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em1i2a3 · 23 days ago

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Only He Can Heal Me

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Enhanced!Fem!Reader!

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, you and Bob take refuge in one of Valentina’s safehouses to wait for an extraction.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, and a bit of Angst. We got the one bed trope in here, and we love it very much lol. Mentions of Blood and Injuries, Light Exploration of Readers Traumatic Past, Mentions of Violence, Descriptions of Wound Care. Reader has taken a Super Soldier Serum (a messed up one that didn’t truly work but gave her some benefits like healing a little faster than others and some enhanced strength).

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (….y’all know what I’m going to say…I don’t have to tell you lol), Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving) Handjob, Messy/Sensual Sex, Spitting (but like…in a sensual way guys lol), Grinding

Authors Note: We love a good one bed trope, but I gotta say I’ve written close to like 30,000 words in the past 24 hours and my brain is like ‘HOW MUCH MORE SMUT CAN WE WRITE’ lol. Loved doing it though, it was like a marathon! Can’t wait to release the next one tomorrow :) Enjoy this one, this was a request from an anon, and I cannot find it! But ENJOY!

Word Count: 16,184

The prep bay was cold and mostly empty, except for the soft hum of wall vents and the faint rattling of gear being zipped, buckled, and secured behind locker doors.

The overhead lights buzzed faintly, too bright in places and dim in others, flickering where the panels hadn’t been replaced in months. The room smelled faintly of machine oil and static–charged with the familiar tang of adrenaline, sweat, and sterile fabric fresh from vacuum-sealed bags.

You’d just finished adjusting the last strap of your chest harness–tightening it down over the protective plating that pressed solid and reassuring against your sternum–when a flicker of gold caught your peripheral vision.

You paused, with one hand still on the cinch strap at your hip, and turned your head slightly at the colour.

Bob was standing by the far mirror, partially tucked between two lockers, half-lit by a faulty overhead beam that stuttered and blinked every few seconds like it couldn’t quite keep up with the job it was supposed to be doing. He hadn’t noticed you staring–or if he had, he was pretending not to.

He was already suited up and ready for the mission, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes roam over the sight in front of you.

The new Sentry suit clung to him like it had been built cell by cell onto his skin.

Not just worn–forged. It wrapped around every inch of him like it had been grown from starlight and gravity and expectation, molded to fit the weight of a man who could level New York with the snap of his fingers.

And for the first time, with the old bulk of his baggy sweaters and oversized sweatpants gone, you were able to see everything.

The long, sculpted lines of his legs, wrapped in dark navy plating that traced the shape of powerful quads and calves. The sweep of his hips, trim and bracketed in reinforced seamwork that flexed faintly with every shift in his stance. The gold across his chest was smooth, seamless, pressed tight to thick pectorals and sharply defined shoulders that rose and fell with each breath like rolling thunder. Even his arms–cords of lean muscle, taut and strong–were framed by the suit in a way that almost felt indecent in how much presence it gave him.

He was broad. Massive. Godly.

Everything about him in that moment was dangerous in the way the sun is dangerous: too bright, too big, and too hot…Temperature wise of course.

But instead of standing proud in the new suit, he looked uncertain. Hunched slightly, like he was trying to take up less space than he did. One hand moved across his chest in slow, flattening passes–fingers dragging across the golden seam like he was checking for cracks in a shell that didn’t quite feel like his.

His expression in the mirror was unreadable. Something between awe and fear, because the suit made him look like a god.

But the man wearing it?

He still looked like Bob.

Like someone who had spent too long convincing himself he wasn’t worthy of saving–let alone saving anyone else.

You watched him for another couple of seconds. Long enough to catch the subtle furrow of his brow, the way his breath visibly slowed like he was talking himself through the act of just existing inside all that power.

And then–your voice, calm and familiar, cut through the quiet of the room like a knife:

”You’re missing the cape.” He flinched, startled–his shoulders jolting slightly as he twisted toward the sound of your voice. His eyes found yours with the soft, wide-open look of someone who’d just been pulled out of water without realizing how long they’d been drowning. His mouth parted. The apples of his cheeks flushed pink almost instantly, Color blooming up toward the tips of his ears–embarrassed, maybe, or just vulnerable in a way he didn’t know how to guard around you.

You could see the question flicker behind his eyes: How one have you been watching me?

”…Oh.” He said, voice rough at the edges. It caught in his throat, and he cleared it with a soft, awkward cough. His gaze dropped for a second, darting to the chair behind him where the cape sat–folded with care, the weight of its symbolism too heavy for him to shoulder just yet.

”Y-Yeah. I wasn’t s-sure if I should wear it this t-time around.” He replied quietly, as he spoke, a loose strand of light brown hair slipped forward, tumbling across his brow–soft against the sharpness of the suit. He reached up with a flicker of self-consciousness, fingers pushing it back behind his ear, but the motion only emphasized the contrast: the boyish awkwardness of Bob Reynolds trying to live inside the myth of Sentry. When he looked back up at you, the light caught his eyes just right.

And you saw it.

Gold.

Faint, flickering through the deep ocean blue–the colour his irises sported when he was in a certain light–like lightning scattering across abandando seas. Not glowing outright–but present. Watching. Sentry was not lurking, not threatening; he was just awake. Quiet. Curious almost.

You started walking toward him, slow and casual. Measured in a way that wouldn’t spook him and that wouldn’t make him feel like a specimen under glass.

”You should wear it,” You said gently, “It’ll complete the look.” His lips twitched, but didn’t quite make it to a smile.

”T-The look?” You nodded.

”Y’know…The whole divine golden protector from the skies thing they have going for you.” His lashes fluttered as you approached, long and soft against the sharp angles of his face, still a little pink at the cheekbones. He blinked once–then again–as if grounding himself with your steps.

You stopped just shy of him, giving him a respectful bit of space but close enough to see the precise stitching of his suit now–not just armor, but something compared to scripture in a way. Intricate lines flowed from shoulder to elbow like veins of lightning trapped in cloth, cross-patterned over his ribs with a celestial geometry you recognized as Sentry’s sigil, though this one was subdued–etched into him instead of displayed.

The golden plating was seamless, light-warped and fluid over his chest, hugging the swell of his pectoral muscles, tapering down his waist and into the darker paneling that wrapped around his hips like a brace. There were slight grooves in the gold that shimmered as he moved, like solar flares caught in motion. Even standing still, he looked ready to fly. Seeing all the details up close almost took your breath away.

And still–he was fidgeting.

Not noticeably. Not like before.

But enough that you saw it: the flex of his fingers against his thigh. The tiniest rise of his chest like he was trying to steady his breathing.

And only you would notice.

You let the moment stretch just long enough for the tension to ease between you. Your voice stayed quiet, grounded.

“Can I help you put it on?” He didn’t answer right away, but then his eyes flicked up–searching your face, just for a moment–and he gave a single, quick nod. You turned, walking the last few steps to the chair where the cape rested. It was folded perfectly, like a sacred object waiting to be used. Your fingers brushed the fabric as you lifted it.

It was heavier than it looked–dense and thick, with layered gold threading woven through an inner lining of dark slate gray. The outer side was luminous, that same rich gold as his suit, but slightly deeper–burnished at the edges, like sunlight just before dusk. The hem shimmered subtly with kinetic microfilaments meant to stabilize it mid-flight. Even in your hands, it felt powerful.

When you turned back around with the cape in your hands, he was still standing, fingers still twitching at his sides like he was mulling over something in his head. The air between you seemed to tighten just a little–charged, but not dangerous. Not with him. Not anymore.

Then, with a soft exhale, Bob moved.

Slowly, deliberately–he began to kneel.

It wasn’t a grand gesture. Just one knee lowering to the floor with careful control, his head bowed slightly–not in deference, but out of thoughtfulness.

So the height difference wouldn’t strain you, so you wouldn’t have to reach and hurt yourself.

Your breath hitched slightly at the sight.

Because he hadn’t asked. He hadn’t said a word. He had simply given you what he knew you’d never really ask for–ease, access, and trust.

You stepped into his space without hesitation, the cape feeling heavier now in your hands–not just from the weight, but with the meaning of what you were about to do. You stood in front of him quietly, with his head still lowered, shoulders broad and solid but stilled beneath your touch, as if he didn’t want to do anything that would interrupt your rhythm. He breathed in the scent of your tactical gear–the strong smell of gun oil, burnt fabric, and a sweetness that only he could describe as hot strawberries.

You leaned over him and began fastening the clips just beneath his collar–magnetized seal points engineered to respond to manual input only, no voice command, no suit automation. It had always struck you as oddly poetic, like some designer was trying to make some sort of underhanded statement about the vulnerability of a superhero that the rest of the world missed.

Now, it made perfect sense.

Someone had to help him with this.

He couldn’t do it alone.

Maybe it was meant to encourage connection. Maybe it was just another line item under “team protocol.” But right now–with your fingers brushing the reinforced seamwork of his armor, with Bob Reynolds kneeling before you in absolute stillness–it felt sacred, like a kind of ceremony that tethered the both of you into each other.

You clicked the last clasp into place slowly, the faint metallic snap sounding louder than it should’ve in the quiet. Then, with both hands, you smoothed the cape gently across his shoulders–your palms gliding over thick, immovable muscle as you checked the weight and fall of the fabric.

It settled down his back like a mantle. Not just gear. It was the final piece that made everything feel real. He was going into the field for the first time since he Voided the majority of New York City, and he was going with you.

This wasn’t just about trying to prove himself, this was about trying to belong on a team that was continuously doubting him and trying to shield him from missions they knew he wanted to help with.

You didn’t step away from him, instead, your hands stayed on his shoulders, resting lightly–warmth against armor, skin to suit, breath to breath. His body was solid beneath your touch, unmoving. Like he didn’t dare shift and break the moment. Like he was bracing against emotion he didn’t know how to show.

For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. The room buzzed faintly around you. Somewhere a locker clicked shut. A bootstep echoed far off down the hallway. But none of it touched the space you two occupied.

Just you. Just him. Just the weight of what it meant. He looked up from the ground, bringing his shimmering eyes to yours, the cold blue being engulfed with the warmth of gold that pulsed softly beneath the surface.

His voice, when it came, was soft. Like it had to climb up his throat to get out.

“I d-didn’t get to say thank y-you,” He said, “…For what y-you did during the meeting.” You paused. The words hung there–raw and unfinished. You could feel him holding something back, unsure if he’d said too much already.

You shook your head gently.

“You don’t have to,” You murmured, “Someone had to do it.” He didn’t look away, nor did he drop his eyes or fidget. He just stayed there, kneeling, with the cape settling against him, and gold flickering under his skin like sunrise behind cloud cover.

“I still want to say i-it regardless…Because you’re the r-reason why I’m here right now.” The words landed heavy. True. Vulnerable in a way few people ever let themselves be anymore–not with the Thunderbolts. Not with everything they’d seen.

Your throat tightened–but before you could respond, you saw it in his eyes. The flicker. The shift.

He was remembering.

The meeting.

The room had been too full for comfort–one of the main ops debrief suites, repurposed last-minute because Walker had cracked the glass wall in the old briefing room again. Everyone was seated around the table, the tension so thick you could feel it in your molars.

Val stood at the head with a tablet in her hands, and a look that suggested she’d already decided the outcome before anyone spoke.

“The mission is recon only,” She said crisply. “Two agents. Remote location off the edge of Bucharest. No public visibility. Minimal risk.”

Then, like she was dropping a live grenade:

“Bob’s file is under consideration.”

You saw it immediately–the way Bucky stiffened in his seat. The way Walker leaned forward, jaw tightening. Yelena didn’t even try to hide her scoff, and Ava shot you a look across the table like she was trying to gauge how serious you were about this.

Only Alexei sat still, arms crossed, unreadable as usual–but you didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked toward Bob, who sat near the back. Silent. Hands folded in his lap. Shoulders drawn tight beneath a threadbare hoodie.

He hadn’t spoken. Not once. He didn’t need to. The silence around him was speaking volumes.

Val continued, breezing through the risk assessments. She spoke like Bob wasn’t even in the room.

“While his recovery has shown significant improvement–meditative regulation, Void suppression therapy, strength conditioning–field placement is still an unresolved variable.”

“‘Unresolved variable?’”You repeated, voice colder than you intended. “He’s been stable for eight months.”

”And we remember the last time he wasn’t stable.” Walker cut in, tone clipped, “Need I remind you of the Void turning the population into a trauma loop.” Yelena leaned back in her chair, arms folded.

”This isn’t about doubting his progress. It’s just about not wanting to see him go there again.” You rubbed your forehead.

”He won’t,” You snapped, more forcefully than you meant to–but you didn’t walk it back. Your eyes scanned the table, looking at the rest of the team, almost hoping that you would be able to convince them otherwise.

Ava sighed. “It’s not that we don’t believe he’s trying. We know he is. But try doesn’t count for much when the Void’s in play.”

That’s when you pushed your chair back and stood.

You didn’t raise your voice. You didn’t need to.

“Then what’s the point of any of it?” You asked. “The training, the meditations, the suppression chamber nights, the full neuro-synchronization sessions we’ve sat through–all of it. What is the point of putting him through hell to be better if the second he is, we decide it’s still not enough?”

The room quieted.

Bob hadn’t looked up.

He’d kept his hands together, looking down at the floor, with his shoulders hunched.

You stepped out from behind your chair, speaking not to the table anymore–but to him.

“I’ve watched him every day. I’ve seen him rebuild himself molecule by molecule while half of you still talk about him like he’s a bomb with a faulty timer. I trust him. And if no one else wants to give him that chance–fine. I will.” There was a pause as everyone exchanged glances at one another, while you looked over to where Val was standing, the tablet still perched in her hands,“Assign me the mission. Put him on it. Just us. Let’s see if all that damn therapy worked.” Val looked at you for a long moment. Then at Bob. Then back again, almost like she was questioning your sanity.

“…It’s your call…But you’re the one who’s taking the blame if anything happens.” You nodded once, steady and sure.

”I’m willing to take the chances.” The room remained quiet, the kind of quiet that wasn’t peaceful—just heavy. Charged. One wrong word and it would tip into something worse. But you didn’t waver. You didn’t even glance back at the others.

You turned.

And your eyes found him.

Bob was still seated, shoulders hunched, posture compact like he was trying to take up as little space in the world as possible. But–

He was looking at you.

For the first time that meeting, he’d lifted his head, just enough, and it wrecked you.

The stunned flicker in his expression was sharp, almost disbelieving. Like he hadn’t been expecting you to fight for him. Not like that. Not out loud. Not in a room where it would cost you something–like being sat out of missions for an unknown amount of time.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His gaze dropped again almost as fast–but not before you caught it.

The look in his eyes was hope, cracking at the edges.

That’s what had brought you to this moment, with him kneeling in front of you, and your hands resting on his shoulders.

”Trust me…It’s not that big of a deal.” But you felt it in the way his muscles shifted under your touch, the slight tremble of disbelief still running through him like an aftershock. The cape settled perfectly down his spine now, catching the flickering light in soft ripples as he knelt there, grounded not by weight, but by something far more vulnerable.

You didn’t mean to reach up.

But your hand moved on instinct.

Fingers brushing along the edge of his jaw before cupping the curve of his cheek–warm beneath your palm, with the faintest prickle of stubble just starting to grow back after this morning’s shave. His skin was soft. Too soft for someone who’d been built to withstand the weight of stars.

His breath hitched.

And though he didn’t lean into the touch, he didn’t move away either. He just looked at you–really looked at you. Gold threading through ocean blue. A light that wasn’t there just a few months ago.

The intimacy of it hung between you like a string pulled too tight. It was more than friendship. More than duty. It was something you hadn’t had the space to name yet–but it was there, crackling quietly in the places words couldn’t reach.

You dropped your hand slowly, gently. Letting it linger for just a heartbeat longer than you should have.

Then you smiled–small but sure–and stepped back.

“We’ll kick ass out there.” The shift in your tone pulled something like a grin from him. Shy. Crooked. Almost boyish.

You tilted your head toward the bay doors. “Now comm up. We’ve gotta catch the quinjet before Alexei starts yelling and Walker decides to fly it himself.”

That got a soft chuckle from him–quiet and warm, like sunlight after stormclouds.

He rose slowly, with the kind of strength that didn’t show off–but couldn’t be ignored either. The cape flowed down behind him as he stood to his full height, golden and striking and real. No longer a symbol he didn’t think he deserved–but one he’d earned, inch by inch.

And now?

He was finally wearing it.

Side by side, you made your way to the hangar doors, boots echoing softly on the floor.

Two agents.

One mission.

And for the first time in a long time–

Bob Reynolds looked ready.

———————

The facility sat like a carcass at the edge of the forest, its structure sunken and half-swallowed by the wild. Tall pines clustered around the perimeter like sentries of their own, and the building’s outer shell was cracked in places, choked with ivy and moss. The quinjet’s descent had barely stirred the quiet–no birdsong, no wind, just that unnatural stillness you only ever found around dead places.

Bob landed first.

Boots hitting the ground with a muffled thud, cape fluttering faintly behind him, and you followed seconds later, crouching low in the brush before rising to your full height beside him. You exchanged a look–then a nod–and started toward the front of the facility, with your weapons lowered, and sensors scanning.

Once inside, the air changed.

It was stale. Clinical. Stripped of time. Like the place had been left in a hurry, but not by accident. You moved through the corridors slowly, your shoulder brushing his every few steps–part proximity, part habit.

The walls were lined with steel and polymer composite, scorched in some places, and still faintly etched with whiteboard residue in others. You swept through the lab chamber by chamber–clearing one door after the next in practiced silence. It was only when you reached what had once been a medbay or containment ward that Bob slowed.

A cluster of terminals flickered dimly under emergency power. Loose papers were scattered across the desk, some yellowed with age, others oddly fresh. You tilted your head and picked one up, squinting in the low light.

“…Looks like they were testing a serum variant,” You murmured, eyes scanning the page. “Modified CRSP-3. With…Anti-degeneration binding agents?”

Bob leaned in, frowning faintly as he read over your shoulder. “S-Super soldier derivative…” He said quietly, recognizing the words he had heard when he was back at the lab in Malaysia, just a the name was a bit off, “It’s close to the version t-they gave me. Just…Not I guess.”

You looked up at the comment, quirking a brow. “Wrong how?”

He shook his head slowly. “L-Like someone took the recipe and forgot the sunlight.”

Your lips quirked slightly at the phrasing, but it faded quickly as your gaze dropped to another folder. You flipped it open and scanned the contents before muttering, “It’s not that different from mine.” His eyes lifted to yours.

“Y-You got a variant?” You raised a brow at him, like you had revealed a secret that everyone knew but never spoke of.

”It was completely diluted,” You replied, sliding a page free from the file, “Got a perk or two though, I can lift heavy stuff like cars and big slabs of concrete…I don’t heal as fast as I’d like though, not as quick as Bucky or John or Alexei. Not that I mind though, it still gives me some flexibility with my skills and stuff…” Bob’s eyes stayed locked on yours for a second longer, like he wanted to say something else about your serum but couldn’t find the words. Maybe it was respect. Maybe it was concern. But it lingered in the air between you.

You stepped lightly toward another desk, fingers trailing over cracked glass and dust-laced folders as you moved. The place felt stripped of life but not memory. You could still feel the hum in the walls, like the experiments had left a stain that hadn’t faded. Bob followed you, his movements quieter now, more controlled–a kind of hyper awareness rolling off him in waves.

”…Do you really not remember anything from that lab in Malaysia?” You asked softly–trying to change the subject, but to also pick his brain–as you thumbed through a clipboard lined with scrawled formulas and dates. His footsteps slowed behind you.

”I r-remember how I got there…But once I was in there it’s just f-fragments. Voices I c-can’t place…A hallway that smelled like o-ozone. Apart from t-that , I really can’t remember much. I do remember waking u-up to you, Ava, John, and Yelena fighting in The Vault.” You smirked at him.

”You remember that part, huh?” Bob’s eyes flicked up toward yours–soft, sheepish. “H-Hard to forget…It’s where I-I met you guys…” You huffed out a quiet laugh through your nose, about to say something else, but the comms in your ear crackled alive before you could get a word out.

Bucky’s voice came through, clipped and alert: “We’ve got movement on the perimeter. West tree line. At least six–no uniforms, no IDs. Could be nothing. Could be a problem.”

You straightened up from the desk, your hand drifting back to the rifle slung over your shoulder, thumb flicking off the safety. “Copy that,” You said calmly, eyes scanning the windows nearest the treeline. “If they come inside, we’ll handle it.”

A pause.

Bucky’s voice came again, firmer. “It’s an unknown number coming for you. Keep sharp. If this is a setup, they waited ‘til you were deep enough to spring it.”

You glanced over your shoulder at Bob, who was already stepping closer, posture coiled, gold flickering faint behind his eyes like a warning. The air felt heavier now–more electric.

You clicked your comms again and replied, dry as ever, “I’m sure a half-assed super soldier and a sun god with an alter ego can handle it.” There was silence on the line for a beat–then a low grunt from Bucky, unmistakably unimpressed.

“You call me when you’re bleeding,” He said, “I’m not flying out to pick up pieces.”

“I won’t let it get that far,” You promised, stepping into the center of the room as your eyes swept the walls and exits. You turned slightly, voice low now–just for Bob.

”We fall back to the south corridor if anything feels off. There’s an escape path to the ravine.” Bob nodded, fingers twitching faintly at his sides, his voice a whisper of steel and concern.

“Y-You sure you’re ready for this?”

You looked at him–and didn’t hesitate. “I brought you here for a reason.”

That earned you a flicker of something in his expression. Not quite a smile. Not quite fear. Just that electric wire of belief stretching taut between you both.

The sound of distant branches cracking wasn’t the kind of snap that came from animals or wind. It was sharp. Intentional.

Followed by another. Closer.

You turned toward the sound, raising your rifle. Bob turned as well the gold now brighter in his eyes, his whole body shifting subtly, muscles tightening like a wire being pulled taut inside that suit. A pulse of heat rolled off him in the moment before everything went wrong.

A sharp ping echoed from above–the unmistakable sound of a suppressed sniper round ricocheting off a corner beam. You ducked instinctively just as the window to your left exploded inward in a shower of reinforced glass and smoke.

“Y/N!” Bob shouted, arm flying out to shield you–just as a long device was thrown into the room, and it burst in a white-hot pulse of light and heat. The impact blew you sideways. You hit the floor hard, your shoulder slamming into the edge of a metal cabinet. Your ears were ringing, disoriented. The smoke was thick, burning your eyes and nose, and something wet was crawling down your back.

You tried to push yourself up–and screamed.

Pain shot through your entire torso like fire licking your spine. You blinked hard through the smoke, fingers going to your back, and when they came away they were slick with blood.

Shrapnel.

Glass. Steel. Maybe a burn too–you couldn’t tell yet. You gasped, coughing violently, but managed to drag yourself into a half-crouch. Your limbs trembled, but your fingers were still on the trigger of your rifle.

You heard movement to your left–shadows in the smoke–and a low, furious sound that didn’t sound quite human. It was Bob.

You turned just in time to see him tear through a wall.

Not a door. A wall.

There were two men in tactical gear on the other side, and he moved like a solar flare made flesh. One got thrown back with enough force to crumple the corridor’s far end. The other screamed when Bob grabbed him and slammed him into the floor so hard the tiles shattered.

“Bob–” You croaked–but it wasn’t Bob who turned to you.

It was Sentry.

His eyes glowed molten gold through the smoke, his expression a mask of fury and panic. He surged toward you, kneeling beside you so fast it stirred the haze around you like wind. He was panting hard, trying to pull himself back under control. But when his hands reached for you, they shook.

”Y/N…You’re bleeding.” His touch was warm and careful despite the trembling fingers, and that’s when you felt it. The slow trickle of something wet sliding down your temple.

You blinked hard and reached up, fingertips smearing through blood at your hairline. You must’ve caught some shrapnel near the scalp too, and you hadn’t even noticed, but the pain in your back was louder now that you were seeing blood.

“I’m fine,” You rasped, even though your ribs ached like splintered glass was being pushed through your skin, “You need to focus. We have to get out of here, now.”

He looked like he might argue. You saw it flicker in the golden fire of his gaze. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring with emotion he couldn’t shape into words, but then he nodded–once. Just enough. You clicked your comms with a blood-slick thumb, the static crackling as you gritted through the pain.

“Thunderbolt One, we’re compromised. Injuries sustained. South corridor breached. We’re falling back.”

Bucky’s voice came in fast, tight. “Copy that. Can you walk?”

You hesitated, then hissed through your teeth, “Not far. Took shrapnel to the back, possible burns–minimal mobility. Sentry’s with me.”

There was a beat of silence on the line.

Then Bucky again, quieter this time. “Safehouse is two klicks southeast. Hidden hydro-station in the gorge. We stocked it last month–first aid, comms, heat. We’ll extract when the sky’s clear. Maybe a couple hours. You gotta lay low.” Your head fell back slightly, breathing labored, the air still thick with smoke and the sting of ozone. You nodded more to yourself than anyone else.

“Understood.” Bob was already moving before the words left your lips. He gathered you in his arms with infinite care, like touching you wrong might undo you completely. You bit your lip hard enough to draw more blood, trying not to cry out as he shifted you against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to you.

Outside the shattered clinical grounds, you could hear the chaos still echoing–gunfire farther off, and someone screaming in the distance. Probably one of the men Bob had already thrown halfway through the wall. But here, in his arms, the world felt steadier. He held you like you weighed nothing. Like you mattered more than everything.

“C-Can you hold on?” He asked, voice flickering somewhere between Bob and something far, far older. “I’ll go slow. Just for a bit.”

“Yeah,” You whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He moved fast enough to blur the edges of the hallway but not so fast it hurt. You clutched weakly at the front of his suit, your fingers curling against the heat radiating off his chest. You tried not to close your eyes. Not yet. But the bleeding hadn’t stopped. The world kept dipping sideways and dragging you down with it.

The last thing you remembered was the forest flashing past in pieces–tree trunks like streaks of shadow, gold light blazing just beneath your lashes–and the sound of him whispering something over and over against your hair, too soft for your failing ears to catch.

——————

The first thing you felt was the cold.

Not biting–but quiet. A gentle chill that hugged the concrete floor beneath your spine, softened only by the blanket cocooned around you. It carried the scent of dust and pine sap, of old stone and something faintly metallic–like blood. Your head throbbed. Not sharp, but thick and heavy, like your skull had been packed with wet cotton. Pain bloomed somewhere low in your back, radiating through your ribs every time you tried to draw a fuller breath. Something was strapped tight across your midsection–gauze, maybe, or field wrap–and your tactical suit clung to you in places it shouldn’t have.

You blinked slowly.

The ceiling came into focus first–low, reinforced concrete with flaking paint at the corners and a single exposed beam running above you. The light was dim and dappled, filtering in through a narrow, barred window high on the wall. Golden hour–near sunset, maybe. You turned your head a fraction and winced. Something pulled at your temple. A bandage, hastily applied.

Then your eyes found Bob.

He was in the far corner, standing beside the boarded-up window, back to the wall, shoulders taut like he was trying to hold himself in place through sheer force of will. His hands were flexing at his sides, over and over again—like he couldn’t decide whether to reach for something or just keep clenching them into fists.

He was no longer in the Sentry suit.

Instead, he’d changed into something from the emergency gear cache–a faded charcoal thermal shirt that fit loosely across his shoulders and sleeves that bunched slightly at his wrists, and a pair of black utility pants that were a little worn at the knees. His light brown hair was damp at the ends, curling slightly from sweat or water–possibly from a quick rinse in the shower. He looked like he’d aged a year in an hour.

You watched him in silence, letting your eyes trail over the tension carved into his posture, the way his jaw ticked every few seconds as he stared out the narrow slats toward the tree line. He was breathing through his nose–slow, measured. Controlled. But there was nothing calm about it.

He thought someone was still coming.

And maybe they were.

“…Bob?” You rasped, barely more than a whisper.

His head jerked around instantly.

His blue eyes landed on you like they hadn’t dared hope you’d wake. For a moment, he just stared–like his brain was trying to catch up to what his heart had already registered. Then he moved. Fast. But not chaotic.

He dropped to a knee beside you, one hand planted against the floor to steady himself as the other reached for you–hovered–then settled gently at your arm when he saw the wince in your expression.

“You’re awake,” He breathed. His voice was hoarse, cracked at the edges. “Oh God–how do you feel? A-Are you okay? Are you in pain? D-Do you know where we are–”You coughed once, your ribs spasming with it, and nodded slightly.

“Safehouse. Hydro-station…Two klicks out.” You took a shaky breath. “I remember.” Relief surged across his face like a tide, washing out the panic. His shoulders slumped slightly, like the weight he’d been carrying might finally loosen its grip.

“I stopped the bleeding,” He said, quieter now. “The stuff in the med bin wasn’t great, but—I-I cleaned what I could reach. The gauze might need to be changed in a few hours, b-but you’re stable. I kept pressure on the worst part until it stopped…” You shifted slightly, groaning as your spine lit up with pain, and that was when you felt it–a heat lingering at your side, tucked between your arm and ribs. A hot pack. Probably scavenged from the safehouse supplies.

Your gaze drifted down. Bob had even folded a towel to keep it from burning your skin.

“You did good,” You whispered. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Bob huffed softly. Not quite a laugh, but not a sob either.

”T-That’s not enough,” He muttered, “You s-shouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first p-place.” You shook your head slowly, like every movement was wading through wet cement.

“It happens,” You rasped, voice soft but firm. “You can’t control everything.”

Bob didn’t reply back. His gaze flickered down, jaw tight again–like the words sat heavy on his tongue but wouldn’t come out right. The silence between you stretched just long enough to border on weighty before you tilted your head, a dry hint of a smile tugging at your mouth.

“But is there any reason why I’m on the floor?”

That got his attention. He blinked, startled–then rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, the gesture boyish and sheepish in a way that made you forget, just for a second, the power inside him.

“There’s only one bed,” He admitted. “I… I thought i-it would be best to put you here until you were awake. That way you could–y’know–get cleaned up before you got in. F-Figured you wouldn’t want blood in the sheets, or on your face while sleeping.” You stared at him for a second, then through cracked lips murmured,

”So that’s why you’re looking all damp.” The question took him off guard–completely. His brows rose slightly, and he actually glanced down at himself, like realizing for the first time that yes, he was still faintly glistening from the quick scrub he took in the washroom.

“Yeah,” He said after a beat, voice almost embarrassed. “It was just a quick rinse to get the grime and dirt off. Sentry was a bit…Angry so I had to settle that. But I was able to calm him down in peace at least.” You watched him carefully, noting the way he downplayed the struggle. You knew it wasn’t easy–how hard he fought to keep Sentry and Void balanced, especially after emotional spikes like the one in the lab. And he hadn’t just come down from it–he’d carried you out in the middle of it, held it all back for you. Your lips quirked, even though it hurt. A dull, dragging ache moved through your ribs, but it didn’t stop the words from coming.

“I owe both of you one,” You murmured, voice still ragged but steady enough. “You got me to safety. I’m grateful, Bob. Truly.” His gaze flicked down like he couldn’t hold it—not under the weight of your sincerity. His ears were already tinged red, but the color spread across his cheeks then, blooming with quiet embarrassment.

“I… I just did what had to be done to k-keep you safe,” He stammered. “That was my m-main goal…Just–g-getting you out. You were hurt, and I–I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You tilted your head slightly, biting back a soft smile as you studied him. He looked so unsure, kneeling there in that too-big thermal, his hair curling damp over his forehead, hands still trembling faintly from adrenaline and aftershock. And yet–he’d ripped through a wall for you. Carried you two kilometers and calmed a golden god that lived in his bones just to hold you still and careful.

“Have you always been this heroic on the inside?” You asked, voice low and a little teasing, your smile blooming now in earnest. “Or am I just the lucky one who gets the rescue mission treatment?” He looked up at that, wide-eyed and flustered, like you’d just hit him with a truck made of compliments. He opened his mouth, tried to speak, failed–then let out a breathy laugh that broke the tension like a warm breeze.

“I think you’re… P–Pretty special,” He said, honest and unguarded, his blue shimmering eyes meeting yours with a kind of hesitant awe, “I mean–I’d…Probably still tear a building in half for Walker if I had to. But I-I didn’t mean it like that with you. I mean–oh God–n-not that I don’t care about you–I mean, I do, but not like Walker–like, not like Walker, I–” You reached out with your good hand and caught the fabric at his wrist, giving it a soft tug, looking down at it..

“Hey,” You said gently, cutting through his verbal tailspin, “I know what you’re saying…” The moment stretched between you like something pulled too tight–fragile, golden, and trembling with meaning. Your fingers lingered on the fabric of his sleeve a second longer than they needed to, and when you looked up at him again, he was already looking at you.

Not just glancing. Not just checking, just staring.

Like there was something unspoken caught in his chest, rising toward the surface–caught somewhere between breath and belief. His eyes weren’t just blue now; they shimmered faintly, gold flickering at the edges, the way they always did when his emotions got ahead of his control. You knew that look. It was the Sentry watching through Bob’s eyes, but not interfering. Just…Witnessing. Letting him feel it.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

But it sat there between you, humming like electricity on the skin.

Then, slowly, you let your hand fall back to your side, and you pulled in a breath that made your ribs ache.

“Okay,” You murmured, softer now, trying to anchor yourself. “Right now…I need to get this blood off me before I start sticking to the damn floor.”

Bob blinked like you’d broken a spell–but not in a bad way. He nodded quickly, awkwardly, as he shifted backward to give you space. “Y-Yeah, of course. The water’s warm enough, just don’t stay in too long. The heat might aggravate the swelling on your lower back, s-so keep it quick if you can.”

You gave him a sideways look, smirking faintly despite yourself. “Are you giving me medical advice now?”

He flushed. “I read the first aid kit manual twice while you were out just in case something went wrong.”

That made something flutter in your chest. Not quite laughter. Not quite tears. Just a deep, slow warmth.

You began to shift, slowly bracing against the wall to push yourself up, and he reached out instinctively. One arm looped gently around your back, the other steadied you at the elbow. He didn’t lift you completely–just made it easier, like always. Like he’d keep doing it forever, if you let him.

When you were upright and still breathing through the worst of the pain, you glanced over at him again.

“Once I’m done,” You said, voice a little steadier now, “I’ll need your help redressing everything. The wrap’s probably slipped by now, and I want you to learn how to apply it properly. You did good for field triage, but if we’re stuck here overnight–which judging by the radio silence on the comms it seems like it’s going to be the case–it needs to be clean.”

His face sobered instantly. “I-I’ll do whatever you need.”

You smiled at him again–just faintly. “I know you will.” Then, before he could overthink it, you turned and started toward the tiny half-shower tucked behind a chipped concrete partition, biting back a hiss as every step woke another pocket of pain. You didn’t look back. But you didn’t need to.

You felt him watch you the whole way, like sunlight warming your spine as you disappeared behind the partition covering. The shower was more of a pipe rigged into the wall than an actual stall—one of those industrial utility setups meant for clearing mud and sweat from boots and bodies, not exactly for comfort. The water hissed out in a narrow stream, tepid but consistent. You turned the knob carefully, bracing your weight with one hand against the damp wall, then peeled off your suit in slow, stiff movements–gritting your teeth when the fabric tugged at dried blood, as you ripped off the bandages Bob had placed.

The chill of the air gave way to the warmth of the water. It hit your shoulders first, tracking down your spine in ribbons, streaking through the grime, the smoke, the blood crusted to your skin. You let it run for a moment, eyes closed, arms braced against the wall, head bowed. The sound was steady. Soothing. White noise against the hum of aching muscles and the low throb at the base of your skull.

You let your forehead rest against the wall.

For a second, just a second, it was easy to forget where you were.

Then your ribs shifted, pain bloomed, and you remembered everything.

The fight. The explosion. The lab. Bob’s arms around you.

Bob’s voice, cracking with panic, whispering stay with me again and again like a mantra.

You ran your hands slowly down your torso, fingertips ghosting over the angry welt of bruising across your side and the tender edge of where gauze had been peeled away. The water sluiced down, carrying filth and blood with it, and you let yourself breathe into the ache of it—slow, steady, controlled.

Eventually, you turned off the stream.

The towel was scratchy, military-issued, but it was warm from where it had hung near the heat vent. You wrapped it around yourself tightly, twisting your damp hair, wringing it out, before letting it settle on your skin, and limping out from behind the partition.

The room was still dim, the air faintly humid now from the steam you’d left behind. But something had changed.

Bob had moved.

He was seated now on the edge of the narrow safehouse cot–the only bed in the room, barely wide enough for one, with a thin, patchy blanket folded neatly at the foot. The mattress dipped under his weight, creaking slightly. He’d propped the first aid kit open beside him, latex gloves already tugged onto his long fingers, and fresh gauze, antiseptic, tape, and wraps all laid out in perfect, careful order across a folded towel on his lap.

His knee was bouncing.

When he looked up and saw you, he froze.

You felt his gaze catch–not just on your face, but on the curve of your shoulders, the long stretch of leg below the hem of the towel. His eyes widened a fraction, then dropped politely to the kit again, ears flushed pink.

“I–I’ve got everything ready,” He said quickly, almost too fast. “If–uh, if you want, I can get it started.” You nodded softly, still damp and achy, the towel clinging to your skin. Each step back toward the bed was deliberate, slow. The soreness in your side hadn’t dulled, not even with the hot water, but it was manageable now. Or at least, easy enough to ignore with Bob sitting there–so tense and trying so hard to be helpful that it made something warm flutter in your chest.

You reached the edge of the bed and turned your back to him, standing for a beat before gingerly easing down beside him. The cot creaked beneath your weight, the mattress barely more than a few inches of aging foam over a thin metal frame. You could feel the heat radiating off him already.

Then, with a steady breath, you tugged the towel down just enough to bare the strip of your lower back and side where the makeshift field wrap sat crooked and half-unraveled from your shower.

“Okay,” You murmured, voice quiet in the still room. “You’re up, Doctor Reynolds.”

Bob gave a soft huff at that–something between a laugh and a nervous exhale–but his hands moved quickly. He leaned in behind you, close enough that his breath ghosted against your shoulder as he examined the wound. The old gauze peeled back with a faint pull, and he winced even more than you did.

“Sorry,” He said softly, glancing up as if expecting a flinch. “T-The edge was stuck. You okay?” You nodded.

“Keep going. It needs to be clean.” He moved with as much gentleness as he could manage. His hands weren’t shaking now, but they were tense–measured. You could feel the concentration in his touch, like he was afraid of hurting you again, even as he dabbed antiseptic over the reddened skin and pressed clean gauze into place. As he worked, your gaze drifted toward the comm unit resting useless on the bedside table, a tangled mess of wires and cables.

“Did you try contacting the team again?” You asked, voice lower now.

He paused for a moment–just long enough to tell you everything before he spoke. “Yeah,” He said, fingers brushing lightly at the curve of your side, trying his best not to linger in any of the inappropriate spots, even though with all this skin exposed to him it was making his entire body burn up. “No response. Still dead across all channels.”

You gave a soft hum. “Then I guess we really are staying overnight.”Bob didn’t respond at first. His hands moved to the wrap, carefully anchoring the new gauze with smooth precision. You felt the press of his palm through the cloth–steady, reverent, like he was reminding himself you were real and alive with every movement.

“…I can take the floor,” He said suddenly, voice quiet but certain. “After this. It’s not a big deal.” You turned slightly, wincing at the shift, and gave him a half-smile over your shoulder.

“We don’t have to fight over who gets the uncomfortable cot, Bob. We can both sleep in it.”

He hesitated. “It’s really not that big–” You arched a brow.

”You brought me here while trying to hold yourself back from exploding. I think you can survive sharing a mattress with me.” He swallowed audibly.

Then, just as he tightened the last bit of wrap at your ribs, he pressed a little too hard into a bruise that hadn’t fully surfaced yet.

You gasped—sharp, breathless.

Bob jerked back instantly, horrified. “Oh God–I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–shit–are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head quickly, even though your breath was still catching in your throat. “No, it’s okay–it just surprised me. You’re good, Bob.”

His hands hovered near your waist, trembling now, not touching you again until you nodded for him to finish.

He wrapped the last edge slowly, much lighter this time, barely more than a whisper against your skin.

Then silence.

Warm, golden, stretched between the two of you like a blanket.

You didn’t move right away. Neither did he.

You could feel the heat of him behind you, his breath steady and shallow as he stared down at the dressing he’d just finished. His hands lingered near your waist for a second longer than necessary–close, not quite touching–before his eyes drifted downward, following the dip of your spine. The gauze was clean now, neatly taped and secure. But above and around it…More marks had surfaced.

Old ones.

Bob’s breath hitched.

He hadn’t noticed them before–not with the blood and the suit and the urgency of getting you stable. But now, in the quiet aftermath, under the warm yellow flicker of the backup light and with the towel still slouched low across your hips, he could see them clearly.

A long, narrow scar just above your left hip bone. A puckered crescent near your ribs, like a burn. Two parallel lines across the back of your shoulder, faded but unmistakable.

Not field wounds. Not Thunderbolt wounds.

Older.

Hard-earned.

“…These,” He murmured, the pads of his fingers ghosting near—but never quite on—the marks. His voice was gentle. Tentative. “T-These aren’t from today.”

You didn’t turn your head at first. You just breathed–steady, quiet–your shoulders rising and falling.

“No,” You said after a moment, the word flat, then a touch wry. “I had a pretty rowdy life before the Thunderbolts.” Bob’s hand hovered at the curve of your spine, close enough that you could feel the heat of it. “You’d be surprised what a tact suit hides.” You said with a smirk on your lips. His expression was unreadable. Not pitying–he never looked at you like that–but something close to awe. Like he was seeing something sacred. The sum of your survival.

You gave a small, almost shy shift beneath his gaze, suddenly very aware of how much skin was exposed between you–how the towel had begun to loosen slightly at your chest, how his knees were still brushing the side of your thigh on the cot from how he had positioned himself…

You cleared your throat gently. “Hey… Bob?”

His eyes snapped up to the back of your head, as if you’d pulled him from deep underwater. “Y-Yeah?”

“Can you grab me a top and some shorts?” You asked, voice casual but warm. “From wherever you got your stuff? I figure you raided a cache somewhere in the utility lockers.”

“I–Yeah, yeah, of course,” He said, already moving, already grateful to have something practical to do. He rose quickly, the cot creaking under the sudden shift in weight, and crossed to the metal cabinet tucked against the wall. The key was still jammed in the lock from earlier, and he pulled it open with practiced ease.

You watched him move–awkward, careful, trying not to glance back too much. It made your smile curve softly as you tucked the towel tighter around yourself, a slow stretch of fabric across your skin.

He rifled through the stack for a second, then held up a soft, oversized long-sleeve shirt–navy, faded at the collar–and a pair of black compression shorts that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years. Not stylish. But warm. Clean.

He turned, holding them out, and then–realizing you were still wrapped in nothing but a towel–he jerked his gaze back to the floor like it had burned him.

“I’ll just, uh–I’ll give you some privacy,” He stammered, shoving the clothes into your outstretched hand without looking. “I’ll just be–right over there, by the door.” You bit back a grin as he spun on his heel and practically speed-walked to the opposite corner of the room, facing the reinforced door like he was on watch duty.

“Thanks, Bob,” You said softly.

You didn’t miss the way his ears turned pink again. “Y-You’re welcome.”

You stood slowly, wincing just slightly, and let the towel fall in silence. The fabric was still damp, cool against your toes as you stepped free of it and tugged on the shorts first, then eased the shirt over your head, careful not to strain your ribs. The hem hung past your hips like a dress, soft and lived-in, and you imagined for a second it might have belonged to him once. The sleeves still smelled faintly like cedar and clean soap. When you were dressed and back on the cot, you shifted your legs up slowly and cleared your throat again.

“All set,” You said, and Bob turned around only once he was sure you meant it. His gaze flickered briefly over you–just long enough to make your skin warm again–but he didn’t say anything. He just crossed the room in a few careful steps, and sat down slowly, careful not to jostle the cot too much as it gave another faint creak beneath their combined weight. The mattress dipped in the center, naturally drawing them closer than either probably expected, but he kept his hands firmly in his lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

His voice broke the silence, tentative but laced with quiet humor. “So… how are we going to do this?” He tilted his head slightly, blue eyes flicking toward you and then away again. “I’ll probably take up the majority of the mattress. Didn’t really think that part through when I carried you in.”

You glanced at the sliver of space between you, then slowly stretched your legs out, grimacing slightly as you adjusted for your ribs. “You’ll just cushion me,” you said simply, voice soft but sure. “You’ll probably have to hold me… but that’s not too much of an issue.”

Bob choked slightly on his own breath—just a soft, startled sound that made the tips of his ears turn red again. “O-Okay,” he said, a little too fast, clearing his throat. “Okay. That’s—uh. That’s fine.”

You smiled to yourself and let your head tip back briefly against the thin pillow behind you. “What side do you sleep on?”

He glanced over at you, genuinely considering the question. “My right,” he said after a pause. “It’s easier on my shoulder. You?”

“My left.”

There was a beat. Then the realization landed, quiet but heavy.

You were going to be facing each other.

You opened your eyes again and caught the expression on his face. He looked like someone who had just realized he’d been invited to sit front row at a symphony he never thought he deserved to hear. Stunned. Honored. Slightly terrified.

“I can lie on my back if it’s weird,” you offered lightly, though you didn’t really want to.

“No,” Bob said quickly, shaking his head. “N-No, not weird. I–uh–I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t,” You murmured, your gaze softening. “You haven’t yet.”

His breath caught in his throat again, and for a moment he looked like he might say something else. Something honest. Something about the way you’d looked, bleeding and unconscious in his arms. Something about the way he’d spoken to you while carrying you through the woods, even though you couldn’t hear him–murmuring please don’t go, just hold on, I’m here.

But instead, he shifted carefully down beside you, mirroring your posture, folding himself into the thin mattress with as much grace as a man of his size could manage. His back barely brushed the wall. His knee brushed yours. His arm hovered for a second between you–then, slowly, gently, he settled it across your waist, just light enough for you to move if it hurt.

You didn’t.

Instead, you shifted closer, until your forehead nearly touched his collarbone, and your hand settled over his bicep

“Okay?” He whispered, breath warm against your temple.

You nodded.

“Okay.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was thick with the scent of cedar and soap and antiseptic. The hum of old pipes and the faint static from the comms unit. The warmth of him, chest rising slow against yours. The weight of his hand, careful but real. And underneath it all…The quiet certainty of something inevitable taking root.

Your breath was slow now. Shallow, but not from pain anymore–just the kind of awareness that crept in like tidewater. Warm and inevitable.

Bob’s hand stayed where it was, curved lightly across your waist, unmoving except for the slight twitch of his fingers now and then, like he wasn’t quite sure if he was allowed to do more. He was being so careful with you. So still. As if any shift would snap the fragile thread holding the moment together.

But you weren’t glass.

And you were done pretending that you didn’t want more than silence and stillness from the man lying inches away from you.

Your fingers, resting gently over his bicep, began to move–slow, almost absent. Just the lightest drag of your touch over muscle, tracing the soft curve of strength hidden beneath the worn fabric of his sleeve. His breath caught. You felt it, right against your temple, like he’d forgotten how to exhale. But he didn’t stop you. Not even when your thumb made another pass, this time curling just slightly, letting the friction build.

“You’re tense,” you whispered. Voice low. Sleepy on the surface, but heavy beneath.

“I-I’m fine,” Bob murmured. It was automatic. Instinctive. But it was a lie, and he knew it the second it left his mouth.

Your other hand shifted. The one resting near his chest. You moved it slowly, palm dragging over the center of his sternum until it settled over the steady thrum of his heart. He was warm there. Unreasonably warm. The beat beneath your hand was solid and fast. Too fast.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” You murmured. Your eyes stayed half-lidded. Your body didn’t move much. But the weight of your touch… It was deliberate. Bob swallowed, hard. His head tipped a little closer to yours. You could feel the heat of his breath fan against your hairline, could feel his fingers twitch again at your waist. Your thumb swept once more across the center of his chest, slow and featherlight, resting in the space where his heartbeat thudded just beneath skin and cotton. It wasn’t racing–but it wasn’t calm either. Like a bird pacing inside its cage, fluttering at the bars.

You let your fingers still.

Then, softly–so softly it almost wasn’t a question–you whispered, “Is it always that fast…Or just when I’m touching you?”

Bob let out a quiet breath. Almost a laugh, but too fragile to be called that. His chest rose and fell once, shallow, before he replied.

“…It’s a bit h-hard to not be nervous,” He said. His voice was rough, threaded with honesty. “You’re… Y-You’re right here. A-And I’m holding you. And you’re touching me like I’m not going to break. L-Like you actually want to.”

You blinked slowly, something tight tugging behind your ribs that had nothing to do with injury.

“I do want to.” You said, clear and unshaken. The quiet cracked like an eggshell.

You felt his arm tighten around your waist just a little–not pulling, not claiming, just grounding. Confirming. Like he needed to make sure this was real. That you weren’t going to slip away.

“I’ve wanted to for a long time,” You added, almost inaudible now. Your hand was still resting over his heart, and his hand had shifted too–thumb brushing just under the curve of your ribs, the heat of him seeping into your skin. The silence between your words and his breath felt long enough to live a lifetime in. You could feel him blinking slowly, could sense the tremor just under the surface of him–the way his whole body had gone still, like he was afraid that one wrong movement would shatter the moment into something unrecognizable.

Then, so quiet it felt like it bloomed straight out of your chest, he whispered–

“M-Me too… I…I just didn’t know that you…T-Thought of me that way.”

His voice was hoarse, not from strain, but from disbelief. The kind of voice someone used when they didn’t want to ruin something beautiful by speaking too loud. His arm curled a little more firmly around your waist, just barely. Still cautious. Still asking without words if it was okay.

You didn’t answer with words this time. You didn’t need to.

Instead, you tilted your head just enough to look up at him.

He was already looking at you.

His face was open, unguarded in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes shimmered in the low light–blue and gold all at once, like a sky split in two. He looked at you like he was memorizing every inch of your face, and also like he was still afraid he might wake up.

And still–neither of you moved.

Not until your thumb stroked once more over his chest, and you inched a little closer. Your foreheads nearly touched now. Your breaths mingled in that thin space. The cot creaked quietly beneath you, but it felt like the world had hushed. His voice cracked like a dropped glass in the dark.

“Y-Y/N… A-Are you…” He paused, breath catching in his throat. His lips parted slightly, and when you looked up, really looked at him, you could see the fear blooming under the hope in his eyes. The kind of fear that only lives in hearts that have known too much disappointment.

He blinked once, swallowed hard.

“Are you…G-Going to kiss me?”

The question trembled out of him like it had never been spoken aloud before. Like he’d rehearsed it in a dozen imagined lifetimes but never thought he’d live the one where he actually got to ask it.

You didn’t speak. Not right away.

You just looked at him–soft, slow, and sure. There was a quiet steadiness in your eyes that seemed to strip the air from the room, and yet fill it with something heavier, sweeter. You smiled–small at first, then a little wider. It was the kind of smile that said yes without needing syllables. That said I’ve been waiting for this too.

And then you nodded.

His breath hitched, but he didn’t move.

He stayed still, wide-eyed and stunned, as you leaned in.

You didn’t rush. You didn’t dive.

You let the moment bloom.

Your forehead brushed his first. Then your nose nudged along his gently, just enough to tilt your face and let the edges of your lips graze his. You heard the smallest noise from him—a stuttered sound, half a gasp, half a plea–and then…

Then your mouth touched his.

It was barely a kiss at first.

Just breath and heat and the press of your lips against his, tender and tentative. You didn’t push forward. You didn’t open your mouth. You simply stayed there, still and close, long enough for him to register the softness of it. The reality.

Bob melted into it like he’d been holding his breath for years.

His lips moved cautiously–an echo of yours, mirroring your shape, your rhythm. The tip of his nose brushed your cheek. One of his hands, the one resting just under your ribs, tightened slightly, curling his palm around your side like he didn’t even realize he’d done it. He didn’t rush. He didn’t deepen the kiss. He just kissed you back, slow and trembling and reverent.

Like this was a prayer.

You pulled back slightly–just a breath, just enough to look at him. His eyes fluttered open, glassy with emotion, lips parted. He looked dazed. Glorious. Like he was trying to understand the feel of your mouth against his, and couldn’t quite believe it had really happened.

You cupped his face in one hand, your thumb brushing the edge of his jaw.

Then you kissed him again.

Slower this time. Deeper. Your lips moved against his with a kind of aching tenderness, like you were pouring everything into it that words couldn’t reach. Gratitude. Relief. Want. The softest kind of longing.

He made a quiet sound–barely more than a sigh–and leaned into you fully, his forehead pressing to yours again when the kiss broke. His hand moved to cradle the back of your waist, warm and strong and trembling just a little.

“Y/N…” He breathed, voice wrecked and sweet all at once. Your leg eased over his gently, thigh sliding between his as your hips pressed flush to his side. You felt him stiffen for half a second–like his brain short-circuited just trying to process the contact–then melt again beneath the heat of your body. Your chest pressed lightly to his, and his breath came out in one long, low exhale that ghosted over your cheek.

Then you kissed him again.

This time, it wasn’t slow.

It was hungry.

Your lips moved against his with quiet desperation, like the moment had snapped open and neither of you could keep holding back. You opened your mouth slightly, and when his lips parted in response, your tongue brushed his–tentative at first, then firmer. Bob made a sound in the back of his throat, deep and breathless, and his hand slid higher up your back, splaying between your shoulder blades. You moaned softly into his mouth.

It was small. Barely a sound. But the second it escaped you, he stilled.

Bob pulled back just enough to breathe, eyes wide, lips kiss-swollen, brows drawn in concern.

“W-Was that… Are you okay?” He whispered. His hand was still on your back. His other still cupped your waist, but his entire body was stiff again–like he was ready to stop everything the second you asked.

You nodded, breath catching. “Yeah,” You whispered, eyes fluttering open. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Maybe we should stop,” He said, voice rough, hesitant. “There’s…There’s no need to rush into things.” Your heart pulled a little. Not in disappointment—but in the aching tenderness of it. You shook your head slowly, brushing your nose against his again.

“I really don’t want to wait…” You murmured. “But if you want to, we can.”

His lips parted, eyes flicking down to your mouth again. He was quiet for a long second, and you could see the war playing out in his head–desire crashing against caution.

“I-I just don’t want to m-make your injuries worse,” He admitted softly. His thumb brushed along your spine, featherlight. “I’ve been trying so hard not to touch you too much t-tonight, I–I was scared if I did I’d…Forget how careful I need to be.”

“You won’t,” You whispered. Your fingers traced the side of his ribs slowly, curling beneath the edge of his bare back. “You’ve been nothing but careful.”

He closed his eyes, jaw tightening slightly like he was bracing himself.

“I’m sure I’ll be healed in a few days if you do hurt me,” you added with a small, teasing smile, your hand dragging lightly down to his waist. “But I don’t think you will.” His breath stuttered again.

Then, slowly–like gravity had shifted beneath the cot–he shifted. Just enough to lean into you a little more, to press his forehead against yours. And in doing so, his thigh slid between your legs.

You both froze.

Not because it hurt–not because it was wrong–but because the contact burned. The heat of him, solid and broad between your thighs, pressed right against the thin stretch of your shorts. His pants were soft against your bare skin, but it didn’t mute the sensation. If anything, it made it worse–warmer. Closer. You exhaled, soft and shaky, and your hips reacted before your mind could stop them–just the smallest roll forward, seeking more of that pressure.

Bob gasped.

It punched right out of his chest like he’d been struck, and his hand–once trembling, once cautious–gripped your waist with a firmer hold. His breath was fast now, shallow. You could feel it between your bodies, ghosting over your lips as he leaned in, nose brushing yours again.

“I-I can feel you,” He whispered, wrecked. “You’re–J-Jesus, you’re warm.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. You just nodded once, slow and deliberate, your eyes never leaving his.

Then you kissed him again.

This time, there was no room for hesitation.

Your mouth met his with urgency, hunger curling in your belly like a lit match. Your tongue swept against his, and he moaned into the kiss deep and low, like he couldn’t help it. His hand traveled up your side, over the curve of your waist and into the back of your shirt, until his palm was resting against your bare spine, burning into your skin.

You rocked against his thigh again, your body seeking out friction instinctively–and this time he moved with you. The muscle pressing firmer between yours, grounding you as his hand on your back pulled you closer, guiding your hips into a slow, desperate grind.

“You feel so good,” You whispered against his mouth, breathless. “God, Bob…”

His name broke something open in him.

He pulled back just enough to see your face, his pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed. Then he kissed you again–harder this time. Still tender, still worshipful–but laced with a growing edge of need. His hand moved down again, slipping over the curve of your ass, and he guided you against his thigh with a slow, upward drag that made your breath stutter in your throat.

“Y-You’re shaking,” He murmured, lips brushing your jaw, your cheekbone, your ear.

“I know,” You gasped, forehead pressed to his temple now, your hips still moving in slow, aching circles. “I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

His hand slipped under the hem of your borrowed shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your lower back. You could feel him everywhere now–his leg between yours, the heat of his breath, the burn in your core growing sharper with every rock of your hips. The cot creaked beneath you with the rhythm you were building, and he let out a low, wrecked sound as your lips found his again, sloppier this time, open-mouthed and breathless.

“I’ve d-dreamed about this,” He confessed into your mouth, voice breaking. “God—I’ve thought about this. So many nights. N-Not like this–not when you were hurt, I swear, I’d never–but just…”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick, your thighs trembling. “Me too. For so long.”

He groaned again, and you felt him–hard now, pressing against your hip through the soft cotton of his sweatpants. Your body responded instinctively, heat pooling low in your stomach as you whispered,

“Do you want to stop?” His head snapped up, eyes wide.

“No,” He said, so quickly it made you bite your lip. Then, quieter–almost reverently–he added, “I want…Everything. But only if you want it too.”

“I do,” You said, and the truth of it vibrated between you like the aftershock of something cosmic. “I want you, Bob.” Bob’s mouth crashed back into yours like he couldn’t bear the distance anymore–like the ache had finally outpaced his restraint.

There was nothing tentative left in the way he kissed you now.

It was hungry. Wet and deep and breathless, like he needed the taste of you to survive. His hand slid up beneath your shirt, palm pressing flat against the small of your back like he was trying to fuse you together. You could feel the heat of his skin, the tension in his muscles, the unmistakable hardness of him against your hip–and the sheer desperation he was fighting not to lose control.

Your moan poured straight into his mouth, and he swallowed it like he’d never wanted anything more.

Then he pulled back just slightly–just enough to press his forehead against yours again, panting, his lips red and kiss-bitten, his voice wrecked.

“C-Can I—” He swallowed hard, eyes flicking over your face, “I want you to…Could you lie on your back?”

You blinked, already breathless, and gave the smallest nod. “Yeah… Yeah, of course.”

Carefully, you shifted, rolling onto your back with a quiet gasp at the slight pull in your ribs–but it didn’t matter. Not when he was looking at you like that. Like you were holy. Like he couldn’t believe he got to see you like this–flushed, sprawled out in the borrowed shirt and compression shorts, thighs still trembling from grinding against his.

Bob sat up slightly, not climbing over you, not rushing. Just moving with care—like reverence had overtaken urgency. He leaned down slowly, bracing one forearm beside your ribs so he wouldn’t hurt you, and then kissed the side of your neck.

Not once.

But again. And again. And again.

Each kiss dragged longer than the last–wet, open-mouthed, the heat of his breath ghosting over your pulse point. His other hand slid up beneath your shirt again, fingertips grazing your bare waist, your ribs, your hip, his thumb dragging a line just above the band of your shorts like it was driving him out of his mind.

And then–

He groaned into your neck, barely holding himself back, and whispered raggedly, “G-God, I want to taste you.”

The sound of his voice like that–low and wrecked and reverent–made your entire body tighten.

“I’ve–I’ve wanted to for so long,” He continued, kissing just below your ear now, his breath uneven. “I’m not–I’m not trying to rush this, I swear. I just…I’m a giver. I want to make you feel good. I want–” His voice broke. “God, I-I want to devour you.” You can hear the way he was starving for it, the desperation lacing his words. Your legs shifted without thinking, thighs parting instinctively beneath the weight of those words. Your fingers curled into the thin sheet beneath you, heart pounding in your throat like it was trying to answer for you.

“Please…” You whispered, barely more than a breath.

That one word unraveled him.

Bob moved instantly.

He kissed your neck one more time, slower this time, like sealing something sacred. Then he dragged his lips down your throat, your collarbone, the soft space above your sternum. He pushed your shirt up inch by inch, pausing to mouth at the newly exposed skin as he went–tongue tracing, lips brushing, every breath of his turning molten against your skin.

“You’re so soft,” He murmured against your ribs, his voice thick with awe. “So warm…God, you smell like heaven…”

You lifted your hips slightly to help him as his hands slid to the waistband of your shorts. His fingers curled there for just a moment–trembling slightly, like the gravity of what he was about to do had fully landed.

Then, slowly, reverently, he tugged them down.

You felt the fabric peel away from your thighs, your hips, your core–and then you were bare before him, flushed and trembling and open. Bob dropped the shorts to the floor with shaking hands. His eyes flicked up your body, and for a second, he looked like he couldn’t breathe.

Then he looked up, meeting your eyes as he settled between your semi-closed thighs. He reached for your hands first, threading his fingers through yours, grounding you together. His palms were big and warm, his grip careful but sure.

“S-Spread your legs for me,” He whispered. “Please.”

You did. Without hesitation, without fear.

You opened yourself to him, thighs falling apart slowly beneath his hands, baring the most vulnerable parts of yourself under the warmth of his gaze. You felt the air shift around you, the intimacy of the moment wrapping the two of you in a breathless cocoon.

”Oh, g-god…” Bob whispered, eyes falling to your glistening core like he was witnessing a miracle. “You’re perfect.”

Then he kissed your inner thigh.

And again. And again.

Soft, slow, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of one leg, then the other–teeth just grazing, tongue leaving hot trails in his wake. He held your hands the whole time, squeezing gently as his mouth moved higher, closer, his breath fanning over slick heat now, and it made your hips twitch helplessly.

“You’re s-so open…So ready f-for me.”

“Bob–” You breathed, already dizzy.

“I want you to fall apart for me,” He whispered, like it was a promise. “I’m gonna worship you…E-Every inch of you.”

And then his mouth was on you.

Hot, wet, and perfect.

His tongue parted you gently, slow and deliberate, tasting you like he’d been starving for it–like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered. His nose pressed against your pelvis as he licked a slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, moaning softly into you like the taste alone was intoxicating. Then his lips wrapped around your clit, suckling gently, his tongue flicking in delicate, deliberate patterns that sent sparks up your spine.

You arched with a cry, your legs twitching around his head.

He didn’t stop.

He just groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you as he dragged you deeper into the rhythm–long, slow strokes of his tongue, then tight flicks, then that perfect pressure as he sucked again, never breaking pace.

His hands squeezed yours tighter, anchoring you.

You looked down and nearly lost it.

His eyes were open, locked on you, dark and glassy with desire. His light brown lashes were damp, cheeks flushed, the lower half of his face slick with your arousal–and he looked blissful. Like he’d found his heaven right there between your thighs.

“Y-You’re shaking,” He murmured against your clit, his breath rolling hot over your slick skin. His tongue slowed for a beat, lips brushing so gently it made you ache.

Then, with his eyes locked on yours, he whispered:

“D-Don’t hold back from me… I want to feel it all.”

You whimpered, the sound breaking unbidden from your throat as he released one of your hands and dragged his palm slowly down your thigh–his touch searing. He pressed it to your inner thigh first, thumb dragging through the mess he’d made of you. The sound it made–wet and obscene–had you clenching around nothing.

“Mmm, you’re soaked,” He breathed, voice cracking like he couldn’t quite comprehend it. His fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance but not pressing in yet. “And it’s all for me…” He whispered.

“Bob—” Your voice broke on his name.

That was all it took.

His fingers slid into you–just one at first, slow and careful. You gasped, your hips twitching as your walls fluttered around him, already pulsing from how close he had you.

“Oh, my god…” He groaned, eyes fluttering. “You’re so tight–so warm–gripping me like you don’t wanna let go.” He eased in a second finger, curling both upward until he found that spot that made your entire body jolt.

Your back arched with a choked cry.

He groaned into your thigh, and then–still pumping his fingers slowly, perfectly–he leaned back in.

You reached for him instinctively, hand finding the golden-brown mess of his hair and curling into it hard as his mouth latched back onto your clit with a heat that bordered on holy.

He moaned at the contact like it fed him, like the combination of your body trembling around his fingers and the way you were dragging his face closer made him feral.

His tongue moved in tandem with his fingers now–lavishing your clit in slow circles while his fingers fucked up into you, curling with every drag, finding that rhythm that made stars explode behind your eyes.

“Bob–oh fuck, please–” you gasped, your voice wrecked, ragged, desperate.

He growled low and hot into your cunt, the vibration making your vision blur.

“That’s it,” He murmured, breathless. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear it.”

Your hand fisted tighter in his hair, your other gripping the sheet like you were going to rip it from the mattress, and your thighs began to shake again–wider now, open for him, letting him take everything.

His pace quickened.

His fingers thrust deeper, faster, curling ruthlessly against that spot that made your mouth fall open in a silent scream, and his mouth never stopped–tongue relentless, lips swollen around your clit, his entire face buried between your legs like it was the only place he ever wanted to be.

“Y-You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” He said, his voice hoarse and soaked in awe. “Right on my tongue–gonna let me taste it all…”

Your body answered before your voice could.

Pleasure coiled tight, seizing hot and fast in your belly before it burst all at once, crashing through you like a wave as your orgasm hit, ripping through your body with a sob of his name. Your thighs clamped around his head and your back arched completely off the mattress as you came–so hard you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel him.

He didn’t stop.

He kept his mouth on you, drinking you down like it was divine, his fingers fucking you through every last second of the high. You trembled, sobbed out a soft curse, and he moaned as you finally collapsed back to the bed, completely undone.

He pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh, then gently slid his fingers from you and looked up–his mouth slick, his eyes dark and molten.

And he smiled.

Like he’d been reborn.

“You taste like fucking paradise,” His smile faltered, lips still glistening as your chest rose and fell–slow, shallow, trembling with the aftershocks of what he’d just done to you.

Then your voice cut through the haze, low and wrecked.

“You should give me a sample then.”

Bob blinked.

His pupils dilated instantly–his breath catching so visibly in his throat it looked like he might choke on it. But his body obeyed before his mind caught up. Slowly, he rose to his knees, moving back over you with a dazed sort of focus, licking his lips like he wasn’t ready to give you any of it back. Like the taste of you was still burning on his tongue and he didn’t want to let it go.

You reached for him–fingers sliding around the back of his neck as you pulled him in, your lips parting just as his hovered over yours. He hesitated for the barest moment, like he was about to warn you that his mouth was still slick from you–but the look in your eyes told him you already knew. That you wanted it.

So he kissed you.

Slow at first–just the soft press of his mouth against yours, lips parting slightly. Then your tongue swept into him, tasting yourself on him, sweet and slick and warm. You moaned quietly and he shuddered against you. The kiss grew hotter, messier, your mouths opening more fully as he licked into you, groaning low when you sucked on his bottom lip just to feel the way it trembled.

A thin line of spit connected your mouths when you broke apart, trailing slowly from his lips to yours–and when you let your tongue flick out to catch it, Bob visibly swayed, like his knees nearly buckled.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, voice wrecked and raspy.

You didn’t let him catch his breath.

Instead, you slid your hand between your bodies and found his wrist–the one that had been inside you moments ago. Still slick. Still warm. His fingers were trembling slightly in the aftermath of holding you down through your orgasm.

You raised it to your mouth.

Bob’s breath hitched audibly as you guided his hand closer—and then licked.

Your tongue dragged slowly over his fingers, savoring the taste of yourself there. You moaned softly as your lips wrapped around two of them, sucking them clean with deliberate pressure, your eyes never leaving his.

He made a sound. A raw, broken groan that sounded like it had been ripped from the base of his spine.

“O-Oh my god Y/N…Y-You can’t do that–“

“You need to take your pants off, Bob…”You said it softly. Commanding. Like it wasn’t a question.

Bob stared at you for half a second, lips parted, cheeks flushed, sweat still glistening at his temples.

Then he moved.

His hands went to his waistband so fast he almost fumbled. You sat up slightly, wincing a little as your ribs protested the sudden movement–but you ignored it, too consumed by the heat pulsing between your legs and the weight of him in front of you. He pushed his sweatpants down his hips and off in one desperate motion, leaving him naked before you.

And God.

He was beautiful.

Hard and flushed, tip wet and glistening, his cock curved slightly toward his stomach with a heavy, pulsing need that made your mouth water. You let your eyes rake over him slowly, hungrily, and when they finally landed on his face again–he was watching you. Breathless. Waiting. Completely wrecked.

Then you peeled your shirt off.

Bob made another sound the second the fabric left your skin–a strangled, reverent sort of whimper, like he was witnessing a miracle and couldn’t decide if he was worthy of it.

You tossed it to the side, bare and open before him now–your chest rising in shallow, aroused breaths, nipples tight in the cool air of the safehouse, thighs still parted.

And Bob snapped.

Not roughly. Not without control.

But like he couldn’t not touch you anymore.

He surged forward, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss as one hand slid to your breast, cupping it gently, thumbing over your nipple in a slow, teasing drag that made you whimper into his mouth. His cock was pressing hot and heavy against your thigh now, and you rocked your hips up instinctively, catching the underside of him and dragging a moan from deep in his chest.

“I-I don’t know how I’m gonna last,” He whispered, panting against your mouth. “Y-You’re so perfect–I don’t wanna mess this up–”

“You won’t,” You whispered. “You won’t.”

“Tell me w-what you want,” He begged, voice cracking.

You reached between your bodies and wrapped your hand around him–hot and thick and pulsing in your palm–and whispered against his lips:

“I want to feel every inch of you…I want you to fuck me like I’m yours…Because I’ve always been yours.” His breath stuttered hard against your mouth when you wrapped your hand around him–fingers curling delicately at first, just enough to feel the weight, the heat, the way he pulsed against your palm. You stroked once. Then again. Slow. Languid. Your grip just shy of tight, your thumb circling the head as a slick bead of precum smeared across your skin.

Bob groaned.

It was deep and low, almost like it scared him–like pleasure this sharp wasn’t something he knew how to hold. His hand curled into the mattress beside your ribs, his other squeezing your hip as you leaned in and kissed him again, your lips softer now, teasing between strokes.

“You’re so warm,” you murmured against his mouth. “So hard for me…”

“F-Fuck–Y/N–“ He gasped your name like it was a prayer and a warning all at once. His hips jolted slightly into your grip, instinct overtaking restraint. “I–I can’t–if you keep doing that, I’m gonna–”

You smiled.

Slow. Sweet. Wicked.

“Just wanted to be a bit of a tease…” You whispered, brushing your lips down along his jaw, to the shell of his ear, where your voice dropped even lower. “I’ve been dreaming of this too, you know. Thinking about how you’d sound when I touched you like this… “ He whimpered at your words, his erection twitching in your hand. Then, slowly—purposefully–you guided him down, dragging the tip of him through your soaked folds. The moment his head brushed your clit, your whole body jolted. Your back arched slightly, breath catching in your throat as the contact sent a white-hot pulse up your spine. Bob gasped, shuddering, and you felt his hands tighten around your hips like he was barely keeping himself grounded.

“Oh my god–” He whispered, his voice wrecked, trembling with restraint. “I c-can’t believe how wet you are…I-I can feel it everywhere–”

“Then don’t just feel it,” you murmured, guiding him lower, “Be inside it…” You shifted your hips–just enough to angle him right where you needed him. The blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance, slick and swollen, and your whole body went still with anticipation.

Bob’s gaze locked on yours, dark and full of wonder. He leaned in, kissed you one more time–messy and soft and hungry–and then, with a trembling breath, he began to push forward.

You both moaned.

It was slow. Unbearably slow.

He eased inside an inch at a time, every stretch making your breath stutter, your thighs tremble. He was thick–perfectly so–and your body gave way for him inch by aching inch, clenching around the intrusion with desperate heat.

“God, y-you’re so tight,” Bob gasped, burying his face against your neck, breath hitching with every inch he sank deeper. “Y-You feel like—God, I don’t even have words…” He let out a broken sound against your throat and pushed in the rest of the way, bottoming out with a low, desperate groan. You gasped, arching again, your body seizing around the full stretch of him—full, full, so fucking full.

He didn’t move. Not at first.

He just stayed there, buried to the hilt inside you, his arms shaking as he held himself over you, forehead pressed to yours. His voice was hoarse when he spoke.

“I-I’m not gonna last long if I move—I’m sorry—I just—God, you feel so good—”

Your legs curled around his waist, drawing him in tighter.

“Then make it messy,” you whispered. “Make it yours.”

He moaned again—this time louder, hungrier—and then he began to move.

Slow thrusts, deep and aching, the kind that made your whole body roll with him. Each drag of his cock inside you made your eyes flutter, made your mouth fall open, made the air between you heavy with slick, wet sounds and broken breaths. The safehouse filled with them—your whispered gasps, his groaned praise, the sharp slap of skin against skin as he found a rhythm.

Your hands roamed his back, his shoulders, up into his damp hair again as you whispered his name over and over like it was the only thing you could remember.

“Y/N… Y/N… f-fuck, I love the way you say my name like that—”

His thrusts grew deeper. Hotter.

He kissed you again, messier this time, tongue sliding into your mouth as he fucked you in long, rolling motions. Every time his hips met yours, you felt his body tremble—like he was on the edge of unraveling. Your walls pulsed around him, already fluttering with the build of another orgasm, and you could feel him twitching inside you with every pass.

“You’re gripping me so fucking tight,” he gasped. “I-I can feel you clenching—are you gonna come again?”

“Yes—yes, I’m so close—Bob, please—” Your voice cracked, your nails dragging down his back. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—”

And he didn’t.

He fucked you harder—still careful, still reverent—but with a heat now, a desperate edge that left you both trembling. His cock drove into you deep, each thrust stroking perfectly against your inner walls, and when his hand snuck between your bodies to rub your clit in tight, aching circles, you came again with a cry.

You clenched down hard, pulsing around him, and he groaned so loud it echoed against the cement walls.

“Shit–I’m–I’m gonna come–”

“Inside,” You gasped. “Come inside me, Bob–please–” You begged.

His body seized.

He slammed into you one last time, hips grinding deep, and he came with a broken moan of your name–hot and thick and endless, filling you completely. His hips stuttered with it, his whole body trembling above you as he buried himself to the hilt and spilled everything he had inside you.

For a long moment, you just stayed like that.

Panting. Holding. Shaking.

His forehead pressed to yours again, both your bodies slick with sweat and tangled in a heat that went beyond physical. You could feel the pulse of him still throbbing inside you, the warmth of his release held deep, the silence now full only with the sound of your heartbeats trying to remember their rhythm.

Then he pulled back just enough to see you.

His eyes, still glassy and dark from everything he’d just felt, softened. And before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you.

Soft.

So gentle it made your throat ache.

His lips moved over yours with reverence, like he needed to prove he could still be tender after what you’d just shared–like he needed to show you the sweetness, the weight of what this was to him. The kiss lingered, not heated, not rushed. Just the kind of kiss people gave when they wanted to say thank you and I’m yours and I’ve been waiting all in one breath.

You smiled against his mouth.

He pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed, eyes flicking between yours as he gave a soft, breathless laugh.

“I-I should’ve tried to get on a mission sooner,” he whispered, still so close. “E-Evidently you’ve been waiting for this to be your key opportunity to c-confess your feelings.”

You let out a snort–delicate at first, then fuller, warmer, and suddenly you were both laughing. Quiet and exhausted and elated. The kind of laughter that bubbled up not from something funny, but from relief, from joy, from the giddy realization that you were finally here.

“I mean, come on,” You said between giggles, tilting your head back slightly against the pillow. “One cot, remote location, no backup, post-injury caretaking–it was practically begging for some sort of confession to be made…”

Bob groaned, laughing into the crook of your neck. “G-God, you’re evil.”

You ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, still smiling. “I’m efficient.”

He huffed a quiet laugh again, then pressed a kiss to your jaw, then one to your cheek, then finally one to the center of your chest, right above your heart. His hands were still on you—one warm and wide on your thigh, the other trailing light circles at your waist.

You could feel the smile on his lips when he spoke again, lower now, a little more serious, a little more honest.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time,” He whispered. “That you…You mean more to me than anyone. I just—I didn’t think I–I was ready. Not after everything.”

You turned your head, brushing your nose against his, your voice soft.

“I knew you wanted to,” You said. “I’ve known for a while.”

He looked at you then, like you’d just told him the sun had always risen for him and he’d never noticed. His eyes were wide, lips parted. And for a moment, neither of you moved.

Then he smiled again. And you did too.

Because whatever waited for you tomorrow–whatever fallout or chaos or impossible mission the world had in store–right now, in this small, sweat-slicked space, wrapped in sheets and each other…

2K notes · View notes

sexiestpodcastcharacter · 6 days ago

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Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Undefeated Bracket — Round 6

Propaganda

Mari Datuin (Hi Nay):

Vote for Mari she's cute she's hot and she's voiced by a real life Brown person and she's the nonwhite female protagonist of a horror podcast, which is statistically like seeing ball lightning in real life

John Doe (Malevolent):

Hello everyone, PLEASE REMEMBER OUT TRANS ICON JOHN DOE OUR KING OF KINGS <3

Character growth is sexy

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Mari Datuin (Hi Nay):

Shes pan, shes fillipina, she might be God. She talked to the cops without a lawyer, and let them into her home without a lawyer [DONT DO THAT] but she did it for the plot. She’s gorgeous, shes chubby, she loves bubble tea. She was the mediator/ divorce lawyer for a breakup between two of her friends. She has reasonable beef with old people, shes fighting a cult, she is viciously allergic to therapy. Objectively a Character Of All Time. Listen to the podcast if you haven’t.

#in her defence the cops were hot but also she was wrong for that even if she ends up loving them ; do not let cops into your house #character of all time 🥹

#i don't go here but i read filipina and felt my pinoy pride shine through

#<- you should go here come to the dark side

#Mari is the sexiest sexy podcast character she has it ALL

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

please let the canonically fat, Brown Queer Filipina be the definition of sexy, we can make it happen <3

VOTE MARI VOTE MARI I LOVE YOU MARI

tumblr

Mari laughing animation by @motziedapul.

John Doe (Malevolent):

A fragment of the Eldritch Deity that has gained independence, attached to possibly the world's most pathetic man. Also have you heard his voice

JOHNNN, JOHN I BELIEVE IN YOU

Gonna need everyone to vote for John plz

Don't let John down, he needs a win, he's had a miserable time lately : (

his voice is jsut. really good

sorry but queer rumbling voice John Doe is too powerful to not vote for here. Also no one in canon will tell him this and he deserves to know.

ok but the way John Doe said labrynthine

If John wins I'll write him kissing Noel

Trans Icon

LISTEN TO HIS VOICE

Threatens to disembowl anyone who hurts the person he loves

Once tried to kill a priest for making goo goo eyes at his man

Was an evil warlord turned soft poetry lover

Can still throw hands when needed

Clever as fuck

Wants to see a movie SO BAD

Memorizes poems just for his wet cat -V protective of his wet cat partner

Crew we can't let trans icon movie lover, most jealous husband in the universe John Doe lose...

If John wins I'll cosplay him again

Vote John!! he's everything. eldritch god, in a codependent relationship with a feral cat of a man, nice voice, he even likes poetry

I've actually nutted to John's voice before. /hj

like this isn't even his full power s2 voice but mannnnn he sounds so hungry and feral for Arthur all the time...

ASSEMBLING THE MALEVOLENT CROWD. POOKIES FOLLOW YOUR DUTY AND HELP THIS MISERABLE MAN OUT!!!!

do NOT let my glorious goat LOSE!!!!

hey all my mutuals, do some work for your favorite yellow boy

Guys vote John Doe as sexiest podcast character please he deserves this 🙏

VOTE JOHN DOE EVERYONE!!!! LOOK AT HIM!!!!! MY BELOVED YELLOW GLOWING EYE CREATURE!!! HE CERTAINLY DESERVES YOUR VOTE !

PLEASEEEE VOTE FOR JOHN😭😭😭 he’s so GODDDD HES AN ELDRITCH GOD THAT JUST WANTS LOVE😭😭 (if you know me PLEASE VOTE FOR JOHN I KNOW YOU DONT KNOW HIM BUT PLEASEEEE HES PERFECTTTT!!! And also listen to Malevolent 🤩)

(vote John tho, he's such a baby, you wouldn't hurt a baby!)

i wasnt gonna say anything and just see how it turns out but PLEASEEEE VOTE FOR JOHN PLEASE MY POOKIE💔💔💔💔💔FAVOURITEST GUY EVER HIS VOICE IS SO NICE PLEASE PLEASE💔💔

Let’s not let this trans icon down guys. He didn’t fight to be who he decides for nothing. And that is the sexiest thing imaginable.

John was absolutely an eldritch nightmare BUT is literally getting better and learning empathy and consent which is very sexy

Hello my friends and random people in my phone. Please consider voting John Doe for Sexiest Podcast Character. He is barely beating Helen Distortion and eyes are so much cooler than spirals. John deserves one (1) nice thing and if that nice thing is being voted the Sexiest Podcast Character of 2024, who am I to deny that to him? Who are we to deny that to him? Use your voice, tumblr. Vote for John.

The one who’s changing and growing, powerful and terrifying but can be tender and good, capable of mind-fuckery but instead trying to be a better being and make up for thousands of years of terrible choices

John's entire identity is about defying the rules you were forced into at birth, and deciding you can be whoever you decide. And nothing is sexier than that.

Hello, we the good people at John's campaign headquarters, come to you with a very special message about our candidate and why he deserves your vote with a compilation of his best hits.

A vote for John is a vote for justice. And being your true self. And choosing your own name. And being really really cool.

VOTE JOHN PLZZ KING DESERVES IT

PLEASE ONCE AGAIN I BEG EVERYONE TO VOTE JOHN DOE

Mutuals, friends, family you know what to do,

Im pissed it was originally just yk what to do but somone rebloged it with anti john propaganda....

So please vote John Doe

Please please please vote for John people!!!!

It's his birthday 🥺🥺

VOTE JOHN ITS HIS BIRTHDAY

youtube

John Propaganda video by @lunaescribe and @rotflea.

JOHNDOE2025 video by @curbledmiilk.

John Doe Acceptance speech by @malevolentcast.

#2024 Round 6 #Mari Datuin #John Doe #John Doe Malevolent #Hi Nay #Malevolent #Hi Nay Podcast #Malevolent Podcast

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4unnyr0se · 1 year ago

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❥ being satoru gojo's sugar baby

warnings: rich asf gojo, reader is a bitch in the first part, fem! reader, lingerie, riding, cunnilingus, doggystyle, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, gojo hates stupid people, not proofread, reader gets so spoiled, spanking, asphyxiation

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.6k

Being Satoru fucking Gojo wasn’t easy. Being handsome, rich, and popular with the ladies? Talk about a workout. He had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it all. It’s only the result of being fucking brilliant at business practices, always knowing when to strike a perfect deal. And that bore the fruit of luxury cars, Italian jackets, and beautiful women aplenty. Gojo liked fucking the pretty girls he met in the clubs, sure. They were good for a decent cock-sucking, their expensive lipstick always forming a nice little ring around his dick. Poor things, it was probably the only nice lipstick they owned. Gojo felt bad for them in a way, they would never know what it was like to be spoiled by a man such as himself. They were so fucking fake, expecting to be spoiled just for having a decent pussy to fuck. Don’t get him wrong, Gojo liked fucking the college girls he met in the clubs, but he wanted something that was real. He wanted a good girl to spend his infinite cashflow on, not a whore who didn’t know what a fucking tax bracket was.

He met you at his usual club, not recognizing your face from behind the bar. Hm, you must have been new there, Gojo would never ignore a pretty face like that, even though you were so grumpy looking. Did you hate your job like he hated bimbos? Gojo wasted no time in sitting himself down in your section of the bar counter, ordering a shot of the most expensive vodka the club offered. You called him an asshole and Gojo could have proposed right then and there.

Gojo attended the club every night, sitting at the exact same spot and ordering a different, expensive drink each time. He noticed how you softly smiled when he told the local club bimbos to piss off, no doubt enjoying him shooing away drunken, stupid girls. Eventually you finally caved and gave him your number, resulting in him giving you a kiss on the back of your hand like a prince would.

Every day he would call you, text you, ask about your day. Did anyone give you trouble at the club? If it was a shitty coworker of yours, Gojo would have them fired. It didn’t matter if he didn’t own the club, he was half of the club’s monthly revenue. Gojo could do whatever the hell he wanted, he was practically paying everyone's salaries. His texts brightened your day, along with his visits to the club when you worked long evening shifts. He had stopped ordering drinks altogether, just slipping you a healthy $300 every hour or two. You had refused at first, but Gojo had this really annoying habit of being able to convince anyone of anything. It got to a point where you just held out your hand for the money at the start of every hour, which made his cock throb with desire. You were growing accustom to being spoiled and he fucking loved that. You were spoiled without being stupid, that was so fucking sexy to him.

One night, after a very annoying shift, you invited him to visit your crappy apartment downtown. Gojo jumped at the opportunity and practically threw you into his Bently, no doubt breaking a couple of traffic laws to make it to your place in record time. It was so humbling, your apartment. There were cracks in the fall and the faucet had the most annoying drip, this would absolutely not do. You deserved to live in a fucking castle in the sky, not in this shithole.

Gojo bought you a townhouse a stone's throw away from his penthouse. You protested and groaned at him not to, claiming you weren’t worth it. Gojo quickly shut you up with a passionate and longing kiss, whispering against your plush lips that he would buy you the moon and the stars. After that, you really couldn’t complain. Everything was paid off for the fifty-year lease that Gojo had signed; he was so disgustingly rich. Why did you have to go back to working at that sleazy club? Oh, right, you had to afford to eat and shop. Don’t worry; Gojo gave you a ridiculously large sum of money every week to buy whatever the hell you wanted, sending you more money if you run out. You only spend a couple of hundred dollars a week on groceries, but then there was this stunning vintage Dior dress in a shop window, and you simply had to have it. You sent Gojo a picture that displayed the price tag, and he swore he came in his pants. Fuck, you looked amazing wearing designer dresses. And you were modeling for him; he wanted to marry you so badly.

You bought lingerie one time, lacy and black, and so fucking expensive. Garters and stockings and the works, a gorgeous French design. Gojo just about lost his mind when he saw that photo you sent, driving over to your townhouse as soon as he had an opening. He tackled you in a passionate and longing kiss, ripping off the lingerie with his hands. Whatever, he’d buy you another set. No, twenty more sets.

His lips trailed across your body, leaving searing, hot kisses in their wake. You were covered in Gojo’s bites and bruises, looking like an ancient Greek sculpture. Gojo fucked you right on the floor of your living room, not bothering to carry you up the flight of stairs to your bed. You just looked so good in the lingerie you purchased with his money. His money, his lingerie, his sugar baby. Your sobbing pussy was squeezing his massive fucking cock, sucking him into you like a vortex. Your manicured fingernails left angry crescent-shaped prints on his back, his Italian jacket, and other expensive clothes long forgotten about in a pile next to the door. His cock slammed into you over and over again, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix until you were screaming his name, swearing you were gonna cum all over his cock. Gojo fucking loved hearing your moans; they sounded so expensive when his ringed fingers were wrapped around your throat, squeezing it ever so gently. He moaned into your ear as your orgasm washed over you once more, the third one in the hour. He still wasn’t finished, oh no. He had you folded into a mating press, begging and whining to be cummed in by one of the wealthiest men in the world. And who was he to deny his princess? Gojo shot himself deep inside of you, painting your womb with his seed. It looked so pretty seeping out of who; he just had to take a picture. You wouldn’t mind, right? He’d just give you another five grand for a few more dresses.

Oh, even his aftercare was expensive. Running you a bath infused with freshly-pressed lavender and rose oil, soaking into your skin beautifully. Your fucked-out face was flush from the steam in the bathroom, making your already perfect skin so smooth. Gojo never wanted to stop touching you, not for a moment. He wrapped you in your Egyptian cotton sheets and held you tightly in his arms, thanking you for being his baby. As he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his precious baby’s ear, you drifted off.

After that perfect night, Gojo basically lived in your luxury townhouse. He would be there when you opened your eyes and when you closed them. There to take you out on romantic restaurant dates and feed you the highest quality sushi there was. He was there to buy half the fucking boutique if you wanted him to. Those dresses were too pretty for anyone else to wear besides you. You no longer protested when he bought you stuff, only kissing his chest while humming a thank you in his ear. The expensive lipstick you wore stained his cheek, not that he minded one bit.

Apart from the expensive gifts, dates, and other such things, Gojo loved fucking you. You modeled every single set of lingerie he wanted you to, especially black and blue sets. He loved your little fashion shows, the way you would always sit on his lap and grind down on his thigh, your arousal soaking the delicate fabrics. His hand would slap your ass, commanding you cum on his thigh and ruin your panties. He’d fuck you face down ass up with an expensive vibrator on your puffy clit, smirking sadistically as you sobbed that it was too much, you couldn’t take it. He’d make you ride him in his home office, making sure his video camera was always off during meetings so no one except for him could see that pretty ass bouncing up and down on his cock, milking it for all it was worth. He’d demand you sit on his face, not letting you off until he had his fill, your cum covering his mouth and face. Gojo would command you to lick it off him, hands squeezing your waist, and was adorned with a leather garter belt.

God, he wanted to breed you. He never wanted to use protection, which you objected to at first. But he whined and pleaded, claiming it would only be once. Well, once turned into always. He always came inside of you multiple times a day. He wouldn’t stop until he was sure that he had fucked his cum inside of your pussy, sticking a finger inside just to make sure it was still there. He would babble on about how you two would have the most perfect wedding and have such cute babies, how he would take care of you. You would be so pretty, all swollen with his child.

Satoru Gojo took care of you from the moment the two of you met, your companionship being the most valuable asset he had. To him, you were the most precious thing, and he would take care of you until the day that he died.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut

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leriexoxo · 3 months ago

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LOVE TO HATE YOU

pairing: idol! Hyunjin x Manager! Reader

genre: smut, angst, enemies to lovers

tags: 18+ mdni, unprotected sex, praise (f receiving), oral (m,f), power imbalance, choking, hate sex, dom hyunjin, body worship, use of pet names, filthy smut etc, slight degradation .

word count: 7k

summary: you're the youngest manager of stray kids and you love everything about your job except for Hyunjin who swore to make it a living hell for you. That evening, you get into a very heated argument, and you happen to find out just how much Hyunjin really wanted you and how easily you gave in to him.

Authors note: I had this brain rot stuck in my head for the longest time and I'm uploading it just in time for Hyunjin's 25th birthday.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, I wasn’t the one who got you banned from painting Hyunjin! That was all you." you storm into the dorm, Hyunjin hot on your tail.

"Well, it’s you who has my studio keys, don’t you!"

In the living area Jisung, Minho and Changbin look up to see what all the fuss is about. They're used to this, their bandmate and youngest manager fighting. You did this all the time, usually about something so silly, but you and Hyunjin were always at each other’s throats.

You had joined the company shortly after stray kids dropped down a member, just fresh out of college, you started your internship at Div1 in 2020 where you met the boys in their early career stage. You got along with all of them pretty well, seeing as you were also within their age bracket, you were a 97 liner just like Chan the leader of the band, and with your musical knowledge and managerial skills, you earned their respect pretty quickly. That is, everyone except Hyunjin.

For some reason, Hyunjin just LOVED to challenge you, from the very first day you were assigned first line manager to Stray Kids, he took it upon himself to argue with you whenever you tried to do your job, you weren’t even any better because you indulged him, out of all the members it was like Hyunjin just rubbed you the wrong way, you never saw eye to eye but while you were suffering, his members thought it was funny and liked to tease the both of you about arguing like a married couple.

Neither of you could pinpoint what the problem really was, but you knew Hyunjin was a brat to you since you met him and you eventually stopped trying to play nice.

Today however, Hyunjin accused you of reporting him to the management because he had been getting really carried away since they let him have his art studio, He started to show up late for recordings, dance practice and just yesterday he missed his scheduled photoshoot with Marie Claire because he was too busy painting himself probably naked and he had his phone on airplane mode the whole day, while the entire company was going crazy looking for him.

Just because you happened to find him yourself at the end of the day after which you gave him a piece of your mind, to which of course Hyunjin rolled his eyes and told you to stop being a drama queen. Div1 collectively decided to put a ban on his studio usage and asked you to lock the place up, which you gladly did but Hyunjin was livid. He blamed you for it of course.

"You didn’t listen when I’d been warning you about it this whole time!" You pointed out, throwing up your hands in frustration before dropping down next to Changbin on the sofa, wanting to ignore Hyunjin and whatever else he had to say.

"Hey don’t ignore me! Give it back." he says, crossing his arms.

"Go take it up with Div1" you say flatly, pretending to care about the League of legends game being played on the flat screen.

"Y/n I’m your idol, you should respect me."

Your eyes snap to Hyunjin, narrowing in anger. "Excuse me?"

Awkwardly the other three pretend to focus on the tv. It was insane to them how much you two fought. Somehow, you both didn't seem to care if you had an audience.

"What!" he snaps.

"First of all, show me some respect, its manager y/n to you!" You get back up again. "And just who the hell do you think you are? You didn’t give me this job so you don’t speak to me like that!"

"Literally who cares? Give me back my fucking keys!"

"You're—" You groan. "You're impossible, you know that right?"

"Me?! have you met yourself?"

You get closer to the younger man, jabbing a finger in his chest as you speak. "You don't get to call me impossible; you literally spend hours in that goddamn studio of yours, ignoring everything and everyone, you have a job to do just as much I do, instead you prefer to play with water colors like a child and make problems for me."

Hyunjin pushes your hand off, moving in closer as well. "You're just mad you have a shitty job cleaning up after me and the guys and those fucking water colors can cover your salary for a year, you show me some fucking respect!" he spat.

"Oh, fuck you Hyunjin!" You yell, sitting back down next to Changbin. They all-except you-glare up at Hyunjin because that was really uncalled for.

"What?!" Hyunjin asks. "She started it"

"Dude." Minho sighs.

"You know, even if I was unfortunate enough to get stuck babysitting your overgrown ass, which I do a pretty damn good job of, at least we can all agree that I earned my position as the youngest manager in Div1 because I put in the damn work. Unlike you who gets everything handed to you but you’re still a mid-rapper and a shitty artist." you say smirking, your eyes still on the tv, though you were glad to see his three other band members nod beside you, all of them now ignoring Hyunjin.

"I’m not a shitty Artist, and I’m a great rapper and dancer which is a lot of work." Hyunjin goes to sit beside you but you get up, forcing yourself between Changbin and Minho.

"Well so are Changbin and Minho, but I don't see them having an attitude problem like you do." You throw back, talking over Changbin who presses himself further into the couch.

"They're different from me, I work different." Hyunjin replied now also talking over poor Changbin.

"You are always so rude to me! You don’t even care about your job as an idol and you take everything for granted. You realize you’re not always going to be popular right?"

"Me?! tell me, how is it that I take everything for granted? enlighten me because now you're just throwing words around!" Hyunjin says as Changbin quietly watches your faces get closer over him.

"Dude?! You literally just missed your first Givenchy Beauty photoshoot at Marie Claire! Did you also forget that you’re about to be announced as the new ambassador through that photo shoot?! What is wrong with you? No really." you scoff before turning to find a different seat, needing to put more distance between you before you smacked the stupid idol.

"Oh my God! I said I lost track of time and I genuinely thought the shoot was for today, I didn’t miss my shoot on purpose, does that even make any sense?" he asked looking exasperated.

"Then go take it up with Div1 and not me, I’m only doing my shitty job and I didn’t make the decision to ban you from your stupid studio! Don’t shoot the messenger." You say, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Well, you’re the Div1 I see and you have my keys, so I’m taking it up with you but you're not listening." He snapped back at you rolling his eyes.

"Okay guys, can we take a little breather? what happened?" Minho asks, finally deciding to butt in.

"Hyung, y/n took my studio keys, after going to snitch on me to management." Hyunjin pouted to Minho and you just shook your head.

"Again, I didn’t snitch. But we can all agree that you need to focus more on your actual job and less on that hobby of yours though."

"Who are you to decide!" Hyunjin argues.

"Your manager damn it!" you raise your voice, he was really starting to piss you off and wear you out, where was Chan when you needed him?

"Don’t you think you’re taking your little job a little too seriously though?" He smirked and folded his hands, trying to taunt you.

"Hyunjin stop it, you’re being disrespectful now." Minho talks a little softer but glaring pointedly at the younger man. “First off, she’s our manager and a noona so you will address her properly”

Hyunjin was silent but glaring at you with all his might, it was like you both were having a glaring match. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Changbin sign to Jisung and Minho to get up off the sofa.

“Noona, I think y’all need to talk this out. You both argue way too much to be considered normal, so the rest of us are just going to give you guys some space” Changbin said, stuffing his hands in his pockets while looking between the two of you.

“Please don’t kill each other, but at least talk whatever it is out yeah?” Minho added, pulling Jisung behind him and towards the front door.

“We’ll be at my dorm if you need us!” Jisung called out just before the door shut behind him.

You scoffed; they were unbelievable. They did not just leave you in here with a thick headed Hyunjin to argue unsupervised. Not that you needed anyone around to handle him for you or that you felt unsafe around him, no. You just knew there would be no truce or talking it out with him, you had been at each other’s necks for years now so what was the point.

You grabbed your phone from the couch ignoring Hyunjin who was still silently glaring at you, waiting for you to say something to keep up the argument. You were about to go around him to make your way over to the exit too when he grabbed your elbow and pulled you back in front of the couch.

“Sit down” he nearly growled, his anger radiating off of him.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" you asked, not yet pushing his hands off but you raised your chin, daring him to say it again.

"I said, sit." he pushes you back. You stumble and fall back onto the couch, eyes nearly spitting fire. He did NOT just manhandle you!

"Are you crazy?" you nearly scream. “Did you just push me?!”

Hyunjin smirks and lowers his head to level with yours, he grabs your chin this time. "Yes, now sit still and shut up."

What the hell was happening? In all the countless arguments with Hyunjin, he had never ever touched you or went this far, you knew he was angry and you were as well because he refused to see reason with you. It was like he had been waiting for an opportunity to take it all out on you, because to be honest, the studio thing wasn’t even as serious as he was trying to make it seem, 48 hours tops and he would have gotten the keys back.

What was even more baffling to you was the blatant disregard for your authority or age even, you were older by three whole years and Hyunjin treated you like a little girl. In that moment you saw red, you were going to smack his pretty face if he didn’t back the fuck up.

“Get the fuck out of my face Hyunjin” you warn, seething.

“You really don’t listen, do you? Noona…” he added the honorific as an afterthought, and with a lot of sarcasm.

Now you were confused. The way your body reacted to him calling you noona in this present situation was a bit weird, also you had no idea why Hyunjin was suddenly being like this, disregarding your personal space and talking to you in this manner. If there was one thing Hyunjin never did since you met each other, it was address you the way his members except Chan did, it was either ‘Miss manager’ or regular old ‘y/n’

“I don’t know what you’re really trying to achieve by pissing me off, but you need to stop this shit right now.”

You tried to push Hyunjin off so you could get up but he didn’t really budge so you took the keys out of your pocket and slammed them against his chest.

"Here are your fucking keys, now please let me leave!" you yell, breathing heavily.

"Too late, I don’t want them anymore" he let the keys fall to your laps without making an attempt to take them, instead he locked eyes with you and held it, tilting his head in the usual manner he did when he suddenly found things interesting and it unnerved you.

"Hyunjin, move!" you warn, leaning back as he brought his face closer to try to intimidate you. “What the hell is your problem? Really”

“Oh, I could ask you the same noona, please enlighten me”

"I don't like you period. You're a loud-mouthed, egotistical, selfish, disrespectful and narcissistic fucking wreck of a idol!" You snap back at his face raising your shoulders to square up with him again.

Deep down you were starting to get worried, as much as you thought arguing with Hyunjin was entertaining in a fucked-up way, you didn’t really want things to escalate or get physical, and you knew saying some certain things to him was really unacceptable, at the end of the day you did work for him.

"I smell a lie in there y/n, you do like me. You might try to deny it but I see the way you react when I call you noona, also you could just ignore my tantrums but you do indulge me as much as I do you, admit it”

You glare at each other for a moment, the next thing you know the two of you move and then you're kissing. Your hands fist Hyunjin’s shirt and his hands move to grab the back of your neck. You feel your heart beating out of your chest, not sure what is happening, you didn't want this to get physical sure, but you had never imagined the two of you getting physical like this.

You push him off quickly, gathering your senses again. "No, what the fuck? What are you doing?” you said, eyes wide and staring at him like he grew two heads.

Hyunjin’s eyes follow your lips as you try to wipe it with the back of your hand, in your panic you hadn’t realized that his hand was still at the back of your neck, then his eyes moved up to meet your shocked ones, something in his gaze had changed and you were smart enough to understand that it had shifted from just annoyance to lust and hunger, a look you knew all too well but never expected to receive from Hwang Hyunjin.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that” he muttered under his breath, entrancing you with his sharp eyes.

You swallowed; your body started to betray you by no longer trying to force your way out of the corner in the couch that he had backed you into. It didn’t help that he was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen, a fact that you actively chose to ignore while doing your job and dealing with his shenanigans but taking in the current situation had you blushing. His taste lingered on your tongue and you could smell him being so close to you. Hyunjin did smell divine.

"So, you're admitting you threw tantrums because you wanted attention?" you ask, choosing completely to ignore what Hyunjin had just revealed.

He groans. "If you don't shut up right now…"

"What Hyunjin? you're going to kiss me again?” you challenged. You really should have been shutting this whole thing down but it was like your mouth had a mind of its own and just decided to do whatever.

"Don’t test me, I could do worse things!" This time it was Hyunjin who backed down, leaving you enough room to actually push him off and hurry to your feet to put some distance between you.

You picked up the nearest throw pillow and launched it at him "You are so unbelievable you fucking prick, stay away from me asshole!" you yelled, throwing another pillow which he caught and tossed aside. he walked over, his long legs swiftly closing the distance and caught your wrist and then the other, pulling you flush against him.

"You need to fucking behave." he says lowly. "Admit it, you want me just as much."

You glared at him. "What are you even saying Hyunjin? The last thing I want to do is be in the same room with you right now, much less want you!”

“Then why did you just kiss me?”

“YOU kissed me Hyunjin!” you argued, knowing fully well that was a lie.

“Do you want me to prove it again?” he smirks, still holding your hands.

“Let go of me right now, this isn’t funny”

“Then apologize for the shit you said to me." He counters

You scoff. "No."

You pushed him off, or at least you tried to but Hyunjin was much stronger, holding you even tighter. “Well then you’re not going anywhere.”

“What?!”

“You heard Hyung, we have to fix whatever our problem is, and…” then he bent to your ear to whisper the next part, “They did give us the whole dorm”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the implication of what he said, Hyunjin was being way out of line, this was clearly a game to him, he obviously wanted to assert dominance in whatever fucked up dynamic it was that you both had, and if he thought you would cower away and be scared of him then he had another thing coming, you vowed to never let him get the upper hand.

"You're being a dick and for what? you know I’m right; you just don't want to admit you're wrong because you’ve been nothing but unreasonable and disrespectful to me!". You were now close enough that if one of you moved an inch, you’d be kissing. Again.

"And what do you think you’re doing trying to intimidate me? Hyunjin you’re a man child, you’re talking about an empty dorm like you would know the first thing to do with a woman if you had the chance?"

"Y/n." Hyunjin warned, his jaw locked in annoyance as he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Did I strike a nerve Hyunjinnie." You said sweetly, tilting your head to the left taunting him.

"Shut. up." He says through gritted teeth.

You smirk. "Make me."

Hyunjin snaps, dragging you out of the living room and down the hallway. Your smirk instantly drops when you find yourself being dragged, his hand tight on your wrist like a vice. You tried tugging back but he was much stronger. "What are you doing?!"

Hyunjin threw open the door to his bedroom, pushing you inside and slamming it shut. "Making you finally shut the fuck up."

You were panicking, this was escalating way too fast, you thought about screaming for help but that was when it dawned on you that you really were alone in the dorm with an angry and possibly horny Hyunjin. Right there behind the anger in his eyes, lust and hunger swam in his dark orbs, he was breathing hard and clenching his fists, it didn’t seem like he was going to hurt you but it did feel like you had dug yourself into a hole you couldn’t get out of unscathed.

Your eyes dart around his room frantically, you also just realized that you had never been in there before, it smelled like sandalwood, roses and Hyunjin. You felt so small in his space and suddenly so utterly aroused.

"What do you me-” your words got stuck in your throat as soon as he started to stalk towards you.

As he closed the distance, his hand settled at the back of your head, pulling on your hair to make you tilt back and look up at him. "When I say shut up," with a smug look he forces you down to your knees. “You shut your damn mouth Noona”

"Hyunjin!"

"No, I’m tired of that big smart mouth of yours." undoing his belt while you glared up at him with you uselessly grabbing at his fist in your hair, Hyunjin takes out his cock, already half hard and pumping it to full hardness.

"My big smart mouth?! I’m going to bite it off if you come any closer, I swear to God." You threaten, eyeing the massive cock in his hand apprehensively.

"Try me noona, if I feel your teeth, you're getting spanked." he threatened before moving his cock to your lips, He paused for a moment to look at you, raising his brow slightly as if to ask ‘you okay with this? do you want me to stop or go ahead?’. Even in Hyunjin’s anger he would never ever blindly assume he could go ahead without any form of consent.

Your glare breaks for a second, you stare up at him and back at his cock waving tantalizingly close to your mouth, you would be a liar if you said you didn’t want this, all the arguments and the kiss felt like foreplay leading up to this. You were still so unbelievably mad at Hyunjin but at the same time he did strange things to your body, your body betrayed you a lot whenever it came to him it was like you wanted to kill him and fuck him at the same time.

For some reason, you felt like you belonged right there on your knees with his hand fisting your hair and forcing you to submit to him, it even turned you on more that he still silently asked for consent despite manhandling you all over the place. The corners of your mouth curled up, your head moving only slightly to nod.

You obediently opened your mouth to take Hyunjin, willingly. He shoved his cock in, not giving you any time to adjust. you gagged slightly but you weren’t offered a break. Hyunjin pushed you further down, holding you there with his cock lodged deep in your throat, your body ignited, drool dripped out the corners of your mouth as you tried your hardest to take it without choking.

"Not so mouthy anymore, are we?" He taunts.

Your jaw twitched, almost showing Hyunjin how dangerous it was to mess with someone who had his dick in their mouth. Thankfully, the implied threat made him hold back. Hyunjin pulled you off, allowing you just enough time to suck in a lung full of air before you were roughly being shoved back down. He fucked your mouth so mercilessly that you struggled to breathe, rather you made a mess of yourself with all the drool and tears.

It was a lot to take, a cock that big and you were running out of breath, you hold him by the base and pull off so you could catch your breath and when Hyunjin whines you start stroking him with your hands.

“Someone’s eager,” He lilts, and then laughs again, throwing his head back. You look up to face him this time, your chest rising and falling quickly.

“I’m eager?” You grit out, eyebrow twitching, “You’re the one who basically dragged me in here and shoved your dick in my mouth, and now you’re whining like a little bitch” you rise up to your feet, your hand still slowly stroking his wet cock, you kept eye contact and pressed your body into him.

His smirk disappeared; pupils blown out with lust. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to say something, but instead he spins you around, you gasp when you feel his hands grip your hips to pull you into his body. You feel his length press against your ass, and you lean back, grinding into him.

“You should tell me if you want me to stop, Y/n,” He grunts, voice hoarse. His hands roam up your body, hovering over your tits, “But I know you don’t want me to, do you? You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

At the last word he covers and squeezes your breast roughly– you’re not wearing a bra. He snickers, pinching your hard nipple over the thin cloth of your blouse. You swallow a moan, mouth already dry. He stills, and then spins you around again towards him roughly. He begins to walk forward with you, forcing you to take a step back and towards his desk. His hand grips your chin like before, but rougher this time.

“Answer me when I ask you a question, noona,” He grits out, eyes dark. You bite your lip; you can feel the power you thought you had over him disappear in this moment.

“Fine, yes,” You spit, “I’ve been thinking about you… but it’s not like it’s one sided.” You wrap your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer to you, kissing up his neck. You feel his body tighten, a groan rasping up his throat. You nip at him, up towards his ear, standing on your tip toes to reach him. “Is this how you imagined me Hyunjin? Or should I show you the other fantasies you’ve had?” He grips your ass tightly in response to this.

“Safe word is green,” He grunts roughly, grabbing your throat lightly and pushing your head upwards to gain access to your neck. He kisses down your throat, biting and sucking, surely leaving marks you’ll find later.

“Get on that bed and get undressed,” He commands, and despite all of your pride, you oblige, eager for more. You make your way towards the bed, looking over your shoulder at him. There’s no anger in his eyes anymore– only the look of a hunter stalking his prey.

You climb onto the bed, turning to face him. He looked so pretty like this, eyes half lidded with lust, jaw slack and breathing hard. He began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his toned abs, shoulders, sharp collarbones. You could only stare in awe.

“Didn’t I tell you to get undressed,” He says, voice deep and dangerous, “Do I have to ask you again? I won’t be so nice the second time.”

You smirk at him, fingers picking at the hem of your blouse, slowly you pulled it over your head your leggings following immediately after. You hear him suck in a breath, eyes boring into your body, your black lace thong was the only thing left on you. He makes his way towards you at an agonizingly slow pace, pulling out his belt from the loops.

“You’re even more perfect than I ever imagined,” He breathes, casting his belt onto the bed beside you.

Completely entranced by your body, he leaned down, hands gripping your torso, and kissed you roughly on your lips. He tasted like chocolates and mint, lips dominating yours, leaving them swollen. You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him down so he’s hovering over you, your back pressed into the bed. He made his way down your neck, over your collarbones, taking care to kiss every part of you. You arch your back in need, and his hands press your hips back down into the bed.

“Patience, angel,” He says sternly, the pet name hung over you like a curse turning your brain to mush, “I’ve been waiting a long time for this. Don’t rush it.”

You scoff and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Is that a challenge?” He queries– that damn smirk. He doesn’t wait for your response, just wraps his mouth around your hardened nipple, sucking and licking, earning a loud moan from you. His hand works your other breast, giving you the pleasure that you’d been craving, but still it was not enough. You feel your cunt grow wetter by the second, aching and throbbing.

“That’s what I thought,” He grinned, another win for him. You groan, pushing yourself up on your elbows to face him.

“You’re such an ass, Hyunjin,” you say halfheartedly, trying to sound as menacing and cold as possible. He cocks an eyebrow at you, kissing down your torso, head hovering between your legs, his knees on the floor, kneeling before you.

He looked so beautiful like this, head turned up to you from below, and in turn you felt like the most gorgeous woman in the world in his sight. He pushes your legs open to give himself a better view. He hooked his fingers under your thong, pulling it down your legs. You lift yourself up to allow him to pull them off, the underwear cast to the side quickly.

“Beautiful,” He whispers, eyes lidded heavily with lust. He looks back up at you, searching your face, one hand coming from behind your neck to pull you towards his face, the other gathering the slick at your entrance. He groans into your mouth, kissing you roughly and making you whimper in his mouth.

“Just beautiful,” He grunts, fingers grazing your clit. You jolt back, gasping. “So fucking wet for me,” He stands, hovering over you, hand still circling your clit, drawing moans and gasps from you. He leans down, bending at the hip, placing his other hand beside your head as he hovers over you.

“Tell me you remember that safe word, noona,” He whispers, watching you intently.

“Green,” you say impatiently, needing all of him, wherever you can get him. He chuckles darkly as his eyes roam your face and body.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for years now to see you like this,” His voice was hoarse as he worked you, a couple of fingers slipping into you with ease. You threw your arm over your face and bit the back of your forearm to keep from yelling out. He smacks your hand harshly, and you yelp in response, bucking your hips to try and bring him back to where you want him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He leers, his voice dripping with lust, “First, you don’t cover your face or mouth, ever,” He continues, kissing against your neck roughly. “Second, you’re not in control here, you don’t get to decide what I touch and what I don’t touch, got it?” You moan softly as he continues kissing against your neck, but stills when you don’t respond.

“Answer me! And with words,” He growls, grabbing your face, just tightly enough for you to know that he’s in control.

“Yes,” you whisper, bucking your hips again. Without warning, he smacks your thigh sharply, earning a yelp turned moan from you.

“Yes, sir,” He commands, positioning himself upright, looking down at you with disapproval, everything hazy now, “And what did I tell you about patience,” His hand trails down your chest, up your thighs, everywhere but where you most desperately need him.

“Please,” You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly your smug act disappeared, but you’re too concerned with the aching in between your legs to care. He clicks his tongue with disappointment, hand coming down on your thigh again, harsher this time.

“Please, what, noona, don’t make me keep reminding you,” He continues, “And keep those hips still, if you know what’s good for you,” He chides you, fingers hovering over your pussy. You whine out, growing frustrated now.

“Please, sir, please touch me, I need it so fucking bad,” You moan out, trying to ignore how red your cheeks must be with humiliation. Only him, no one else could ever reduce you to this. His eyes light up, and he begins circling your clit once again. You fall back onto the mattress with a groan of relief.

“See how rewarding it is when you’re good for me,” he says, quickening his pace. You feel your stomach tighten, legs shaking slightly. “Look at me,” He commands and you fight through the haze to open your eyes, lifting your neck slightly to see him.

He crouches at the end of the bed again, kneeling, and grabs under your thighs roughly, pulling you towards him in one swift movement. Nails digging into your hips, he keeps you pressed down still, bringing his head closer, his tongue grazing up your pussy slowly.

“Fuck, Hyunjin!” You yell out, pushing yourself further into his face, He chuckles against you, but continues licking, swirling your clit. Finally, he opens his mouth to suck roughly, lapping up your slick, tongue darting across rapidly. You grasp his head harshly, pushing him even further, arching your back, chasing your release. He moans into you, causing you to tighten your grip on him, his fingers digging into your hip, almost painfully, keeping you tethered to reality. His brow is furrowed in concentration, bringing one of his hands back to slip a finger inside you, pressing from within. You writhe in response, curse words flowing out of you, slurring together. He continues attacking your clit with his tongue, eyes watching your every move, gauging each and every response.

“Hyunjin,” you breathe in warning, feeling yourself tighten around his fingers. He stops, kissing your thighs, and you jolt up, eyes wide. “Hey!” You yell in frustration, so close to your release. He chuckles as he stands, finally stepping out of his jeans. Your eyes trail down his body, his balls hung tight and his cock rigid and wet from his own arousal.

“Third rule noona,” He drawls, “You don’t cum unless I tell you to, got it?” You huff in response, pushing yourself up so that you’re on your knees in front of him, hands reaching out to him. He doesn’t lean into you, eyes boring into you, jaw clenched. “Got it?” He repeats, his hand smacking your cheek softly.

“Yes sir,” You murmur, the sting mixed with his teasing causing you to get worked up all over again. He circles his fingers around your neck, tilting your head up to his.

“Good girl,” He whispers, kissing your forehead softly, gently.

“Please kiss me,” You murmur, reaching out to run your fingers over his jawline. He smiles softly, resting his head in your hand. He starts to kiss you again; his hands slide down your body and towards your cunt. You raise your hips, beckoning him, and he obliges, circling your clit once again.

“Are you ready to play out the rest of those fantasies, y/n?” He asks, eyes hazy, watching the way you writhe under his touch. You nod fervently, eager to take him, to feel him inside you. He guides you back down on the bed, lifting himself up so he’s kneeling between your legs which you immediately wrapped around his waist. He pushes his cock against your swollen clit, teasing you.

“Hyunjin,” You plead, voice hoarse between the ceaseless moaning and his large hand still enclosing your neck, “Please fuck me, I need to feel you.” He sucks in a breath, and nods, unable to contain himself anymore.

He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in deep, watching your face as it twists in pleasure while he sinks in every inch. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried into you to the hilt, chest rising and falling in anticipation. You visibly struggle to accommodate all of him, Hyunjin was much bigger inside you than you anticipated and you moaned loudly when you felt him twitch.

“Tell me when to start moving, angel,” He murmurs, leaning down so that his face just hovers over yours, his arms moving to hold you, pulling him into you.

“Fuck me,” You whisper, too weak to say anything else. He begins to rock his hips into you, each stroke deeper than the last.

“Fuck,” He whimpers, pulling you closer into him with one arm, the other hand gripping the headboard, “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” You moan, wrapping your legs even tighter around him. He picks up the pace, raising up onto his knees, hands lifting your hips off the bed, fucking you rougher, looking down at you as sweat beads on his brow, strands of hair sticking to his face. He keeps his eyes on yours as he pops a finger in his mouth, moistening it before he brings it to your clit, circling it rapidly. You cry out, back snapping up, your entire torso lifting up.

“Yeah, you can take it,” He praises, “You’re my good fucking girl, aren’t you,” he says, fucking you quicker now. You whimper in response, teetering on the edge of your release. He smacks your cheek just harsh enough to sting slightly, grabbing your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Fucking say it noona, say you’re mine,” He commands hoarsely, sweat falling between his eyes, wild with possessiveness and lust, still moving inside you

“I’m yours Hyunjin, fuck!” You cry out, and he nods approvingly, his fingers circling your clit once more, dragging a deep moan from you, “I’m all fucking yours, please let me come, I’ve been so fucking good for you.”

He chuckles deeply, tongue in cheek, “I don’t know if you’ve been that good,” He jeers, hitting a spot deep within you, your clit swollen from his teasing. You can feel yourself tightening around him, your vision going blurry. He leans back to get a better view of you, one hand pushing on your stomach, exposing yourself further to him, still rubbing your clit, still fucking you deeply, harder, faster.

“Please, sir, please let me come,” You whimper, voice hoarse, tears flowing freely down your face now, your body slick with sweat. He groans as he bottoms out in you, watching where your bodies connect and marveling at the way you take him.

“Cum on my fucking cock, angel” He commands, voice dark, continuing to move in you. You feel your stomach grow warm, your walls tightening around him, your legs shaking.

“Fuck, fuck, Hyunjin,” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut and unable to string together any real sentences, your mind foggy. “Oh shit!”

“Open your eyes, noona, let me see you come,” He says as he snaps his hips into you, “Show me how fucking good you are for me.” The knot in your stomach comes undone, all of your nerves lighting up, body tingling, mind hazy. If you’re yelling out, you’re not sure, completely lost in him, the only thing tethering you the world at this point.

“Fuck,” He grunts, slowing his pace. He pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up into the air. You’re still coming, thighs shaking, your walls clenching around nothing.

“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful,” you hear him whisper from behind you. He presses himself into you again, bottoming out, earning a deep groan from you.

“Fuck yeah, arch your back like that for me, such a good fucking girl,” He praises, reaching a hand around your waist to continue rubbing your clit, the other hand collecting your hair in a fist, pulling your head back. You’ve barely come down from your orgasm, already feeling yourself tighten up all over again. You turn your head slightly to see him in the corner of your eye and grin.

“Does that feel fucking good, Jinnie,” You taunt, moving in sync with him. He throws his head back, moaning deeply, his body slick with sweat.

“Yes, angel,” He whimpers, “You have no fucking idea how good you feel, it’s unreal.” You feel his movements begin to falter, uneven.

“It’s all yours,” You say, and he groans deeply, “All fucking yours, Jinnie.” His fist in your hair clenches tighter at this.

“Best I’ve ever fucking had,” He grunts, voice hoarse, “Best you’ll ever fucking have.” He adds, and you moan loudly in agreement, feeling yourself grow even wetter at his praise.

“I won’t be able to get you out of my head now,” You grit out, “I fucking hate you for it.” He groans loudly, chuckling breathlessly.

“Yeah? You fucking hate me, angel?” He growls, pulling out of you. You huff in frustration, your release close now. He flips you over, flopping onto his back, chest glistening with sweat, rising and falling. He pulls you on top of him so you’re straddling him.

“Show me how much you fucking hate me then,” He whispers darkly, smirking. You can’t help but moan at this, the way he undoes you. He grips your hips roughly, and you can’t even be bothered by the bruises he’ll leave. You work him, rocking your hips, feeling him stretch you out in a way no one else has. The way he watches you, like you’re the most beautiful girl on the planet. He circles your clit once more, praising you as you nearly scream his name.

“Such a good fucking girl for me,” He moans roughly, his head falling back, his cock twitching inside of you. You can feel yourself tightening around him, your vision going white.

“Please cum in me, Jinnie,” You grit out, your entire body shaking now, earning a grunt from him in response. You fall down onto his chest, him rutting into you, lewd noises and groans filling the room.

“Noona, I’m– fuck,” He groans, and just at the sight of him coming undone, the way his brow furrows in concentration, sweat glistening, you feel yourself cross over that edge again, crying out as you come on him again. He pumps into you a couple more times as he comes with you, his mouth hanging open, before his hands fall to his sides.

You both lay in silence there for a few moments, panting. You roll over so you’re on his side, him pulling you closer, your head on his chest. Your legs shake slightly, and he chuckles softly.

“I don’t recall letting you cum that second time,” He whispers darkly, “But I guess I’ll let it slide this time.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Oh, shut the fuck up” you say, still trying to collect yourself. He scoffs, his hand running up your back slightly.

“I’d fight with you every day as long as we end up like this” He winks, smiling cheekily like a man who just won the lottery,

“I’m still your manager, you need to get a grip” you snap back but without the bite.

“Yeah, my manager who is also now my girl” He pulls you in and kisses you sweetly. “I guess I’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feel free to re-blog and leave a like if you enjoyed this!

p.s: Hyunjin, if youre reading this, HAPPY BIRTHDAY baby!!

#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin #hyunjin #skz imagines #enemies to lovers #hyunjin stray kids

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oozedninjas · 1 year ago

Note

2012 boys having their first time? They don't usually let out much "turtely" noises so...

poor boys, it feels so good they can't stop churring 🥺

This is the first time I see the word "churring" I hope to be writing it right? I looked it up but Google said it's some sort of squeaky sound? God, I hope I did it right, tell me if it's wrong and I'll change it lol

Warnings: NSFW / MDNI / 18+ / turtle noises / first time together but not V card loss bc I wanted this to be short pls don't kill me T.T / 2012 / guys are mid to late 20's / breeding kink / oral sex

Leo tries to suppress the sound. Gritting his teeth, controlling his breathing, but holy shit. It's so tight inside you, soft and hot. You're taking him in so well that his mind spirals to the place of only instincts. Yet, he manages to hold them back. It's the first time you've been together, you're not used to it. You'll judge him, think it's weird. He can't let-

"Fuck, yes! Right there, you're so good," your voice trembles, breath staggered.

The sound of your voice, or maybe the way your legs laced around him, forcing his thrust, sent him over the edge. Every strangled sound mingled with his ragged breaths. He didn't care anymore, or so he thought, until your praise washed over him.

Raph started tenderly. "Tell me if it hurts," he said. "I'll stop." And he did. He followed your pace and until now he had done nothing but make you come so hard your toes curled. Yet, the skin on your neck and shoulder throbbed from his constant biting.

"Wait, no more… please. That hurts," you managed. Voice weak and quivering.

Raph groaned against your neck, jaw clenching. He sucked on your flesh every time he felt the stupid churring building in the back of his throat, he never meant to hurt you.

"Sorry, babe- I'll go easier on you," he said as his breath mixed with that pitiful sound.

"What was that?"

Damn. You surely thought it was weird, disgusting, misfitting. He could make you come again, maybe then-

"I want to hear it again," you pleaded, clenching around his cock in your attempt to pull him closer. "Raph please, it was so hot,"

He downright moaned at that. Fuck, anything for you.

The rhythmic pounding of his hips against yours intensified, the sound echoing in your core. A stolen glance downward sent a jolt through you. His erection pistoned into you, the heat of his body searing against your skin.

Donatello seized your mouth, his kiss a whirlwind of heat and urgency. A strangled groan escaped his lips as he chased his peak. He could feel the churring creeping at the back of his throat like a threat to ruin everything.

"I want to feel you coming inside me," you gasped, lips brushing his. "come for me baby, with me-"

Your orgasm burned through you as you felt his cum spread within. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed as he held you close, his touch a damp heat against your skin. A tremor vibrated through him, a low rumble threatening to erupt. Then, the telltale churring sound, weak and smooth, filled the air.

"What's that?" you panted, snuggling him.

"I'll explain later," he mumbled, voice husky with exhaustion as the soft sound spilled through, filling the air.

"Hmm, it's calming. I love it," you said, kissing his cheeks. "Can you keep making it?"

Fuck yes, he can. For as long as you desire.

Mikey kept his pace steady as he circled his tongue, thick and hot, over your clit. Rough palms bracketed your hips down, trapping you close. A delicious heat bloomed in your core.

"Wait, I don't- I don't want to come yet," you breathed, trying to move off and failing just as he pushed his tongue inside you. You gasped.

Mikey moaned, drinking you out. His cock throbbed, aching, dying to be engulfed in your hot, wet hole. Fuck, the anticipation of your pussy clenching on him had Mikey on the verge of coming. But that could be for another day, one where you were so addicted to the way he makes you come that you wouldn't care for silly churring sounds.

"Babe, I want you to feel good too," you managed to mutter, barely.

Shit, he loved the drunk-like sound of your voice. "No, this is fine. Let me show you the stars,"

You ground over his face, allowing. Mikey thrust his hips up, attempting to relieve some tension. His dick twitched, needy. A choked sob, laced with a desperate raspy churr, erupted from his throat.

You gripped the side of his head in return, clenching your cunt around his tongue like you liked it. That thought unleashed every little sound he was repressing. Your moaning grew louder as you came long and hard over his mouth.

"That sound you made," you began, evening your breath, "I want to hear it right in my ear when you fuck me."

Fuck, marry him, would you?

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koriangguk · 9 months ago

Text

✧ vegas temptation

✧ synopsis: Falling victim to yet another failed situationship, you're consumed by dread. Maybe love is something you aren't destined to experience in this lifetime? Or maybe you just need a little getaway and a friend who'll accompany the series of impulsive decisions this would entail. Thankfully, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

✧ genre: fake dating au, heavy on smut with a sprinkle of angst

✧warnings: cream play, nipple play, hickeys, different positions, protected/unprotected sex, public nudity (?), tongue-fuck, fingering, denied orgasm, overstimulation, ice play, vibrator play, rope play, candle burns (?) ✧recommended artists: Chase Atlantic, The Weeknd, Daniel Di Angelo, Doja Cat

Everyone knows heartbreak is a pain in the ass, but an intriguing one at that.

It pulls on your heartstrings and fuels the desperate longing to feel whole again. Releasing a tide of emotions that follow suit as your consciousness drowns under the shattering pieces of broken promises, white lies and everything in between.

But, nothing compares to the ego that awakens within you as you enter a phase of recovery, embarking on the infamous villain arc. One that is flamed with rage and hunger for revenge.

Because, let's be honest, a good heart can only take you so far until everything comes crashing down again. Before you are back at square one, like clockwork, slaving after hours just to receive the bare minimum.

So, fuck that and fuck Kim Jaewon. Stupid cunt.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for Jungkook and his Black Amex you wouldn’t even bother brushing your hair, let alone worry about which lacey lingerie you should pack for a week in Vegas.

The Entertainment Capital of the World.

Well, it certainly would be entertaining to put two best friends into a couple’s suite and hope that nothing happens. But, as Jungkook’s dilated pupils watched you swallow your feelings with another shot of tequila it didn’t really seem like he was the one betting on that deal. Quite the opposite actually.

“Honestly, screw him, y/n.” he muttered, running his fingers through those dark locks as the two of you waited for your flight at the boujee business lounge.

In contrast to his trust fund upbringing, you felt like the biggest elephant in the room venturing into the wrong tax bracket. So, the potential side effects of the alcohol running down your esophagus were primarily to calm the nerves of sticking out like a sore thumb, and only slightly to forget your ex.

“Have you been listening at all? I kind of already did.” your lips pursed in annoyance, words barely stringing together.

You weren't annoyed at Jungkook, per se, more so at yourself for letting it get this far. For intoxicating your system at the crack of dawn, as at least twenty pairs of eyes watched the two of you bicker. But, come on, surely it was 5 pm somewhere. Listen, when everything is already going wrong, how damaging could another bad decision be? Especially, in the form of a liquid. So, please, everyone keep your judgement to yourself.

“Well, then that might just be the problem.”

“Huh?” your gaze furrowed, brows knitted with confusion.

“You’re fucking the wrong guys, y/n.” Jungkook whispered with a sly grin.

“Right. And you, I’m assuming would have been my Mr. Right, of course.” you scoffed, jabbing your finger into his chest before looking back up at his heavy gaze.

“Give me a week and we'll see.” he teased, using his foot to pull on your chair, bringing your tipsy form closer until inches were separating your parted lips from his.

Playful would have been the best word to describe your relationship with Jungkook. You never crossed the line between friends and lovers but were in very close proximity to doing so. So, when you poured your heart out, crying on his shoulder the night Jaewon’s cheating scandal broke out like wildfire, a part of Jungkook was pleased by the news despite how selfish it might have looked.

Simply put, he was never a fan of your boyfriends. How could he be when the mere sight of another man beside you triggered every cell in his body, charging a visceral reaction that was forced to be suppressed, kept on the low because you were never his to be territorial of.

Never his to be taken care of. To be loved. Oh, if only you knew how badly he wanted it. How badly he wanted you.

Only, you did know. Because, like a sickening aftertaste, the tension between the two of you always lingered. But he kept his distance, and you played on with the denial. Praying for each other’s downfall, you hoped that the other would finally cave in, and say the three words that would change the trajectory of your relationship forever.

But, as time went on, his fetish for your love only grew stronger and an innocent crush matured into a craving. One that could no longer be suppressed no matter how much you tried to push it away. To push him away.

Jaewon was your last straw. The breaking point that made you question whether you were destined to be loved in this lifetime. And although he caused you pain, you didn’t know if you should thank your ex or curse his whole bloodline, because now that he was gone there was no point in denying that Jungkook and you were more than just friends.

Lathering the shea butter on your damp skin, your vision was hazy, body seemingly recovering from the hot shower. But, after that 15-hour flight surrounded by multiple throw-ups and diaper changes, a scrub-down was a must. So, there you were standing in front of the full-sized mirror in the pink pyjama set your mom gifted you specifically for this trip. Whatever that meant.

See, Jungkook had a way with words. It was his charm. His sensual demeanour could have an innocent bystander wrapped around his finger with one plea. A practical skill that most likely fueled your mother’s spending on the silk fabric, but one that you have yet to fall victim to.

His mind games were strong, but your stubbornness was stronger. He didn’t mind, actually, kind of adored it. The dominant side of you, the way you could shut him up with one glare. It made loving you so much more thrilling, worth fighting for every sigh, every eye roll, every sneer.

“Stop looking at me like that.” you blurted at the man's reflection as his palms rested on the top of the doorframe, darkened orbs bluntly eying your body from top to bottom.

“Like what?” Jungkook grinned, nibbling on his lip rings.

“Like you want something.” you whispered with a furrowed gaze, spraying some leave-in conditioner into your detangled hair.

“Hmm … but, I do want something.” he teased, inching closer before you felt his bare chest hit your back, veiny hands holding onto your waist.

“I bet. I made rules you know? In case you thought I’d give in so easily.” you murmured, turning to face him as your fingers slightly tugged on the towel wrapped around his hips.

“Is that so?” he chuckled softly, eyes flickering down to your plump lips.

“Mhhm,” you nodded, feeling his hands slowly travel up your top as your own intertwined behind his neck.

“Did I break any already?” he rasped into your ear, teeth grazing against the soft skin.

Your mouth curled into a mischievous sneer as you whispered, “Just one.”

However, before he could respond, your fist was already gripping the chains on his neck, gently pulling him toward the king-sized bed that was covered in rose petals and a complimentary note from the hotel.

Happy honeymoon, lovebirds!

Loosening his towel, Jungkook watched as you straddled his lap, pressing your hands onto his chest before innocently glancing up at his parted lips. You could have sworn a drool dripped down his mouth, but it might’ve just been your ego flying through the roof as you felt his racing heartbeat.

“May I?” you teased, slowly rocking your hips against the friction beneath you.

“By all means, love.” he purred, tracing his hands back onto your thighs before flinching at your sudden slap.

“Hands off, Jeon. Rule number one.” you giggled at the sudden change in his demeanour. The way his furrowed gaze searched for the audacity that could’ve potentially justified the words that came out of your mouth.

“You’re fucking with me, right?” he groaned, jerking his head back.

“No?” a small pout worked its way over your innocent face, eyes fluttering.

“Baby, please.”

Was he begging? Or were your knees buckling from the fatigue? Whatever. Keep focus, y/n.

“I warned you, Koo.” you winked, brushing your lips over his before a knock on the door interrupted the little moment.

“Room service!” a man’s voice echoed from the corridor.

I guess the sight of Jungkook’s sculpted chest completely hazed your mind as you struggled to recover even the slightest recollection of ordering food.

“Coming!” you yelled out, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose until his hold on your waist tightened.

“No, stay.” he murmured, voice laced with desperation.

“I have to open the door, Jeon, that's kind of how it works.”

“I like you here.” he grinned, tugging on your bottom lip before leaving a soft spank on your ass. And, as you glanced back at his heaving chest you feared that rule number one was going to be short-lived.

“Do you like it? They didn’t have Carbonara but I thought shrimp fettuccine would have sufficed,” you said with slight hesitation which shortly dissipated as you watched him empty the dish clean.

“Trust me, y/n. You being here has already made me a happy man. Everything else is just a cherry on top.” Jungkook smiled, rubbing his tattooed hand along his jaw before reaching for the last plate cover.

“Honestly, I wanted to thank y-,” your words were interrupted by his sudden whine.

“No dessert?” his brow arched slightly.

“Oh. Shoot, sorry. I … I didn’t think you’d want any.” your words came out as a stutter, eyes frantically searching for the phone.

“Mhmm, but I would kill for some cheesecake.” he sighed with a pout, loosening the buttons on his shirt.

Changing out of the cotton fabric that covered his cucumber-scented body roughly five minutes ago, Jungkook decided to parade the same pyjama set as you. And, now that the two of you were matching, it was clear what your mom’s mission was all along.

“Yeah, okay, let me just call them b-”

“No need.”

“Huh? So, you don’t want dessert?”

“I do.” he teased, keeping his voice low and calm.

“Okay, let’s cut back on the riddles, Jeon. Do I call or not?”

But, there was no answer. Instead, he simply excused himself from the table before walking towards the red couch, patting the seat next to him.

“Come here, y/n.” his voice lowered to a rumble, darkened orbs filled with nothing but lust.

“Why?”

“If I can’t touch you let me at least taste you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Hands fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“I beg your finest pardon?” you scoffed from pure disbelief, folding your arms over your chest.

“Baby, you have at max three seconds to walk your fine self over here before I grab you myself.”

“Was that a threat?” you glared at his sly expression, hooded gaze colliding with yours.

“One …” his tone demanded a response.

But, you didn’t move. Not even an inch. Aggravating the tension.

“Two …”

Who does he think he is? Grab you myself. Claw machine sounding ass.

“Three …”

You chuckled, giving him the nastiest eye roll before your muscles tensed up, seeing his 5’8 gym rat physique actually get up.

“Okay! Alright! I’m coming.” you blurted in sheer panic, fixing your bottoms before doing the walk of shame toward his pleased self.

Reaching out his hand, you pushed it away, reminding him of the deal.

“Right here, love.” Jungkook grinned, marking his chest as a target for your landing.

What a tease.

“You know what, Koo. Fine. If you want to play games, let’s play a game.” you hissed with a wink, stripping out of the silk fabric before dropping it on his lap.

“Fucking hell.” a growl escaped his parted lips as his eyes raked over your glistening skin, admiring every inch, every crevice of your body.

He was needy, but you were too busy rummaging through the mini-fridge to notice how desperately he longed for your attention.

“Perfect!” you exclaimed, shaking a bottle of whipped cream before straddling his lap once again. Except this time, in your black lingerie. One that was initially reserved for Jaewon’s eyes only until he decided to fuck you over. Now, the privilege was all Jungkook’s.

“Y/n.” he breathed out heavily, creased forehead resting on yours.

And, as you pressed your thumb against his chin, your index finger slid along his bottom lip, feeling his tongue lick the cream off your skin.

“Just like that, baby.” you gave him a tiny nod of reassurance, glancing up at his doe-eyed gaze.

Fuck, submissiveness never looked this good.

“Y/n, please.” he whimpered, hands hovering over your skin before you finally gave in, intertwining your fingers with his.

Unclasping your bra, you let his veiny hands rest on your perky breasts, decorating your hardened nipples with his special treat.

“Taste me,” you purred, tugging on his bottom lip as his mouth opened in a half-moan.

He was wasted. Big time.

“You sure?” he had to double-check, searching your lustful gaze for approval.

“I am. Enjoy your dessert, Jeon.” the words simply rolled off your tongue, like you’ve been meaning to say them all along. And, as you ran your fingers through his messy hair, slightly tugging on the ends, the built-up need within you slowly inched up, begging for his touch.

Cupping your breasts in his burning palms, he peppered your skin with sloppy kisses, teeth grazing against the pinks of your sensitive nipples before biting down on the flesh.

“Fuck” you hissed with your head jerked back.

Sucking off the creamy delight that painted your swollen tits, his pierced tongue licked its way up to your parted mouth, marking your neck with purple hues of possession.

“Koo,” you rasped against his ear, shamelessly rocking your hips back and forth as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten.

“I know, baby.” he muttered, gently lifting your frail body before pinning it against the armrest of the red couch.

Giving a little shake to the whipping cream that dropped from your hands, Jungkook levelled his face to yours, drawing a line down your stomach. And, as he watched you arch your back from the cold sensation, a spark of temptation danced in his darkened eyes, cheeks flushed from the sinful whimpers that escaped your parted lips until the warmth of his tongue eased the pain.

Moving down the center line, his fingertips traced your ribs, a faint outline of which poked with each breath you took. In and out, your diaphragm was working overtime, trying to keep up with the suffocating demand. One that only fueled Jungkook’s cravings, as he tugged onto the black lace of your lingerie.

“Compliments to the chef,” he whispered teasingly, gaze softening at the arousal that had your panties all drenched.

“Jeon, stop staring, this is so embarrassing.” you whined, voice muffled by the pillow that covered your rosy cheeks as you desperately attempted to close your legs and simply vanish.

“It’s not my fault someone forgot to order dessert.” he grinned, pulling you closer as his hold on your thighs tightened, before hooking your ankles over his bare shoulders. “Now, please. Let a man eat.”

Admiring your sleeping features, Jungkook cuddled into your chest, planting soft kisses on your marked neck before dozing off inside your arms until the buzzing of your phone startled him right out of REM.

No Caller ID

“Y/n?” a man’s hesitant voice echoed in his ear.

“She’s sleeping.” Jungkook muttered, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“Who is this? Jungkook, is that you?” Jaewon exclaimed, evidently more on edge than before.

“What do you want?”

“Can I talk to, y/n?”

“As I just said, she’s sleeping.” Jungkook’s tone was low, aggravated by the need to repeat himself.

“Well, can you wake her up?”

“She seemed quite worn out after the fifth round, so I probably shouldn’t.” a grin curled his lips as you rested your head on his heaving chest, completely naive to the unfolded event.

“What?”

“Lose the number, Jaewon.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth, ending the call before tossing your phone on the edge of the bed.

Feeling the warmth of the sun rays peeking through the silk curtains, you stretched your sore body, patting the mattress next to you before noticing Jungkook’s absence.

“Mmhm?” you pouted, reaching for your phone to check the time.

There’s no way you slept through breakfast and he didn’t wake you. Based on your history of ‘hangryness’ and emotional breakdowns that followed suit he should know better.

7:45 am

“Jungkook?” you called out, covering yourself with the sheer nightgown before knocking on the bathroom door, waiting for a response.

Nothing.

“Jeon?” you called again, this time scanning the living room. Everything looked frozen in time, left untouched from the night before — the empty bottle of wine and the stained glass marked with your red lipstick. But still, no trace of Jungkook.

Going back into the bedroom, you quickly brushed your teeth and changed into a baby blue sundress, opening up the blinds to let in the natural light.

“Shit!” you yelped, widened eyes staring at Jungkook’s sculpted back.

Sliding the door just enough to pass by, you felt the goosebumps spread across your body as the morning breeze danced around your bare skin.

“Oh, I thought you quit.” you gasped, brows knitted with confusion as you looked over his broad shoulders, the smell of cigarettes lingering between you two.

“Yeah, well, I thought you cut ties with Jaewon. So … I guess we’re both disappointed.” Jungkook exhaled sharply, turning his head halfway to take in another puff.

Something was off, he seemed distant, cold to the touch.

“What? What are you talking about?” you asked, hands fidgeting with the straps of your dress.

“He called last night.”

“Why? Is he okay?”

And, that’s when he erupted. Back pressed against the railing, his body turned to face your timid form, before muttering, “Do you care?”

“Well, no? But … if we stopped talking and you suddenly called I would want to know why,” you hesitated with the explanation, analyzing the way his forehead creased with each word.

“Mmhm, except I never treated you like a scrumbag, did I?” Jungkook swallowed, rubbing his tattooed hand along his flexed jaw.

“True, but you never pursued me either.” you snapped back, arms crossed over your burning chest.

“This is a prank, isn’t it?” he scoffed maniacally, eyes twitching from disbelief.

“I’m dead serious, Jeon. Why did you keep your distance if you wanted me so badly?”

He didn’t answer. Letting the two of you stare at each other for a split second, before finally taking a step forward, following your pace as your back hit the glass door. Leaning his hands on either side of your head, his broad shoulders hovered over you.

If this was his attempt at scaring you or somehow making you feel beneath him, it was not working. Because, as his face levelled with yours, your gaze furrowed, never breaking eye contact. Standing firm on what you said.

“Y/n, I kept my distance because I wanted you so bad.”

“Kind of dumb, don’t you think?” you pouted with a slight head tilt.

By now, Jungkook was ready to combust. The adrenaline running through his veins prepared to set off his fight or flight response at any given moment.

“Okay. Fine. How about I pursue myself into your ass, hmm?” he growled, tone demanding a response.

“I'd looove to see you try.” you teased, eyes fluttering with innocence.

“On the bed.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, tongue poking the side of your cheek.

“You heard me. Chop chop, baby girl.” Jungkook rasped against your ear, nibbling on the soft skin as a final warning.

To be honest you really didn’t know what you were getting yourself into until his fingers ran down your spine, hands tightening their hold on your hips as his growing boner pressed against the arch of your ass.

Fuck, he was serious.

“From now on, I’ll be so close you’d have to scrub my scent off you,” he sneered, gently sliding his two digits over your folds, fingertips coated with your wetness as you remained on all fours.

“Koo,” you whimpered, tugging on your bottom lip.

Parting your throbbing cunt, his pierced tongue licked your clit, thumb rubbing it in small circles before your moans grew louder. More desperate. More needy. Hazy mind unable to fathom the calmness you radiated just a few minutes ago.

“Hold on.” he whispered, reaching for his wallet to grab a strip of condoms before ripping one open with his gritted teeth.

“Tell me if this is dumb enough for you.” Jungkook teased, mouth sliding along your tensed jaw as he rubbed his erection against your clit, resisting the urge to fill you up right then and there.

It was clear that your words irked him but he had to remain calm enough to not hurt you, forcing his annoyance to cool off with a verbal mock.

And, as he slowly pushed himself in, whimpers escaped your parted lips, hands gathering up the white sheets into knots, feeling his cock stretch its way in against the warmth of your walls. Cautious of his pace, he needed you to adjust, pulling in and out until there was enough lubrication for the growing friction to feel good, painless.

“Koo,” you whined again, gasping for air as his lips left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your back.

“Just like that, baby. You’re doing so good.” Jungkook reassured, softening his hooded gaze upon hearing your sweet sounds. The ones that poisoned his thoughts and invaded his dreams all those countless nights.

Clenching your clit on his throbbing length, his vision grew in and out of focus, hissing at the tingling sensation.

“Fuuuck, y/n.” he moaned, fingers digging into your ass, before jerking his head back.

Picking up his pace, Jungkook went faster and harder. Slamming himself into you, until his twitching tip touched the surface of your cervix, making your toes curl in ecstasy, as a trail of juices ran down your trembling thighs.

“Jeon, I'm gonna faint.” you cried out, feeling your throat tighten, lungs stripped away from air.

“Just a little longer, baby.” he muttered, chest heaving up from exhaustion.

He was close. Very close. So, as your walls clenched around him for the sixth time, he could have sworn his dick melted. Became part of your anatomy, no longer attached to his person. Surrendered with a white flag.

“Y/n, look at me.” he urged breathlessly, snapping the rubber off his sensitive dick before giving it a few more pumps, squirting his cum onto your displayed tongue, completely exasperating in the process.

“So,” you swallowed obediently, “now that you've pursued my ass you'll quit smoking, right?” your doe-eyed gaze glanced up at his darkened orbs that watched you lick the dripping cum off his tip as you sat on your knees. Aware of his response, you brushed your lips against his, inviting his tongue inside before his burning body collided with yours, smiling into the deep kiss.

“Well, technically, I didn't go near your ass. Not many girls like that.” Jungkook teased, tucking a few curls behind your ear.

“Many girls, huh? How many?” you murmured, tracing the tattoos on his arm as your bodies laid skin to skin, staring at the white ceiling.

“About five.” he answered, a bit too quickly for your liking.

“Five? You man whore.” you scoffed with disgust, quickly retracting your hand from his.

“Sometimes six, depending on which video loads first.” his nose scrunched in a tiny giggle once he saw your mouth drop, expression left dumbfounded as the dots in your head began to connect.

So, that's what kept him busy all this time. Porn? Phenomenal.

“Next time, I'll just stay curious.” you sighed, half disappointed yet, also relieved. He might’ve just lied straight to your face but sometimes, it's better to simply pick your battles, choosing to live in blissful ignorance than the chaos of reality. Whatever his reality entails.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook romance

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fuck-you-upmusicbracket · 5 months ago

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It's the fuck-you-up-music-bracket finals!!!!

Let's find out the true fuck-you-up anthem of tumblr!

Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen)

You say I took the name in vain/I don’t even know the name/But if I did, well, really, what’s it to ya?/There’s a blaze of light in every word/It doesn’t matter which you’ve heard/The holy or the broken hallelujah

Maybe there's a g-d above/but all I ever learned from love/was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you/And even though it all went wrong/ I'll stand before the lord of song

"The swelling instruments and the song’s loneliness paired with the backup vocals on the chorus really get me. Plus the messy and detached relationship with G-d"

"the hopeless! the doubt! the pain!dude's saying that everything might have gone to shit but that won't stop him from presenting himself to GOD THEMSELF, WITHOUT SHAME, bc LIFE IS HARD AND HE LIVED IT ANYWAYYYYYYY"

Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)

You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere/Any place is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something, me myself I got nothing to prove

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car/Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk/City lights lay out before us/ And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder/And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

You got a fast car/Is it fast enough so we can fly away?/We gotta make a decision/Leave tonight or live and die this way

"I know it's an obvious one but YOU try playing it without crying I dare you"

"I cant explain the yearning but this makes me howl"

"OH GOD the longing!! The yearning in the recurring central image of the narrator and her lover on the highway, feeling this sense of limitless possibility and incredible hope!!! And then the verses take us with brutal efficiency through the collapse of their marriage, the way that the cycle of poverty stomps down on their hopes, and how with nothing left, the narrator does what her mom did and leaves!! Leaving the kids to experience the same thing she did growing up!! But it’s all punctuated and bookended by these callbacks to that central iconic memory of hope!!!!! But by the end we realize that the last line “leave tonight or live and die this way” offers only the illusion of a choice: when the narrator first runs away and later when she leaves her husband and kids, she’s still fulfilling her role in this cyclical generational story. God!!"

#fuck you up bracket #tournament #polls #leonard cohen #tracy chapman #fuub finals!

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hotvintagepoll · 3 months ago

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Elsa Lanchester (The Bride of Frankenstein, Witness for the Prosecution, Mary Poppins)—Surely somebody's already submitted Elsa Lanchester for this right? Right??? Because her scrungle levels are OFF THE CHARTS in literally everything. The way she's Katy Nanna straight-up refusing to spend another minute with Jane and Michael Banks because she has DIGNITY thank you very much. The way she's Mary Goddamn Shelley stuck listening to Lord Byron mansplaining literature like "ha ha maybe even YOUR little monster story will be published" and she shoots back "It *WILL* be published, *I* think!!!" in the most bright-as-nails fuck-you-Byron voice imaginable. The way she's a nurse herding her lawyer charge through a sordid love-triangle case and we gradually realize the real love story was between her and the lawyer all along. The way she's a clandestine witch casting hexes on telephones, the way she's a princess's PA and helps an old friend steal an invitation card, the way she's a cleaning lady who goes to Germany to personally assassinate Hitler, the way she's a posh village worthy trying to impress Danny Kaye, the way ERRGHH i could go on just look at her scrungle.

Conrad Veidt (The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, The Man Who Laughs)— oh my god look at him in Caligari. I specifically said that he's from this because him as Cesare is just. MMMMM. he's so wet and sad and scrungly. and little. he's like a kitten left alone in a dark alley except he's also killed people (not his fault). something wrong with him (Cesare). as for Conrad himself. oh my god look at him... them big ole eyes and the walk of some fucking thing creature

These are the the quarterfinals for the scrungly little guy contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Elsa:

youtube

Conrad:

youtube

I mean just look at him. The wet cat energy. The ghostly eyes. He did the monster mash before anybody. Where would we be today without him, he even has one (1) song on spotify. I regularly forget he's dead and wonder what his next movie will be. He slays in any role. The Ultimate Skrunkle.

He's the ultimate scrungly to me, the basis for many of our scrungly guys today. he's so skinny and pale and he wears so much eye makeup

He was THE bisexual goth tumblr sexyman of early film. Seriously the old timey Tumblrinas would send him fanmail about wanting him to choke them. He inspired the designs for the Joker and Jafar,and was nicknamed the “Demon of the Silver Screen” for his horror roles. His first wife divorced him for crossdressing. Hitler sent him hate mail for speaking out about antisemitism. He really loved his wife and told the Germans to go fuck themselves when they threatened his job if he didn’t divorce her for being Jewish. Just look at me and tell me this guy isn’t scrungly he’s like a personification of the emo kid from Horton hears a who

[cw the below clip depicts assault/abduction and could be scary for some viewers]

youtube

#scrungly 6 #hotvintagepoll #elsa lanchester #conrad veidt #scrungly little guys #Youtube

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therealcocoshady · 5 months ago

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Kinktober Day 7 - Cream Pie

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : first post of 2025 !!! And I felt like sharing a little something I wrote a while ago and got to finalizing recently ! 😉❤️. I hope you enjoy it !

CW : Creampie

Marshall just loves to give you a cream pie. As soon as things got remotely serious between the two of you, he almost begged for a « no condom » policy. « We’re exclusive and our test results came back clean», he argued. As for you, you were pretty indifferent. If anything, you found condoms to be quite practical. They didn’t bother you and, as an added bonus, they spared you the awful side effects of the various contraception methods you’d tried over the years. Therefore, you weren’t exactly thrilled when he suggested getting rid of them. « Does that make that much of a difference ? », you’d asked. Of course, the man proceeded to explain to you that, yes, it did made a whole lot of a difference. And when you argued that some rubber brands promise that their products feel like nothing’s there and that your ex never complained, he was forced to admit to you that he had a cream pie kink. « Isn’t that just a weird way of saying you enjoy cumming inside ? » you asked said with a raised eyebrow. He let out an awkward chuckle. He seemed kind of nervous to talk about it but he cleared his throat and proceeded to explain with more details. « It’s not really about that. I mean, yeah, it is, but there’s more. With a condom sex still feels good but there’s this thing between us, you know ? I don’t want to have a barrier. I don’t know, it’s feel like a… deeper connection. » he said. You smiled and placed a tender kiss on his jaw. « Careful, handsome, I’m going to think you’re actually a softie », you teased playfully. He huffed and gave you a smirk. « Soft, huh ? » he mused. « Well, yeah », you shrugged. « Getting all romantic, wanting to be all close to me ». He hummed and cupped your jaw before inching just a little closer to you. « You should hold that thought for when I have my way with you without holding back and I claim all your holes as mine. We’ll see how romantic you find it then. ». Your eyes widened as he spoke, causing him to smirk even more. You stayed silent for a second, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. « All my holes ? » you asked with a soft grin. Clearly, the man knew who he was dealing with. You had not done anal with him yet, but you had mentioned enjoying it and, clearly, he remembered. « All of them », he repeated with a promising smile. « And… No holding back ? » you quizzed. « Nope ». Of course, that did the trick convincing you. He knew you liked it rough, and the perspective of him getting territorial and feral, claiming ownership over you was much too enticing. You’d even go so far as to say it was absolutely worth the six additional pounds you gained in a couple weeks after going on the pill.

Safe to say Marshall did not disappoint. As soon as the two of you were positive there was no risk of pregnancy, he went absolutely feral. You’d had sex before - great sex, you’d say, probably the best you’d ever had - but allowing him to hit it raw seemed to change everything. For one, he became demonically horny. You had figured he already had a high sex drive but, boy, were you wrong. It started as soon as the words left your lips. « Yeah, it’s safe to do it without -». He didn’t even let you finish. You saw the immediate change of shade in his eyes, a smirk forming on his lips. You could literally feel him radiate heat. He immediately closed the distance between the two of you, his tattooed arms bracketing you against the wall with an undeniable presence. You felt the strength in his body as he pressed your back, the coolness of the wall contrasting with the warmth that emanated from him. His blue eyes locked onto yours for a brief moment, searching, before his lips descended on yours with a fervor that made your breath hitch. The kiss was deep, his beard grazing your skin, adding an extra layer of sensation. His hands, rough but confident, slid along your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, pressing every inch of his body against yours. The kiss quickly grew more urgent, more insistent, as he tilted your head back with one hand, deepening the connection, savoring the taste of you. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, desperate to ground yourself as his mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw, then to the sensitive skin of your neck. Your breathing became ragged, mingling in the heated space between you. He was pressed against you and the gray sweatpants he was wearing did nothing to prevent you from feeling his excitement. His lips trailed from your jaw to your neck, where he planted lust-filled open-mouth kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His hands were holding you firmly, possessively, fingers digging in your hips. You hummed in please, unable to focus on anything but his grounding presence. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively, seeking more of the heat and pressure he offered. His mouth moved lower, brushing along your collarbone, tasting, teasing, before returning to your lips with renewed urgency. This time, the kiss felt hungrier, more demanding, as if he was trying to draw every ounce of you into him. One of his hands tangled in your hair, tilting your head back just the way he wanted it, while the other glided down your spine, anchoring you to him. He pressed closer, letting you feel the hard lines of his body, the weight of him pinning you firmly against the wall. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, a gentle nip that sent a shiver racing through you, followed by a soothing sweep of his tongue that left you breathless.You melted against him, hands exploring the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles flex and shift under your touch. He growled softly against your lips, a low, rough sound that vibrates through you, stirring something deep and primal. Every touch, every kiss, felt like a claim, an unspoken promise of more to come, and as he drew back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with desire, full of unspoken words that made your heart skip a beat.

It didn’t take long for your clothes to lay forgotten in a corner of the bedroom, Marshall practically ripping them off your body, as if he couldn’t stand any barrier between your body and his hands. And when he finally held you, you could feel his fingers digging in your skin. Throughout your relationship, he’d always shown appreciation for your body. But he seemed to be on another level, practically worshipping you, muttering words of ownership, promising to make you his. And when you finally felt him - just him - inside of you, the room filled with sighs of satisfaction. It was, quite literally, raw and primal. As promised, he didn’t hold back, encouraged by every gasp, moan and whimper you let out, every scratch of your nails in his back. You felt your eyes roll back, amazed that you’d waited this long to try this. You were on the edge of climax when you warned him. « Marshall, I-I’m gonna- » you moaned, almost pleading for him to take you there. He usually liked to keep you on the edge, sometimes denying you but, this time, none of you felt like beating around the bush. Especially not with the words that fell from your lips. « Fill me. Please »you almost whispered. It didn’t take much more for him to get absolutely unhinged with his thrusts. He tightened his hold around you and you could feel him - actually feel him - fill you to the hilt while you repeated his name like a prayer. When his hips finally stilled, the two of you stayed like that for a moment, catching your breaths. Your face was buried in his neck and none of you moved, as if the world had stopped turning. You could practically hear your own heart pounding. When he rolled to the side, you winced and immediately felt the mess he had made between your legs.

You stayed like this, looking g as if your soul had left your body, while he looked at you with a shit-eating grin. « You alright, babe? » he asked with feigned innocence. You turned to him and nodded, still catching your breath. « You really weren’t kidding » you hummed, to which he chuckled. « Told you I’d claim this pussy as mine » he added with a wink. « And I’m not done with you yet ».

#eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #eminem kinktober #eminem smut

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misrepresentedmorallygrey · 1 year ago

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PROPAGANDA

Goro Akechi

have you seen this man. the fandom doesn't seem to grasp that he can have a "good" goal but still go about it absolutely the wrong way. he's not baby but he's not evil incarnate either, he's just 18. being 18 is just like that

People who are like "he's an irredeemable psychopath who became a serial killer just because he has daddy issues" piss me off. People who are like "he's the only person who ACTUALLY cares about the Protagonist and all of the Protagonist's other friends are fakes and users" piss me off even more. He's a foil for the entire main cast. He has faced all of their traumas with none of the support. He believes that he's responsible for his mother's suicide, and that he's unlovable. He was abandoned by everyone. He made some bad decisions when he was like 14, and his abusive father manipulated him into being a hitman. He lies all the damn time, so you can't really tell when he's being genuine or not. He's a double agent who befriends you and then tries to kill you, believes that he's succeeded, and shows absolutely no remorse. He dies to save your life (and then gets sorta resurrected and then dies again to literally save the world). It's complicated! He's complicated!

Loki

hes just like that

He is not the Norse equivalent of the Devil! People keep trying to fit Norse mythology into a Christian mindset and that's NOT RIGHT!! Loki is complex. They're mischievous and some things are bad and some things are good and sometimes they are just a chaotic being that has sex with a horse.

I just think it’s funny that someone submitted this already, and I kind of want to see where that goes

#misrepresented morally grey #round 2 #bracket b #did everything wrong bracket #persona 5 #goro akechi #akechi goro #norse mythology #loki norse mythology

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fatecantstopme · 1 year ago

Text

I Can't Walk Away

Pairing: Nick Amaro x plus size!reader

Summary: When you and your boyfriend break up, you're faced with the seemingly impossible task of putting yourself back together. Luckily for you, your very handsome coworker is more than happy to help along the way.

Warnings: Body image issues, low self-esteem, mentions of toxic/abusive relationships, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, light dom/sub vibes, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V).

A/N: This was entirely self-indulgent and I have no regrets.

Spanish Translations:

Querida: sweetheart/darling

Hermosa: beautiful

Mierda: shit

Por favor: please

Si: yes

All other translations will be after the sentence in brackets/italics.

You dropped onto Olivia's couch with a huff, tears still threatening to break through your stubborn facade.

"Are we gonna talk about it or do I need to have someone beat him up?" Liv asked you, a small smirk gracing her face.

"As much as I'd love to see his ass get handed to him, I think we should avoid committing any crimes," you said lightly.

Olivia sighed softly and reached over to put her arm around you. You leaned into her shoulder and began to let your guard drop. Olivia had been your best friend for over a decade now, your time working together in SVU having brought you closer than you could have imagined.

"He was an asshole, (Y/N/N)," she said softly. "You deserve better."

"You say that, but I guess I just don't believe it," you muttered.

It nearly broke her heart to hear you speak so negatively of yourself, but she knew no matter how many uplifting words she spoke, you would still refuse to believe her.

"Maybe there's something wrong with me," you whispered, tears finally beginning to fall. "Maybe I'm broken--unloveable."

"Hey," she chided. "You are so many things, (Y/N), but broken and unloveable are not among them."

She tightened her grip on you, pulling you into a proper side hug. She let you cry into her shoulder, her own heart breaking along with yours.

You knew, objectively, she was right--your now-ex was indeed an asshole. He'd never treated you well and had often put you down and made you feel terrible about yourself. Your self-esteem had been lower than usual when you met him and in the 6 months you'd been together, he'd managed to destroy whatever vestige of self-love you had left.

There wasn't a single thing about you he didn't belittle. Whether it was your physical appearance, your career, your hobbies, your dreams...he made you feel like everything you ever did was a mistake. In his estimation, you were too fat, unintelligent, boring...and your choice in career was just about the worst thing you could do.

You'd made it your mission in life to help the victims of particularly heinous crimes, which is why you'd been working at SVU for almost 12 years. You were the squad's forensic psychologist, and you loved your work. In many respects, it was the one thing that really brought joy to your life. It was your greatest passion--and the amount of time you spent at work certainly showed it.

Yet during those 6 months with him...your love for the job had begun to wane. Every time you'd stay late or have to cancel a date, he'd berate you for it--mocking your job and your inability to 'be a real person'. Now that you'd finally taken the leap and broken up with him, you were hopeful you could fall back in love with your work.

In this moment, however, all you could think about were the horrible things he'd said to you when you told him you wanted to break up. He'd been especially cruel, calling out every physical insecurity you had and making you feel like an absolute pile of human garbage. He'd called you fat, ugly, unloveable, gross...and a million other things you couldn't bear to repeat.

You weren't thin--you knew that, but you weren't gross. That was just offensive. Unfortunately, he wasn't the first ex to make comments about your weight--something you'd been struggling with for most of your adult life. The words had hit you harder than you'd expected, making you actually think he might be right...maybe you were the problem.

Olivia's voice broke you out of your thoughts, "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

You just nodded, not trusting your voice to answer her properly.

She squeezed you a little tighter, her reassuring presence grounding you in ways you desperately needed. You were always thankful for her friendship, but it was moments like this where you were reminded how much she really meant to you.

**********

You'd spent most of the weekend at Olivia's and by the time Monday rolled around, you were feeling a little bit better. She always knew what to do and say to make everything okay. It was a gift you'd always envied and appreciated.

It was very typical of you to be the first person in the office, having been an early riser most of your life. So you were more than a little surprised when you walked into the precinct Monday morning and spotted Nick Amaro sitting at his desk.

"You're in early," you commented lightly in lieu of greeting.

He turned his gaze to look over at you and shot you a disarming smile. "I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well get a head start on some paperwork I've been putting off."

"Wise man. Wouldn't want to upset the boss."

He grinned. "She's strict." His voice was teasing and warm and it made you feel something in your gut you always tried to ignore.

In truth, you were extremely attracted to Nick--it was undeniable. You had not, nor would you ever, tell him or act on it. Nick was so far out of your league it wasn't even funny. Besides, he was newly single, still fresh from his divorce.

"She can be calmed with good coffee and blueberry muffins," you said conspiratorially.

Nick chuckled. "I'm gonna have to write that down."

You offered him a smile before continuing past him to your office. You were surprised when his voice stopped you after a few steps.

"How was your weekend?"

You turned back to face him. "Friday was absolute shit," you said honestly. "But I spent Saturday and part of yesterday with Liv, so it's better now."

A look of concern crossed his face. "Everything okay?"

You feigned a smile. "Everything's fine. Thanks for asking."

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at you skeptically. "Is it that guy again?"

Your cheeks darkened, embarrassed Nick even knew about your ex. "We broke up."

Nick almost looked relieved. "I would say sorry, but it wouldn't be honest. I never liked the guy--he didn't treat you right."

You were surprised he paid enough attention to the things you said to know just how badly your ex had treated you. "Oh?"

Nick stood up and took a couple steps closer to you. He was still a professional distance away, but he could speak quieter so only you could hear him.

"You deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. You're an amazing woman, (Y/N), and a good man would never treat you the way he did. He clearly didn't recognize your worth."

His words slammed into you with surprising force. "I-um-thank you," you muttered softly.

"You can thank me by dating a man who will love you the way you deserve," he said lowly. "Como una reina." [Like a queen.]

His last three words were so quiet you weren't even sure you'd heard him properly--or if you were supposed to hear them at all. You weren't fluent in Spanish by any means, but you understood the basics...enough to know he'd said something about a queen. That is, if you heard him correctly.

You were about to ask him to elaborate when Olivia came into the squad room. She sent a warm smile your way and issued greetings to both you and Nick. Her arrival broke whatever spell Nick had been under, and he went back to his desk quietly.

You went into your office, leaving the door open behind you so you could hear the goings on and the arrival of the rest of the squad. There were plenty of things for you to do, but you couldn't get Nick's words out of your head.

**********

Olivia looked up from her computer when Nick knocked on the doorframe entering her office.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked.

"Sure," she said with a smile.

He came in and quietly shut the door behind him.

"Uh-oh...closed door conversation? Everything okay?"

"With me, yes," he answered. "But I wanted to ask you something and I don't want anyone overhearing."

"Okay..."

"It's about (Y/N)."

Olivia raised her eyebrows. "What about her?"

"She mentioned she'd spent the weekend with you and she and that asshole broke up."

Olivia chuckled softly, glad to hear she wasn't the only one who hated your ex.

"I know it's not really my business, but I can tell something is really upsetting her. Hell, I've noticed a change in her since the moment they started dating--and not in a good way."

"He isn't a good person," Olivia conceded.

"Tell me about it," Nick muttered. "Anyway, I just--well, I just want to know if she's okay? I mean, really okay."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I did, but I know she wasn't being honest with me."

Olivia sighed. She had a feeling he was asking about you for a reason, but she wasn't sure it was her place to tell him the truth. She was torn between being honest with her partner and keeping her best friend's pain to herself.

"I don't know if it's my place to tell you, but he did say some particularly cruel things about her when she broke up with him."

Nick's eyes narrowed and Olivia could see the anger flare in them. "What did he say to her?" Even his voice was laced with fury--the mere idea someone would hurt you sent him off the edge.

"I can't tell you," Olivia answered. "But if you really want to know, then I think you should talk to her. She trusts you, so she may open up to you."

Nick nodded, anger still boiling beneath the surface. "You're right--I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

Olivia shook her head. "It's alright. I know you care about her...I guess I'm just a little surprised by your anger."

He winced slightly, feeling embarrassed for his display of emotion. "I don't like the idea of some guy making her feel like shit."

"Neither do I," she said honestly. "I am curious though...what made you ask about her?"

"Wha-what do you mean?"

Olivia smiled slowly. "I mean, why do you want to know badly enough to ask me?"

Nick had a feeling Olivia could see right through him--they'd been partners for a few years after all. He wasn't sure how to answer--or if he wanted to be entirely truthful. In the end, he opted for vague honesty. "I care about her."

Olivia watched his expression in silence for a long moment before responding. "So do I."

Nick could see the meaning behind her words as clearly as if she'd spoken them aloud--don't hurt my friend. He didn't say it, but he hoped Olivia knew he would never hurt you...it would break his heart.

**********

"Hey (Y/N/N). You busy?"

You looked up to see Nick standing in your office doorway, leaning against the frame. You swallowed thickly as you pushed down the improper thoughts blazing through your mind at the sight.

"Uh--no. What's up?"

He stepped into the room, edging closer to your desk. "I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight. My treat."

You raised your eyebrows at him, unsure of the cause of his request. "Is there some sort of celebration I'm unaware of?"

He chuckled lightly. "Other than your new-found freedom, no. I just...well, I wanted to spend a little time with you. Ya know, if you want."

You bit your bottom lip as you contemplated his offer. "Well, I don't have any other plans, so why not?"

He grinned. "Excellent. Do you want time to go home first or just leave from here?"

You looked down at your outfit, suddenly feeling very frumpy and unattractive. You knew he wasn't asking you out on a date--just a friend inviting you to dinner to cheer you up. Even still, you really didn't want to go out looking like this. "Do you mind if I go home and change first?"

"Not at all. I can pick you up from your place, if you'd like?"

"Oh, uh-yeah. Sure."

He smiled again. "Perfect. 6:30?"

You nodded. "Sounds good."

You watched him walk out of your office, mind racing as you tried to figure out his motivations and what the hell you were gonna wear.

**********

By the time 6pm rolled around, you'd managed to change your clothes somewhere in the realm of 50 times, and you still weren't entirely satisfied. Even your favorite outfit didn't feel right--you could hear your ex's voice in the back of your mind telling you everything you tried on looked bad.

You dug further into your closet, looking for something simple--cover the things you wanna hide and accentuate the things you wanna show off. Your eyes fell on a beautiful black dress you'd actually never worn. You'd purchased it on a whim because you'd loved it in the store and Olivia had insisted it was too perfect to pass up on.

You pulled the dress off the hanger and put it on, pleased it still fit properly. When you turned to look in the mirror, you almost didn't recognize yourself--you actually felt pretty. The bodice of the dress was tight, but the lower half was flowy. The material was a soft, stretch satin, with a low neckline and flutter sleeves. The dress hit right above your knees and it practically screamed for a pair of heels.

You found your favorite black pumps, slipping them on and smiling at your reflection. You put on some jewelry to spice up the look, sprayed your favorite perfume, and double checked your hair and makeup one last time. You didn't wear much makeup on the daily, so you didn't go too wild with your makeup for the evening. You'd added some eyeliner and lipstick, but otherwise you looked natural. You'd actually been having a good hair day already, so you were pleased to see it was still behaving properly.

You'd just put the last finishing touches on the outfit when you heard the buzzer ring. You quickly went to answer it, and upon hearing Nick's voice, told him you'd be right down.

You took one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs feeling both excited and trepidatious. You reminded yourself once again this was just two friends having dinner--purely platonic...but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't want it to be an actual date.

Nick was waiting just outside the front entrance to your apartment building, and he turned around when he heard the door open. Nothing could have prepared you for the look on his face when he saw you.

"Santa mierda," he breathed. "You look incredible." [Holy shit.]

You blushed and looked away. "Thank you," you mumbled softly.

He stepped towards you and gently touched your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze. "You're very welcome."

He dropped his hand, but his eyes stayed fixed on your face for a long moment. "Do you like Italian?" he asked.

"Of course," you answered, silently pleased your voice sounded normal.

"Excellent." He gestured towards his car and you followed behind him. He opened the passenger door and helped you in before getting in the driver's seat.

The drive wasn't very long, and your nerves kept you quiet for most of the ride. You listened to him chatter on about nothing, simply enjoying the sound of his voice.

When you arrived at the restaurant, he once again opened your door and helped you out, but this time his hand didn't leave yours. He placed your hand through the loop he'd made with his arm and guided you to the entrance.

Once you were seated, your nerves began to ratchet up even higher. Unfortunately for you, Nick was both an extremely good detective and an annoyingly perceptive person. As such, he noticed your discomfort immediately.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you lied.

"It's just me, (Y/N/N)," he said quietly.

You exhaled slowly--realizing he was right. It was Nick for God's sake. He was your colleague, your friend. There was no reason to be nervous. "You're right."

He smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. He pulled it back to his side of the table as the server arrived for your drink order.

You were grateful for the glass of wine he delivered moments later, lifting it to your lips almost immediately. You knew the liquid would calm your nerves--maybe then you wouldn't embarrass yourself.

"I'm glad you agreed to have dinner with me," Nick said softly as he sipped his own glass of wine.

"I was a little surprised, in all honesty."

"That I asked or that you agreed?" he teased lightly.

You smiled. "Definitely the former."

"I hate seeing you upset," he admitted. "I thought I might be able to cheer you up a little."

"Thanks, Nick. You're a good friend."

His face fell slightly, but he quickly hid it behind a soft smile. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Whatever he was going to ask was cut off by the arrival of the server to take your food order.

As soon as the server left the table, Nick leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What did he say to you that hurt you so much?"

"What?"

"Your ex."

Your expression shifted and you looked down at the table. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Why?"

"Because whatever he said hurt you--and I'm willing to bet my career that he was wrong."

Your eyes snapped back up to meet his. His expression was deadly serious, yet it somehow put you at ease in a way only Nick could. "He said some unpleasant things about my physical appearance that I could have lived without hearing."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "Unpleasant things about your appearance? I'll bet my life he was wrong."

Now it was your turn to be surprised. "I wouldn't make that bet, Nick."

"I'm confident. Tell me what he said and I'll judge for myself."

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before giving him a quick overview. "Essentially he said I'm unattractive and fat--I recall the word 'gross' being used as well."

Nick's temper flared instantly, the urge to punch that son of a bitch in the face nearly overwhelming. "He said what?"

Even if you didn't know Nick, you would have been able to see the rage simmering in his eyes, hear it in his tone. "It's not a big deal."

"If he was here, I'd launch him through a window. Bastard."

"I'm okay," you reassured him quietly.

Your soft voice grounded him, as it so often did, and he felt his anger dissipating. He was still angry, but the urge to hunt that asshole down had begun to fade.

"He was wrong, you know."

"Huh?"

"He was wrong. Not only are you one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on, but your body is perfectly proportioned--deliciously soft and curvy. You're about as far from gross as a human being can be."

He spoke with such conviction, such assuredness, that you almost believed him--almost.

"While I appreciate the compliment, Nick, you've never seen me naked...your opinion would change, trust me."

Nick's eyes flared with a new kind of intensity. "I highly doubt that."

"His did," you said quietly.

"He clearly didn't know what he had."

Your eyes met his, shoulders tense, discomfort obvious in every movement you made.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). I'll say it as many times as it takes for you to believe me--I think you're gorgeous. Stunning. Elegante. Sin fin perfecta." [Elegant. Endlessly perfect.] He reached for your hand and you let him take it in his. "You are a prize, (Y/N). Any man worth a damn would be honored to call you his."

You didn't know what to say. His words surprised you and warmed your soul at the same time. You could also feel the familiar tightening in your gut, accompanied by an entire swarm of butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Forget every terrible thing he ever said to you, hermosa. Let me fill your mind with praise. Let me remind you of your beauty, inside and out, of your brilliance, of your kindness, your empathy...of all the little things that make you the incredible woman you are."

"Nick..." you whispered, his name the only coherent thing you were able to utter.

The moment was shattered by the arrival of your food. You'd been hungry when you sat down at the table, but your body was now flooded with a very different kind of hunger--a hunger you now believed Nick shared.

"Thank you, Nick," you said softly. "I know it's not nearly enough, but thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. I meant every word."

You gave him a small smile. "Still..."

He returned the expression.

The two of you ate in silence for several minutes, minds clearly elsewhere. After a while, Nick noticed you'd done more moving the food around the plate than actually eating and he called you out on it.

"Eat your food, querida. You'll need your strength."

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his gaze. "For what?"

He leaned forward. "If you'll let me, I'm going to spend several hours showing you exactly how sexy I think you are."

You gulped. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

He grinned wolfishly. "By worshipping that amazing body of yours...over and over again, until you're screaming my name."

You suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, let alone eat. Nick, on the other hand, went right back to eating his food as if he hadn't just threatened you with an incredibly good time.

You had to force yourself to focus on your food, desperately trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

As soon as the meal was over, Nick asked for the check and paid, revealing just how desperate he was to get back to your place.

Once again, he helped you into the car, only this time his hand lingered on the small of your back.

Anticipation flooded through you as Nick drove through the streets of the city. You'd wanted him for so long--never once thinking he'd reciprocate the desire. Despite his words earlier in the evening, you still felt a shred of self-doubt...worrying he might not find you as attractive once you were naked.

"Where's that pretty head at, querida?" he asked softly, noticing your anxiety.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Of course."

"If you don't want to go through with this...you know, when you see me without my clothes on...please just tell me. I don't want you to feel like you have to do something you don't wanna do."

He reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. "I don't have to promise that because I know what I want, (Y/N)...and that's you. You could be a alien underneath those clothes and I'd still want you."

You laughed lightly. "I promise I'm not an alien."

He grinned. "Then we're gonna be just fine, baby."

You closed your eyes, silently willing yourself to believe him. You trusted him with your life--something you'd never experienced with any of your past relationships. Every fiber of your being told you Nick would never hurt you on purpose--never. You just needed to trust him--let go of your pain and give in to your desires.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, Nick gave you a gentle reminder. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, (Y/N)."

"I want to," you whispered.

He inhaled slowly and took a step towards you. "Say 'no' or 'stop' and I'll stop immediately, okay? No hard feelings--I won't push you."

"I don't want to say no, Nick."

He took another step towards you, effectively backing you against the wall. "If you wanna stop--"

"Nick, please just kiss me," you begged softly.

He groaned softly before leaning in to press his lips to yours. His kiss was like fire and ice--more addictive than any drug known to man. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe--like he would rather suffocate to death than stop.

He pressed his warm body against yours, wedging his knee between your thighs to keep you from squeezing them together. His tongue tangled with yours, quickly asserting dominance as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands went to the buttons on his white button down, quickly undoing them in a desperate need to feel his skin. He helped you remove the shirt, followed by his undershirt, leaving his toned chest bare for you to see.

You bit your lip and stifled a soft groan as you appreciated his form.

"You can touch me, querida," he said softly. "I wanna feel your soft hands on my skin."

You did as he asked, hands gliding over his smooth, tan skin. He sighed softly and leaned into your touch, lips grazing your jaw affectionately.

Your hands traveled to his hips and you began to loosen his belt. He allowed you to unbutton his pants and he helped you remove them.

"I think you're a bit overdressed for the occasion, hermosa," he teased huskily.

You tensed slightly, a feeling of dread washing over you.

Of course, Nick felt it and instantly began to sooth your worries. "You can keep on as much as you want, querida, but I want to see you. I've wanted to touch you like this since the day I met you. But if you're more comfortable keeping your clothes on, that's alright."

You looked up at him, his dark eyes warm and honest. You took a deep breath and pushed him back slightly, giving yourself the room to pull your dress off over your head.

You dropped your dress to the ground, but your eyes didn't meet his gaze--you couldn't even bring yourself to look at his face, too afraid of what you might see there.

"Querida, por favor," Nick whispered. "Look at me."

You looked up at him slowly, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you took in his hungry expression.

"I wanna kiss every square inch of your beautiful body, hermosa. Will you let me?"

You nodded tentatively.

"I need to hear you say it, baby," he pleaded.

"I want you Nick, please."

He groaned and pressed his body against yours again. "Say that again, querida."

"I want you," you whispered.

"Fuck--" He slammed his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth almost immediately. You melted in his arms, reveling in the feeling of his body against yours.

He finally pulled away to catch his breath, but his hands didn't leave your body. Now that he'd touched you so intimately, he never wanted to stop.

"Come with me," he whispered, before guiding you to your bedroom. "Lay down on the bed for me, querida."

You did as he asked, noticing how his eyes never left your body.

He made sure you were looking at him before he began to lower his boxer briefs, slowly revealing his large cock. He was already painfully hard, a bead of precum lingering at the tip.

You licked your lips in anticipation, an action he noticed with pride.

"Like what you see, hermosa?"

"Very much so."

He smiled and climbed onto the bed, covering your soft body with his hard one. "May I take off your bra?"

You nodded.

"Baby..." he said in a clear warning tone.

You understood his meaning instantly, a flood of arousal going straight to your core at the order. "Yes, papi."

His eyes widened for a moment, surprised and pleased at your use of the title. "Such a good girl, aren't you?"

A soft moan left your lips at the praise and he smiled to himself, pleased he was able to suss out what you liked.

His hand snaked around your back, deftly unclasping your bra with surprising ease. The moment your breasts were bared to his gaze, his mouth descended on you, taking a pert nipple into his mouth.

You moaned softly, fingers intertwining into his dark locks. His lips and hands massaged your breasts, giving them equal attention. True to his word, he moved tantalizingly slowly down your body, kissing every inch of skin he could, while avoiding where you needed him most.

By the time he made his way back up to your face, you were begging him to touch your pussy--pleading for some relief.

"Nick, please--I need you."

"What did you call me?" he asked harshly.

Your eyes widened lustfully. "I'm sorry, papi!"

He smiled, ghosting his fingers across your still-clothed pussy. "That's my good girl."

You whimpered at the feather-light touches he placed to your mound, desperate for more. "Please, papi."

"Hmm? Qué deseas?" [What do you want?]

"Please touch me," you begged.

"I am touching you, querida."

"More, papi. Please!"

He smiled. "Normally I'd take my time teasing you--making you beg for what you want...but if I'm being honest, I'm as desperate to touch you as you are to feel it, so I'll be nice to you this time."

He tugged your panties off quickly before spreading your thighs as wide as he could, revealing your dripping wet folds.

"All this for me, baby?" he growled.

"Only you, papi," you responded.

"Yeah? No one else makes you this wet?"

You shook your head vehemently. "No one else."

"Now I have one rule, hermosa. I wanna hear you--every little sound coming out of that pretty mouth. Be as loud as you want. Entiendes?" [Understand?]

"Si, papi," you whimpered.

He smirked as he lowered himself down onto the bed between your legs. His strong hands gripped your hips and he tugged you as close to his face as he could before diving into your pussy with a deep groan of pleasure.

You gasped at the sensation, the sound quickly becoming moans of enjoyment. Nick was quite skilled with his mouth--his tongue alone made you feel things you'd never before experienced.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at the roots as you desperately sought your release.

Nick held you in place as he continued his assault on your pussy, ensuring he had complete control over your pleasure.

"Feels so good," you gasped. "Gonna cum, papi."

He groaned against your clit, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He could feel how close you were by the way your thighs tried to close and your grip on his hair tightened.

Your moans became more desperate--needy, and he slid two fingers into your pussy, gently pressing into your g-spot rapidly.

You cried out, legs shaking slightly, seconds before your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. His name left your lips in a gasped scream as he worked you through your high, only stopping when you began to squirm away.

You were completely breathless when he lifted his head, mouth and chin soaked in your juices. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth on his hand, licking it clean as he maintained eye contact with you. "You taste so good baby...I can't get enough."

You reached for him and he obliged, leaning forward to kiss you softly. You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue, a soft sound of pleasure escaping into his mouth.

"Querida," he whispered against your lips. "I need to be inside you."

"Please," you whimpered.

"Do you have protection?"

"I'm on the pill..."

"I'm clean," he assured you.

"Me too."

He lined his cock up with your entrance and looked back up at your face. "Are you sure, hermosa?"

"Si papi. I want you to fuck me."

He groaned softly before thrusting into you, sheathing himself fully inside of you in one swift movement.

You cried out, the stretch both overwhelming and extremely pleasurable all at once. You clutched his neck and he breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.

"You can move," you whispered.

"Not yet, querida. I need a moment."

"Are you okay?" you asked in concern.

"Your pussy feels so damn incredible, baby...I'm just trying to control myself so I don't hurt you."

You bit your lip and lifted his face up to look at you. "I like a little bit of pain, papi." You clenched your pussy tightly for emphasis.

"Mierda," he ground out. "You sure?"

"Fuck me senseless, Nick. Por favor."

As much as he loved you calling him 'papi', hearing you say his name like that made him feral. He pulled out and thrust back in harshly, starting a fast, hard pace.

"Baby, say my name again," he begged.

"Nick," you moaned lowly.

"Fuck." He was fucking you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do and you'd never experienced anything like it.

You felt the coil tightening in your abdomen, and for the first time in your life, you knew you were going to cum during penetration. Your moans were loud enough to wake the neighbors, your nails dug into his muscular back, and your pussy had his cock in a vice grip.

"You gonna cum for me, (Y/N)?"

You nodded rapidly, unable to voice a response. The only thing coming out of your mouth was a string of incoherent moans and pleas.

"I wanna feel you cum, baby. Cubre mi polla." [Coat my cock.]

"Nick!" you whined.

"What do you need, querida? Tell me."

"More," you whimpered.

He slipped his hand between your bodies and began to gently massage your clit. "This what you need, baby?"

"Nick!" you screamed. "Don't stop!"

"That's it, baby. That's it. I've got you. Cum for me, querida. Ven por mí." [Come for me.]

You cried out in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure overwhelmed your senses. You clung to him desperately, as if he was a life raft while you were adrift in the ocean.

He began to chase his own high as you came down, your awareness coming back to you. His thrusts were fast and rough, his breathing ragged.

"I want you to cum for me, papi. Fill me up," you begged.

"Dios mio! You feel so good, baby. Wanna cum for you."

You clenched your pussy as tightly as you could, desperate for him to enjoy this as much as you did.

"(Y/N)!" he cried out as he came, his hot seed filling you up.

His thrusts slowed and faltered before he finally collapsed on top of you, breathless and satiated.

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair as he caught his breath. You were a little worried he would regret this now that it was over, but your fears were assuaged the moment he lifted his head to look at you.

His beautiful brown eyes were warm and loving as he gazed at you, happiness and contentment clear in his expression. "That was incredible," he murmured softly.

You blushed slightly. "You were incredible."

"As were you, querida."

He pressed his lips to yours as he pulled himself up. He rolled onto his side and pulled you with him, so your head rested against his chest.

"I'm thinking we take a power nap, then we go for round two," Nick said softly.

"Round two?!"

He grinned. "I did promise you I was gonna worship this sexy body of yours for hours."

"I didn't think you were serious, Nick," you said with a chuckle.

"Oh, baby, I'm always serious about worshipping you. I think you'll learn that very quickly."

You smiled and kissed his chest softly. You debated whether you wanted to voice the question that popped into your head, but once again, Nick beat you to it.

"You know this isn't a one time thing, right?" Nick asked gently. "I mean, unless you want it to be."

You looked up at him, expression soft and affectionate. "I was actually just going to ask you that."

He grinned. "So...you saying you might wanna see me again?"

"I see you every day, Nick," you teased.

"I mean like this, hermosa. Naked in your bed, making you scream my name, giving you as much pleasure as your pretty little body will take."

Your breath hitched in your chest, giving away just how badly you wanted that. "That too."

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "If I'm lucky, you'll let me take you out more too. Dinner, dancing, walks in the park, musicals...whatever you want. Wherever you go, I want to be there too."

Your eyes widened in surprise and tears filled them. You'd never had someone speak to you the way Nick did, let alone want to be with you in the way he just described.

"Querida," he whispered as he wiped your eyes. "Don't cry."

"Tears of joy," you assured him. "I promise."

His expression warmed, filling with the love and admiration he clearly felt for you. "So you'll be mine then? Exclusively?"

Your lips parted and you smiled. "I would love that."

He smiled back. "Thank god...because whether you knew it or not, I've been yours exclusively for the past year."

"What?"

He blushed slightly. "I...well I've wanted to be with you since my marriage fell apart, but I didn't want you to think you were some kind of rebound, so I kept myself professional. It's gotten harder and harder to do and then seeing you dating someone who treated you so terribly knowing full-well I would die for you made it nearly impossible."

"I didn't know," you whispered.

"I went to great lengths to make sure of that," Nick said softly. "But now that I have you? Now that I know what it's like to touch you, hold you, kiss you, make love to you? Baby, I can't walk away. You're stuck with me."

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, straddling his strong body. You leaned down to kiss him softly, pouring all of your emotion into the kiss. "There's no one I'd rather be stuck with, Nick Amaro," you whispered against his lips.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around you, kissing you with as much passion as he could muster. He was determined to spend every minute of the rest of his life making sure you knew how incredible you were, how much he appreciated you, and how madly in love with you he would always be.

#nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x reader smut #nick amaro x plus size reader #nick amaro x plus size reader smut #nick amaro smut #law and order svu #law and order svu smut

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celestialgallaghers · 2 days ago

Text

White Mustang: Friday [18+]

final part omg. thank you so much for all the love and support of this series it really means a lot 💖. This isn't the end btw. I have an epilogue planned, but idk when it'll be posted. I wanna get back to writing about liam for a change lol. I hope you guys like it i had so much fun with this whole series <3.

Word count: 14.5k

Friday

The next day was sweltering. The kind of heat that clung to your skin and made the air feel thick. No one really had the motivation to do much, so eventually everyone ended up by the pool, stretched out under the sun with cold drinks in hand, slipping in and out the water to cool off.

You’d gone into town with Emily and come back armed with supplies for margaritas. By midafternoon, everyone was sun kissed and half-drunk, music drifting from the small speaker Emily had hooked up. Everything felt easy.

You were sitting cross legged in a pool chair, hair still damp, sunglasses sliding down your nose, sipping a margarita that was mostly just tequila at this point. Your dad and Noel were swapping stories, talking shit and laughing like they always did. You joined in when you could, but mostly you listened.

But beneath it all, you were hyper aware of every glance Noel threw your way. Especially when you climbed out of the pool, water trailing down your skin, bikini clinging to you, and the weight of his gaze tracked you. If he was trying to hide it, he was doing a piss poor job.

You weren’t sure if he was serious about “going easy” on him. You’d been half-joking when you said it but then he’d agreed. Maybe it was just his way of telling you not to be a tease.

You hadn’t been trying to. Not really. You weren’t doing anything different than you would’ve if he wasn’t here. It wasn’t your fault he couldn’t stop looking…okay, maybe a little bit was your fault. But he didn’t have to look.

When everyone’s drinks started running low, you slipped inside, grateful for a reason to cool off. You made your way into the kitchen and busied yourself slicing limes, the citrus sticking to your fingers.

You didn’t hear him at first. Not until his arms bracketed the counter on either side of you, caging you in. Your breath caught as his chest brushed your back, solid and sun warmed.

“You look so fuckin’ fit in that little bikini,” he murmured against the shell of your ear. His voice was low, stirring something deep in your core.

“It’s quite distracting,” he added, hips pressing lightly against the swell of your ass.

Your mind tried to remember where you were, who else was just outside. But all of that went fuzzy with him this close.

“We can’t do this here,” you whispered, glancing quickly toward the sliding glass door. Technically, you were out of sight. But anyone could wander in. And he wasn’t exactly being subtle.

He didn’t budge. “That’s what I said last night,” he said, amusement curling through his voice. “Didn’t stop you then.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. He wasn’t wrong. You’d been reckless. Desperate to feel him. And lucky no one had caught you. But still…

“It’s different now,” you said, the words thin, unconvincing even to yourself. “People are awake.”

“I know.” His voice was maddeningly calm, even as his hands slid from the counter to your waist, fingers grazing bare skin. Goosebumps chased their path.

Then, gently, he turned you. And just like that, you were face to face. Trapped in the full weight of his gaze. Those eyes gleamed with something unreadable.

Was he doing this on purpose? Trying to get you to break? And he’d had the nerve to call you the tease.

“Are you trying to get me to kiss you?” you asked, narrowing your eyes, voice quiet. “Is that what this is?”

He just shrugged. Maybe he was. Maybe this was how he asked for it without the words. Or maybe he needed it just as badly as you did.

With one last glance toward the door, you gave him the smallest concession—a soft peck before you turned back around. That was all he was getting.

Or so you thought.

Before you could even exhale, his hands were on you again. Spinning you back around and pulling you into him. His mouth crashed onto yours with far more force this time..

You gasped as he hoisted you onto the counter, the cold surface biting into your thighs. You knew better. You knew someone could walk in. But your body had already decided. Every rational thought disintegrated the moment he touched you.

And he knew it too. You felt him grin against your mouth the moment you gave in. His hand slid around to the small of your back, pushing you closer as if there were any space left. But there was. Just enough that when you locked your legs around his waist and pulled him in, it knocked the breath out of him.

He faltered, just for a second. His lips broke from yours with the faintest hint of surprise before he recovered, slipping his tongue into your mouth with maddening ease.

The sudden intensity, the roughness, the heat of his mouth, it all had you immediately worked up and throbbing for him. And somewhere in the back of your mind a thought flickered.

By this time tomorrow he’ll be gone.

It only urged you to kiss him harder. Your hand slid into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. You felt the way he leaned into it and the quiet sigh he let out made your stomach flip. You’d noticed it last night. The way he responded to it. Filed it away. And now you were using it against him. The thrill of it made you bolder. You tightened your grip and gave a gentle tug.

The groan he let out was quiet but hot, going straight to your core. But then he pulled away, breath ghosting against your lips. “Thought you said you’d go easy on me.”

“Turn you on that much does it?” you teased, pulling a bit harder.

That earned you a look. He exhaled through his nose, clearly fighting back another noise, much to your dissatisfaction. But instead of answering, he stepped away entirely.

You blinked, breath still uneven. His gaze lingered on you. Flushed. Legs spread. Head tipped back against the cabinets like you’d already been wrecked by just a kiss. Maybe you had.

It was like he was memorizing it. Memorizing you. Maybe he was. Maybe he didn’t want to forget this either. You stared right back, trying to do the same.

Then, almost casually cruel, he let out a low chuckle, patted your thigh softly, and turned to walk out without another word.

You stared after him, dazed and buzzing. Your lips tingled. Your whole body tingled. And when you finally slid off the counter, your knees almost gave out.

You tried to refocus, staring at the half-sliced limes in front of you. But your hands were still shaking and your mind was nowhere near that kitchen. You nearly sliced your finger clean off.

Back outside, Noel acted like nothing had happened. If anything, he was staring more brazenly now. But you could feel the shift.

He’d done it on purpose. Wound you up and left you wanting.

You’d been doing so well too. So controlled. But now you were buzzing again, your heart beating too fast, mind fuzzy from the drink you’d downed the second you finished passing everyone else theirs.

You slipped back into the pool in silence, desperate for the cold shock of water to ease the heat. You let yourself drift, eyes closed, tuning out the murmur of voices nearby. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was still watching. You felt it. That slow burn of his gaze tracking your movements.

When you finally climbed out, you made it a point not to look at him. You toweled off slowly, letting the sun dry the rest, and made yourself your new drink. But even as you rejoined the others, you couldn’t shake the memory of his mouth. The phantom weight of his hands.

He looked entirely unbothered. Laughing at something your dad said, gesturing with his glass, legs stretched out like he hadn’t just had you pinned to the kitchen counter twenty minutes ago.

It was maddening. He was maddening.

The afternoon wore on and the heat was starting to hit everyone hard. Your dad retreated upstairs for a nap, Emily wandered off with a book, and suddenly it was just you and Noel.

You sat at the edge of the pool with your back to him, feet dangling in the water. You could hear the soft clink of ice in his glass behind you. The rustle of him shifting. And then the quiet creak of a chair.

Then came the faint splash as he settled beside you, slipping his feet into the pool too. A respectful distance away, but still close enough that you could feel the presence of him.

Your body tensed anyway. But he didn’t say anything. Not right away. For a moment, all you could hear was the gentle ripple of the water and the wind stirring the trees overhead.

“Funny how we keep ending up alone together,” Noel said eventually, his voice low, like it didn’t want to disturb the stillness.

“Funny how no one’s seemed to notice it either,” you said, still facing forward.

He gave a dry little laugh. “Nah. They’ve noticed. They just think we’ve got some sort of…special bond.”

That caught you off guard. You turned toward him, brows lifting in amusement. “Do we now?”

He met your eyes and bumped his knee lightly against yours. “’Course we do. We birthed an album together, didn’t we? Think that earns us some lifelong soul tie or summat. You owe me child support, by the way. I’ve raised it all these years on my own.”

You snorted. “So what, that makes you the mother?”

“Obviously,” he said, deadpan. “You inseminated me and ran off. Textbook absentee father behavior, by the way. Very progressive of you.”

It was so ridiculous that you laughed despite yourself. It cracked the tightness in your chest and sent something fluttering loose behind your ribs.

But then the laughter faded. Because your gaze caught on his mouth. Still curved in that lopsided grin. Lips wet from the beer he was sipping.

You wanted to kiss him again. God, you ached to. You’d been restless with it ever since he left you high and dry in the kitchen. It was reckless flirting like this out in the open where anyone could hear. But logic didn’t stand a chance.

Your eyes trailed to the bottle in his hand.

“Give us it,” you said, nodding towards it.

He followed your gaze then raised the bottle slightly. “What, this?”

You nodded, holding out your hand expectantly.

“No I don’t think I will,” he said smugly.

You leaned in to grab it, but he pulled it just out of reach, eyes gleaming as your fingers caught only air. You tried again and he stretched his arm higher, smirk deepening.

You made an annoyed sound. “Do you enjoy denying me things?”

A wicked grin spread across his face as he brought the bottle back to his lips, deliberately taking a long sip, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

You snatched it mid-sip, yanking it away with more force than intended. He choked on a laugh, a splash of beer dribbling down his chin as his head tipped back.

You turned your body away from him triumphantly and took an exaggerated swig. When he reached for it again you twisted further and drained what little was left out of spite.

Then you turned back to him slowly, victorious, and locked eyes. With pointed deliberation, you dragged your tongue along the rim of the bottle, gathering the last drops. You flicked your tongue over your lips to catch the rest, just to drive it home.

His gaze dropped and you felt it like a hand across your skin. “S’not very nice to finish a man's beer y’know.”

“It’s also not very nice to kiss someone and then walk away,” you shot back. “Leave them wanting all day.”

The tequila still hummed in your blood, leaving you loose tongued and wanton. A dangerous mix around him.

His mouth curled lazily. “You’re feisty today.”

“No,” you said plainly, tone flat and eyes steady. “I’m frustrated.”

He cocked his head, voice dropping low. “How frustrated?”

You held his gaze. “Frustrated enough that I had to lick every last drop of you off that bottle just to stop myself from sticking my tongue down your throat.”

That wiped the smirk clean off his face.

“And?” he asked, voice dark now. “Did it work? Are you satisfied?”

“Not even close.”

The air between you tightened, snapping taut with tension. His eyes dropped shamelessly to your chest, rising and falling with your uneven breath, while yours slid over the part in his shirt that exposed a tantalizing bit of skin. You felt feral with want. Feral and deeply, maddeningly denied.

You needed him again and badly. The only question now was whether his body could keep up with your hunger. You had to find out.

“I didn’t…” you hesitated, then forced the words out. “I didn’t go too hard on you last night, did I?”

His mouth curled. “So young and naive,” he murmured. “You gave it a valiant try, but no. Gonna take a hell of a lot more than that to break me.”

You knew he was teasing, but something about being called naive struck a nerve.

“Oh yeah?” You said, narrowing your eyes. “Can you even get it up again grandpa?”

He huffed out a laugh, clearly delighted. “Don’t act like you’re all high and mighty. We both know that you’d be on your knees in a heartbeat if I said the word.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“So eager to know when you can have another go.” he said, tilting his head. “Maybe I’ll just say no. Maybe I won’t let you.”

You hated the way your stomach dropped at that. And judging by the flicker in his expression, he saw it. He saw everything. His grin widened as your momentary panic gave you away.

“You wouldn’t,” you said, trying to sound dismissive.

“Try me.”

You locked eyes, refusing to blink. But the heat in his stare was unbearable. You looked away first.

“What if I don’t let you,” you said. Because it was the only thing you could think to say.

He leaned in until his breath ghosted your cheek, voice barely above a whisper. “Now we both know you love my dick too much to even try that.”

The words hit you like a slap. Heat rushed to your face. And then lower. You hated how much it turned you on. How much you liked hearing it. Hated that he knew it.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but your pulse was everywhere. Loud in your ears. Your throat. Between your legs.

He saw it. Felt the shift. And his grin turned wolfish. “No you can’t get enough of it, can you?” he murmured. “You love how deep I get inside you. I can feel it, you know. Feel how weak you get. How no one’s ever touched you like I have.”

You could barely breathe. He wouldn’t physically touch you here, but that wasn’t stopping him from caressing you with his words.

“Big talk for someone who came prematurely on my face like a teenager.” It was weak and that had been entirely your fault, but it was the only collateral you had.

He raised his eyebrows, grinning wider. “Because you couldn’t help yourself,” he said smoothly. “Couldn’t keep that mouth of yours to yourself.”

“Yeah?” you shot back. “You lost it after two strokes of my tongue.”

His grin widened into something smug and sinfully charming. “Don’t act like you didn’t love every second of it.”

Your breath caught. You had to get away from him. From this. Before you did something stupid. Like crawl into his lap, world be damned.

You leaned in, voice low enough for only him to hear. “I’m going to get in the shower,” you said. “You’re going to wait a respectable amount of time and then you’re going to follow me.”

He raised a brow. “Not sure you’re in the position to be making demands, love.”

But you were already on your feet, walking away.

The enclosed outdoor shower was warm and still. Steam curled up from the stone floor as you turned on the water, but you didn’t step beneath it. Instead, you lowered yourself onto the wooden bench and tried to steady your breathing.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer. The silence didn’t help. If anything it made the ache louder, pulsing through your body like a second heartbeat.

Maybe he wasn’t coming.

Your hand slid beneath your bikini bottoms before you could even think twice. Just to take the edge off, you told yourself.

The moment your fingers found that spot, relief bloomed through you. You leaned back against the wall, fingers circling, pressure growing. Your eyes fluttered shut. You were already so worked up from everything. His voice, his teasing, his refusal. Your legs fell further apart, pleasure shooting through your veins fast and sharp.

And then the door creaked.

Your eyes flew open just in time to see Noel slip inside, sans shirt. He froze, eyes locked on the spot where your hand disappeared beneath your swimsuit. His chest was rising and falling with shallow breaths, but the rest of him went still.

You didn’t stop. You met his stare, never breaking rhythm, and watched as his throat bobbed with a swallow.

“What are you doing?” he asked, low and careful.

“Taking matters into my own hands,” you said, voice breathy but confident.

The way his jaw clenched sent a fresh pulse of want through you. His eyes were heavy, tracking every movement. But he didn’t move.

So you pushed further.

You arched just enough to press deeper into your own touch, a quiet moan spilling from your lips. Then you used your free hand to tug your bikini top aside, baring one breast to the humid air. You ran your thumb across your nipple, gasping softly at the sensation.

Still nothing. Fine.

You dragged your fingers away from yourself, then reached for the tie at your hip and gave it a tug. The knot slipped loose. You mirrored the motion on the other side, teasing it undone until the fabric gave up and dropped, leaving you bare.

He still hadn’t moved. But his eyes were wild now.

You slid your fingers back through the slick between your thighs, slower this time, gathering everything you could with aching slowness. Then you raised your hand, lips parting slightly.

You didn’t put them in your mouth. Not yet. You were taunting him now and he knew it. His nostrils flare, fingers twitching at his sides. He only muttered a soft curse as he stared, transfixed. You brought your fingers closer, just enough to graze your bottom lip.

And that’s when he snapped.

In an instant, he was on you. One hand caught your wrist, the other grabbed your thigh, dragging you forward with a roughness that made your breath catch. Then his mouth closed over your fingers, sucking them in with a low moan like something inside him had finally, violently broken.

“Knew you were all talk,” you murmured smugly, right up until his mouth crashed against yours, swallowing the rest of the sentence.

It wasn’t gentle. You moaned into his mouth as he grabbed your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and forcing the taste of yourself onto your tongue.

Then he hauled you up from the bench, your bikini bottoms falling away completely as your body followed his. He pressed you against the damp wooden wall, its cool bite a stark contrast to the heat radiating off his skin.

You grinned against his mouth, fingers sliding into his hair again, this time fisting it and yanking hard. He hissed at the sting, then bit your lip in retaliation, eyes darkening. Your hand slid down between you, cupping him through his swim shorts. You paused when you found him soft.

“You really can’t get it up, can you?” you said, half teasing, half genuinely disappointed.

“Give it time love,” he said lowly. “You’ll regret saying that later.”

The confidence in his voice sent a shockwave through you. The way he said it, not a threat but a promise, had your breath catching, heat curling low in your belly. You opened your mouth for another jab—

But then his thumb brushed over your clit, and every thought shattered.

Your head hit the wall with a soft thud, eyes fluttering shut as your hips jerked into his hand. The touch was fleeting, barely there until he slid two fingers inside you.

You gasped. But then—nothing. No movement. Just the feeling of being filled. Your eyes snapped open in confusion.

“If you’re so eager to get yourself off,” he murmured, “go on, then. Do it.”

You froze. His eyes held yours, steady and unmoving. It wasn’t a dare. It was an instruction.

So you moved. Rocked your hips forward slowly, experimentally, grinding down and dragging yourself along his still fingers. The stretch was there, but the friction was barely noticeable. His expression didn’t change, except for the faint, devilish smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He wasn’t going to help. He wanted to watch.

His fingers didn’t curl or even offer the smallest thrust. He remained completely still. You shifted your hips in frustration, trying to spark something, but only managed the faintest flicker of pleasure.

Your other hand slid down, desperate to finish what he’d started, but he caught your wrist before you got close. You gasped, staring up at him, chest rising in shaky bursts.

So you tried again. This time with the hand tangled in his hair. You dragged it down, reaching between you.

But you were barely able to touch yourself before he wrenched his fingers from you entirely and slammed your wrists back against the wall. Your chest heaved, mouth parted in a mix of disbelief and need.

He grinned and leaned in close to your face, boxing you in. “Not so fast,” he whispered against your ear.

The quiet authority in his tone ignited your entire body. You hadn’t seen this side of him before, but now that it was here it made you thrum with hunger. You were ravenous for it, wishing you’d provoked it sooner.

You squirmed beneath his grip, chasing friction again.

“Tch,” he tutted. “Are you gonna behave?”

Something defiant flickered inside you, but it was quickly drowned out by how badly you needed more. You stilled, humbled by desire.

He grinned. “Good.”

He released one wrist, sliding his fingers back between your legs slowly. The relief made you tremble. When he let go of your other wrist, your hand rose to his neck to show that you weren’t going to act out again.

“Better,” he murmured, grazing your lips with his own.

You kissed him hard, gripping him tighter, rocking your hips against his hand. But the angle of his fingers was just shy of enough. The pressure only teased, coaxing your nerves to the edge without tipping them.

“At least angle your fingers better,” you whined after several minutes.

He laughed low in his throat, a sound that vibrated against your skin. “What, like this?”

He curled them hard. Right into that spot.

Your whole body convulsed. The breath punched out of you in a high, strangled moan as pleasure sliced through your belly and down your thighs. The buildup had been so excruciatingly slow that now the sensation came sharp and bright, dizzying in its intensity.

“Yeah,” you managed, grinding down again, more urgently now.

“All you had to do was ask.”

And then his fingers were pistoning harder, curling with ruthless precision, knocking the breath right out of you. You hoped the water drowned out the loud moan you let out, shivering violently as pleasure flooded your nerves. His lips quickly returned to yours to smother any more sounds as he went deeper, swallowing your gasps.

Your body arched, the tension winding tighter and tighter, seconds from snapping. Your legs began to tremble, and your grip on his neck tightened.

“Noel,” you gasped, barely coherent. You could feel it cresting right there.

And then he stopped. Just like that.

You choked on the denial, your body seizing up with it. Your climax had been so close, and now it twisted painfully inside you, caught mid-breath with nowhere to go. Your eyes flew open and locked onto him.

“You bastard,” you choked. His fingers remained still inside you, making the ache that much worse. Your walls fluttered around them, begging for movement, desperate to be finished, anything.

“Ooh,” he tsked. “That’s not very nice is it? Considering I’ve got your orgasm literally in the palm of my hand.”

You exhaled hard through your nose, trying to rut against his fingers. Trying anything for just a fraction of pleasure. But he stepped back and withdrew his fingers completely.

A pathetic whine escaped you. Your body bucked forward from the loss. Your arms fell to your sides as the ghost of pleasure throbbed through you with nowhere to go.

When you met his eyes again, the look nearly brought you to your knees. He was enjoying this. Too much.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his wet fingers slowly down your inner thigh. The teasing path left goosebumps in its wake and you twitched at the contact, throat tight with a sound you refused to let out.

You glared at him, cheeks flushed. You weren’t sure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him until your lips went numb. Probably both.

“You’re cruel,” you said quietly.

He smiled at that, then gently but firmly grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back until your mouth parted. He pressed those same slick fingers against your lips, and you didn’t hesitate, letting him slide them past your tongue. He groaned low in his throat at the sight of your mouth closing around them.

“You really thought I was just gonna give in?” he murmured, pulling his fingers back. “After all that mouth earlier?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Then he stepped back again. Like he was done. Like he was going to leave.

You blinked, stunned. “You’re joking.”

No response.

“Fine,” you snapped, pulse thudding with rage and desperation. You slid your hand between your thighs, fingers sinking in easily, still warm and slick from him. The relief was instant, your body chasing the high it had been denied.

But you barely got into a rhythm before he spoke.

“Stop it.”

You ignored him, curling your fingers deep, pleasure returning like a tidal wave. Just a little more—

“I said stop.”

Suddenly he was in front of you again, yanking your wrist away. You wrestled your arm from his grip, fire burning in your chest.

“You can’t stop me from finishing myself off the minute you step out of this shower.”

He tilted his head, the curve of his mouth devilishly calm. “Can’t I?”

And god dammit, your body believed him, suddenly cold and dry. Already aching with loss. Like your nerves knew it was over before you did.

“You’ll get what you want,” he said, voice soft but edged with promise. “Eventually.”

Then he disappeared, leaving you alone with nothing but the sound of running water and the thrum of your pulse echoing in your ears.

That evening, the four of you got dressed up to go out. It was your dad’s idea. One final hurrah to celebrate before the trip came to a close. He picked a fancy rooftop bar downtown. One with panoramic views of the city and overpriced cocktails. You all agreed without much hesitation. Maybe it was the sun. Or the lingering tequila. Or that low hum of sadness that always comes with the end of something good.

You slipped into a black velvet dress—simple, but clinging in all the right places, the open back catching the breeze as you stepped into the night air. You weren’t dressing for him, not really, but you noticed the moment Noel’s gaze found you across the table. It lingered a beat too long before sliding away. A flicker of a smile tugged at your lips, but you fought it down.

You clinked glasses with Emily and threw yourself into conversation, a little guilty for how much of the trip you’d spent focused only on Noel. You rarely got this kind of time with her and she always managed to lift your mood.

Another drink in, your face was flushed with laughter, chest warm from gin. You were trying to stay present, to forget that everyone was leaving tomorrow. So you leaned into it. Let yourself forget, just a little longer.

Your dad was midway through one of his classic long winded stories, arms moving animatedly as he recalled something you’d heard countless times. You were laughing along when you felt the nudge of a knee against yours beneath the table.

The contact was soft but deliberate and you had to fight your instinct to flinch. Your eyes snapped across the table where Noel was now very pointedly not looking at you, his tongue sweeping slowly across his bottom lip like he was trying not to smile.

Prick.

You inhaled sharply and shifted your legs out of his reach. He was not doing this here. You were still on edge from earlier. Pissed at the way he’d pushed you to the brink and left you there. And now he was testing your boundaries again.

Part of you was dangerously close to snapping and kicking him in return. The other wanted to slide your foot up his thigh and make him squirm.

Before you could decide, the waitress returned with a fresh round. She placed Noel’s drink down last, lingering just a second too long, her eyes locked on his.

“Enjoy,” she said, sweet and just shy of suggestive.

Noel offered her a warm smile. “Cheers, love.”

She grinned, tucking her hair behind one ear as she turned away, glancing back once before disappearing.

You took a long sip of your drink. This was stupid. He was stupid. You weren’t going to rise to it. But Emily had no such restraint.

“Noel,” she teased, drawing out the vowels. “Last night, now’s your chance,” she said, nodding toward the retreating waitress with a raise of her eyebrows.

Noel smirked, but covered it quickly with a sip of his drink, swirling the ice.

“Nah,” he said with a faux considerate shrug. “She’s a bit young for me, don’t you think?”

Your blood turned icy. Whether it was an intentional jab or just a casual deflection, you felt it in your gut. And you hated that it landed.

Emily just shrugged. “Some women are into that.”

Noel chuckled under his breath and looked like he was fighting hard not to send a smug smirk your way. You, on the other hand, were staring daggers at him.

“Emily, please,” your dad said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Leave the man alone. He’s had it rough enough as it is.”

Then he turned to Noel, thoughtful now. “Though I will say, you do seem a hell of a lot more relaxed than when you first got here.”

Noel stiffened imperceptibly, but you caught the faint tension in his shoulders.

“S’pose so,” he said mildly, like it hadn't even occurred to him until now.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” your dad said, giving him a friendly clap on the back. “You’re welcome on any family trip from here on out, right girls?” He looked between you and Emily, clearly expecting enthusiastic agreement.

“Of course!” Emily said quickly, reaching across the table to pat Noel’s hand.

You were a beat too slow. The idea of Noel joining you on another trip was somewhere between absurd and thrilling.

“Right,” you said, trying to sound casual. But your pulse had quickened. Maybe next time he’d have his own room. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many stolen moments. Maybe—

“At least sound a bit more excited,” Noel cut in, grinning now. It was the first thing he’d directed at you all evening. His voice was light, but the undercurrent was unmistakable. Like he knew exactly what kind of thoughts you were having.

Your cheeks flared. “No, of course,” you said quickly, forcing brightness into your tone. “Definitely.”

Your dad beamed. “Well, I’m just happy we could be of service.”

You nearly choked on your drink. The phrase felt too pointed, your mind spinning with all the ways it could be interpreted. Then there was that knee knocking at yours again, lighter this time.

You coughed. “Food anyone?”

The rest of dinner went smoothly enough. Noel mercifully didn’t touch you again. But his gaze? That was another story. The weight of it kept you warmed despite the chill of the night.

It was maddening. And maddeningly effective.

By the time the plates were cleared and everyone had sipped the last of their drinks, your dad clapped his hands together, the way he always did when declaring something final.

“Right,” he said, rising from his chair. “We better head back. I haven’t even started packing.”

You and Emily murmured your agreement, chairs scraping back from the table, but Noel cut in casually, swirling the last of his drink.

“Go on without me,” he said. “Might catch up with a friend in town.”

Your stomach dipped before you could stop it.

Your dad just nodded, unfazed. “Alright, mate. Safe travels.”

You downed the rest of your drink, warm, too strong alcohol pooling at the bottom, and rose without looking in Noel’s direction. Your chair scraped a little too sharply across the floor.

You trailed after Emily and your dad through the restaurant, the city’s skyline glowing against the dark windows, too pretty for how sour you suddenly felt.

At the elevator, you offered a quiet excuse about needing the restroom and promised to meet them downstairs.

Inside, you stared at your reflection, only to find a bitter woman looking back. You closed your eyes and drew in a slow breath. He didn’t owe you anything. But that didn’t stop you from feeling disappointed.

Once you’d gathered yourself, you exited, smoothing your dress as you walked out. Then your eyes landed on Noel, leaning casually against the wall opposite the bathroom, arms crossed.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes narrowing.

“I thought you were meeting a friend,” you said slowly.

“I am,” he said evenly.

You blinked. Looked around the hall, empty but for the two of you.

He grinned, just a bit. “You’re the friend.”

Your stomach flipped. It was unexpectedly…sweet of him. The two of you hadn’t spent any time alone outside of the house. It was embarrassing how quickly your mood shifted.

You crossed your arms, mirroring his stance, rolling your eyes hard enough to sell some detachment. “You’re so stupid.”

“Come on then,” he said, pushing off the wall.

You hesitated, glancing toward the elevator where your dad and Emily were surely waiting.

“My dad and Emily—”

“Tell ‘em you went out,” he said casually. “Met up with that guy who gave you that.” He reached out and tapped your shoulder lightly, right where the faint trace of the mark he’d left was beginning to fade.

You swallowed. “Right.”

You fumbled for your phone and sent a quick text to Emily. Her response was almost immediate—some suggestive emojis. You smiled down at it despite yourself and slid your phone back into your bag.

When you looked up, Noel was still watching you, and the look on his face made it impossible to hide anything. He looked pleased. Too pleased.

“Where to?”

Noel took you to a cocktail lounge that felt entirely out of your league. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t have dared enter alone—dim and decadent, every detail curated to feel intimate and exclusive. The chandeliers above were antique and low, casting a warm amber glow that shimmered off cut glass and whispered of obscene price tags.

You tried not to gawk as you followed him through the room, head slightly down, eyes flicking across velvet booths and flickering candlelight. Music floated low, barely loud enough to hear, but enough to blur voices and hush the air.

Most of the tables were filled. Small clusters of people leaned in close, talking low. Couples sat with knees brushing, fingers idly tracing stems of half-empty glasses. A flush of something warm spread through your chest. He’d brought you here. Here, where he didn’t seem worried about being seen with you. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

He led you to a curved booth tucked into the far corner. The cushions were deep purple and the candle on the table was casting patterns across the marble. Noel slid in first, settling squarely in the center like he belonged there, arm draping across the backrest.

You hovered at the edge for a second before he patted the seat next to him. He seemed utterly relaxed. You weren’t sure why you weren’t. Maybe it was because you felt out of place.

You sat. Carefully. Not brushing too close, but close enough to feel the heat of his arm behind you, the ghost of his knee against yours.

The low light played off the sharp lines of his face, shadows catching in the hollows of his cheeks, tracing the bridge of his nose.

His eyes, half-lidded and unreadable, cut to you. You held the gaze. He smirked slowly, leaned in just enough that his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“It was such an effort to keep my hands to myself earlier,” he murmured. “Don’t shy away from me now.”

The words dropped like hot coals straight to your spine, melting through you. Such fierce want struck you all at once. And the way his fingers ghosted from the booth’s edge to your shoulder, playing with the velvet of your dress, told he’d seen every last bit of the effect he had on you.

You turned toward him slightly, your hand sliding to rest on his knee. Testing. He didn’t flinch. Just watched you, mouth curled into the faintest suggestion of amusement.

Your fingers drifted higher. “As long as I’m allowed the same courtesy,” you purred, letting your nails just barely graze the fabric.

His jaw flexed. A flicker passed behind his eyes. But you pulled your hand away before he could respond and reached instead for the wine list, pretending you hadn’t just watched his control waver.

He dropped his hand from your shoulder and leaned forward slightly, peering over your arm.

“That one,” he said, pointing to a wine you couldn’t pronounce and wouldn’t dare attempt.

You nodded faintly, and he flagged a waiter down. Moments later, your glasses were filled, the bottle left between you.

You raised your glass. He mirrored the gesture and you both drank, his eyes never leaving yours.

As you lowered your glass your lips parted to speak, but the words caught when his thumb reached out and brushed the corner of your mouth.

“Just wine,” he murmured. Then he lifted the same thumb to his lips and sucked it clean without ceremony.

Heat bloomed under your skin. The place he’d touched buzzed with warmth, almost embarrassingly sensitive. You blinked, trying to summon something to say, anything to match the casual boldness of the moment.

But he beat you to it.

“So tell me,” he said casually, “did you touch yourself after I left?”

You nearly choked on your drink. One sharp cough, and you turned your head toward him slowly. He didn’t look sheepish in the slightest, just smug. Like he was picturing you, desperate and spread open.

Your cheeks flushed, but you pushed down the embarrassment. He liked it. The idea of it.

You met his gaze, steadying your voice. “You tell me. Thought you were supposed to know these things.”

He smirked. “Oh, I know.” He paused, eyes flicking down your body like he could see through the dress. “Just wanted to hear you admit it.”

Your stomach fluttered, a little thrill twisting low. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your pulse was drumming hard in your ears.

“And what if I did?” you asked quietly, eyes still locked on his. “What would you do about it?”

He swallowed once, throat bobbing visibly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You turned away, lifting your glass again to buy yourself a moment. But he laughed softly, seeing right through you.

“Not so bold now, are we?”

He was too pleased with himself. The edge in his voice sparked something petty in you.

“I did,” you said coolly, lying straight to his face. “Right after you left.”

His expression faltered for the briefest second, But then it was back, lips curling into that familiar shape.

“Liar,” he said easily, taking another sip. “You’re too strung out right now. One touch and you'd come apart.”

You stiffened and tipped the last of your wine into your mouth, the rich taste lost on your tongue, too busy choking down your pride.

An hour later, your head was pleasantly fuzzy and Noel’s hand had found a home on your thigh.

His thumb traced slow, absent circles over the velvet of your dress, the bare skin just above your knee. Every pass sent a flicker of sensation through you, making it hard to focus on what he was saying.

He was leaning in close now, the wine having softened the sharper edges of his demeanor. You were learning something new about him. He was an affectionate drunk, handsy in just the right way. It suited him far too well. Made him feel even more dangerous.

But you didn’t mind. Not in the slightest.

The wine in your blood made everything feel just a little more possible. You shifted slightly, resting your arm along the back of the booth. Your fingertips grazed the nape of his neck, finding the soft hair there and you gave in to temptation, gently twisting a few strands between your fingers.

His thumb paused mid-stroke. Then continued, slower this time. With a little more pressure. The atmosphere between you shifted again.

You tilted your head and watched him, taking in his features. The face you knew too well now. The slope of his nose, the creases that held years of smirks and squints. He looked good like this. Shadowed and still with his hand on you like it belonged there.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” you said quietly, voice almost swallowed by the music and low hum of the room.

He turned to you fully, holding your gaze. “Nothing stopping you, love.”

A small smile pulled at your lips. “Really?” you asked, letting the tease flicker at the edge of your voice. “You don’t think I’m too young for you?”

It was soft, a callback to earlier. But something real lurked underneath it. Some note of insecurity you hadn’t meant to let slip.

His lips curled, eyes glinting. “Don’t you think I’m too old for you?”

You didn’t answer right away. Your fingers threaded deeper into his hair, nails grazing lightly against his scalp. You watched the way his lashes lowered, the way his breath caught subtly at the contact. It made your own heart stutter in response.

How could you explain that it wasn’t despite the age, but because of it? That it was in his calm steadiness, the depth in his eyes, the streaks of silver in his hair, the way he carried himself. Just him. All of him.

So instead of trying to say all that, you just smiled. You shook your head once. Let your eyes answer for you.

His gaze dropped to your mouth.

His hand rose, brushing a knuckle along your cheek before cupping your jaw. The warmth of his palm sent a shiver down your spine, the moment stretching just long enough for your breath to catch.

Then he kissed you.

It was warm and slow, lips plush and confident. He tasted like red wine and heat. You exhaled softly into him, eyes fluttering shut as your body leaned in instinctively, pulled by gravity or want. You couldn’t tell which.

Your hand tightened in his hair, fingernails grazing his scalp just enough to draw a low sound from him. One that made your heart thud against your ribs. You felt the sound more than heard it, a shiver that passed through his chest and into yours.

It was dizzying, how much of him you wanted. How much of yourself you were willing to give. When he finally pulled back, he lingered close, his breath warm against your cheek.

“I think we need to get out of here,” he said, voice husky. “Now.”

You barely heard him over the rush in your ears, but you didn’t need him to repeat it. Your entire body responded before your mouth could.

When he turned to flag down the waiter, his neck shifted beneath the open collar of his shirt, revealing a sliver of skin you had to physically stop yourself from sinking your teeth into.

It was an effort to keep quiet as the two of you stumbled through the front door, limbs tangled, laughter threatening to spill from your lips. Noel’s hands found your waist, firm and steady even in his wine loosened state, steering you forward with a few half-mumbled words that were probably meant to be reassuring but came out slurred with amusement.

You bent to kick off your heels, wobbling slightly. Noel crouched beside you, slowly unlacing his boots, and when he looked up at you from beneath his lashes—eyes warm, mouth slightly parted—your own mouth went dry.

Without a word, you turned on your heel and slipped down the hall. You left the door open behind you and began stripping off your dress.

Noel lingered in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame, eyes following every step.

“Bit presumptuous of you,” he said. “I was just coming to wish you a good night.”

Your lips twitched as you crossed the room. “Tell that to your dick,” you murmured, palming him through his trousers.

He stilled, breath hitching. His hands found your hips but you were already pulling him in. You walked him back until his shoulders bumped the door with a soft thud. One hand reached behind him to nudge it closed with a gentle click.

You didn’t immediately kiss him. Not yet. No you let him stand there as his breathing began to get more labored.

Then you leaned in to press slow kisses along the base of his neck. The spot you’d been thinking about all night. You could feel him go still beneath you. Then a soft shiver.

Encouraged, you brushed your lips lower, toward the hollow of his throat, catching the edge of his adam’s apple with your mouth. You parted your lips around it, sucking gently, feeling it vibrate beneath your lips as he let out a breathy laugh.

You wanted to leave a mark. Nearly did. But you made yourself pull back. Just for a second.

Then your hands found the buttons of his shirt. You worked them open one by one, mouth brushing over each new patch of skin revealed. His chest was warm beneath your palms, rising and falling unevenly as you slid your hands under the fabric—one over his stomach, the other around his back, pulling him closer.

He exhaled sharply through his nose as your teeth scraped the tender skin below his ear. When you finally pulled back, your breath caught.

God, he was gorgeous like this. Hair mussed. Shirt hanging open. Eyes dark and half-lidded, lashes lowered but still trained on you. Leaned back like that, against the door, he looked…undone.

And all yours. At least for the night.

His gaze dropped to your chest, where your bra still clung to your body. His thumb slipped beneath one strap and just…rested there, drawing slow circles against your skin. Not pulling. Just touching. The stillness that settled between you was heavy with heat.

Then he leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t urgent. It built gradually, like the first one you’d shared in this same spot only days ago. But this time he wouldn’t run away.

You melted into him, fingertips curling over his shoulders as you eased his shirt off. He shifted closer, deepening the kiss. Your hand trailed down his chest until your fingers brushed the waistband of his trousers. You scratched lightly along the skin just above, feeling his stomach tense beneath your touch.

Your fingers reached his belt, pausing to savor the anticipation. It wasn’t until he let out a quiet, broken sound against your lips that you moved again, the sound piercing straight through you. You nipped his bottom lip just enough to make him gasp softly, then slowly tugged the belt free.

Then your hand was slipping inside.

He was already halfway there, hot and heavy beneath your palm. You felt him twitch and it sent a jolt through you.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” you whispered teasingly, breath ghosting against his cheek.

His lips parted, ready with some cheeky reply, but whatever it was died the second your hand cupped him fully.

His head fell back against the door with a dull thud, his breath escaping him in a sharp exhale as your hand moved again, firmer this time.

You felt him swell in your palm, the heat of him almost burning, and something about the way his body reacted to you sent a flush of pride rolling through you. It felt like the entire day had been building to this. And now you finally had him.

He groaned low, hips rocking into your hand like he couldn’t help it. You felt the shudder ripple through him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, forehead pressing to yours, breath shaky and warm against your mouth. His eyes were nearly black now, pupils blown wide, the blue of them swallowed whole.

Just as your fingers slipped lower again, he flipped you around and pinned you against the door with a soft thud that managed to knock the air from your lungs.

One of his hands slid down the curve of your body to your bare thigh, fingers pressing into the soft skin before he lifted your leg and hooked it around his hip. The change made you gasp, the heat of him slotting perfectly against your core, even with the thin barrier of your underwear between you.

He’d let you play. Let you tease. But now that side of him, the one that had driven you mad earlier, was back.

He hiked your leg higher, grinding into you with purpose, and you choked out a sound as the pressure hit just right. Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails dragging lightly across his skin.

He dropped his head to your neck, open mouth dragging hot, messy kisses along your pulse point. The slight scrape of stubble, the warmth of his tongue, the barely contained noise in the back of his throat—it all hit you at once.

Your head lolled back against the door, eyes fluttering shut. But he caught your chin and guided your mouth back to his, pulling you in for a kiss that was all heat and hunger.

He groaned into your mouth, pinning you harder to the door. The wood dug into your spine but you didn’t care. Not when every point of contact between you burned too hot to feel anything else.

Your head was spinning. Partly from the alcohol, but mostly from him. You pulled back just enough to speak, breath catching.

“Noel,” you whispered, voice trembling with the ache he’d stirred up inside you. “I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so desperate. But it was true. He’d been teasing you, torturing you, winding you up all day and you needed him to do something about it. Now.

His hands cradled your jaw before sliding down to your hips, guiding you backwards. You moved with him until the backs of your knees hit the mattress.

“I promised I’d give you what you want, didn’t I?” he hummed.

His shirt was long forgotten on the floor. Your bra slipped from your shoulders, skin prickling as cool air hit the newly exposed flesh. You watched the shift in his expression as his eyes raked over you.

Then he was on you again, kissing you deeply. Your hands roamed greedily over his shoulders, his back, pulling him down with you until he hovered above, his mouth trailing hot kisses along your collarbone, your chest, lower. You gasped when his hand slipped beneath your panties, the first contact making your hips jolt.

His fingers were warm and rough and perfect. He dragged slow, devastating circles over your clit, teasing you with every press. You whimpered, hips lifting to chase more friction, but he didn’t rush.

He gathered your slick on his fingers, stroking through it before finally easing one finger inside. You clenched around him, a soft sound escaping your mouth before you could catch it.

“Christ, I’m gonna miss this,” he murmured against your skin.

The words landed hard in your chest. Whether he meant to say it or not, they cracked something open inside you. But you didn’t have time to dwell because then his middle finger joined the first, stretching you open. Your hands gripped his arms, needing something to hold onto.

Then he curled his fingers.

You let out a sharp, fractured breath, your spine arching as relief pulsed through you. He trailed hot, open kisses down your sternum, over the swell of your chest. Then his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently before his tongue flicked in rhythm with the movement of his fingers.

You cried out, hips jerking upward as sensation surged through you. He was drawing it out on purpose, keeping you balanced on a knife’s edge. You dug your nails into his back, hard enough to make him hiss and pull away. But he was grinning now, proud and knowing.

You could picture how you looked to him. Flushed, half-naked, hair wild, chest heaving beneath him.

“If you don’t take those off right now…” you muttered, voice low and frayed, your eyes locked on the bulge in his trousers.

Noel gave you a wicked smirk. Desire burned in his eyes, but he still played coy. He leaned back just enough to make you think he was going to comply.

“These?” he asked, all mock innocence. His fly was already undone, belt hanging askew, but he only hooked a thumb in his waistband and didn’t move an inch.

Oh, he was evil.

You lunged, grabbing the band of his boxers just before he slipped out of reach. The elastic snapped back against his stomach with a sharp crack, and he laughed, low and delighted.

“Easy now,” he said, still grinning. “One might think you’re getting desperate.”

You glared, lips tight. “And if I say I am will it make you move any faster?”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “No.”

You let out a dramatic groan and flopped back onto the mattress, the pillows rustling around you. Your patience was hanging by a thread.

Finally, you heard the soft creak of the mattress as he shifted his weight. You propped yourself up on your elbows just in time to see him slowly slide his trousers down.

He was down to his boxers now and for a moment all you could do was stare. It was ridiculous how good he looked. Your gaze dropped to the outline in his boxers, the clear strain of him, thick and heavy against the fabric, and you clenched, already feeling the phantom stretch.

Then he peeled those off too.

His cock sprang free, flushed and rigid, the sight of him stealing the breath from your lungs. You bit your lip hard, eyes locked on the way his hand curled around himself, stroking slowly. A tremor ran through him at the contact, his chest rising more sharply now. Your gaze finally dragged up to meet his and found him watching you just as intently. Roaming your body like he couldn’t choose where to settle first.

You slid your underwear off and tossed them aside. And just like that, you were both bare.

It struck you then—this was the first time you’d both been fully naked in front of each other. No clothes, no barriers. All the other times had been quick, frantic, with layers still clinging to your bodies. But this…this felt different.

Something shifted in your chest as you looked at him. Really looked at him. Just days ago, he’d stood in this room barely able to let himself kiss you. Now here he was, undone in front of you, completely exposed in more ways than one.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His hand fell away, and a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. You wondered if he was feeling it too. The weight of what this had become. The tenderness buried inside the lust.

You tugged lightly at his wrist and he came to you, settling onto the bed. His body hovered over yours for a moment and then he kissed you deep and slow, guiding you back down to the mattress.

His hand slid up your bare thigh, curling around it as he guided your leg over his hip again. This time, there was no barrier between you. The full heat of his skin against yours made your breath stutter in your throat. You could feel him hard against your hip and just like that the fierce heat was back with full force.

“I want you,” you whispered against his mouth. “All of you. Don’t hold back.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, lips brushing his. “I do.”

Before you could register it, he flipped you onto your stomach, hands firmly guiding your hips up beneath him.

The mattress dipped behind you as he settled into place. You braced yourself on your elbows, heart pounding in your ears. He lingered just behind you, not touching yet but close enough to make you ache. When he nudged your knees farther apart, a wave of vulnerability surged through you, tangled with anticipation.

His fingers slid between your legs and you flinched at the contact, pleasure shooting up your spine. His thumb dragged lazy circles over your clit making you shudder.

You were about to start begging when you felt him brushing against your entrance. Your whole body tensed in response.

One of his hands slid to your ass, fingers spreading you open as he lined himself up. He didn't rush. He let you feel every second of it. The tension was unbearable.

And then, finally, he pushed in.

You dropped your forehead to the mattress with a soundless cry. He filled you slowly, each inch claiming more space, more heat, more breath.

That familiar, intense stretch engulfed you, every nerve lit up. His groan rumbled through the quiet of the room and you felt the tremor of it in your own chest.

“Noel,” you gasped, voice broken and breathless.

He paused halfway, holding still so you could adjust. He wasn’t even fully in yet and you felt completely wrecked.

Then he moved deeper. He didn’t stop until he was all the way in, every inch of him buried inside.

The fullness, the heat, the pressure—it overwhelmed you. You felt your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, felt your body stretch and clench around him. After a few breaths, you pushed back, your hips seeking more, granting permission.

And he took it.

He pulled back slowly, almost all the way, before sliding in again. And again. And again. Each stroke built on the last, finding a rhythm. You met his thrusts eagerly, trying to draw him deeper, harder.

“More?” he panted, his voice choked.

You turned your head just enough to glimpse him. His hair was clinging to his forehead, jaw slack with pleasure, a flush rising along his neck and chest. You clenched around him, your body reacting to the sheer sight of him.

“I meant what I said,” you rasped. “Don’t hold back.”

Something shifted in his face. He pulled out suddenly with a hiss of breath and muttered something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch, then gripped your hips tighter and eased your knees even farther apart.

Your chest dropped to the mattress, spine arching. He had you fully bent over for him, wide open, and then—

He slammed back into you. Hard

You cried out, a sound torn from somewhere deep. It was equal parts shock and raw, pulsing pleasure.

His grip on your waist tightened and he began to fuck into you with unrelenting force, each thrust jolting you forward on the bed only for him to yank you back against him again. The wet, obscene rhythm of it filled the room. It was what you’d been aching for. What he’d been denying you all day.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat when he found that spot—deep and devastating. You writhed beneath him.

He paused, adjusted his angle slightly, then drove into you again. Right there. Again and again. He hammered into it with cruel precision, grinding his pelvis into you. Your thighs trembled under the pressure, knees nearly giving out. Your hands clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto.

You met each thrust, hips snapping back to meet his, desperate to keep up with the pace he set. The sounds coming from your mouth weren’t words anymore. Just broken, desperate noises that filled the air between you.

Then he buried himself deep and leaned over your back, pressing into you with a slow, grinding motion that made you whimper. His chest was hot against your spine, his breath burning your ear.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he murmured, smug and wicked.

You gasped, lips trembling. “F-fuck you.”

He gave a low, amused hum. His hand slid into your hair, fingers curling at the base of your neck, and he pulled. Your head tipped back involuntarily, exposing your throat, your whole body bending to his control.

“If you insist,” he said, voice thick with heat.

And then he started again.

Using your hair as leverage, he pounded into you with a brutal rhythm that had you keening. The sharp tension at your scalp only heightened everything else. You’d never thought hair pulling would do anything for you, but now you understood. The heady mix of pleasure and pain had your nerves lit up like live wires. You were unraveling fast.

Choked moans tumbled from you in time with each thrust, body slick with sweat and heat. You could feel yourself tightening around him, pulsing at the edge of it. So close to breaking open you could hardly breathe.

And then he pulled out.

Your body convulsed with a helpless noise somewhere between a sob and a whine. No. Not again.

But his hand was already at your hip, nudging you to turn over. You moved without thought, breath ragged as your back sank into the pillow. You looked up at him, chest rising and falling in uneven waves.

“Surely you wouldn’t be so cruel as to do this to a lady twice in one day,” you managed, trying to keep your voice steady through your panting.

He met your gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just wanted to watch you fall apart.”

You didn’t need the rest of the sentence to understand it.

One last time.

Something splintered in your chest at the thought. The tension between your bodies didn’t lessen, but it shifted. Slowed.

Your expression softened as he leaned down, his body settling over yours, guiding your thigh up around his waist. His hand traced along the outside of your leg and then he pressed back inside you.

You exhaled a trembling breath.

He moved carefully, rolling his hips deep and slow. You could tell he wanted to take his time. And you let him. Secretly, you wanted that too. Needed it.

He leaned over you, capturing your mouth again in a slow, languid kiss. Your mouths parted in sync, his hips moving in time with the gentle drag of his lips. You curled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until your bodies were nearly flush.

Your release built slowly and steadily, rising like a wave. It was deep and heavy and nothing like the frantic rush from before.

He was close too. You could feel it in the stutter of his hips, the tremor in his arms, the way his breathing grew shallow. His mouth dropped from yours, forehead pressing gently to yours as you stared at each other in the low light. His eyes were dark and heavy lidded, glassy with something he wouldn’t speak aloud.

It was too much. Too intimate.

It felt like making love.

And that thought alone undid you.

Your body clenched around him suddenly, your breath hitching as the tension finally broke. He followed, groaning deep in his chest as he drove in one last time and spilled inside you.

You trembled as your orgasm crested and rolled through you. It was a different kind of pleasure. It crept up slowly, radiating through your entire body. Not a sharp slam, but a powerful flood pulsing through your chest and limbs.

You shuddered, eyes fluttering shut as the last ripples passed through you, leaving you hollowed and heavy in the best way.

He stayed inside you for a moment longer, his breath hot against your cheek, before he gently eased out and collapsed beside you with a soft grunt, arm brushing yours.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. The silence was thick with everything you hadn’t said. Everything you couldn’t.

Your limbs felt too heavy to move, but when strength slowly returned you reached blindly for the first thing within reach, your soft sleep shirt, and wiped the mess between your legs. Without a word, you handed it over. He mumbled a half-slurred thank you before tossing the shirt across the room.

For a while, there was nothing. Just the sound of your breathing. The faint thump of your heart echoed in your ears. When you finally turned to look at him, he was asleep. His face was slack with exhaustion, the lines softened in the low light.

You knew you shouldn’t let him fall asleep here, but your own eyelids grew heavy, dragged down by the weight of everything—the wine, your body, what you’d just done. Just a few minutes, you told yourself, already fading. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Saturday (again)

You woke with a jolt, body tensing before your mind even caught up. Something was wrong. Or rather someone. The someone that was still in your bed, limbs tangled with yours. The sunlight was streaming in far too brightly for it to be anything but late morning.

You sat up quickly and instantly regretted it. A dull, unforgiving throb pounded behind your eyes as the hangover announced itself loud and clear. You winced and brought a hand to your temple, the stale taste of wine lingering in your mouth.

A sound came from the kitchen and your heart leapt into your through. Whoever was in there had a direct line of sight to the living room. And the couch that was supposed to be Noel’s bed. Which was still perfectly made and empty.

Fuck.

You hadn’t even had the presence of mind to fold it down last night to keep up appearances. You’d been too drunk, too caught up in the way he kissed you.

Your pulse spiked as you twisted toward him. He was lying on his stomach, dead asleep. Blissfully unaware. And still completely naked.

You weren’t faring much better.

Even in the haze of alarm, you caught yourself pausing, just for a second, to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed and he looked a bit scruffy. You felt a flash of something soft and warm and far too dangerous.

Another sound in the kitchen snapped you out of it.

You shook his shoulder. “Noel. Noel wake up.”

He groaned and stretched, his limbs sprawling lazily like a cat. You shook him again, more urgently this time.

“Noel get up.”

His eyes cracked open, bleary and slow to focus. He smiled sleepily at you, eyes drifting down to your bare chest, entirely unbothered. You look he was giving you made your face heat despite everything.

“Morning,” he rasped, voice still thick from sleep.

You stared at him.“We fell asleep. You need to get out of here. Now.”

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment before looking around and finally realizing the situation.

“Oh. Oh fuck.”

He threw the covers off, scrambling for his clothes in all directions. The same clothes he was in last night. Shit. This was just getting worse.

You pulled on the nearest shirt, only to spot a cum stain dead center on the front. A soft curse slipped from your lips as you yanked it off and shoved it beneath your pillow.

“No, you should wear that one,” Noel said from across the room, grinning as he fumbled with his buttons.

You shot him a glare. “Not in the mood.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, but his grin didn’t fade.

You ran a hand through your hand, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. Trying to think. The moment you opened that door you’d have to start lying through your teeth.

So much for a quiet last morning.

Noel was nearly dressed, shirt still wrinkled, belt halfway through the loops. You weren’t sure if the flush on your skin was from anxiety or the memory of his hands on you just hours ago.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

“We need a plan,” you said quickly, waving your hand like something would come to you. You started pacing, wracking your brain for plausible scenarios and alibis.

“Okay, okay—you need to go into the bathroom across the hall. Wait a minute. Then walk out like you’ve just woken up there. Greet whoever’s in the kitchen with a smile and absolutely no guilt whatsoever. You…you met someone last night. That’s it. You’re just now getting back. Which explains the clothes. And why you weren’t on the couch.”

You turned to him for input, for anything, but Noel just dragged a hand over his face, looking equal parts amused and exhausted.

Yeah,” he said slowly. “Sure. I can do that.”

He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm before he could open the door. Your eyes scanned him quickly, checking for signs of you. No lipstick, no love bites, but his hair was a disaster. You reached up to smooth a wild piece sticking up at the crown of his head, but it stubbornly refused to lie flat.

His hand closed gently around your wrist and you stilled.

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you, soft and steadying. It was the kind of kiss that didn’t belong to a moment like this, but to a different timeline. One where you weren’t sneaking around, making up stories, or hiding any trace of your night together.

You started to pull away, but his hand came up to cup your cheek.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “If you look like you're hiding something, they'll know you are.”

Your throat tightened. You held his gaze, trying to memorize it. The blue of his eyes, the faint crease between his brows, the steadiness of his presence. You weren’t going to be this close to him again. Not like this.

You blinked rapidly and stepped back, breaking the spell. It was already fraying at the edges anyway. You sucked in a deep breath and gave a tiny nod.

Then he opened the door and slipped out.

You pressed your ear to the wood, breath held. You heard the soft creak of the bathroom door, the click of it closing and then opening again, and then his voice, light and casual.

“Mornin’, Emily.”

You let out a tiny breath of relief. At least it wasn’t your dad. Although Emily was more nosy.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to join the land of the living,” she chirped. “Where were you last night, hmm? Just now getting in?”

“With a friend.”

To his credit, Noel’s voice was smooth. Neutral. You’d believe him if you didn’t know better.

Emily wasn’t having it. “Uh-huh. And you’re still wearing the same clothes. Was it that waitress? Oh my god—it was, wasn’t it?”

Either he didn’t reply or just made some noncommittal gesture because you didn’t hear anything else.

You bit your nail, debating whether you should go out there now or wait a bit. But if there was one thing you knew about Emily, it was that she’d keep prying until she was satisfied.

You sucked in a breath and pushed the door open.

“Morning,” you mumbled, careful to keep your gaze anywhere but on Noel.

Emily turned, spatula in hand. “Morning,” she chirped, giving you a quick once over. “Oof, you look rough. Good night?”

Your pulse quickened, but you shot her a dry look. “Gee thanks Em.”

She tilted her head, feigning sympathy. “Oh no. Not good, was he?” she said, mock-coddling you like you were twelve and not trying to lie your way through a minefield.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from glancing over at Noel. You could feel his presence heavy in the room, but you didn’t dare look.

Emily crossed the kitchen in two strides and enveloped you in a hug, her arms wrapping tight around your shoulders. “My poor baby sister,” she cooed.

You stood there stiffly, letting her hold you until she started patting your hair like you were a dog.

“Alright get off me,” you said, wriggling out of her grip and pushing her back just enough to breathe.

She stepped away but not without narrowing her eyes a bit. Her gaze flicked over you again like she was searching for something before she turned back to the stove.

“You need a shower,” she said, her tone casual. Almost too casual. She slid a heaping plate of food toward you without another word. You gratefully took it and plopped down at the table.

Behind you, Noel had moved into the living room, rustling through his bag. When he straightened, he had a clean set of clothes in his hands.

“You can use it after me,” he said casually, already heading toward the hall.

“Try not to use all the hot water,” you called after him, aiming for breezy. Normal.

He gave a little laugh before disappearing around the corner.

You looked back at your plate, appetite wavering. You could feel Emily watching you, even if she pretended not to be.

“Was yacht boy really that bad,” she asked, voice light, “or did you just get absolutely wrecked last night?”

“Bit of both,” you lied, shrugging.

She hummed, unconvinced but not pressing. The two of you ate in silence for a few minutes.

“You sleep with him?”

You froze for a fraction of a second, your eyes flicking up to meet hers. Her voice had been too casual. Like she’d been working her way up to it.

“I…what?”

“Noel,” she said, enunciating his name. “Did you sleep with him?”

You nearly choked, the bite of food catching awkwardly in your throat. You coughed hard, head down, trying to buy yourself seconds to regroup.

When you finally managed to speak, your voice wobbled with forced amusement. “Why would you say that?” You even laughed a little, hoping it didn’t sound as false as it felt in your chest.

Emily didn’t smile. She didn’t even blink. “Dunno. Maybe because you smell like you’ve been bathing in his cologne.”

Shit.

You set your utensils down calmly. “And you’re jumping straight to me sleeping with him because of that?”

“Answer the question.” Her voice dropped. Quiet, but deadly serious.

That tone. You hated that tone. It always cut the deepest. Made you feel like a kid again, caught in a lie that hadn’t even fully formed.

You hesitated, heart pounding. Mercifully you were saved by Noel himself, emerging from his shower.

“All yours,” he said, oblivious to the sudden tension in the room.

You stood abruptly, scraping your chair back as you rose. Your eyes flicked to Emily once more. You hadn’t said anything, not exactly, but you knew it didn’t matter.

Not answering had said it all.

You stayed in the shower longer than you should’ve, trying to rinse away any lingering trace of him. Even though some part of you didn’t want to. You wanted to cling to every last bit of him. The scent on your skin. The feeling of his mouth on yours.

But clinging to it wouldn’t make it real any longer than it already had been.

You pressed your forehead to the tiled wall, contemplating what to tell Emily. All you knew was that you were well and truly fucked. Every possible version of the truth, or something close to it, seemed destined to crumble under her stare. She’d find the cracks.

You only stepped out when your fingers had pruned. You moved slowly as you toweled off, dressed, and made your way back across the hall. But when you opened the door, you stopped cold. Emily was sitting perched on the edge of your bed, arms crossed.

“Uh…hi Em can I help you?”

She didn’t smile. Not even a little bit. Just, “Your pillow smells like him. And your sheets reek of sex.”

Your stomach bottomed out. You went straight to deflection. It was all you had left.

“Why were you in here smelling my sheets you freak?”

She didn’t flinch. “And then there's this.”

From beneath your pillow, she pulled out your shirt. The one you’d tried to hide, stain front and center. Obvious. Damning.

You snatched it from her hand. “That’s private,” you muttered, folding it like that might somehow undo the damage. “Get out.”

“You’re not even gonna deny it?”

“Why should I?” The words came out flat. “You’ve already made up your mind.” You should’ve been panicking, but you knew it was over.

You expected her to yell. But she didn’t. She just stared at you, something hollow and quiet in her eyes.

“He’s Dad’s friend.”

You turned on her sharply.

“He’s my friend too,” you snapped, hating how childish it sounded. Then you lowered your voice. “It’s not like I planned this.”

She shook her head, disbelief thick in her voice. “He came here for a break. He’s in a vulnerable place. He’s twice your age. Recently divorced. Famous. Are you even thinking clearly? Did you even consider what would happen if this got out? Noel Gallagher, post-divorce, shacking up with some twenty something on holiday? Do you have any idea how that would look?”

You opened your mouth and then closed it again. You hadn’t thought about that. Not really. You hadn’t been anywhere public, not where anyone could’ve seen you…except last night.

Your stomach twisted.

“No one’s going to find out.”

Emily just stared, unreadable.

You stepped forward, trying to sound firmer than you felt. “Right, Emily? No one’s going to find out.”

She let out a slow breath. “I won’t tell Dad, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That small relief barely registered before she added, “He’d be even more disappointed than I am.”

That hurt. Your spine stiffened and you shot back without thinking.

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? You were pushing both of us this entire trip. To ‘live a little’. But now you’re mad because it’s not someone you approve of?”

She shook her head. “It’s more than that and you know it.”

A silence settled between you. “Whatever,” you muttered, turning away. “It’s over now anyway.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” You didn’t mean for it to sound bitter, but it did.

“Just because you slept with him once doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.”

You didn’t answer. But that was answer enough.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, realization dawning. “It wasn’t just last night, was it?”

You hesitated. Then shook your head slowly.

“No.”

Emily stared like she didn’t recognize you. Like the pieces didn’t add up to the sister she thought she knew. “Does yacht boy even exist?”

You gave the barest shake of your head.

She scoffed. “That bite mark…jesus. I’m so stupid. I thought you were being secretive because you were embarrassed. Not because you were lying.”

“Just…don’t say anything to him. Please,” you murmured. “To Noel.”

She looked at you sharply, then softened. Barely. “I won’t. But only for his sake. He doesn’t need more shit in his life right now.”

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat.

“Thanks,” you said, barely audible.

She stepped toward the door but then hesitated. For a second, it looked like she might say something else. But then she seemed to think better of it. Her hand tightened on the knob, and she shut the door with a bit more force than necessary.

You stood frozen in the quiet that followed. Then you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. You refused to cry. Not over this. Not over him. Because if you did it would mean it wasn’t just some fleeting thing. It would mean it mattered.

You pressed your eyes shut and focused on breathing until the ache in your throat dulled to something more manageable.

At least for now.

You were stood in the living room, the weight of goodbye hanging heavy in the air. Noel’s flight was earlier than the rest of yours and now everyone was gathered to see him off. He was making light conversation with your dad, his hands shoved casually in his pockets, though you could see the tightness in his jaw.

Emily had put on a smile, but you could tell it was forced. You didn’t bother hiding anything at all.

When the car finally pulled up, Noel clapped your dad on the back, said something you didn’t catch. Then he turned to Emily, offering a brief hug. She returned it stiffly, murmuring a too bright goodbye.

Then his gaze slid to you and your stomach flipped helplessly. You hadn’t spoken much since the morning. As far as he knew, things were fine. As far as he knew, no one else knew.

His embrace lingered just a few seconds too long, just enough to make your heart twist. He smelled clean, familiar, like Noel, and you had to blink rapidly to keep yourself steady.

Over his shoulder, you met Emily’s gaze. Her expression was unreadable. Frustration, maybe. Maybe even something close to protectiveness

When he pulled back, he gave you a soft, private smile. You returned it, barely. Then he stepped outside, lifting one hand in a wave as he disappeared down the steps.

You stayed frozen until the sound of the car engine faded. Then you mumbled something about packing and slipped away before anyone could follow.

You’d packed in complete silence. It was a quiet sort of cruelty. Each piece of clothing now had a memory attached to it. Your bathing suits. Last night's dress. Your stupid stained t-shirt.

It was all bittersweet. You’d had him. If only for a few days, you had him. And yet you knew it was destined to be a temporary thing. You caught yourself staring at your bed and tried not to think about how soft his features had looked this morning.

You sat on the edge then slowly slid down until you were curled on your side. Emily had been right. The pillow really did smell like him. You let yourself breathe it in. Just once. Eyes shut tight.

You must’ve dozed off, because the next thing you heard was a gentle knock at your door.

“Cars gonna be here in thirty,” your dad said, poking his head in.

You sat up, scrubbing your hands over your face. “Okay.”

He lingered. “You alright, darling?”

You glanced toward the door, heart tight. “Yeah,” you said, forcing a faint smile into your voice. “Just tired. And I don’t wanna leave.”

He smiled warmly. “Me either.”

Thirty minutes later you were in the car, the house shrinking in the rear window. You watched it until it disappeared completely.

You tried to leave everything behind with it—the touches, the kisses, the rush. But your body still remembered. And so did your heart, stubborn as ever. You could still feel the weight of his hands on your skin. You could still feel him in your bones. In the parts of you he’d touched that had nothing to do with skin.

You leaned your forehead against the window, letting the cool glass ground you. A plane passed overhead and you wondered if he was on it. Already on his way back to a different life. One that didn’t include you. If he was thinking about you at all or just moving on the way you were supposed to.

You knew it couldn’t last. You knew it the second it began. And now it was over. Just a handful of days. You hadn’t meant to feel this much. But it happened anyway. Now all that was left was the ache in your chest, quiet and lingering. Like a bruise you couldn’t stop pressing. Not forever. But for a while.

It was a strange mix of sadness, gratitude, and something a little like grief. But no regrets. Not a single one. Not the sneaking around. Not the risk. Not even the way you let yourself want more knowing you wouldn’t get it. You’d do it all again. Just to have those moments. Even if they didn’t last.

You exhaled slowly and closed your eyes. You still wanted more. And maybe he did too. Maybe not. That’s what killed you the most. Not knowing. Not being able to ask.

Part of you hoped. Clung to the looks you’d shared. You wouldn’t reach out when you got back. You couldn’t. That had to be his decision.

And deep down, you knew it was wishful thinking. To believe he’d think of you again. Not like that. Given the circumstances. Given everything.

But that would never stop you from leaving a little space carved out for him. Just in case.

Even if it hurt.

#noel gallagher fic #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher smut #noel gallagher

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