Witty, and always had a quick mouth - something that had gotten her into some trouble with him in the beginning. She was used to taking up space unapologetically, and that, Rooster admired immensely.

Now though, as he had her bent over his desk with her flight suit pooled by her ankles, her soft gasps spilling from parted lips, Rooster wondered briefly if he was abusing his position of power over her. He’d of course noticed the way her eyes twinkled, the way she bit her lip and seemed so eager to please her superior officer and mentor. How she’d lightheartedly flirted, and how he had done nothing to stop it. In fact, he’d found himself winking at her when their eyes met across the room.

Something he knew she thought he did with everyone to check in on them - she was however proven wrong when Rooster had begun to inch closer to her when they were in conversation, towering over her, letting his boot knock with hers, his hand brush close to her body as he reached for a folder.

She was intoxicating though, and Rooster was only a man after all, with her soft curves and fucking incredible tits… it was difficult not to get affected when she reacted so strongly to his subtle flirtations.

She had come into his office late one night, asking questions after a grueling day of flight training and offering her advice on her research. That night she had seemed so high strung, a slight whine and breathlessness to her voice as she spoke “Commander Bradshaw…” as she entered the room, brows furrowed, eyes misty with frustration as she showed him a passage that was underlined heavily in her book.

“I– I don’t, fuck, it doesn’t make any sense when compared to the F-35, sir–” Bradley could only let the softest of smiles grace his lips as his hand moved on its own accord, reaching up to let the back of his hand stroke her cheek softly.

“Shh, calm down… relax,” his voice was steady and deep, intending to halt her in her stressed out spiral. What he didn’t anticipate was the soft whimper that would leave her at his touch, her head falling forward slightly as her breath hitched in her throat.

“Is there something the matter, Lieutenant?” Bradley raised a brow, a small smirk on his face as he braved up, letting his palm slide to grip her chin, eliciting another gasp from her plump parted lips.

“Are you high strung, Lieutenant?” Rooster purred, and was rewarded by her soft, compliant noise, brows furrowed and breathing labored as she nodded pitifully against his palm.

“Aw, do you need your Commander to help you relax a little?” nodding again, Rooster let himself sit back in his office chair, legs spread, inviting her to straddle him if she so pleased.

With a soft moan she sank down, her hands quickly gripping his shoulders as her legs encompassed his hips, toes barely gracing the floor, putting her weight right on top of his stirring cock. Another soft whimper left her lips, followed by a pout “Commander Bradshaw…” Rooster let his large hands grip her hips, his lips slowly exploring the exposed skin of her neck as she mewled softly at his touch. Hips swiveling slowly down against his hardening cock.

“Shh, baby… I’ll guide you through this, I’ll help you out,” Bradley murmured against her neck as he helped her grind her clothed cunt against him.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good already, baby,” her soft moan urged him on, gripping her hips tighter and fucking up into her core. The friction of her clothed pussy against the underside of his cock felt heavenly, and as his khaki uniform trousers tented, he felt his swollen tip catch against her surely soaked core… he was so close, felt his cockhead sink just slightly… just what the fabric of their uniforms would allow. He cursed softly under his breath, which had picked up considerably as his trainee bounced on his lap, sighing and gasping as she felt his hard cock stimulate her sensitive clit.

“Please, Rooster–” small hands grasped at his shirt, his hair, his shoulders - needy for more “please, fuck me, I need you so bad,” looking into her eyes, he saw that she did need him. Needed him perhaps more than he originally thought. There was a vulnerability in her gaze that made his cock twitch, a trust there, and an innocent need to please him - that paired with her soft cry as she came had Rooster shooting his load in his pants, grunting hard as they kissed sloppily for the first time.

And so it had progressed. Rooster had never met a woman like her, had never met anyone who was willing to put their trust in him as she did. She trusted him to care for her, to see to her safety and wellbeing - not only in their line of work, but sexually too. She followed his lead, so deliciously submissive and pliant, hanging on to his every word. They’d discussed it all of course after that first time, when Rooster had spotted that glint, that misty, faraway look in her eye - the one that made him suspect she desperately needed to let go… to slip away. To be taken care of.

So now, a half year down the line, he had her bent over his desk, her soft mewls still filling his otherwise silent office. “Roos–” she whined, before receiving a harsh spank to her ass as Bradley dragged his cock between her slick asscheeks. He’d made a point of spreading her slick, letting his own spit slowly drip from his mouth, reveling in the way her body spasmed as it unexpectedly came into contact with her tight hole, dribbling slowly down to her puffy cunt.

“Look at you, so pretty… what do you need, baby?” Rooster was cooing, letting his palm soothe the sting it had just landed on her ass, kneading and separating her cheeks just to see how her holes were clenching around nothing in anticipation of his cock.

“D-daddy!” fuck, how he loved when she called him that. A growl rumbled deep within his chest as he brought his hand up to fist her hair, roughly pulling her against his broad chest.

“You want daddy to fuck this tight litte pussy of yours?” he gritted out through clenched teeth, biting down on her earlobe as she whined and squirmed against his strong hold. “Need this needy little cunt to be filled with daddys cock?” gasping and whining, she nodded, a pitiful whimper leaving her as her chest heaved rapidly.

“Tell me. Tell me you want to be filled to the brim with my cum.” Bradley commanded, one hand roughly grasping her tit, pinching her pebbled nipple before palming it again.

“Please, please… daddy– need y’to fill.. my needy little pussy,” she gasped as Roosters thick fingers delved into her slick folds, drawing sharp, tight circles on her clit, before letting his fingers slip into her to prepare her for him “w-want your hot cum so– so deep in me.. oh fuck, Rooster!”

“Mm, good girl… so good for your daddy, is that it?” she nodded, almost sobbing as his fingers retracted from her fluttering pussy, only to sob in relief as he shoved the same fingers into her mouth, her tongue eagerly swirling around them, and those pretty lips suckling him so good.

“You’re being so good baby, asking so nicely for daddy’s cock,” he was cooing now, something he knew made her eyes roll back into her head, body almost going limp against his hold as her breath hitched.

Slowly, he lowered her back down to his desk, her bare chest resting against the wood, legs spread for him. Letting the tip of his cock slowly drag up and down her folds, parting them and gently letting it prod at her entrance, she whimpered again. Rooster groaned softly as he looked at how the head of his cock slowly sank in, just the tip, before he withdrew again - over and over, letting her clenching opening create delicious pleasure around his sensitive cockhead.

Moaning softly, he withdrew slowly to push in a bit deeper, reveling in the way her desperate moans fell more frequently now, hips rutting back against his cock to try to fuck herself onto his cock. It was honestly adorable.

Strong hands gripped her hips “Gotta stay still for me baby, daddy decides when you’re ready to take it all,” his voice was stern, and now he could see tears glittering in her eyes as she let out a small sob, one that made his heart clench just a little in his chest. “Aw, baby, shhh, I’ll give it to you, daddy’s here - don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you sweet thing,” he murmured as he fucked his cock slowly deeper and deeper, withdrawing slightly before fucking himself closer and closer to the hilt of his cock.

“Taking it so well, honey… fuck, look at you… look so pretty with my cock buried so deep in your needy cunt,” Rooster again let his spit slowly drip onto her hole, and he felt her pussy hug his cock a little tighter as it made contact with her skin, a broken moan tumbling from her lips as she repeated the words “daddy” over and over again.

“That’s it, baby - let go for me… I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, fucking into her in a steady rhythm, his palms squeezing and kneading her asscheeks, his thumb gently swirling his spit around her tight hole, making her chest heave and gasps and whimpers fell closer and closer together as he stretched her with his cock.

“Fuck, baby - you’d look so pretty with a cute little plug in that tight ass of yours… gotta fuck you when you’re all filled to the brim… you’d like that, wouldn’t you honey? Stuffed so full?” he was cooing again, heart warming at her little nod against the wood beneath her cheek. Rooster could see the streaks of tears that had fallen down those cute little cheeks, and saw a soft glimmer on the wood, which he realized must be a small pooling of her drool.

Throwing his head back, his cock stirred inside her plush cunt at the sight of her drooling for his fucking cock “Fuck, baby! You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he groaned as he sped up, his fat cockhead brushing against her spot over and over again, drawing high pitched whines and sobs from her form.

“Answer me.” he growled, letting his palm gently swat at her asscheek “No, daddy! Don’t–” god, this fucking brilliant girl, smart as all hell, had just yesterday talked him through advanced aerodynamics, was fucked so dumb by his cock.

“Too much of a dumb baby huh? My dumb little slut,” Rooster sounded just a bit condescending, letting his thumb swipe away some of the drool that had gathered by the corner of her pretty lips. A pout was forming as she nodded obediently “Your dumb little baby slut, daddy,” she didn’t even make sense, Rooster looked at her with pity as he drove deeper and deeper into her.

“You’re so pretty like this, sweetheart, so dumb for me,” only gasps was leaving you now as Roosters grip on your hips tightened, fucking into you deeper and harder, almost lifting you clean off the floor to get a deeper angle, driving your hips to meet his thrusts as he felt that familiar tightening in his lower abdomen, could feel his balls tightening with the need to spill deep into your welcoming heat.

“Daddy I’m– gon’-- oh, s-so good, please, please,” you were babbling incoherently, but Bradley knew you were close, could feel your fluttering walls. Every time he made you cum from penetration alone, he felt on top of the fucking world.

“Please fuck me fuck me fuck– don’t stop, oh god, Rooster don’t stop, please - keep fucking me so good, I’m gonna cum so hard on your cock, please— oh! I love your cock daddy, fuck, I love– I– please cum in me Sir, please I’ve been so good please let me have your load” you were sobbing, eyes rolling back in your head as Bradley’s harsh, deep thrust picked up speed, thick head repeatedly hitting that sweet spot over and over as he slammed your hips back against his thrusts, your feet now off the floor as he had your hips and ass in a tight grip against his cock.

“Cum for me, baby, daddy’s gonna fill you up so good,” Rooster growled, throwing his head back as he felt you tip over the edge, creaming on his cock with a drawn out string of moans, intertwined with ‘daddy’ and what sounded like ‘thank you’.

Bradley himself drove harder into you, speeding up and fucking you through your orgasm, eyes transfixed on the way his cock moved in and out of your cunt, seeing it become wetter, a ring of your creamy cum settling against his base. The sight was enough for Bradley to stutter his hip, driving deep, hips flush with your ass as he twitched and shot his warm load deep into your fluttering pussy, hips jerking slightly to grind it deeper into you.

Grunting loudly, Bradley stayed with his softening cock buried deep within you as he caught his breath. Your upper body was still pressed against the desktop, and Bradley gently slipped out of you before he gathered you in his strong arms, shushing you softly as you nuzzled your face into his neck, his scent soothing you.

“Did so good for me baby, felt so fuckin incredible… are you okay, sweet thing?” Bradley was stroking your hair, kissing your forehead and making sure his arms were wound tight around you, wanting you to feel safe and cared for.

“Feel so good, daddy…” you murmured against his skin, pawing softly at his bare chest whilst nuzzling even closer into his neck, making him smile. “You’re so good to me, baby, sweetest girl I know,” Bradley murmured softly, gently guiding you to the sofa situated against one of the walls of his home office, where he laid you down, before rising.

“Where you going?” you pouted as he moved to retrieve some water and a snack from his nearby stash. “Shh, baby, just want to care of my baby love, okay? Getting us some nice drinks, some wipes so I can clean you up real good okay, honey?” he spoke slow and soft, and a soft little smile played on your lips, eyes still a little dazed and hazy as you nodded.

“Good girl,” Bradley praised as he came back, cleaning you up and helping you drink and have a little something to eat before he again wrapped you up in his arms, letting you settle against his chest, where he could feel you leaving kisses as you sighed happily.

“Love you, babygirl,” Bradley murmured, kissing the top of your head.

“Luv you, Roos,” you murmured back as your eyes drifted closed. Bradley was well aware that he shouldn’t have started this all of those months ago, and maybe he had abused his influence as your mentor and instructor… but fuck, it felt so good. Felt so good to know you let him take care of you, relieve you of the stress of being one of the most brilliant women at Top Gun.

#a demon possessed me y'all i dont know #help #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #smut #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you

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thewulf · 20 days

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The Price of Protection || Captain John Price

Summary: Request -Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts... Read Rest Here

A/N: THIS ONE IS HEAVY. Please read the trigger warnings below. Thank you anon for trusting me with this. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (Not outright but hints), Heavy Angst, general COD warnings.

You had always admired your Captain for as long as you’ve known him. It wasn’t but almost three years ago now that you were assigned to Task Force 141. They were skeptical at first, as you would be too. Who was this little American girl infiltrating their ranks? This was a Task Force with the most brilliant minds and somehow you were there. Yet, you had proven yourself one of the most valuable assets to the team time and time again. You were good, great even, at your job. You could hack into anything, take over any camera you wanted, reroute rockets if you had the time allotted. You were the genius behind some of the missions that could’ve gone south fast. You were Captain Price’s secret weapon that he kept well hidden.

It took you a while to open up to the guys. But leave it to Soap to get you talking. After a year of trying your best to maintain the Ghost persona, Soap had successfully broken you down. They learned of your past, how you came to be so freakishly good with computers and hacking, where you went to school and where you grew up. You were an enigma to the team. And they grew to love you. It was slow until it wasn’t. You were an outcast until you weren’t. You found yourself laughing and bantering with John, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost time and time again. Suddenly, you were a part of the team, a true member of TF141.

Most times you would head out with the team to help them out. But sometimes you could do the job right from your home base. And this mission turned out to be one of those times. You didn’t hate that you didn’t get to go; you just felt a little left out when you stayed back. But Price always assured you it was for your safety above all else. Sometimes these missions were a little too dangerous for even you. Which of course led you to be more nervous than ever. If it was too dangerous for you, then what was it for them? Surely no walk in the park.

You walked with Price out to the chopper trying one last time. “Captain, are you sure? I can help with logistics once you get there.”

He gave you that signature soft Price smile before shaking his head softly. “I’m sure. It’s a quick in and out. No need to put you in the line of fire for it.”

“But…”

He cut you off. “I know you want to go. I really do. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable to this team.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. “I understand. Please be safe. Make sure everybody comes back in one piece.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Like we always do. We land at 0800 local time. Soap will be giving you a call then. We’ll see you soon.”

Pressing your lips together you forced a smile to him. “You better.” With a quick nod, you watched as he hopped in the chopper with the rest of the team. Soap flipped you off before the pilot ascended, leaving you in a fit of laughter, always the shit he was.

You had forgotten how much you disliked being away from the team. You felt so far, so disengaged. Even with MacTavish swearing like a sailor in your ear. You felt totally helpless but tried your best to do whatever you could for the team. The mission was successful but not without hiccup. Gaz had been shot, fortunately, it was just a small graze to the shoulder but nevertheless it reminded you of how fragile their lives were. How one misstep could take a best friend away from you. How crucial you really were to their livelihood.

The stress was getting to you tonight though. The thought of mortality was becoming too much. So, you found yourself at the bar just outside of base. What better way to bury your stresses away than to drink your worries away right with it? You weren’t usually so careless. But the worry and the helplessness got the better of you. One beer turned to two. Turned to a few shots bought by a man across the bar who was giving you the eyes. You’d seen him around base. Maybe even chatted for a brief time. But you chose to never give these men the time of day, until tonight. You knew the type and usually stayed far away. But it was a moment of weakness that got to you.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the edges of your worries dulled. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting sense of freedom from the constant pressure of your responsibilities. In the chatter and clinking of glasses you felt an unwanted hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see the man who had been buying you drinks. His smile was charming, but there was a hint of something predatory in his gaze. Instinctively you tensed as your senses were on high alert in your inebriated state.

You forced a polite smile, but you felt uneasy. The alcohol had clouded your judgment, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You knew you should’ve left right then and there. Find your way back to the safety of base, but a part of you hesitated. Maybe it was the loneliness or the desire to forget, but you entertained the idea of staying just a little longer.

As the minutes ticked on, you found yourself ensnared in a web of conversation with the soldier. His words were like honeyed poison, dripping with false charm and manipulation. He seemed to know just what to say. But beneath the surface there was a darkness lurking. A predatory intent masked by the guise of friendly banter. The alcohol eventually dulled your senses, clouding your judgment as you struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation. His words became a blur as each syllable merged into the next until they lost all meaning. But still you listened captivated by the illusion of connection he wove around you.

His touch was insistent. His hands lingering where they shouldn't have been sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between you and this stranger who seemed to know too much about you. But he only tightened his grip, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

As the night wore on, the line between consent and coercion blurred. Your protests drowned out by the relentless onslaught of alcohol and manipulation. You knew deep down that you didn't want this, that every fiber of your being screamed for you to escape. But you felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of his expectations. And so, with a soul weighed down by guilt and shame, you surrendered to his advances. Your body moving on autopilot as you sought refuge in the temporary oblivion of physical pleasure. But even as you gave in a part of you screamed in silent agony you mourned the loss of you usual control.

In the aftermath as the harsh light of reality pierced through the haze of alcohol and regret, you were left grappling with the devastating truth of what had transpired. You had been used, manipulated, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game. The guilt threatened to consume you, gnawing at your insides as you struggled to come to terms with what had happened. You blamed yourself, berating your own weakness and naivety. Wishing you had been stronger, smarter, better able to protect yourself. But deep down you knew the truth. You were not to blame. You were a victim of his manipulation, preyed upon by someone who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

The next day dawned with a heavy burden that seemed to press down upon your shoulders, weighing you down with the crushing weight of guilt and shame. As the TF141 team returned from their mission, the atmosphere in the base shifted. You left the air thick with an unspoken tension that hung over the corridors.

Alone in your room, you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of despair, the walls closing in around you with every passing moment. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, leaving salty trails in their wake as you grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a physical manifestation of the agony that churned within you. A relentless reminder of the betrayal of your own body and the violation of your trust. Every breath was a struggle, a battle against the suffocating weight of shame that threatened to crush you beneath its relentless onslaught.

Outside your door, the sounds of laughter from Soap and Gaz only served to deepen your anguish. You could hear Price and the others talking, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to their quarters. But despite the familiarity of their presence, you couldn't bring yourself to face them. You couldn't bear the thought of meeting their eyes and seeing the disappointment and judgment reflected back at you. Instead, you remained sequestered in your room. You isolated yourself from the world outside as you struggled to come to terms with what had actually happened.

As the hours passed and the weight of your guilt continued to bear down on you, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Soap, Gaz and even Ghost. Each notification felt like a sharp jab to your already fragile psyche, a painful reminder of the concern and judgment you knew awaited you on the other end of the line. Soap's messages were filled with words of worry and encouragement, his concern evident in the way he repeatedly asked if you were okay. Gaz's messages were more subdued, but no less concerned, his terse inquiries betraying the depth of his worry for your well-being.

You ignored their messages, unable to fake it to them. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in the cocoon of your own despair, the silence of your room offering little solace in the midst of your turmoil. But as the day wore on and hunger gnawed at your stomach, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to the cafeteria. It was late, far later than anyone else would-be getting dinner, or so you thought.

As you entered the desolate cafeteria, your heart sank at the sight of Ghost sitting alone at a table in the corner. Despite the emptiness of the room his presence felt suffocating, casting a harsh spotlight on the turmoil brewing within you. With a sigh you ignored him and walked up to serve yourself the usual dull military food. You felt Ghost's gaze boring into you. His eyes a mixture of concern and confusion as they lingered on your tear-stained face.

You filled your plate with food, your hands shaking as you struggled to maintain your composure. The weight of Ghost's scrutiny felt like a physical burden. But as you made your way past Ghost's table, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Your cheeks burned with shame as you tried to hide the evidence of your recent breakdown.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, you hurried away from Ghost's table. Your steps quickening as you sought refuge in the farthest corner of the room. You found an empty table and sat down keeping your head bowed as you focused on your food, desperate to avoid any further scrutiny. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Ghost's gaze burning into you. His concern was a palpable presence in the empty room. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every inch of your skin was laid bare for him to see. And as you picked at your food, your appetite all but forgotten in the wake of your turbulent emotions. You couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep up the charade. How long before the facade you had constructed came crashing down around you?

As Ghost approached your table, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your turbulent emotions, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Hey, kid," he greeted you in his trademark gruff tone, his voice carrying a note of concern beneath its rough exterior. "You alright?"

You tried to mask the evidence of your tears with a feeble attempt at a smile, but Ghost saw right through that. His keen eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.

"Yeah, just allergies acting up," you replied, your voice betraying the strain of your attempts to deflect his concern.

But Ghost wasn't fooled. He knew you better than that, could see the pain etched into every line of your face. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he accepted your explanation, though you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.

"I won't push ya," he said with his gravelly voice, his tone softened by a rare display of empathy. "But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here." With a grateful nod, you thanked him and watched as he walked out of the room leaving you to your thoughts.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains you found yourself ensnared in a labyrinth of restless thoughts. Each beam of sunlight seemed to illuminate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within you, highlighting the heavy shroud of guilt that enveloped your very being. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your pillow dampened by tears that ebbed and flowed.

Just as you had managed to drift into a fitful slumber the persistent knocking at your door shattered the fragile semblance of peace you had managed to find. Each rap on the door felt like a blow to your already fragile composure jolting you awake from the fleeting respite of sleep. Groggy and disoriented you stumbled across the room, every step a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy upon your shoulders.

With a heavy heart Captain John Price stood on the other side of the door, his hand hovering tentatively over the handle as he took in the sight before him. His breath caught in his throat, a pang of concern twisting in his chest at the sight of you. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you had been replaced by a sadness he rarely saw from you. A shadow of your former self. His heart clenched with a mixture of empathy and apprehension as he took in your fragile state. Every instinct urged him to gather you into his arms, to shield you from the pain that etched lines of sorrow upon your face. But he held back, knowing that you needed space to unravel the tangled threads of your emotions in your own time. With a silent prayer on his lips, Price waited for you to acknowledge him.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" you greeted him with a ghost of a smile, though it failed to reach your eyes, which still held traces of the turbulent night you had endured.

Price's gaze softened at the sight of you, his concern etched into every line of his expression. "Hey love," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that offered solace in the midst of your turmoil. "Missed you this morning at PT. Everything alright?"

You forced a tight-lipped smile, the effort of masking your inner turmoil nearly unbearable. Every word you spoke felt like a weight upon your chest, each syllable a struggle against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. "Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the unspoken troubles that gnawed at your conscience. Price's brow furrowed deeper in concern as he studied your haggard appearance. His gaze lingered on you, searching for answers in the depths of your tired eyes, his intuition telling him that there was more to your distress than a simple case of illness.

"You sure that's all it is?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He had known you long enough to recognize when something weighed heavily on your mind, and the mask you wore now couldn't conceal the truth from him.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. The weight of your secrets threatened to suffocate you, but you clung to the fragile facade you had constructed, unwilling to burden him with the weight of your troubles. "Yeah, just... a rough night," you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue as you forced them past the lump that lodged there.

Price had always treated you differently, with a softness he never seemed to reserve for the others. From the moment you joined Task Force 141, he recognized the weight of the horrors that came with the job. He made it his mission to be there for you in a way that went beyond mere professional obligation. He became your confidant, your sounding board, the one person you could turn to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm you. His gentle demeanor and unwavering kindness provided a safe haven in the chaos of missions and the toll they took on your spirit.

Price's gaze softened with understanding as he reached out to gently squeeze your arm. His touch was a far cry from the man a few nights ago. He was that comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don't have to face it alone, you know," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me, love."

Indeed, Price's tenderness towards you was unmistakable. While you were every bit a soldier like the rest, he recognized that you were different. The things you witnessed and the actions you took on these missions slowly started eating away at you long ago. But Price was there offering solace and understanding. His affection for you growing deeper with each shared moment of vulnerability.

Over the three years of working together Price found himself drawn to more than just your skills and abilities. It was your spirit, your unwavering determination, and your unique personality that captivated him. At first it was subtle, just a flicker of admiration for the way you handled yourself under pressure, the way you never backed down from a challenge. But as time went on and he got to know you better, that admiration blossomed into something deeper. He found himself enchanted by the fire in your eyes when you spoke passionately about something you believed in. He admired the way you never lost your humanity, even in the midst of the darkest missions. Your compassion and empathy for others in the face of danger touched something within him that he hadn't realized was missing.

Price began to notice the small things about you, the adorable quirks that made you uniquely yourself. He found himself smiling at your jokes, laughing at your antics, and feeling a sense of peace whenever you were around. He cherished the moments when you let your guard down and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of you. He felt honored that you trusted him with your fears and insecurities.

As the years went by, Price realized that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere admiration. He was in love with you. He loved the way you made him feel alive, the way you challenged him to be a better man, and the way you brought light into his dark world. But even as his feelings grew, Price knew that he could never act on them. Not while he was your Captain and the stakes of their missions remained so high. So, he buried his feelings deep inside. He was content to love you from afar and grateful for the opportunity to know you. Even if it meant keeping his emotions hidden.

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were like a finely tuned unit, attuned not only to the dynamics of the battlefield but also to the subtleties of their comrades' interactions. They noticed the way Price's demeanor would shift whenever you entered the room. The slight softening of his usually stern expression, the warmth that crept into his eyes as they lingered on you, and the way his voice would adopt a gentler tone when he spoke to you. It was unmistakable to them though they never openly acknowledged it.

In their downtime when the mission chatter had quieted, and they found themselves lounging around the base, the guys would exchange knowing glances whenever Price's attention seemed to linger on you a little longer than necessary. Soap might chuckle and nudge Ghost, raising an eyebrow in silent communication that spoke volumes about Price's apparent fondness for you. Ghost, ever the silent observer, would offer a small smirk in return, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Price navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable affection he held for you.

Gaz, always one for a bit of banter, wouldn't hesitate to make playful remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd tease Price about being extra protective of you during missions, jokingly suggesting that Price had a soft spot for you that he couldn't quite hide. Price would roll his eyes in response, brushing off Gaz's comments with a gruff retort. But the slight flush that colored his cheeks betrayed the truth behind Gaz's jests.

Despite their teasing, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz respected the unspoken boundaries that surrounded Price's feelings for you. They knew that his affection for you was genuine and deep-rooted, and they never pushed him to confront it unless he was ready. As for you, you might have been the only one oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions swirling around Price. To you he remained the steadfast leader, unwavering in his commitment to the mission and the safety of his team. His true feelings were well hidden behind a mask of professionalism and duty.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to vocalize the turmoil that had been devouring you from within. The weight of your confession hung heavy upon your shoulders. Each word feeling like a jagged stone forced from your chest. "I... I had a little too much to drink while everyone was gone," you confessed, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if you were afraid the words themselves would shatter the fragile sanctuary you had built around yourself. "And... I did things... things I didn't want to do."

As you spoke, the air in the room seemed to thicken with a suffocating sense of shame. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Price's gaze. You feared the judgment you were sure would reflect in his eyes. But when you finally summoned the courage to glance up, the expression etched on Price's face was not one of condemnation but of utmost concern. His features tightened with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil raging within him. His heart twisted with a potent blend of anger and sorrow at the thought of someone exploiting your vulnerability in such a despicable manner. But despite the roiling emotions churning beneath the surface, he remained stoically composed. He understood that now was not the time for upsetting you even further.

"Coerced..." you added, your voice trembling with shame as you unveiled the truth that had festered within you like a poison, eating away at your sense of self-worth with every passing moment. "I tried to resist, but... he wouldn't listen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer."

As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. As if the simple act of vocalizing your pain had lifted a burden that had threatened to crush you. Despite the shame that threatened to consume you there was a profound sense of solace in knowing that you were no longer bearing this burden alone. That you had finally allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of the one person you trusted implicitly.

In that moment of raw honesty, you couldn't help but wonder if Price understood the depth of your feelings for him. If he could see beyond the facade you presented to the world and glimpse the tangled mess of emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface. As you spoke you couldn't deny the palpable sense of comfort that enveloped you. It was as if in allowing yourself to be vulnerable with Price you had discovered a sanctuary where judgment held no power, where acceptance reigned supreme. Captain John Price was the best of men.

And as Price listened his gaze never wavering from yours, you couldn't shake the feeling that he knew on some level the depth of your affection for him. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch, the understanding in his eyes, or the unwavering support he offered without hesitation. Whatever the reason, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you realized with startling clarity that Price was more than just a trusted confidant. He was your rock, your pillar of strength in a world filled with uncertainty and doubt. And as the realization settled deep within your heart, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth that had been staring you in the face all along: you loved him, in a way that transcended mere friendship.

With each passing moment, the bond between you and Price grew stronger, forged in the chaos of shared experiences and unwavering support. And as you looked into his eyes seeing the reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, you knew without a doubt that you could tell him anything, and he would be right there for you, no matter what.

Price's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as you made your confession. His touch both grounding and reassuring in its strength. His resolve hardened as he fought back the surge of protectiveness that threatened to consume him. "I'm here for you," he reassured you, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything in my power to help you through this."

As Price listened to your trembling words a whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Anger burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of you. His fists clenched with the urge to seek retribution. But beneath the rage a deeper sense of sorrow welled up aching with empathy for the pain you had endured alone. "I will always be here for you," he murmured again. As the weight of your confession settled upon you both Price felt a swell of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the fierce determination that burned within him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the pain that gnawed at your soul.

With a gentle hand he lifted your chin, meeting your tear-filled gaze with unwavering reassurance. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, and he couldn't help but brush away the tears that traced delicate paths down your cheeks. "You're not alone. I promise you that," he whispered, his voice infused with a quiet strength that resonated deep within you. "I'll be right here, every step of the way." And as he spoke those words you felt a sense of solace wash over you. You knew that you could lean on him, trust in him.

Against his better judgment, Price drew you into his embrace. His arms encircling you with a tenderness that concealed the strength of his resolve. He held you close as you surrendered to the flood of tears that just kept coming. "It's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. He couldn't help but brush his hand through your hair. His touch a comforting caress that made you shiver. With each stroke he hoped to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon your shoulders.

"You're not alone love," he whispered in reassurance. His voice a quiet promise against the chaos of your emotions. "I'm here for you, always." He said once more letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to hold you as the tears slowly subsided. His silent grasp on you a vow to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation that may lay ahead.

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sordidmusings · 3 months

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Fixing What Ifs (Mihawk x F!Reader)

A/N: For this ancient request (told you they are not forgotten just severely neglected 💀). I really hope I captured the type of scene you were looking for! Debating on writing a follow up smut because sex as the culmination of pining?? That's that good good right there that is. Bless up to @fanaticsnail for cheering me while writing this, would've very much struggled without you love bug 🤍🤍🤍

Listening to: Prove Your Love - Fleetwood Mac, Go Slowly - Radiohead, Love Song - Lesley Duncan

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: Fem!reader, a gratuitous amount of mutual pining, kind of bantering?, Mihawk leans opla in that he has such sass, a few flashback scenes, Mihawk is a Man who does not know how to deal with being in love, but he’s trying like a lot, I mean he even kisses your wrist, probably idiots in love, there's one brief allusion to Buggy cuz I Need Him

Snippet:

“You say that as if we’re too old to have options.” He spoke quite steadily, but you noticed his golden eyes flicking to you, ravenously seeking your reaction. You knew he was trying to cover at least a little; your equal skills in observation were a beauty and a bane to him. It was your favorite source of bickering, giving you many lines to smile at when you were stuck in lonely nights tracking targets.

“You are in your forties,” you teased. Again, you took a sip to think. You meant to find some words to match his characteristic tone (“Joints still working well enough to properly share a bed?”), but instead what came out was “though you’ve aged better than I imagined in our twenties”. You blamed that you had finally looked over and taken in his face, sculpted angles all alive and aglow in the torch-light. There was also that defined chest that he maddeningly always insisted on showing everyone. You probably would too, looking like that.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“There’s still many places I’ve yet to see that proven,” you responded, words coy and teasing but smile easy and affectionate. Mihawk would need much more intimacy before he admitted how that smile stalled his thoughts. You would need much more boldness before you let him know you noticed when you managed to halt his breath.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“I’ve chosen another I want you to try. Push your glass this way,” Mihawk prompted gently. Years of knowing him let you pick up the hints of eagerness hidden under his usual drawl.

You watched Mihawk’s hands and forearms work as he opened another bottle to share. He had foregone his coat tonight, instead draping himself with a well-cut white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows and buttons undone to below his sternum, of course. Toned muscle danced under his skin with every twist and turn, leading you to great distraction throughout the process of him serving you. After enjoying the sculpt of his large hand while it gripped the full bottle to pour your glass, you changed your attention to the luxurious material of his shirt, fluttering over his chest and playing against tanned skin and his heavy gold cross. You wished you could find an excuse to pull at that hem, testing the softness of the material and making it reveal more for you.

The dark green bottle thumping back down on the bartop brought your attention away from your companion and back to your refreshed drink. You did feel a bit guilty that Mihawk’s description of the new wine was going near completely ignored (you at least caught the words “barrel-aged”, flattered he remembered your offhand comment about that preference from months ago). You just couldn’t get yourself to pay attention; your mind was swimming through multiple years at once any time it wasn’t grounded by his visage. Wistfulness had a stranglehold on you tonight, keeping you locked between painful yearning and bittersweet nostalgia. The comfort of hearing his smooth voice accompanied by the quietly unfolding lives of every stranger in the bar did reach you, however. You took solace in that while you went for your first sip.

“You’re much quieter than usual,” Mihawk prodded with dry displeasure. That displeasure was interrupted when he got to enjoy your usual show of flicking your tongue out to lick your glass and then your lips upon the first taste.

You took another, much longer sip of your drink to delay the need to respond. It was an easy choice of diversion; the wine was exquisite as always. You’d tell him as much if you were more in the mood for the gloating, simpering glow he’d get from earning a stroke to his ego from you.

“I thought you’d like that,” you offered quietly. You swept a fingertip around the slick rim of your glass, mindless in your feeling and seeing and doing. This absent state let Mihawk watch for every detail of the action to better imagine how that trailing fingertip would feel against his skin.

“Clearly you’re not as observant as you think,” he dug back, this time with much more amusement warming his voice, yet not quite enough to completely melt the snideness out.

Despite yourself, you smiled. Years of rivalry softened you to affection. Over those years of pushing yourselves and each other, bitterness became respect, respect became comradery, and comradery became admiration. In you, that admiration had long bloomed into devotion, petals bursting open in a stalwart stand against his consistent frigid air. Some days they withered, but then he would reach to you, hearten you, or defend you in a way that would have new buds growing more and more numerous until you had a field that could withstand winter's chill, turning to ice sculptures in each frost instead of decaying pulp.

“I blame your wines,” you chuckled, still taking yet another sip despite the accusation. “They have me stuck reminiscing.”

“I’d advise against that; it’s a trying endeavor. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Mihawk teased, doing a great job of masking his fondness with wry wit. He did venture to expose his curiosity, however. “Where and when does your mind have you trapped?”

“Our first meeting.”

Mihawk barely managed to keep from choking on his wine. He didn’t want to tip you off on how much that memory affected him. And it would be a shame to waste such an expensive drink.

“Why would you be thinking of that ridiculous affair?” There goes the effort at keeping you in the dark.

“What?” you asked with mock shock. “The only thing that was ridiculous was how little you trusted the top marksman to do her job.”

“You didn’t exactly scream competency,” Mihawk defended, hiding his fluster behind rudeness and the rim of his glass. The dim lighting of the bar would have hid it for him anyway; the few torch chandeliers did wonders for turning him to a living Baroque painting, but they were known for their shadows more than their breadth of hues.

“That is one thing you always did have on me,” you relented easily, more set on imagining the immaculately groomed and glaring warlord who first saw you than needing to keep a score with his modern counterpart at your side.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“They asked for me for a reason, you’re more useful elsewhere.”

“I’m useful everywhere you’ll find,” he dismissed easily, as sure of that fact as in the rising of the sun each day. You were a hard one to shake, but the way his namesake hawk’s eyes cut through you had you feeling exposed and vulnerable. It had you needing to make him just as small as the little pieces his endlessly picking gaze had shredded you into.

“Then go be useful as something other than my shadow. Some of us are actually working.” Even in your exasperation fueled anger, you sounded more like you were asking than telling. The ease with which he commanded was yet another skill you’d spotted on him so quickly in these few days together that had you feeling out of your league. You were beginning to think he took great joy in your mounting discomfort with the way he hovered around, always looking for another soft spot to peck at.

“You’ve been laying at this spot for days, Viper, with nothing to show for it,” Mihawk said, phrasing the truth quite unfairly. Viper was the code-name gifted to you in your work; the snakes could sit still as the dead for weeks, waiting for the one moment that prey finally crossed their path. That same dedication was what he was attempting to disturb now. “I could have rooted the rats out within the hour of mission's start.”

“Then it’s a good thing this task is mine and not yours,” you spat back, finally finding the will to sound truly mean. There was much you were uncertain of but your methods were a strong sense of pride and no one got to question them. “I’m sure the trafficking victims would do really well avoiding harm in the slaughter you’d start. They are known for being battle-ready after all; I’m sure they’re just playing victim right now so they can partake in a song-worthy escape and claim their glory.”

“You think I have no skill to guard and fight at the same time?”

“I think it’s not worth the risk to innocents just to feed one man’s insatiable ego,” you grumbled, spreading yourself out on your familiar and beloved blanket to begin this day’s long watch. You lined one eye with the one-of-a-kind scope of your rifle, taking comfort in settling into your power. “Better to wait until they show themselves and pick them off from miles away, letting them panic at the suddenness of death from a foe they’ll never see.”

Your memory never granted you Mihawk’s perspective on your first job together. You never figured out that he was hovering not from hatred of your perceived incompetence but an uncontrollable need to have you in his sight. He’d never had to contend with such an impulse before and found himself completely at the mercy of its whims. Garp was not happy with the freshly titled Warlord; he was meant to be helping eradicate the rebel legion that had taken this island over to ravage it for resources (humans included), not keep checking out their prized sniper like he’s a fifteen year old with his first female fixation.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Surely I can be of much more entertainment to you in the present than in whatever foggy memories you have,” Mihawk said, successfully bringing you back to him.

“Yes you can,” you admitted with too much authenticity and affection for your tastes to just leave that flavor in the ari. After a moment of thought, you softly bumped your shoulder with his and added, “You’re practically a whole circus over there, how ever could I look away?”

You didn’t expect the long and tired sigh to deflate the man next to you, leaving his upper body draped on the bar. The sound seemed to have come from so deep in his lungs that it was born from his very soul.

“Please keep all talk of circuses and especially clowns to a minimum,” Mihawk pleaded into his forearms. He lifted head to look at you with one of the grouchiest and most sour faces you’d seen on him in a long time, before plopping it back into his arms. The whole thing was only made more endearing with the way the bar had pushed his hat askew.

“What’s with that look?” you laughed. “You usually save that one for Shanks.”

“I wish it was Shanks,” he grumbled petulantly. Your laughter always brightened him back up and he longed to turn and see the beauty of it on your face, but instead chose to keep to his brooding to prolong the sound just that much more.

If it wouldn’t send him up the wall, you would have told him how much you adored when his brooding turned pouty. It sapped him of his persistent decorum and made him feel closer - more touchable. The slouch it brought out in him always had you valiantly fighting the urge to wrap his curved chest in a firm hug. It was unfair how perfectly suited for one he looked, resting his elbows on the bar and opening him and his luxury shirt and his warm skin up for your reaching hands and arms. You shook your head after a mourning sigh and took another sip of heady wine.

“I wish it was Shanks too. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him.” The soft spot you always showed for the Red Haired Pirates only threatened to drag Mihawk’s mood low again. It was amended slightly by your cute, happy gasp before you said, “We should go visit them soon! I’ve got a bigger chunk of free time after the next two months.”

Mihawk was always amazed by how easily tiny little gestures from you perked him back up and got his heart leaping. All you did was choose to say “we”. He wished and wished that it was always “we”, but he’d take what he could get. Even if it meant dealing with the usual treatment whenever you were both with Shanks and his crew.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk was not fond of the look Shanks was sending his way. It was all too smarmy, built on equal parts smugness and giddiness. Disgusting.

“You dog! When I tried to imagine what could have the unshakable Dracule Mihawk off his game I never would’ve guessed it was our dear Viper,” Shanks teased cheerily, bumping his shoulder into the rigid one of the swordsman next to him. Mihawk was affronted - he nearly spilled his drink from Shanks’ boorish behavior.

“Didn’t know she was yours,” Mihawk grumbled, attempting to sidestep Shanks’ prompts to have him speak his infatuation aloud.

Shanks was fighting poorly to hold in his laughter; Mihawk was absolutely sulking while he watched Yasopp teach you more gun spinning tricks. You and the sharpshooter were always all joy and play, easily finding common ground in marksmanship but with the added fun of showing your separate specializations to each other. Each bout of laughter from your direction brought another brooding line to Mihawk’s furrowed brow. This standoffish air was his habitual defense against the raw ache he’d been tending to since the two of you met.

Every time I try to play, I end up wounding her, he lamented. Why can I not earn your laughter?

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk lightly shook himself of the memory. On instinct, he turned to look at you and found you already looking at him but not really seeing him. He quietly huffed through his nose at losing you again to your own mind. He decided to give you a moment before getting to the bottom of whatever it was that had you in your funk. Beyond selfishly wanting your rapt attention, he was worried for you. You were prone to take pause and think long, especially when in quiet company, but you seemed truly lost in your own mind, taken against your will.

Mihawk’s accurate read on you was more proof of the years tentatively building rapport with each other. That intimacy you shared, which lacked the intimacy you so craved, was what had you held hostage in one of the many examples of your entwining lives.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

The quiet in the air was broken only by Mihawk’s calm breathing, his occasional quiet sips of today’s wine, and the gentle rustle of a turning page. Your own breathing was silent, having gone so long and smooth it was imperceptible due to an instinct trained in so no need of your body could get in the way of your shot. Luckily, your targets were always at such a great distance that Mihawk’s casual lounging would never alert them that they were being hunted.

“It’s been twelve hours since you’ve eaten,” Mihawk told you in a bored tone, eyes never leaving the pages of his book. You made to ignore him and continue your work, but he had never been able to stand your attention off of him for long. “Almost three since you’ve taken a sip of water.”

“Sorry, Mom, I’m a bit busy at the moment,” you mumbled back evenly. You had long lost the majority of your bitterness toward his nitpicking, instead just glad he was around and saying anything to you.

“If I was your mother, I would’ve commanded you to just let me take the target out in the first place so we could leave this boring island,” Mihawk complained.

“You really gonna take a swing at them from two miles off?” you asked, smiling as you imagined the chaos wrought from such an action. It would be a catastrophe, but it would also give you quite the show. Over your time knowing him, you’d seen Mihawk’s innate beauty and untouchable prowess countless times, but it was never enough to sate you.

“You’re not the only one who can hit a target from that distance,” Mihawk reminded you and you hoped you weren't imagining the tone of a smirk shaping his voice.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one of us who won’t cause a tsunami in the process,” you giggled at him.

Again, your diligence robbed you of the chance to see the poignant longing overtaking Mihawk’s face when he smiled at you. He relished every step he’d gotten closer to being the source of your joy.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“You’ve disappeared again,” Mihawk complained after sending a haughty tut your way.

You offered an apologetic smile and were happy that he accepted it readily. All those memories, years of feeling, and liquid courage built a full storm inside of you until you knew you needed to allow yourself some time in the eye of it. Being surrounded by the roaring weather would be nerve-wracking but you hoped the calm at the center helped protect you from those shredding winds. You blew a heavy sigh over your drink, refusing to look from its dark, blooded tint when you asked, “Have you ever wondered what it would’ve been like if we were together?”

He didn’t answer right away. Usually Mihawk was a man who was quick with his words, as sure in speed and precision with their strike as he was with that of his sword. You respected that sureness and bold weaponizing of his thoughts, but you deeply appreciated that, with you, he would take the time to truly parse his words when he felt the need. It suited your nature better; your patience was as legendary as your ability to shoot the wings from a fly that was miles off from the end of your rifle.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“Mihawk, my dearest adversary and cherished… friend,” you hesitated on the word, never having claimed him as such to his face before. He rewarded your bravery with a gentle bump of his knee against yours and with the bare fondness that began softening his stare. “We have been playing this game, dancing this dance, for decades now. Am I really meant to believe that one question changes everything?”

“The right question can,” he asserted immediately. He opened his mouth to continue, but for once you were the one striking quick with your words.

“You are a man who does not hesitate,” you accused, staring cuttingly into his focused gaze, not backing down at the way it became shielded. “If you want something you take it.”

“And?” Mihawk prompted, tone the most biting it's been all night.

“And,” you repeated. “And…”

You sighed in defeat and turned back to your drink, closing yourself away. He was more than smart enough to know where you were going with that, but he insisted on making you be the one to say it. You wouldn’t allow him to make you insult yourself, especially after you had ventured to bring up the tenuous topic in the first place. If he refused to argue or even acknowledge your conclusions, then you’d let your drink be the friend to assuage those old hurts. The echoed sigh to your side did little to move you from your new stake out with your wounds and your wine.

Mihawk pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to call you foolish so his own mind would stop branding him with that word. He had been ever vigilant of you throughout the years, not only in an effort to soak you in every moment he could, but also to latch on the moment he noticed you offering him a true opening. You had finally bared your throat to him and he had managed to fail at your final test to check that he would not stoop to bite - that he would only beg to kiss.

While taking his next sip of wine, Mihawk extended an olive branch in the form of a thigh pressed firmly into yours. He was barely able to keep in the frustrated growl that pressed at his chest when you shifted yourself away. You did turn your eyes to him out of curiosity, however, but he missed the look completely, too busy reassembling himself. It let you watch carefully as the flaming lights turned his hat’s extravagant feather amber in their glow when he lifted it off his head to place on the bartop. It let him run his fingers back through his thick black curls, trying to shake his disappointment off with the teasing of his strands.

He looked over at you and finally caught on to your observing. Mihawk let his regret pour over his face, even letting his lips twitch into a momentary, rueful smile. You replied with a tired smile of your own. In the end, it turned sweet and loving; a bad habit of yours with the swordsman. You pressed your thigh back to his.

In a rare show of humility, propelled by the heat of your thigh warming his and the sweet crinkles your smile brought to your eyes (Just for me, he thought with doting greed), Mihawk took your hand and bowed himself low to touch his forehead to your knuckles. His thumb soothed gentle circles into it while he stayed lowered to you for a few long breaths. He was eager to enjoy the feeling of your skin and the decadent scent of your perfume, strong now with the proximity of your wrist. You had chosen something sultry and heady with its deep notes of orchid and amber and wood, all calling to him until he acted with thought a millisecond behind instinct.

He flipped your hand over, slowly and gently, cradling it palm up in his large hand. Still stooped, he had to move scant inches to brush the tip of his nose across the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, savoring the pull of your perfume going deep into his lungs and leading his mind to a content haze. He sealed the small caress with a feathery brush of his lips over your pulse, wishing he could make himself press harder to feel your heart thump against his lips. He longed to know if it raced with the same jumping cantor as his.

When he sat back up he was met with a vision from his dreams. You had fully turned your face to him and it was lit with a deep flush made more rosy in the fire-cast light of the bar. No ambient chatter nor clinking cutlery could keep his ears from delighting in the hitch of your breath in and the contented sigh out. Another smile indulged him, this one easily crowned his favorite with its happy chuckle, pressing cheeks, and bare affection.

“I am a man who takes what I want,” Mihawk confirmed your words delicately. He continued to hold your hand, now enfolding it in both of his. You felt bright tingling shooting from the contact and the press of your thighs. They made you twenty again, staring down the most handsome and insipidly arrogant man you’d ever met and cursing your heart for its clear choice. “I take what I want, not who I want. People aren’t for the taking, little viper.”

You laughed at the title, never feeling it sat quite right. You felt you wore it well at work only. The imagery it brought up of femme fatales and their hypnotizing looks and lethal wit made you feel like a young girl cloaked ill-fittingly in her mother’s best event wear, barely able to peek your head out of the wool coat dwarfing you. Mihawk noted your discomfort with the title throughout the years but never found the proper words to have you see that all who said it were reverent when they saw how well the word wrapped over you.

“What if-” again you hesitate. You scrunch your face in anger at your nature, but before Mihawk had time to bring a hand to your face and soothe it back into a smile, you force out the words. “What if I am for the taking?”

Mihawk’s thumbs stopped their massaging and you felt his thigh jump to tense against your own. Staring into his widening eyes and how they glowed so beautifully - too beautifully to be within your reach - you immediately wished you could suck the words right back into your lungs. You made it this far though, so you instead worried at your lip and clung your hand onto Mihawk’s stalled hold.

Finally, he unfroze.

“For the night only?” Mihawk probed, wanting answers but worrying about making you close off again.

“Do you only want the night?” You tossed back to him, unwilling to turn this propositioning into a confession of the long years you have built a deep and sturdy love for him, no matter your attempts to welcome others into its halls.

“What I want,” Mihawk said, gentle and deliberate in coloring his tone with humble honestly, “is to be what you want.”

You were taken aback by the confession, but you were even more awed by the look he was giving you. He was still slightly stooped, broad shoulders gently curved and bent towards you, pulled down under the need to lower himself below you but body still gravitating towards you with the magnetism he’s been weak to since you first crossed paths. Framed by those shoulders and his wild curls, Mihawk looked to you with the sadly tinted longing you had felt seize you in his presence all this time. While the furrow of his brow and glimmer of his eyes had your brain buzzing with more hope than you’d dare let it host before, your chest squeezed at the conflict you saw in him; you knew that torment in your very bones.

“You always have been,” you whispered on a trembling breath. Mihawk’s eyes went wild for a moment where his whole body tensed and you felt his urge to pounce on you steal the oxygen from the room. He thanked the gods for a majority of his life spent learning control and restraint, while he got himself in order and pressed the firm kiss he’d longed for to your wrist instead.

“Come with me,” Mihawk commanded through lips still pressed to your skin, though it was the closest you’d heard him to begging in your entire life.

You let yourself partake in a longtime wish by moving your other hand to card your fingers back into his thick hair, happy to find that it was just as soft as you had imagined. Their trailing came back around to have your palm cup his jaw. He leaned into the touch, tickling your hand with the rub of his precise facial hair when he allowed himself one small nuzzle into your loving hold. That hand guided him up to meet your eyes so he could see the love you held for him finally displayed openly in all its abundance.

“Wherever you ask me to, I will go,” you promised.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

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