#one mention of something NSFW-ish

[devourable]

your first time • yanderes x reader, part one

nsfw, minors and ageless dni ;; smut (duh), virgin top x bottom gn reader, various kinks that will be tagged per character.

ft. abraham (yandere church boy), sterling (yandere prodigy), gene (yandere hacker), tobias and sebastian (yandere best friends), and mykolas (yandere monster)

this part will just be the guys (excluding the delinquents)! i wanted to put most of my polyamorous groups as well as the girls and enbies in part two. decided last minute to change it a bit and make it sort of ambiguous as to if the reader is a virgin or not. regardless!

thanks again for 2k 🫶

the church boy — abraham atkins ;; dacryphilia, elements of sizeplay, mentions of religion

abraham thought his first time would be well into the future, after he’d gotten married at his church and whisked off to start his own family like his father before him. it was just a part of life to him, not something to really care about or look forward to; but it was supposed to happen that way. but abe… he just couldn’t resist you!

he knew he shouldve stopped you the moment you had found yourself on his lap, pinning him to his bed after what was supposed to be an sleepover had gone completely off course. and he should’ve stopped you when you got your tongue in his mouth, grinded on him, getting him hard for practically the first time in his life. he should’ve stopped things before they went too far — but he couldn’t stop you. or himself, after he started to clumsily hump you back, his hands finding and delicately groping your ass in an attempt to figure out how he could fit against you best. abe has such an innocent hunger about him, he so desperately wants more — more what, exactly? he doesn't really know. you definitely end up having to take lead because he wholeheartedly doesn't know what he's doing.

but once you coax him out of his nerves and a bit of trial and error (he absolutely wouldn't have fit in you dry; and even after you taught him how to work you open and got his dick wet enough, it was still a tight fit!), you finally, finally get him inside you. and abe, poor abe didn't even know what hit him. despite the tears tumbling down his face purely from how good you felt around him, despite the deep rooted guilt of committing such a sin with the one he loved clawing at his chest, he couldn’t help how brutally he ended up fucking you. he’d pour out all of his pent up desire into you in one night, fucking you through climax after climax till you were seeing stars too.

the prodigy — sterling cygnus ;; overstimulation, risky(ish) setting/exhibitionism

it must all be a game to you, his feelings and this weird dynamic in your relationship. even when the two of you actually start dating (…sorta), he still had it in his head that you were just trying to fuck with him. what other reason could there be to explain how he felt aside from it being your fault?

it was when the two of you were in his dorm that he actually decided to push your boundaries, see what you would let him do before your ‘facade’ finally cracked. but you didn’t stop him when he pinned you against your bed, or when he started kissing you, or when the kiss transformed into an unintentionally heated makeout session. it wasn’t until you had started to pull off your shirt and palm at him through his pants that he started to think that you might’ve actually wanted him.

sterling didn’t really know how it went so far, but he stopped caring when the absolute carnal need to just feel you took over his brain. you must’ve assumed that he didn’t know how to make you feel good because he’s inexperienced, right? no? well, he doesn’t believe you. and to ensure you do, you’re not getting out of that dorm until he’s made you cum on him again, and again, and again. you’d have to think he’s playing with you at some point with how often he switches between fucking you and fingering you — he insists on making you cum both ways as many times as you can handle. he’s rattling the walls and got you sobbing his name so loud that no doubt the entire dorm can hear you (the walls were never that thick to begin with anyway). he relishes in not only knowing he’s completely claimed you, but now all of your colleagues will know too. he doesn’t care how much of a mess he’s making with your insides or how much of him spills out of you, nor does he care if you’re exhausted and sore from the waist down. you’re not done until he’s done with you — and being the overachiever he is, who knows when that’ll be? he’d hate to leave you thinking he’s anything but your number one.

the hacker — gene eliades ;; a lil dubcon-y, filming w/o reader’s knowledge

gene had waited for you to make a move on him first, he really did. he even tried enticing you in his own way, always sitting with his legs open so you could see the very clear outline of his dick through his pants, sitting you on his lap when he was working and keeping a hand on your body at all times. he’d kiss you, tell you how crazy you drove him, anything to give you an idea of what he wanted. but you never took that extra step and it left him wondering if it was because you were toying with him or if you really were that dense. either way, he had had enough, and after one particular day where the need burning in the pit of his stomach just wouldn’t go away, he decided that he wouldn’t wait anymore.

when you tried to slip off of his leg to do something, his arm curled around your waist and pulled you square into his lap, making sure you felt every inch of his erection against your ass. you were so irresponsible, constantly getting him riled up and never doing anything about it. did you even like him at all? regardless of your answer he was already sliding his hands under your clothes, groping your chest with one and working your bottoms down with the other.

it was unceremonious, the way gene bent you over his desk and buried himself up to the hilt in you before you could even voice any potential protests. but the feeling of him hitting all the right spots in you made your mind go blank, unable to do anything but moan his name every time he pulled you back against him. god, he loved hearing the way you whimpered for him, feeling you stretch around him when he fucked you just a bit too hard, the way your hips fit so nicely in his hands.

it was a good thing you were too fucked out to notice the little light next to his webcam aimed down at you. you wouldn’t mind if you did, he assumed — there was nothing wrong with wanting to remember this moment later, was there?

the boys next door — tobias & sebastian ;; double penetration, threesome

the pair had fantasized about losing their virginity to you years before it actually happened. the amount of times they’d gotten each other off with your name falling from their lips was too many to count, but god knows it just wasn’t enough for the two. but they never acted on those feelings, not until they had planned out the day to ensure it would be perfect.

you did find it a bit suspicious that the first time you were all free for the weekend at the same time was on the night that toby’s parents went out for an unplanned vacation, but you easily overlooked it when the pair offered you a sleepover (for old time’s sake!), bribed with promises of your favorite snacks and whatever movies you wanted to watch. you were sandwiched between the two in your best friend’s room, oh so aware of the growing tension but unsure where it was leading to — but then toby suddenly asked to kiss you. and what you assumed would be a playful peck ended with you pinned to the bed with tobias holding your wrists while sebastian made himself comfortable between your legs.

they really like you, and they know you like them too — you wanna be their first, don’t you? be their special someone? that’s what toby’s asking between kisses while seb’s lifting your shirt and sliding a hand down the front of your pants. it wasn’t until you finally gave them the permission they’d waited so long for that the pair allowed themself to really get the night started.

toby was the first to break you in while seb held you in his lap. it was a shame the pair didn’t think to record the moment… the face you made when toby fucked into you was so cute! and the noise you made when seb slid under you to try and squeeze into you alongside toby would play in their minds over and over again. they might’ve pushed you a bit too hard, stretching you well beyond your limit without even letting you catch your breath. they just couldn’t resist! you were clamping down on them, sucking them both in like you didn’t wanna let them go. it felt so good to make you cum.

the two were still up long after you had passed out, ogling your ruined state with an undeniable urge to fuck you up even more. they saw it like a badge of honor, proof that you’d always be theirs. the two would let you rest for the time being, but don’t worry — they still had an entire weekend with you ahead, and they didn’t plan on letting you step foot outside that house till their time was up.

the beast — mykolas ;; teratophilia (duh), size difference, outercourse/thighfucking

mykolas really, really didn’t want to hurt you. he was well aware of how big he was, especially compared to you — if you got hurt because he couldn’t control himself, he wouldn’t know what to do!

all of those thoughts were completely disregarded when he started rutting, though. the poor monster couldn’t think straight with his hormones running amok, and you being you — so soft, so small, so vulnerable, it was like you were designed to torture him through the season. you’d very quickly catch on to what was happening to your monstrous partner, considering you’d often be woken up by him grinding up against your back or stomach in a desperate bid to try and relieve the borderline painfully throbbing cock that was bothering him more and more these days. and though he’d never make his needs known vocally, you could just tell — that sad, pleading look he’d give you every time you looked at his pitiful form was just begging you to take care of him.

you knew for certain that you couldn’t just fuck him in his current state. his cock practically matched the length of your torso! and with how reckless his hormones were making him, the possibility of him ‘accidentally’ making you take more than you could handle was too high, even if you did try to take control. so to work around this problem, you opted to get a bit creative with your methods.

mykolas didn’t quite understand what was going on at first when you bent over in front of him, pants pulled down to your knees. but when you guided him between your legs and clamped your thighs around his length, you could tell the switch in his brain had flipped and he completely allowed instinct to take over. you had no clue just how good it’d feel when mykolas’s hard, wet cock rutted against you relentlessly until he was gripping your waist and pulling you against him, fucking your thighs like you were his living fleshlight. but fuck, the way he managed to slide against every sensitive spot he had access to despite his carnal state was nearly driving you insane. and mykolas delighted in the way you clawed at the ground and mewled for him, your voice so pretty when you stammered out his name. it didn’t take long for either of you to cum at that rate.

despite the mess mykolas made of your thighs and stomach, though, he wouldn’t let you get off him. he’d been pent up for so long, repressing his desire to mate with you, he couldn’t just stop there! so he went again, and again, humping you in any position he could think of, pinning you down, thoroughly wrecking you as best as he could. you were gonna be in for a rough mating season now that mykie knew how to relieve himself with you — but you didn’t mind, he assumed. you were the one that showed him how to feel better, after all.

[simonsslut]

meeting simon in the army.

18+ MDNI || nsfw || f!reader || oneshot/drabble || masterlist

wc: around 4.8k

cw: eventual smut, unprotected p in v, lil massage trope, spit kink, simon being his own enemy, reader being oblivious, simon loves tits, simon’s kinda mean at first but sweet at the end-ish, not proofread.

Lieutenant Riley is familiar with the process of adding a new addition to their little task force. but just because he's familiar with it, doesn't mean he's a fan of it.

a new member, a new person means that he has to most likely deal with another soap of sorts. don't get it wrong, he's okay with soap, but that doesn't mean he enjoys the constant questions soap seems to ask about him, even when he knows they irritate him, but that won't stop his curiosity.

you're confident when you show up to the meeting room, nothing new. recruits are either confident in themselves or they're completely terrified and it'll be written all over their faces.

soap is quick to befriend you, both of you snipers and demolition experts after all. it gives him a whole new buddy to talk with. simon takes this as a good sign, maybe he won't have to spend much time showing your around and telling you about the team and how things work here if soap is gonna spend all his time with you. right? wrong.

Price assigns soap on a mission with another task force soap had recently worked with before TF141. meaning that Simon is going to have to spend every free waking moment he has with you. and for a guy like Simon, this is hell. but don't take it the wrong way, he's like this with everyone.

you're quick to find the large man rude, dismissive. you'll ask barely personal questions and he'll shrug it off and blatantly ignore you. will roll his eyes or just walk away mid-conversation (which was one-sided anyway).

maybe you talked too much? had you asked him too many questions? maybe he just didn't like you for absolutely zero reason. you decided to stop thinking too much about it. you didn't do anything wrong, maybe he's just a natural-born asshole.

Soap had mentioned something about the lieutenant having a stick somewhere deep up his ass and to not worry too much about how he treats you.

however, after telling yourself you'd stop losing sleep over it, you continued.

maybe he just wasn't used to having a woman on his team. They are all men after all. but that wouldn't be professional, plus the others aren't like that with you. they kinda just treat you like their own. they knew about your background, and what you have done, and they respected you for it, so why couldn't he?

simon knows better than most about your background, he had to study your file after Price mentioned your recruitment.

"weapons of choice - melee; knives, axe."

a shared opinion.

he trains with you to see how advanced you really are. weapon training and all that is fine, but sparring? this has to be a joke. that mountain of a man versus you? you've got muscle to you, yeah, but even soap going against simon is an evident loss. and soap is a big guy.

you start off with Gaz. he's also tall and well built, but he's the more common build of soldiers. you guys spar for an hour, or two, and then you take a break.

you don't think much about who your next spar round will be with, so the anxiousness doesn't begin to settle in until ghost's rough voice calls you over to the mat. he's the only one there. and it settles in.

you look over at Gaz and the look on his face is one of pity, your face drops.

it's not even 30 seconds into the round when you're already dropped to the ground. the mat feels like concrete when you hit your back on it.

"c'mon, get up." ghost says in an almost pissed off way.

you groan and roll over, quickly getting back up on your feet. "no mercy?" you ask in a huff. "you won't get mercy when you're fighting for your life in the field, you should know this, sergeant." he states dryly, but the way he said 'sergeant' sounded like an insult rolling off his tongue.

after 30 minutes of repeatedly losing, you admit defeat. but at least he stays with you after hours when the others have left, leaving you both alone so you don't have to keep losing in front of a crowd.

3 months of dry responses, frequent scoldings, straight-up constant attitude from the man and not many interactions besides from when he was ordering you around or lecturing you about a fuck up in training or on a mission.

and even though he wouldn't interact with you much, it somehow seemed that he was always on your ass, always watching to see what your next fuck up would be, always so observant. because why the hell were his eyes always on you? every time you'd glance over at him, he'd already be looking at you with that dark 1000-yard stare, arms crossed and sitting across any room you were in at the moment.

3 months is what it takes for him to not act like a complete brooding asshole towards you even for just a moment. reason? you saved his life.

sort of.

simon was clearing a wide area in a warehouse on a mission and it seems one of the men there seemed to blend in far better than anyone else could. Simon was almost too late, almost the one standing at the receiving end of a bullet to the head, but you had him. and you saved him.

neither of you thought too much about it though, after all, it is your job to have each other's backs in the field. he only gave you a gruff "thank you" when he brushed passed you towards the exit. but you took that thank you as a sign that he didn't absolutely despise you like you had thought he did for the past 3 months.

or so you thought. not much changed afterwards. but at least whenever you'd start a conversation, he'd just stare at you instead of walking off. but he'd always stay quiet. you wanted to give up, you should've given up. but something deep inside you had you pushing.

what it was wasn't so obvious at the time.

but that's probably because you were so oblivious.

you didn't know him like the boys did, you were new. so no one could've blamed you for not seeing the obvious frustration you caused him. soap on the other hand thought it was bloody comedic.

you always assumed the triple checks on your comms and positions were just because he didn't trust you enough to know what you were doing. because why would you think anything else with the way he behaved towards you?

the way he'd suddenly appear when a private was up and flirting with you. he'd come and scold you for having chitchat when you should've been doing paperwork, his jaw tensed. he'd look behind you to give the private a glare that you would've assumed was a 'get back to work' glare and not the threatening glare it actually was, because why would you think otherwise?

when you all went out to the pub for a drink after a long exhausting mission to relax a bit, but you hadn't had alcohol in so long so you didn't think to slow down, eventually blacking out on Simon's shoulder, and ending up in your quarters at the end of the night, boots off and snuggly tucked in under your sheets.

what you did notice is that you'd never be assigned to missions that ghost wasn't on. you caught on eventually but you never mentioned it, too annoyed with him to start an argument you knew you'd lose.

but when you're all at the pub on another night, soap and gaz over by the pool table, drunkenly betting against each other, and price long gone back to the base and having called it an early night, leaving the two of you at the table alone, it slips out.

he's been ignoring your attempted starts of a conversation all night, the alcohol had given you the motivation you needed to try again, but you've had enough of the silent treatment.

"hey, i've noticed I only go on missions that you're on.." he tenses. "'s that because you don't trust me? or somethin?"

he doesn't respond as per usual, and you know he's already annoyed with you but you keep pushing.

"you can be a real prick, y'know?" you mumble out, earning a side glance from him, his hand on the table, fingers tapping on his empty glass. he stays quiet.

"I just don't understand why you dislike me or whatever. I haven't done anything to you personally, I don't think.." you trail off, furrowing your brows as if in thought. he just stares down at you.

"you're a real pain in my ass" you then state rather confidently. he raises his brow at this before looking down at his empty glass and muttering a "Seems we've got that in common."

you roll your eyes and groan, moving to grab your beer but he moves it further up the table before you can reach it.

"hey-" you start but he interrupts, "you've 'ad enough." he grumbles out and you scoff, standing up from the chair and walking over to where Soap and Gaz are laughing it up with each other.

but maybe he's had a bit too much to drink too.

because the moment a man starts flirting with you at the bar, his hand just a bit too touchy, Simon appears, his hand is gripping the man's shoulder and pulling him back with an angered "back off."

you can't even manage out a "what the hell-?" before he's grabbing your bicep and dragging you out of the pub. you stop protesting rather quickly, too tired to continue. you just let him drag you all the way back to the base where he only lets go of you when he reaches the doorstep of your barracks building.

"sleep. now. don't wanna deal with your lazy tired ass tomorrow when you're moping around because you didn't get enough rest." he grunts out before abruptly turning in his place and leaving.

it's the next week when you're in the break room sitting across from Soap who's on his phone and drinking his coffee when you voice your troubles. "I can't deal with him anymore, Soap, really. he gives me such a hard time and I don't understand why," you practically whine to him.

"bloke doesn't know what to do with you when you practically give him a hard on all the time." he says it so plainly. as if it's a common fact, no big deal.

though you, of course, take it as a joke.

"Oh shut up, I'm serious." you groan through a chuckle and he just looks up at you and smirks before excusing himself to go back to his duties, leaving you there to mope at the wall.

the hell does that even mean?

luckily for you, you forget all about your short conversion in the break room, your mind too occupied from the busy week to care about a little dumb joke that soap told.

maybe you should've sat to think about said joke for longer.

you zone out while you do paperwork, your mind running on autopilot so that you don't pay attention to the time on the clock running past 11:30pm.

you hands hurt. your wrists hurt. and your back is sore from uncomfortably hunching over this old desk in this dinky chair that doesn't even spin properly.

you're too tired and too caught up in mentally complaining about everything to notice the tall figure standing in the doorway of the office you're working.

so when he speaks, voice baritone and accent thick, it scares the absolute living shit out of you. letting out a short yell and flinging your pen across the room, you look over at him.

you roll your eyes, too tired to even deal with him right now, preparing for him to lecture you about how sleeping late is bad for you even though literally everyone on base knows that he has the most fucked schedule of them all.

"I know it's late, I don't wanna hear it. this is the only free time I had to do this." you explain, your voice low and tired.

"didn't say anything." he responds and you glare up at him, and he knows.

he walks across the room and picks up the pen that you flung, his heavy steps making their way over to you and handing you back your pen.

he hasn't done or said anything threatening, so then why does it feel like he did?

you whisper a small 'thank you' before looking back down at your sheet and writing a few things down. he just stands there, staring down at your with crossed arms, observing. always observing. that's all he does. all he ever does.

you try to not let it get to you but he's just so intimidating.

you clench your jaw and breathe for a moment before focusing back on your paper. but just as you do that, he rounds the desk and stands behind your chair.

he grabs the chair, pulling it back a bit before his voice demands out, "stand,". you don't hesitate a moment before standing up quickly.

silence.

why does it feel like ages before he finally speaks??

"you're tense." he states and you furrow your brows because what the hell is happening. "y-yeah, I guess?"

the air is thick.

you're so caught up in empty thoughts that you don't hear what he says. "sorry, what'd you say?" you ask but it comes out a whisper without you intending for it to.

"may I?"

you're not sure what he means but you still slowly nod.

you suddenly freeze and your eyes go wide when you feel his palm wrap around your hair and move it to the side, his other hand resting in the crevice between your shoulder and neck, bare.

he's not wearing the glove.

his hand is warm when he suddenly squeezes you there, checking to see just how tense you are and your mind is blank. your thoughts have evaporated and you can't fucking move, because what the hell is happening!?

"why're you so bloody tense?" he asks, his voice so fucking deep that it makes your skin warm up. you've always hated the effect that his voice alone has on you.

'maybe because you're touching me?' is what you think to yourself.

"I don't know? work?" you sound so unsure of yourself that it feels embarrassing.

he mutters a quiet "yeah." while he continues to massage the area.

you wouldn't say this is a complete 180º from the way he's been treating you for the past couple months, but... this is a complete fucking 180º from the way he's been treating you these past couple months.

but you can't deny how fucking good it feels. his hands are so big and warm. the roughness of them surprisingly adding so much more to the massage and it feels so. good.

you can't help the slight moan that escapes your lips when you dip your head forward, giving him more space to work with.

ghost would halt his movements but that would only make you suspicious of what's happening to him behind you he clenches his jaw hard, his entire body tensing as he feels his pants grow tight and fuck is he fighting back a groan.

he did this to himself. he should've just minded his business and muttered an order to you like he usually would. he should've put up the asshole act instead of strolling in and offering a goddamn massage because he would never in his right mind actually do this.

he's barely slept for the past three days, so he doesn't really have control over his own actions, especially when it comes to you. it's always you that gets him like this, only you.

it's quiet for so long while he just massages your shoulders. usually It would be awkward, but this time it's just comfortable.

when he finishes, his hands remain and you start to actually snap back to reality on where you are, who's behind you, and what's going on. you don't move, hell you barely breathe. how could you when you could feel every breath he takes hit the skin on the back of your neck or how you can feel the heat radiating off of him while he stands behind you as if he's a human furnace or something.

there's always been tension. whether it was negative or positive, you were never completely 100% sure which. but it was always there. and it bothered the fuck out of the both of you.

you feel his thumb caress your nape. just a small movement. you wouldn't've noticed if you weren't hyper focused on every fibre of his being standing right behind you, not caring for your personal space despite him always getting pissed about not having enough of his own.

you don't know how to move on from this moment. there're no words in your mouth, your body frozen still under his gaze, under his touch.

you want to say something, anything. but you don't know what.

"ghost," you start, but he doesn't answer, he just rubs his thumb over again. "ghost." you try again.

silence.

"simon." he stops.

"what are you doing?" you turn your head to the side when you whisper this, looking at him stand behind you out the corner of your eye, and he stares right back.

after his silence, you go to move but he stops you, his hands grabbing your arms and keeping you in place. you go to shake him off but when you lean your body back, you feel something against your ass and your breath hitches.

he shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw, he knows you felt it, and he knows he's fucked when he lets out a quiet groan.

"it seems you’ve been stressed too..." you mumble out and his grip on you only tightens. you don't think before you nudge your ass against him again but with purpose and his breathing stutters.

"Don't." he demands through gritted teeth, but you only do it again and he doesn't stop you.

he then pushes you forward and you gasp, your crotch hitting the desk edge as you bend over the desk.

he doesn't do anything for a few moments as he thinks over what he's doing. he's your superior. this is wrong. so why does it feel so good to drag his hand down your back.

he then suddenly lets go of you and backs up, confusing you in the process. you stand back up and turn to stare at him, your brows furrowed and you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

the way you look at him, it's as if there's hope in your eyes and that only spurs him on to do what he does next. he moves his hand up to raise the bottom of his mask up to rest just over his nose. he then quickly loops his arm around your waist and pulls you in for your lips to meet his in a kiss born off of sexual frustration.

you're quick to wrap one of your arms around his neck, not caring at all for what this means because god it feels so good.

he groans against your lips and pushes you back against the desk, lifting you a bit to sit you down on it before he mumbles against your lips.

"you gon' let me do this?"

the man, your lieutenant, your superior who you thought hated you so damn much for the longest time, is asking for your permission as his hand squeezes your thigh.

this is crazy. all of this is crazy. yet you nod.

he spreads your thighs with his hands and stands between them while his mouth moves from your lips down to your jaw and then to your neck, his lips hot and wet against you.

you let him push you back until your back is flat against the desk, his hand moving to grab your hip to keep you in place just as he likes while his other hand loops under the waist band of your pants and palms you over your panties.

you can't help but whimper when he does this which only turns him on more. and he grunts against your neck when he removes his hand only to grind his covered bulge against you.

you huff out as he continues to grind against you, growing in need when heat begins to pool in your core while his hands grip at you tightly as if you'd disappear if he let go. and he's not about to risk that when he finally has you right where he wants you.

you pull at his clothes, a whine slipping from your lips and he knows what you want. one of his hands moves to slide your shirt up your stomach and you let him. when he does get the shirt off of you, he doesn't even go to unclip your bra, instead his hand moves to grab the front of your bra and drags it down, your tits falling out.

he grabs one of your tits and mouths it, sucking, while his other hand moves to pull your pants down.

he backs up and fully pulls your pants off before he's back on you, mouth on your tit while his left hand plays with the other and his right hand slips under the fabric of your panties, feeling how soaked you are.

his thumb applies pressure on your clit which has you already gasping and arching into his touch.

he teases you a bit, wanting to see how desperate you'd get before he actually fucks you with his cock. he slips a digit in and groans against your nipple when he feels how your wet warmth clenches around just his finger.

he adds another and then another, wanting to stretch you out enough for him to squeeze in.

he curls and thrusts his fingers in you, getting to that spongey spot in you that has you moaning and throwing your head back against the desk, whining fro him to finally put it in.

"y'want me?" he asks but you can't even reply.

"I asked if y'want me, love." his voice is gravel when he repeats himself, wanting an answer out of you before he takes this further.

you nod, frantic and and grinding against his palm for more friction against your clit. "y-yes, yes sir, please-" you answer and he feels his cock twitch in his pants.

he moves his lips back up to your neck and removes his hands from you, undoing his pants and pulling himself out, precum beading at his red tip.

you whimper at the sight of it. it's obvious to see how big of a man simon is in general, he's huge. and it seems that so is everything else about him.

he doesn't bother to remove your panties as he's too impatient. instead he just moves them to the side, his finger running down your slit before he brings it to his mouth to get a taste of you, letting out a satisfied hum.

he then brings his hand up to you and orders, "spit", and you do.

he pumps himself a few times to wet it before he aligns with your slit and you inhale when he starts to push in, stretching you out so perfectly for him. so fucking big.

he takes his time pushing into you, his warm breath against your neck when he groans as he bottoms out, deep inside you. “so fucking tight…” he groans through gritted teeth.

you clench around him, your hands slipping under the fabric of his shirt and your nails clawing at the skin on his back, wanting him to move already as you grow impatient and needy.

he does just that, drawing his hips back before thrusting back into you resulting in a yelp from you. and he doesn't stop.

his pace is already above slow and picking up with each time he hammers back into you, curses and moans falling from his lips like he's in heaven, because he is.

your lips meet his again and you moan into his mouth with each thrust. he makes out with you like a man starved, like he's been wanting this for so long…you under him while he fucks into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

the only sounds in the room being the squelching of your pussy as he thrusts into you and both of your moans. if anyone was walking down the hallway at this hour which is unlikely, they'd most definitely hear what you two are doing.

he moves his hand down and presses his thumb to your clit while he continues to fuck into you, rubbing it in circles which has you crying out through moans, tears of pleasure threatening to spill out the corners of your eyes.

your breathing becomes ragged as your back arches deeper into him, your hips bucking against his to meet his pace while he groans and nips at the skin on your neck, “takin’ me so well… s’ fuckin good f’me…” he moans and it sets your skin on fire.

he's close and so are you.

your fingers move under the back of the mask to pull at his short hair and he let's you do it, trusting you to not pull the mask off.

your lips against his ear, letting him hear all your pretty sounds and it only drives him further, his pace keeping steady, knowing just what you need when you moan out "i'm close..so close.." and he knows it too as he feels you clench tightly around him.

he surprises you when he places his thumb in your mouth when you moan, flattening it against your tongue and grunting a “open f’me, yeah?” and you do without hesitation, opening your mouth nice and wide enough for him to spit on your tongue. he doesn’t even have to tell you to swallow before you do it automatically, earning a smirk from him before he kisses you again.

the combination of his thumb rubbing in circles against your clit and him hammering into you has your body stuttering and spasming, feeling like you're getting possessed as you let out a strangled and broken quiet scream as you finally come undone beneath him, your vision going for a few moments while he fucks you through your orgasm.

you continue to moan when he keeps pumping into you after your orgasm, chasing his own high while he grunts out "'m gonna come... gonna come on your tummy, love.." before he quickly pulls out of you, leaning back up and pumping his cock a few times before he releases his load on your stomach followed by his heavy breaths.

he stares at you for a moment, his chest rising and lowering in heavy breaths before he leans over you to grab the tissue box in the corner of the desk and wipes his cum off of you.

he puts your panties back in place and steps back, handing you your pants. he shoves his cock back into his pants and then watches you pull yours back on, his arms crossed.

now that the foggy feeling in your mind is gone, you're shy as you stand under his gaze.

you just fucked your lieutenant.

he licks his lip before pulling the mask back down and sitting back onto the chair. you're confused for a moment before he nods his head in the direction of the door and mutters a "go t'sleep. it's late."

you look at the door and then back at him, furrowing your brows in confusion. "but my paperwork-" he interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. "I'll do your paperwork. now go to bed. tha's an order." he instructs and you stand there absolutely dumbfounded before you actually register his words.

you slowly nod and he clenches his jaw before he looks at the short stack of paperwork on the side of the desk, grabbing one and beginning to work on it, but you're still there.

"thought I told you t-" he pauses when you lean down to place a kiss on the fabric over where his temple is, taking him by surprise as it shuts him up.

you then give him a sweet smile, your hand sliding down his muscular arm before you turn around and walk out the small office, leaving him to do your paperwork after he fucked you so well just a moment ago on that very desk.

horny brain = ©simonsslut 2023 — do not steal!

simon experiencing blue balls too many times in secret bc he's stubborn.

[frmisnow]

˙✧˖ ?! — SEVEN MINUTES OF YOUR TIME. - MDNI !!

— ‧₊˚ — 👓 : "Such a little slut, getting wet just from just grinding against me. ” ??

summary. something about your boyfriend working in his glasses... to bad that he has to get a paper done till midnight - maybe if you beg real nicely: he'll spend some of his precious time on you? more over what if you piss him off to the point where he has to teach you a lesson with some of that time?

notes. these pics of jk in those glasses still do smth to me so i had to get this done !!

warnings/includes. (NSFW) switch-ish! jungkook x f! reader, dry humping (against his thigh cause ofc why not?!), cock warming, grinding, 'slut' mentioned (dirty talkk in here), tit/nipple play, switch tendencies for both

"how long again?" you ask once again, a whiny tone audible as your hands slip over your completly oblivious boyfriends shoulders, usually he was faster at comprehending.

leaving you on heard, brows a bit furrowed, his tattoed hands continuing their work on the keyboard, after about a minute his gaze shifted to yours now forming into a almost apologetic expression and very soft like he's dealing with a child, "midnight, baby just wait-" his eyes shift to the laptop clock, "two more hours, can you do that for me?"

You sigh dramatically, resting your chin on his shoulder, your fingers running up ad down his arm, tracing his tattoos like trying to lure him in, "but i miss you so much" pouting just a little, the way you knows he finds endearing as his eyes visibly can't settle between your eyes and lips, "just give me seven minutes"

you can see it in his face, he's fighting with himself, "promise, i'll make it worth it" you add innocently as jungkook's resistance almost crumbles, the way his hands move to your face like he's about to pull you even closer then you already were on his lap, yet he catches himself last minute, a faint grin on his face, "patience, baby"

you can tell that something has changed by his sole tone, now dripping of authority, like a switch has been flipped - that didn't change the fact that you felt like you were drenched, it was almost embarrassing the way you could hypothetically just maybe theoretically by a tiny change: cum by the way he was looking at you or talking to you, the way he was looking overall - the way those glasses looked on him, you wanted needed him to fuck your brain out while wearing them.

but nonetheless you shutted up, resting your head on his shoulder, sighing into his nape every once in a while to remind him that you were there, truthfully you were behaving like a child - but you just needed him so bad, it wasn't fair - you turned your attention towards the clock, 10:09 PM.

you just had to- it was self care, it was to defend yourself from the horny demons inside you, so you grinded yourself against his thick thigh, searching for any type of friction, your own pussy ruining you.

it was easy to feel, see, sense it - how his breath hitched a tad bit, how that one hand that was resting on your hip tightened, how his lip was now poking his cheek from the inside, the thing he always did when he was pissed - or sexually frustrated, "feeling impatient are we?" voice tone nearly mocking yet his fingers on the other hand still typing.

starting to shift his leg, to provide just a hint of pressure against your core. "you like that, baby? the way my thigh rubs against your pussy?" he whispers, his breath hot against her ear, "such a little slut, getting wet just from grinding against me."

and you know that he knows - you could see it in his gaze, that tiny cocky smirk, all the softness from ten minutes ago has long faded, he knows how your pussy feels, he knows your body maybe even better then you do.

another thing that he knows was that you fucking hated begging, pleading and he'll gladly use it against you in any given-

"y'know i think i know what you would like even more, mh?" brushing his almost shoulder length hair out of his face, confidence and authority radiating like he's the king of the world- like he got the world right at his knees, "but you can't get that for free, can't you?"

the one hand that was resting on your hip few seconds prior moving to your face, a silent order to look at him and answer or else no cock for you tonight, the other one momentarily stopping their keyboard work.

your lips slightly part, sensing it deep inside, that little dizzy feeling, that feeling to throw yourself onto him no matter what it costs, that feeling of pure dumbness, of nothing but pure sexual needs completly over tripping any form of morals and sense left in your brain, "need you, need you so bad" you whine, once more grinding onto him.

moving one hanging hair strand behind your ear, like a reassuring gesture, knowing damn well that he's analysing each word, trying to find a loophole to mock you for.

"do you really think you deserve it?" raising his eyebrows - a trick question, there's no right way to answer.

"um...no" your tone quiet, head facing down, maybe he'll feel bad?

"i'd really loveee to be mean, but time is ticking and my dick is throbbing, so- gonna have to make this quick, 'kay?" he looks at you, searching for your consent as you nod immediately, "good"

quick fast hands moving to your hips, lifting you easily so you could sit onto the desk while he took his pants of and those lovely calvin klein boxers - nevermind, to say you were just horny was an understatement, you were practically drooling over his cock, so pretty, so hard, leaking with pre cum, reddened - just for you.

sitting back down onto the chair, leaning back into it so casually like he had all the time in the world when he really didn't, "c'mon what you're waiting for? sit down on it- fuck"

his last words groaned out as you took the chance, pressing down onto him, moaning yourself, at the feeling of his dick already deep inside you, being on top of him just once, pussy instantly clenching around him.

"ride that dick like i know you mean it, cause i know you d- mh-" once more ending in a moan, now sounding more like a whimper when you grind against him, "fuck such a lucky man, no better way to spend my ev-" jolting his head back, onto the back of the gaming chair.

wet sounds and kooks delicious whines echoing through the room, your pussy slamming onto him over and over again, nails digging into his shoulders, "need your pussy juice dripping all over my waist, make those nasty fuckin' sounds, like that, fuck yeah-"

his now veiny hands, moving to grip your hips tightly, the way he knows it'll keep a faint mark but you didn't care, fuck- he could mark you all he wanted, touch you however you wanted, fuck you however, fill you up whenever.

"tits, kook - touch my tits" you pressed out, hips still moving like on their own. usually he would've said something like "where's the please?" or "manners, baby" but this time he just groaned once more, right away commanding to your wish, wrapping his hands around your chest.

"y'know me so well, love these so much" he sounded almost drunk, a little hazy too as he leaned just a small bit forward so that he could wrap his mouth around your bare left tit - sucking, licking, gently biting and repeating it again and again.

your nails digged even further into his skin if that was even possible, you wanted to say something, saying is an overstatement considering you probably couldn't talk when all you could let out were moans over moans. your hands moved from his shoulders to his hair, pushing and pulling when he bit or teased you a little to much as his own needy noises got muffeled against your skin.

he lifted his head from your right tit, his hair now delightfully messed up, a little bit of spit left on your boobs, his eyes more wide, "think i'm gonna cum"

"can i fill you up? need to fill you up, nice and deep, need to-"

putting one of your fingers on his lip, you stop him from finishing, "cum inside me" speeding up your grinding, it was cute- seeing all his put-on authority slip the second he needed you to milk him dry, you'd really love to makefriendly fun of him but you felt your own orgasm fastly approaching.

clenching around him one last time, hips pushing forward one last time as you both come, a mix of cursing and unsensical nonsense leaving his mouth as you felt your walls get coated with his hot cum.

"fuckin' have my babies" he smiled lazily, eyes half lidded when in response you grinned and hit back: "how's the paper going?"

he took in a breath of air, eyes even wider if that was possible, "oh fuck shit-"

"i'm taking this out on you later," hands beginning to furiously start typing on the laptop again, biting his lip, playing with his lip piercing like he always does.

"you better do"

[tteokdoroki]

VOICEMAILS AND DIAL TONES - yuuta okkotsu.

✩ — about. “back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand.” there are rules to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s has. the first being that you tell each other everything. the second, try not to fall in love. all you know, is that you’ve failed at both, and now your best friend is half way across the world without any idea as to how much you truly love him. is that something you can say over text or voicemail? ( 8.7K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, with a happy ending - video banner! characters are in their 20s. coffee-shop!au, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden romance, long-distance, misunderstandings, miscommunication, situationships, arguments, hospitalisation mentions, death mentions (non-major characters), cucking, somnophilia, praise, fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), phone sex-ish, clothed sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampies, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hi everyone!! jumping on the yuuta hype and dropping this fic i wrote as a commission last year!! it's so interesting to see how much my writing has changed, but i remember having fun when writng this. either who!! i hope you all enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

absence makes the heart grow fonder — at least that’s what they tell you so that the feeling of missing someone hurts a tiny little bit less. 

you’ve always wondered if that were true. if willingly putting space between yourself and the person you loved truly helped soothe the soreness as if it were medication for the body’s aches and pains. perhaps the theory could best be applied to your friendship with yuuta okkotsu. 

he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember — from the moment he moved in next door, his bambi eyes were big and brown, safe and inviting…who were you to keep hiding behind your mothers leg and deny him an invitation to play on the swing set his parents had put up for him in the garden just over the fence? yuuta was the sweetest boy to date, he was always polite with your parents and asked their permission before taking you into the depths of his cardboard fort in the front yard. 

he would walk home with you from pre-k, your chubby little fingers tightly intertwined and the matching charms on your backpacks swinging about the place jingling with every step you took towards home. when you got to middle school and kids were meaner, yuuta stood by your side while you were teased for being quieter than most. he defended you, his shy, patient best friend. 

okkotsu still walked you home, his pinky finger hooked over yours — greeted your mother with that same shy, yet charming tight lipped smile and offered to help her with cooking dinner with that same airy voice of his. your mother would reward you both with a kiss to the forehead and a plate of warm walnut and chocolate chip cookies and your pinkies — still linked underneath the table.

you were always linked. it’s always been yuuta and you. back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand the butterflies in your tummy and the blistering temperature to the back of your neck and your ears — maybe too naive to understand a metaphorical doctor’s diagnosis of a case of early on-set puppy-love. knowing back then would’ve explained why you wrote yuuta’s name on a heart alongside your own or why you squirmed every time you touched.

there was only one explanation. you liked yuuta, loved him. 

you wished that you’d known what that feeling was…because it's soon ripped from your grip and your whole world changes when rika orimoto enters your lives. she was pretty, had a beauty mark smeared daintily across her cheek and gentle eyes that made you feel safe. she was pretty and yuuta thought that too — inside and out. that’s why they became fast highschool sweethearts and why you were left in the dust. 

rika easily made a mess of him, tearing yuuta into a million tiny pieces that only she could put back together. she asks him out on white-day, okkotsu a bumbling mess by the lockers in between gym class and economics as he clutches her neatly written love letter — hearts over the I’s and T’s crossed ever so cutely. she had done to yuuta what he’d been doing to you all of your lives and you’d hardly seen her talk to him around school until that day. 

much to your dismay, they date throughout the rest of highschool and it nearly kills you, having someone that you were once so close to fade-away into near nothingness with growing distance. life where yuuta has a girlfriend ( that isn’t you ) drains the happiness that you got from being around your childhood best friend. it’s selfish, you know, to have wanted to keep him all to yourself. to have him want you instead of her. 

they make plans for after school, babies with names that start with the same letters as theirs and a wedding that’ll be small and flowery and whatever rika wants because yuuta okkotsu would give the girl he loves the entire world. you so badly want to be her. that person who is the centre of his universe. it should be you, it should have always been you — making plans with yuuta and imagining the perfect ring, the one that he would give you in the front yard of his childhood home. it should be your life with him, one that you’d dreamt up with him…and the sick thing is, you can’t have him — because you’re best friends and you’d be risking it all in the name of childish love.

rika, dies just days shy of your highschool graduation and it changes your best friend. a tragic car accident violently takes her life and okkotsu along with it. he’s a shell of the person he used to be, void of his dazzling smile and the comforting warmth that was unavoidable if you spent even just a minute with him. yuuta used to be like sun rays on a sunday morning but after the incident, he felt like blizzards on a dark november's eve. he lost his love, and you were starting to lose him even more than before.

his first love is memorialised at the graduation ceremony and while everyone sends her their thoughts and prayers — you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that for a brief second you’d felt relieved that your competition was gone. loving him was forbidden, he’d just lost his person and so despite your guilt you had to stick it out. be there for him. be there for your friend above all else and hold him up so that he didn’t sink in the deep water of his own grief. you’d save him, at all costs, you’d stop him before he drowned. 

things start to look up when the pair of you head to college — you both get into the same school and find the cutest little off-campus apartment to share. it feels like a home away from home to you both, since your nights before semester begins are spent attempting to master your mother’s famous cookies while practising how to introduce yourselves since you’re both nervous as hell for this new beginning. everything feels like it was when you were both children and didn’t have a single thing to worry about — except now there’s crippling student debt and a four year workload ahead of you…but you’re both excited, together again and it seems like the distance between you has shrunk just a little.

then your love life takes a turn for the worst ( yet again ) and yuuta finds himself running around town with a new crew of friends that he met in a club run by one of your elective professors, satoru gojo. they stay out later than you’re used to and your best friend comes home smelling different too, of strong perfumes and cigarette butts even though you know he doesn’t smoke. as it turns out, there’s another girl. 

maki zenin.

you don’t like her, and to be fair, she doesn’t like you either. so you keep your distance once more, keep your head down when maki does her faux walk of shame out of your best friend’s room — her thighs and her neck covered in bite marks and scratches, his shirt slipped over her body to cover the rest of her decency. he made her breakfast with your food and tea in your designated mug. it hurts to hear her mewl the sweet syllables of his name late at night while you’re stuck with the soundtrack to your own sobs.

it should be like this, distant — far apart because you care about okkotsu and you love him, so it’d be better to avoid it all rather than get him hurt.

your phone ringing in the distance gently lulls you from your reminiscent thoughts and you scramble to pick it up before you end up with a missed call. 

yuuta’s contact flashes across your screen, framed by light and making him look like an angel. it rings and rings, and you know that you should let it go to voicemail. let the space between you grow so you can protect what’s left of his soul. 

but you were never strong when it came to him. 

and you pick up before he can listen to another second of dial tones.

voicemail #1  - “hey yuuta, i hope you’re good, you’ll never guess who stopped by the cafe today— professor satoru! i haven’t seen him since your graduation! anyways, are you still coming over for dinner tonight? i miss you!”

this isn’t like him. 

even after all these years, from pre-k to college — yuuta okkotsu has never missed one of your calls. after graduating you'd made a promise to one another, to keep contact no matter where life took you, a promise of his own volition. you’d have dinner with each other at least once a week just like when you were kids and catch up on your not-so crazy adventures into adulthood. 

you kept up your end of the bargain as your way of keeping okkotsu afloat — to ground him. he’d seen and been through enough hurt to last him a lifetime and if he had to use you as a crutch for comfort, despite your raging feelings for him, then so be it. so you never missed a call, always checked in and made him something nostalgic and tied to the memories of afternoons where your mother would fill you up with her wondrous baked goods or heartwarming soups.

but still, this isn’t like yuuta to not pick up when you call. 

to feel…more distant than usual and of his own accord. 

panic sets in while you listen to the third dial tone, trying to contact him again. taking a deep breath, you pace around the fridge-freezer in the back of your bakery — one that you’d set up shortly after graduating from your business degree. there had to be some explanation for your best friend’s absence. perhaps traffic? maybe he was on the subway catching a ride over? or maybe he just needed space. he’d been going through a lot recently. yuuta didn’t get a job straight out of college and he broke things off with maki shortly after — they wanted different things and had different aspirations.

even still, with the free time left on his hands, there was too much room for him to think about his losses and his loves…it made you worry for him, it made you panic and chew on your nails just like this. “c’mon yu,” you whisper to yourself, the shaky syllables of your words bouncing off the metal house for your ingredients, muffled by paper bags of powdered sugar and organic flours. “where are you?” 

you can barely hear the automated message telling you to leave a voicemail for your friend over the bustling of your afternoon service. if yuuta hadn’t been off the grid, he’d be here helping you with the customers that know him all too well, the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and the younger ones that twirl their hair in an attempt to flirt over miniature cherry bakewell tarts. except he’s nowhere to be found, and you’re nauseous, worried sick about where he could be and what he could be up to. 

you try his cell one more time in an attempt to grab at his attention. there's something weird about today...as if he’s avoiding you, hiding. yuuta always picks up and you always pick up for him, it’s an unspoken rule.

when you’re met with the dial tones again, you hang up — slumped and distraught. there’s hungry customers to feed and you’re overly friendly college professor waiting on a fresh box of sweets you’d used as an excuse to escape to the back of your shop. yuuta can wait for another call from you. 

but you’re not sure if your heart can wait for one back from him. 

voicemail #2  - “it’s yuuta, we need to talk.” 

oddly enough, silence is comforting to you. it reminds you of your best friend, the nights you’d spend coupled up in your dorm with your fingers running through his silken midnight hair, his head in your lap and the both of you shrouded in darkness. more often than not, you could tell how one another’s days went just by body language and when shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy — yourself and yuuta would curl up together  and just…take in the quiet. 

be close to one another.

so, you bask in the tranquillity of your quaint little cafe as you clear up after a day's work. you sweep floors, wipe tables clean and arrange the tables and chairs with perfect precision. the only sound that accompanies you is the clink of silverware and porcelain plates as you wash the dishes. it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the slightest noise is enough to make you jump — just like your phone that vibrates deep within your back pocket, startling you as you scramble to dry your hands so you can see if it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with you.

it’s embarrassing how quick you are to smile when you see a few missed calls and a voice message from yuuta. though you’ve never quite heard the tune of seriousness that plays in his voice before, your heart won’t stop racing at the mere sound of him speaking. your mind wonders…what could be so urgent that he’d need a ‘talk’?’ 

maybe it was a thank you…for always being beside him or maybe he even liked you. perhaps okkotsu had finally come to his senses and realised how much he’d always needed you…how much he loved you.. the racing thoughts in your brain hopefully jump towards a confession from your best friend and you find yourself getting giddy at its prospect. you practically skip, hop and jump to the back of your cafe, switching out your flour stained clothes for one of the spare and cleaner shirts you keep in the back — you touch up your makeup too, brighten the dark circles under your eyes and blot your worry lines with care. 

you even manage to heat up a few of yuuta’s favourite pastries to serve up by candlelight — rehearsing your own words of confession as if they haven’t been looming around in your head for years. 

the bell to your quaint little cafe chimes with his arrival, a rush of cool, late night air tangling with the temperate atmosphere as you lay your finishing touches on the meal you’d prepared for you both. when you look up, yuuta’s eyes have settled on you — warm and inviting as usual, but bright with a light that had been missing from them since you were young. you’ve missed it, the subtle spark that brings life to the coffee brown oasis in his eyes.

he remains as handsome as ever, taller than you by however many heads — limbs long, arms slightly muscular and waist slender, though his build is more like a dancer’s. yuuta okkotsu grew up to be a fine man and you’d be a fool to have not noticed. he crosses the room in short strides, rushing to take you into his arms and hold you close and squeeze you to his chest. yuuta smells like cookies, you note, hardly paying attention while his lips softly brush over your hairline in a sweet kiss.

“hi,” he whispers, voice smooth like melted chocolate dripping through your ears. “i’ve missed you.”

you only hope that he can’t hear your racing heartbeat, it’s speed picking up as you decide that this is your moment. the moment. “i’ve missed you too,” you mumble back, toying with a loose string on the cream cashmere the dark brunette is wearing. “yuuta…i have to tell you something—“

“i-i have something important to tell you,” he breathes out at the same time as you do, almost shy as you both sway in the centre of the room and enjoy one another’s embrace. 

the both of you share a laugh that’s light and airy before you drag him over to a table and set of chairs, forcing him to sit and to eat the baked goods you’d set out for him. “you first, yuu,” it makes you happy to see him tuck in, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you owe me a story after disappearing on me today.” 

okkotsu nods in agreement, his cheeks adorably full of food and pastry flaked across his milky skin. “‘m sorry, i was sortin’ something out la’sht minute.” 

“yeah?” 

“y-yeah! i’m moving,” yuuta drops the bomb like it’s nothing. “abroad. for a job! professor gojo set me up and it’s s-supposed to help build my confidence and stuff—“ 

your world falls apart in an instant, sucking away the oxygen in your lungs until you feel like your lungs are failing. yuuta is leaving you and this time it’s for real. 

confessing to him now wouldn't mean shit, you’d only be holding him back. your face crumples faster than you can control at the thought and after years of knowing you— okkotsu instantly picks up your change in mood. 

“what’s wrong?” he says your name and even that hurts to hear.

“n-nothin’ yuu, i’m happy for you, really.” comes your broken voice over the quiet, you fake it until you make it.

“really? you don’t look like it.” 

running a hand over your tired face, you force a smile. “really. especially if you think this is what’s best for you.” 

“it is!” yuuta nearly snaps, controlling himself— stopping himself from yelling at you and tearing your friendship apart before he’s gone. “i need this, need’a be my own person. after college, after highschool i didn’t have time for any of that! i need this.” 

needs it more than he needs you.

“okay.” you say simply, blankly.

“okay.” he says back. 

the debate doesn’t last that much longer after that — the room fills with silence as you grieve your faltering friendship. whatever confession you had planned, now forgotten. 

voicemail #3 -  “yuuta! i wasn’t sure how long your flight was but please call me when you land! you’re gonna do great at your new job.”

yuuta doesn’t call after he lands, in fact two entire days pass before you actually hear from him. after the argument, you’d try to stay on good terms as though not to lose him for good — helping him pack and sort out his currencies, buying him language books since you knew he would struggle with the new dialect. 

you figure it’s because he’s unpacking and not because he doesn’t want anything to do with you — and while you make some late night tea, you find that it’s better to imagine him alone in a new foreign country, picture his pretty pink lips struggling to form the vowels of the new language too, envision how he’ll tan under the blistering hot heat and how excited he’ll be to try new things.

its humiliating how easily he can preoccupy your thoughts from thousands of miles away and makes your heart race so fast that it might burst through the bones and flesh of your chest. he occupies your every thought like a fungus crawling across your brain that’s only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing loudly — making you drop your tea and jump up to answer.

“hey,” the way yuuta says your name sends tingles down your spine — filtering out any pain you feel from burning your hand. he looks good too, dark hair flopping over his eyes, voice gravelly with sleep as if he’s just woken up and you’re the first thing on his mind. “i got your message, s-sorry for not calling i’ve been—“ 

you cut him off, eager to speak and draw the call out for as long as possible because you missed him. “busy? a guy like you must be extremely popular on the other side of the world.” you’re chipper in an attempt to cover how flustered you are and to cheer your best friend up when you notice how nervous he looks.

“not exactly… i’m nervous. e-everything seems so big ‘nd scary without you here…”

without you.

you shake your head over the grainy FaceTime call. “you’ve always done fine without me, you’ll do even better without having to cover for my shyness!” he laughs at that, the sound like a sweet song to soothe your aching heart. “you got this yuuta.” 

your best friend gives you a sleepy smile, one that melts you like a knob of butter on a hot stove and has your knees knocking. “you’re the best, you know that? you always know what to say.”

the static crackles between you and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“i’m always here for you, yuuta.” 

“and i’m glad for that,” he yawns. “i love you.” 

you have to remind yourself that what your best friend says is strictly platonic but you almost selfishly repeat the words back to yuuta until you notice he’s fallen back asleep. 

ending the call, you clutch your phone and burned hand to your chest. 

“i love you too.”

voicemail #4 - “hey sorry i missed your call, time zones can be crazy! work has been catching up with me and, well, i made a new friend!”

for the first week, you and yuuta text everyday while he’s away. you do your duty and act as his crutch like you always have— keeping him company while he works, eats and commutes all on his own. you feel bad that you lap up the attention he gives you over the phone through his loneliness. you could be compared to a desperately hungry stray animal at the way you drink up every little interaction you have. giving pieces of yourself away to keep your best friend happy. 

but as time goes on, okkotsu seems less and less worried about his job — easily slipping into the language here and there, no longer relying on you to stand on his own two feet. the frequency of your communication dwindles to the point where you really feel like you’re oceans apart. 

even yuuta notices the change within himself — the confidence that filters through him when he says yes to the pretty girl who works in the cubicle next to him when she asks him to tag along for drinks with the rest of the office one night which soon becomes a regular thing. he knows that he speaks less with you and that your texts are barely there but he’s sure you won’t mind the distance. you’re a busy girl, you run a cafe, a few days of not talking wouldn’t do any harm.

“oooh, she’s pretty. who is that?”

kasumi miwa is the one to pull yuuta out from the fog of his thoughts. the brunette looks up from his phone, your face flashing across it’s lock screen as the background. a photo where you have your arms wrapped around him from behind and your smile is as bright as the sunshine. miwa is a pretty girl, different from you. her voice is smoother and eloquent where yours is charming and sweet — she doesn’t remind him of home, or smell like the warmth of a chocolate chip cookie…but she is pretty. her presence is enough to make him shy.

he’s caught her looking a few times, her touch lingering whenever miwa passed him paperwork and right now; her cheeks are tinged pink probably from the alcohol the office is drinking inside where yuuta had come out for some fresh air.

okkotsu clicks his phone shut and stands up at full height to face his blue-haired coworker. “i… i haven’t spoken to her in a while. i miss her.” he says wistfully as he gives your name

“well, if i were dating a girl that pretty, i would miss them too.”

“o-oh! we’re not together! she’s my best friend!”

the woman beside yuuta cocks her head, a satisfied grin spreading across the slope of her lips. “you should call her — i’ll be waiting inside.” 

he follows her eyes as she walks off, along with the whiff of her chanel perfume, before his gaze lands on his phone — he calls your phone. 

you answer after the second ring, though don’t speak straight away, letting the silence wear the both of you thin. “how’ve you been?” you say quietly, lacking the chipperness to your tone that you usually have whenever the two of you ring each other up. there’s no hello, no warmth, you’re cold. 

but yuuta doesn’t ask — he’d like to think he knows you well enough not to. he thinks that you’re fine, probably tired from work and it’s late over there too. if he cared to catch up with you, he’d have been more considerate of that.

“good!” the brunette chirps in order to keep the mood light, leaning over a nearby railing. i miss you. yuuta wants to add, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth, sticking unpleasantly to every surface and for some reason they don’t feel right to say— feel foreign. “work’s been good. i think i’m getting the hang of things around here. my co-workers are great, i get this amazing view every morning a-and—“

“and?” 

“i met someone! i think! i wanna get to know her more but she’s been great to me so far…you’d like her!”

hearts don’t make a sound when they break, but if they did— you’re sure that yuuta would have been able to hear yours even from halfway across the globe. over his own ramblings he can hardly make out the shatter of your vital organ as it falls to pieces, cracks into tiny shards with jagged edges that could make you bleed if you tried to put it back together…because your best friend having met someone means he’s moving on. leaving you behind. and he’s too tone deaf to notice. 

through the static of a phone call, okkotsu misses the crumple of your face and the way your throat bobs as you swallow back salty tears and two decades worth of unrequited love. you’re devastated and he can’t even tell, barely noticing the way you rush off the phone while he’s halfway through a sentence.

his brows furrow when he realises you’ve hung up. 

“i take it that didn’t go well?” kasumi questions when yuuta re-renters the bar, her face sympathetic but voice elevated with smugness. 

he shakes his head once. “no, but it’s okay. she’s been busy.” 

he excuses you but kasumi doesn’t let up, pushing for more of yuuta — breaking him out from his shell, stealing and keeping the pearl of his heart for her taking. “don’t be too sad yuuta, you have me and your new friends, we’ll keep you company instead.”

there’s a hidden meaning behind her cherry picked words. she’ll keep him company — and for once, yuuta doesn’t feel guilty for trying to break away from you.

voicemail #5 - “what happened between us yuuta? you used to tell me everything and now you’ve got a girlfriend? i didn’t even find out through you!”

there’s an unspoken rule to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s – you’re supposed to tell each other everything. there’s not been a secret between you in all the years you’ve known each other except for minor white lies that couldn’t amount to major forms of harm. he might have told you that your hair looked fine on days where you’d barely any time to tend to it and you might have told him that he hadn’t been awkward presenting in front of your entire college class… but those were worthless lies. strings of words tied together that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t have any intent to harm.

there were no secrets, no major ones.

until now.

“he’s got a girlfriend, yanno…”

the news is shared with you casually from over the counter one day by your irritating white-haired ex-professor who makes a habit of annoying his old students. he comes in for sweets often and the daifuku you make is his favourite – you offer him extra in exchange for updates on the classmates you used to share since he’s nosey like that.

with every visit to your little cafe, gojo filled you in on everything yuuta had been up to in the blurred weeks and months since you’d last spoken – including his relationship status. “she’s pretty too, long hair. s’blue which is an odd colour, but she’s been good to him, ‘pparently. boosted his confidence.”’ the man cocks his head, watching in real-time as your movements in packing up his order slow down.

your throat bobs whilst you swallow your fading pride in front of your teacher, forcing down a wave of tears. it doesn’t matter how many times yuuta gets over you, moves on from you, finds someone to love other than you… it still hurts. it’ll always hurt knowing that he can fill the other half of his heart with someone that isn't you, while your own stays void and empty.

as always, satoru gojo sees right through your resolve as you total up his order – again forgoing charging him extra for the little tid bit of gossip he’d given you. there’s a shell of someone he doesn’t recognise in place of the girl he used to teach – the one who was once full of life and eager to learn, get out into the world and achieve your dreams. yuuta okkotsu had chipped away at you, the years you’d spent protecting his feelings had caused you to drown in your own.

and gojo could see that, he knew that. he’d been through it before.

he only wishes he had better words of comfort for you.

“you love him, don’t you?” he asks you quietly as you ring him up but you answer with his total in yen instead – sniffling as you do. professor gojo takes his brown paper bag, full of enough sugar to make the heart stop – to kill a person, but even that’s a better death than the heartache you’re going through now. you sniff and he offers you a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach the sapphire eyes behind his shades. “better yet, don’t answer that. i don’t need anymore tears in my daifuku.”

voicemail #6 - “oh fuck yuuji, right there…” “here baby? oh you’re so cute, fuck ‘m gonna—!” “oh… yuuji!” 

( incoming voicemail from - yuuta: “hey, call me back? who’s yuuji? are you okay?” )

yuuta knows that he shouldn’t have kept listening – he should have deleted the voicemail as soon as he caught onto what was happening. it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, the sounds of skin slapping on skin, your voice wavering with the tune of lust even over the static crackle of the voicemail you’d left. 

he wishes that he’d never heard you moan out like that for someone else, that he wasn’t picturing the faces you’d make underneath the body of another man…but he couldn’t help it. the more he listened, the angrier he felt, the more betrayal flooded his veins and clouded his usually clear judgement. the brunette had no right to be this mad at you, he was supposed to be happy with miwa, supposed to be letting you move on just like he had done from you.

and yet, like a necrotizing parasite – jealousy feasts at the back of okkotsu’s mind. it disrupts his work, distracts him from his girlfriend and fills his mind with flashing images of you being fucked five ways by another man. one that isn’t him. yuuji. who even is yuuji? how did you meet him? were you dating him? you hadn’t talked in so long so the guy had barely come up in conversation. you were best friends that used to tell each other everything and now he felt like you were fucking someone new behind his back. yuuta knew nothing of what that stranger meant to you, he had no idea that yuuji itadori was just some college boy you’d brought home one drunken night – to act as a salve for the burns your childhood best friend had left on you.

it's a temporary fix, yuuji’s tongue laps at your wounds – pleasures you with teeth and tongue until your head is light and you’re almost too dizzy to think properly. in the moment, he felt good, he took care of you…but he wasn’t who you wanted. he wasn’t yuuta.

was it bad that you basked in the jealous rage and attention the brunette had bathed you in? drowning you in a barrage of text messages  the morning after you’d slept with itadori, when yuuta finally had the chance to listen to the voicemail you’d left by accident. it was the most you’d gotten out of him in the months you’d been separated.

yuuta - 7:16AM: hey…did you mean to send that? call me when you’re up.

yuuta - 7:45AM: i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…

yuuta - 8:34AM: who’s yuuji?

yuuta - 8:36AM: are you seeing someone? call me please.

yuuta - 8:57AM: pick up the phone.

yuuta - 9:21AM: it’s not funny anymore. i’m worried. pick up.

you answer your phone around noon, having given yourself the space to think over cooking a hang-over breakfast for yuuji. the sounds of spitting oil underneath frying eggs had provided the soundtrack to your thoughts – helped you pick and choose the words you would say to yuuta before your companion slips out of your apartment and you tell him to grab a pastry from your cafe downstairs on his way out. a little thank you for the night you’d shared.

“what the hell was that?” is the first thing yuuta snarls down the line once your call connects.

you shift your phone in your grasp, as if his seething tone has scorched the palm of your hand. “are we past greetings or somethin’, yuu?” you fail to admit that it hurts you, starting the call without his tender and caring ‘hello’, you feel like an enemy on the battlefield to okkotsu, rather than his friend.

“i think we are well past that, especially with the kind of voice messages you’ve been leaving me.” he says it like he’s disgusted with you, when he really just misses you. craves you. he’s angry at himself and for letting you slip between his fingers into the grasp of another man. not at you. never at you. but even cell phone lines connecting calls from across the globe can’t properly convey the way yuuta feels. “what’s going on with you? why are you acting like this? we haven’t spoken in weeks and you–?”

“why is what i do any of your business anymore, yuuta?” you snap through his flurry of questions, growing heated yourself. “i accidentally left you a voicemail of me fucking someone, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

“you’re just… not like this. we don’t speak and all of a sudden…y-you’re different!”

you clutch the phone tighter, swallowing thickly. “and who’s fault is that? let me answer that for you. it’s yours. you’re the one who got a girlfriend and left me in the dust. not the other way around!” you argue, trying to sound stern and steady though yuuta can hear the wobble to your words loud and clear. “you shouldn’t have listened, you should have called. you let the distance become a problem between us.”

he scoffs, an action so unlike your best friend. “we’re not children anymore! you should have talked to me about the distance!” 

“i couldn't!” you defend yourself, desperate for the pain in your heart to be heard for once. “you were finally happy again yuuta! that mattered to me—“ 

“you think i'm happy about hearing my best friend get…defiled over the phone?” 

“well you should be! it means I’m not hung up on you anymore, that i’m moving on from being in love with you! leaving you so that you can be happy in your new life!” 

the silence from yuuta’s end of the phone is both too loud and too deafening. 

“you…loved me?” he whispers, switching back to that same sweet tone he always used when it came to you. “why didn’t you say?”

your stupid little confession, the one you’d been holding back for more than half your life, sips out before you can catch it with the tip of your tongue and you instantly feel terrible for weaponizing your crush on okkotsu against him. at least that’s what it feels like you’ve done. “i never told you…because i’m not selfish, yuuta,” you stutter out, your face hot with oncoming and flustered tears. “i-i'm not a selfish person. i wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship or your happiness, not just because i loved you.”

yuuta says your name, but blood rushes through your ears in embarrassment – way too fast for you to catch it, and you hang up before you can humiliate yourself any further.

before you can hear him say that he loves you too.

voicemail #7 - “open up, i'm coming home. please be here when I’m home.” 

the number you have dialled is unavailable, please try again later.

after the slip of your tongue and confession to yuuta— he was met with radio silence. you’d blocked him on every form of social media possible and he couldn’t even blame you. you wanted to be free from him, from that silly and imaginary red string that had kept you tied to his soul for all of these years. it hurt to think when everything reminded you of him, so you buried yourself in your cafe and worked yourself to death because even the sweet relief from life would be better than living without your best friend. 

gojo had stopped by and taken you to the hospital twice since you’d worked yourself into exhaustion — tonight was no different, sentenced to bed rest by your ex-professor and the best doctor he could find. he always did look out for his students.

sleeping your sadness away had caused you to miss a barrage of yuuta’s calls — if you’d picked up you’d have known that he was coming home. coming home for you. in the wake of your love confession, okkotsu had realised how much he needed you and how much he loved you. you had never left his side, no matter what yuuta had been through, and now, nothing feels right without you. 

so he broke up with his girlfriend, took leave from his job and flew halfway across the world for you — to give his message in person. 

it’s near midnight by the time yuuta gets back to japan, the warm yellow of the streetlights illuminating the path right up to your apartment after getting out of the uber. there’s a spare house key, glinting gold, hidden under your cupcake shaped doormat just as yuuta remembers and he uses it to slip inside — dumping his bag and kicking his shoes off at the entryway. his socked feet locate the bedroom with ease, perhaps drawn by your aura and the anticipation of seeing you again.

and there you are, so close yet so far away — your face peaceful and painted with an adorable expression of slumber. okkotsu notes the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the crease between your brow as if you’re having a bad dream. he could fix it… whatever’s plaguing your sleeping mind, he knows that he can, because whenever you touch each other, it’s like your bodies know to relax and that they’re safe.

tiptoeing deeper into the room, the brunette slinks up to the side of your bed and the mattress dips underneath the weight of his knee as he seats himself beside you. you’re so beautiful, so calm. he doesn’t know how he went his whole life without choosing you, choosing other people over you time and time again. “i love you,” yuuta whispers into the dead of the night, brushing a thumb and forefinger over the apple of your cheek — hesitating when you roll into his body heat. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” he says again, while pressing a feather light kiss to that same spot. 

his breath hitches when you reach for him this time, grabbing at the man in your sleep.

yuuta kisses you again, but on your forehead. then your other cheek, your chin, your inner wrists and finally — your lips. each brush of his own against you is increasingly feverish, pouring unspoken emotions into them as he quietly utters the words ‘i love you.’ over and over again. he feels like he has something to prove, as if the brunette has to show you how much he cares for you — leaving a trail of sweet smooches between the valley of your breasts from over your night-shirt to between your thighs that spill out of the loose material.

he only hopes that this is enough for you to forgive him, for you to love him back like he does you.

your best friend… or ex best friend really should feel bad about this, teething on the swell of your thighs— his fingertips sinking into their apex to pry you apart for him. you could end up hating him more for this, yuuta’s slick and drool stained tongue rolling over the seam at the crotch of your panties hungrily, softly as if to test the waters. he takes it as a good sign when your face contorts with pleasure even in your sleep and slots his entire mouth against the sweet treasure between your legs— sucking the juices from the fabric of your underwear.

you taste so good and he’s not even got you properly wet yet. yuuta’s next move is to hook two fingers over the garment to pull it aside — revealing your twitching hot cunt to the cool night air in your bedroom. even your scent is divine, enticing just as you’ve always been and the brunette can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. he presses a chase kiss to your clit, feeling it pulse to life against his lips before said kisses become open mouthed and sloppy— tongue diving into the tightness of your little hole, circling it to flick your flavour back into his mouth. 

his movements start slow, tenderly testing which spots inside your pretty little cunt make you sigh out contently while you slumber but the wetter you get, the sloppier yuuta becomes — lapping at your sex and your clit in eager movements like a kitten at a bowl of milk. you only stir awake when his fingers travel up to grip onto your ass and tug your pussy onto his face, guiding you up and down on his writhing tongue like he’s fucking you for real.

“y-yuu?” you grumble, still finding your footing in the reality of consciousness. “whas’ h-happenin’… oh my god—!”  the questions you have for the mop of hair between your legs, groaning like a starved man into there too, taper into an angelic moan. pretty and airy, like music to yuuta’s ears. once you come to and fully realise what’s going on, your fingers slip into the roots of his hair and your hips buck into his mouth instinctively — even though you should be pissed. even though you should be screaming at him and kicking him off. you can’t help it that this is what you’ve always wanted. that you’ve always wanted him.

“w-what are you doing here?” you manage to ask through a whine, brain fogging up at the way yuuta’s tongue runs laps over your swelling clit. 

he pulls off of you with a lewd pop that makes both of you shudder, two of his slender digits easily sliding into you where his tongue once was — guided by spit and slick. “i came home for you. i love you,” your best friend doesn’t have time to formulate proper reasoning, drunk on your saccharine flavour  like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had the honour of tasting. “f-fuck, i-i missed you.”

yuuta gives you those big puppy dog eyes as he curls his digits inside of you and hits spots you can't quite reach on your own. you should be talking about your feelings not fucking through them but you’ve missed him so much and need him so bad. both of you groan in unison when he brushes over your g-spot, your hips jumping up and his grinding down into your silky sheets. 

“missed you too,” you breathe and yank him up by the hair to meet your lips — making out with him feverishly, swapping the words your mind can’t seem to force you to say, pouring the mixed emotions into him as he finger fucks your tight little hole like his life depends on it.

every movement you make with one another is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues doused in one another’s saliva— saliva that tastes like you. your moans mingle in the hot and heavy air and you clench down on yuuta’s fingers as they pump in and out of you, his palm slapping against your folds while you leak into the seat of his palm. 

“are you close?” yuuta slurs into your mouth so quietly you almost miss it underneath the lewd sound of your pussy. “i want to make you cum, show you how much i love you.”

blood rushes through your ears, heat pin pricking like needles under your skin. “y-yes. p-please yuu…” 

his thumb dragging smooth circles over the pulsating bud between your blooming pussy lips is all you need to trip over the edge into your high— the knots in your lower tummy unwinding faster than you can register, waves of your nectar flowing from your cunt onto the sheets below and soiling yuuta’s hand right up to his wrist. 

your head tips back into a high pitched squeal, eyes locked away and rolling back while you damn near black out from your orgasm. but your best friend is right there like he should be, sucking love-bites into your neck to ground you. dark tresses of yuuta’s chocolate-like hair tickle at your tingling flesh while he manoeuvres himself between your legs and shifts his pants down enough to let his rock hard cock spring free. 

“c-can you take me now?” he pleads more than he asks, brown and warm eyes trembling with need, anticipation. “i don’t think i’ll last long and i need you.” 

you feel him press at your entrance, his angry red tip glistening with opaque beads of precum— yuuta softly ruts his hips against you, smearing…claiming you with his own essence while he waits for your consent. “i’ve always needed you, yuuta.” you say breathlessly, giving him a small grin and nod when he looks up from drooling against your neck. 

that’s all the go ahead he needs before his thick girth pushes all the way into you at once — weighty and temperate against your ribbed and creamy walls. “‘ohmyfuckinggod,” he whimpers wetly against you. “y-you’re so tight wrapped around me. so perfect i—“ 

“move, yuuta. fuck me, please,” you remind him, tugging on his air and crossing your ankles at the base of his spine. 

“y-yeah okay…g-god you’re so good. so sweet ‘n tight.” with that, he draws his hips back — hesitant at first. brown eyes watch your face for any signs of discomfort and yuuta’s lust driven instincts take the lead when he only notices how blissed out you look. your pretty lips are agasp, forming a pleasure-filled ‘o’ as you mewl and claw at his half-clothed shoulders. “i love you, o-oh god!”

all you can do is whimper in response, fingers drifting up to the nape of yuuta’s neck to tangle in his dark locks— tugging him into you as if it’ll make him hit deeper, churn up your guts and make you see stars. “y-you’re stupid…” you manage to get out, the warmth of your breath glossing his lips as if to taunt your best friend with a kiss. 

“i know…” calloused fingers grab at the backs of your thighs with a bruising grip before yuuta pushes your legs towards your shoulders, both of you grunting and whining in unison when you tighten around him at the new angle. gushing sweet juices that paint his stomach and pelvis.

“y-you shouldn’t have left me,” tears start to brim, collecting in your lash line like diamonds before they hit your cheeks.

you’re so beautiful like this, even when you’re crying— when you’re crying because you’re fucked up on his cock, claiming it with your cream as ur clings to his balls and the veins that spital down his length. 

yuuta’s red hot tip nudges against the soft and squishy spots along your sensitive walls, keeping his thrusts at a rhythmic and passionate pace to make sure the only thing you feel is heaven on earth. your pussy is hot and warm and heaven-like around him, sucking him in so selfishly and tightening every time yuuta’s strong abs grind against your puffy clit. 

“i know,” he sighs dreamily and with an airy voice, licking a stripe from your chin to your cheek as a tear streaks it’s way down it. “won't ever leave you again,” his fingers touch at your face, sinking into the softness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “i’ll never leave you again.” 

“never?” you ask, hiccuping.

“never.” he moans.

you see it there, the love glittering amongst the almond flecks in your childhood best friend’s eyes — he means it, he promises it and you can feel it with every roll of yuuta’s hips into you while he pins you to the bed. he makes love to you and says what he needs to through his actions this time. through your tangled mess of sweaty limbs and fluttering lashes you find okkotsu’s hand, linking them together. 

the sight of your hands meeting one another brings emotions bubbling to the surface of your skin, hot to yuuta’s touch — it's a symbol that you’ve finally come together after being worlds apart for so long. “you’re finally mine, ‘m never letting you go,” his warm breath coasts across the seam of your lips before he dips into kiss you— tongue gliding over yours as it pushes into the depths of your mouth just as his cock does, brushing up against your g-spot and just  kissing your cervix. “you’re always going to be mine.” 

“i-i’m yours,” your eyes roll back and yuuta loses his pace, his entire body twitching the closer you both get. sex taints the air, both in sound and scent, your cunt squelching around him with how wet you are and how much he leaks into you. “g-gonna cum, yuu! make me cum, make me fucking cum.”  you slur out, anchoring the man down to you with your arms around his neck until yuuta’s forehead is pressed against yours. sweaty locks of his hair and all.

yuuta’s body collapses against you and his thrusts switch to sensual grinds that never let up on your spongey g-spot. “f-fuck me, b-baby. ‘m cummin’,” he croons, panting against your lips and with one, two, three more pumps you’re squirting all over him— the pressure unwinds in your lower belly and you’re hit with blinding white lights and your nails dig into yuuta’s shoulder to the point where you leave bright red crescent moons. “that’s it baby, cum for me, make a mess for me. show me you love me— fuck!” 

you’re still trembling with the aftershocks with your orgasm when the brunette follows suit — the warmth of his seed floods your quivering cunt, painting your folds an opaque white before yuuta pulls out. the last droplets of his cum hit your soft tummy accompanied by his high pitched whine  and then he crumples against you, exhausted from the height of it all. 

“i love you so much,” yuuta hums against your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “it’s always been you.” 

“i love you,” you affirm, knowing that no matter what distance is put between you and your best friend (now lover) — you’ll always find your way back to each other. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[impishjesters]

Heavy Petting NSFW

warning(s): kissing, grinding, drooling(?), use of the word dick/cock, no penetration, no genitals used or mentioned towards the reader, overall just heavy petting themes, submissive-like Jax, dominant-ish reader note(s): This is a sort of continuation to my SFW post of touch-starved Jax. So many people, I'm talking so many have asked for an NSFW version and I decided to go far out of my comfort zone to actually write something instead of using the bullet points. (Though there are bullet points for setting up, below the keep reading heads straight into the writing.) A/N: I let Jax have dick privileges (initially I wasn't going to), even though you don't see it. I'm not really confident in my NSFW writing abilities, I've barely held another human's hand let alone bumped clothed uglies with one. Beta read by my mother, yes, you read that correctly.

It doesn’t take long for those little moments of laying in bed together just kissing away at whatever your lips can reach to turn a little more…heated

It was you who brought it up first, asking if he was aware of what more was—he immediately said yes, namely because you were straddling his thigh and your own knee kept nudging against his crotch

Jax for once is a nervous, stuttery mess. If kissing already makes his brain go fuzzy, what the fuck is more going to do??

He oh so graciously lets you lead (let’s face it he’s too nervous, there’s a high chance he’s never done anything like this before)

you start with kisses on his hands and work your way up an arm to his shoulder. it’s nothing fancy, just the standard kisses the two of you have shared before

except now you’re straddling his hips and he’s lying propped up against the pillows in bed

Jax doesn’t know where to look, your position above him has him wanting to look up at you, at your face to try and get some grasp on whatever evil plan is cookin’ up there. But the other half has him wanting to look down at his crotch, sure both of you are completely covered but you’re just sitting, well hovering over his dick.

He knows he said he’d let you take the lead but you are moving slower than he thought. Working kisses over his hands, wrists, all the way up to his shoulders. You even fiddle with the straps of his overalls before brushing them off his shoulders. He’s almost tempted to slip them entirely off his arms as a means of teasing you back but doesn’t get a chance to act on it.

Your lips travel from his shoulder down over the smooth expanse of his upper chest, over his collarbones until you reach his other shoulder. He shudders beneath you and it takes everything in you not to giggle, he’s so sensitive that it’s cute.

A gentle unexpected nip to his neck makes him choke on air, large gloved hands quickly latching onto your hips for leverage.

Perhaps his touch-starved nature ran deeper than you initially thought if he was starting to get this breathy over a few nips and kisses to places you hadn’t focused on before.

Oh, how beautiful he’ll be completely coming undone under you.

“You know the deal.” He swallows hard at the warm breath against his neck, trying to pay attention. “I do anything you don’t like you stop me, and I mean it Jaxy.”

Jax nods, he’s getting a little fidgety just sitting still but it’s not like his usual fidgeting. Irritation is replaced with an embarrassing need, a need for you to hurry the fuck up.

“Nuh uh, verbally sweetie.”

He exhales with a groan, hands tightening on your hips before slipping one of them onto your thigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll say something if I want you to—!!” He’s not even given a chance to finish the sentence before you bite down on his neck.

It’s harder than the nip from before but not painful enough that has him pushing you away. Jax trusts you enough to know that you won’t intentionally harm him. Though he’s pretty sure he’s more worried about the fact that his fucking dick just twitched at being bitten.

If he wasn’t embarrassed before he is now.

Kisses are placed over the bite mark and holy shit you left a mark! You aren’t sure why that’s hotter than it should be, you weren’t actually expecting the bite marks to stick like that? This world is too confusing at times.

Apparently, you’re taking too long, because Jax’s hands squeeze at the flesh under them and he pulls you down, finally sitting you down on his lap. He has the decency to not yank you directly onto his crotch but just a few inches away and wow, that’s…warm.

This whole situation is embarrassing enough he really doesn’t want to embarrass himself more by finishing that quickly.

Somehow, lasting long doesn’t feel like it’ll be an option though because your hands slip up his arms, one hand coming to rest on his neck and the other coming up to an ear. You tug his ear as if it were hair, forcing his head to jerk backward and further reveal the untouched portions of his neck.

A breathy moan jumps out of his throat before he has the chance to try and compose himself. Fuck he almost came, that’s fucking embarrassing.

There’s barely enough time to process the pleasant sting from his ear being yanked before you attack his neck with bites and kisses. To throw even more on him your hips shift forwards against his and fucking hell that is indeed a very warm crotch against his own. Fuck.

Well, there goes all attempts at lasting as long as he can because he’s not positive that he came but the crotch of his overalls is definitely wetter than he thinks it should be.

Tears pool in his eyes, not out of pain but pleasure, he honestly didn’t think you could cry over pleasure. Just something for extra flavour in movies where some poor sap starts crying during sex or whatever. He’s quickly learning that may not be the case.

The hand on his neck vanishes but doesn’t go far, fingers ghosting down his arm until it reaches the hand on your thigh. Bucking your hips you push his hand further up, pressing down onto his hand to let him know he’s allowed to move back against you.

You might be in charge but you weren’t limiting him from being able to seek out his own pleasure and chase after it.

Finishing though? That was your job.

The bites die down but the kisses don’t stop, every inch you can reach of bare skin is fair game. Chest, neck, jaw, lips—err teeth? Jax is too busy being a breathy moaning mess to really process the regular kisses but he returns them when he can. His main focus is on the way you grind down on his cock, it’s not just front and back rubbing. You’re twisting your hips and pulling back now and then, causing his own hips to buck up in an attempt to get that sweet friction back.

“Oooohh fuuuck..” His hand slips back to your thigh, tugging your hips down in time with his own grinding. The other hand goes to your lower back, fingers digging tightly into the fabric and nearly ripping it right off you.

Truthfully, you aren’t even doing much work. Yes, you are grinding on him, changing up the motion and pace, but the majority of the friction is entirely on him.

You have to take a break from kissing him to simply just stare down at him, his ears are pressed flat and there are unshed tears still lingering in his eyes. His usual lilac skin is flushed pink and there’s…a trail of saliva starting to leave the corner of his mouth.

He looks completely ruined and it’s only been a few minutes. Though you can’t blame him for that, when the two of you first started simple kisses in bed it already seemed like he’d just pop a boner then and there. Maybe he did, who knows?

What you do know is that you aren’t going to judge him, regardless of how he behaves or how quickly he finishes.

“That’s it, such a good boy.” Your words are soft, boarding on teasing but overall genuine in praise. He’s an utter mess but he’s doing so well, pulling you against him and working after his own high.

When the kisses stop he struggles to gain a moment of clarity to look up at you and watch you watching him. Your face is so tender and warm, under normal circumstances he’d comment on how dumb you look. No, that’s wrong he doesn’t think you look dumb, it’s just a completely foreign expression he’s not used to seeing directed at him. He’s seen that took on the face of others directed at their loved one, but never at himself.

His hips stop and his hands slip up your back to pull you in closer. It’s not fair that he’s the one getting all this attention after all—even though he doesn’t know that was your intention.

You are only a little surprised when he stops moving and you let him pull you down against his chest. He peppers a few kisses to your face, brushing your hair out of the way before his mouth trails over your jaw and down to your neck.

Jax is loosely trying to copy what you had done to him, though his head was full of cotton at the time so he’s having to make it up as he goes along. But whatever he’s doing gets the job done because you’re letting out quiet little whimpers.

“Jax, you don’t have to do that… this was supposed to be about you.” It’s mumbled through gritted teeth, the little attack was so sudden that you didn’t have the time to choke back those embarrassing little whimpers.

A grin makes its way to his face, one of your hands coming up to wipe away the drool before pinching his cheek. “You wipe that smirk off right now.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will.” He snorts, one of his hands gently stroking at your lower back, fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt. “Bet you thought I was just gonna lay back and let you do all the work without even giving you anything in return?”

Jax let you lead, he never said anything about not including you in this.

It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes, just when he was being cute he had to go and try to take back the control. Whether it was because he needed to be in control to feel comfortable or just because he wanted to get back at you for easily turning him into an embarrassing little mess, though you knew it was likely a little of both. You did sort of take the reigns from him.

His hand slipped under your shirt but never left your back as you sat back up in his lap. Your hand took his free hand and slipped it over your thigh to your ass and of course, he had to give it a good squeeze. This time you roll your eyes, a small smile tugging on your lips. “Then how about we do this together? I’m sure,” you push your hips downwards on his neglected cock, “this little guy is feeling pretty neglected.”

Jax choked out a “rude” at the comment, caught off guard at the action but quickly bounced back. “I’ll have you know it’s perfectly proportionate to my height.”

“Another time.” Your hand returns to his ear but instead of just the one, you tug them both forcing his head back. Jax lets out a loud moan, whimpering and shuddering under you before your hips start moving against his.

The trail of drool returns in no time as the two of you move against one another, your fingers stay tangled in his ears and he makes no attempts at moving, only using one hand to pull you down into a messy wet kiss. It’s not often but his teeth separate enough for his tongue to slip out, the two of you learned early on how to work around his teeth and the rare occasions that included his tongue.

Both of you move like a well-oiled machine against one another, when open mouth kisses become too much, at risk of him biting his or your tongue the two of you move to kiss one another elsewhere. He kisses your neck while you’re kissing his shoulder.

The wet spot at his crotch only grows, an occasional glance downwards shows him it’s not just his own mess now but yours as well and fuck, if that isn’t hot as hell. At least he’s feeling less alone and a tad less embarrassed now that he knows this sticky mess isn’t entirely his fault.

Moans and ramblings of breathy pleas for more fill the room, the kisses quickly get abandoned the closer the two of you get.

The hand at his ears leaves, and both of your arms move to wrap around his neck before burying your face into the space between your arm and his neck. Both of you know neither of you will last much longer, all you want to do is hold tightly onto him, and he takes the lead.

Large hands wrap around your hips, and with little effort, he’s working your hips against his own. The bite of your nails on his shoulders lets him know you are close, and even when you let out a loud cry beside his head indicating you came he doesn’t stop.

It’s sensitive and borders on discomfort but you don’t stop him, he still hasn’t finished. Unraveling your arms from his neck you reach up and take hold of his face, your thumb slips into the side of his mouth against his teeth and applies just a gentle pressure to get him to open his mouth.

His tongue rolls out and you jump at that chance to kiss him. These kisses are his favourite and he’s ashamed to admit that the kisses are more than enough to push him over the edge.

Jax cries out a slew of cuss words that get censored, even the moment of ecstasy can’t be ruined by those obnoxious censorship sounds. His hips jerk a few more times before stilling, all though his hands stay glued to you the rest of him relaxes and slumps into the pillows.

His mind is too far gone to even process that he really just came to a bunch of kissing and grinding. For fuck sake his dick is still covered too. Ah shit, that’ll be an interesting mess to clean up.

You slump forward against him and simply lie there, soaking up the afterglow. Or tried to that is because, of course, Jax had to open his mouth.

“Gross.” He groans and finally removes a hand from your hip to rub his face.

Gross because of the mess in his pants, gross because he’s embarrassed that he didn’t last long—because he knows for a fact now that he came twice. He fucking came from you tugging on his ear and now that memory will forever haunt him and have him more aware the next time you go to scratch his head and ears.

Overall he’s not actually unhappy and you can tell, despite the annoyance plastered on his face you can tell he actually enjoyed it. If anything he’s probably trying to balance out his emotions and process everything that happened.

The annoyance pools into one of his iconic grins and you can’t help but feel a tinge of fear in that grin. There’s something in that grin that tells you that this isn’t over.

[etfrin]

❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ worries — coriolanus snow ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞

☆　Warning: NSFW | pinv sex, creampie, cum eating, blowjob, orgasm control, overstimulation, loss of virginity (m.), handjob, mutual masterbation (each other) if you squint, riding, spit play, breath play, reader has fem! anatomy, mentions of blood & blood sucking (from a lip bite)| lmk if I forgot anything

☆　Pairing: afab/gn! soft dom(-ish)! Reader x sub(-ish)! virgin! Coriolanus Snow

☆　Summary: uhm, you take Snows' virginity <3

☆　A/N: first time writing gn reader, please be respectful and tell me if anything's wrong, but don't be mean about it and i finally wrote reader spitting in Coryos' mouth and it should be a regular thing, look AT him ugh, a meal fr, wanna eat him, suck off all of his cu- i should stop...

Ps. The one who requested this to be gn, i hope you like this and i did it justice, if there's anything wrong (like accidentally refering to the reader as fem) then please let me knw :)

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“You've never done this before?” You questioned as you entered his room. All cold and dusty stone with a bed on the corner. The bed in which you plan to do unspeakable things with him.

“No, he said, “Will that be a-” You shake your head as you see his wide blue eyes waiting for rejection. He hated that he brought you here. He hated that you saw him. Him. Not Coriolanus Snow from the academy but Coryo who tries and tries but gets fucked over anyway.

After finding out that the District 12 girl was his, he wanted to protest, he was being set up to fail. You saw him for he is, his mind filled with worries, endless thoughts running around making him unable to breathe. He felt invalid and he needed you to do something about it.

And as you notice him among the crowd, seduce him with your eyes and whisper your desires to him. He brings you to the penthouse, trying to control the urge to apologize as you have to walk 12 cases of stairs.

You knew his secret like the dean did but you didn't do anything about it except for the meals and clothes sent to him anonymously during the coldest nights of Panem but he didn't know that.

You walked towards him, pinning him to the door of his room with a gentle thud. “You don't have to worry about anything, princess,” you whispered to him, your eyes filled with lust and your lips twisted in a teasing smile. You run your finger over his sharp jaw, taking joy when a soft gasp comes from him. His breathing is getting faster and the blood rushing from his cock and his head turning empty from your simple touch.

You were going to have some fun with this boy. You're going to make him yours. Make him forget and help him through everything as his now serrah. Even if it means rigging the games so he would win. It's your job to care for him now and you're a perfectionist.

The first task, let the wide-eyed man feel pleasure in someone's touch for the first time. You tsk in dissatisfaction as your fingers feel his bony chest. He needs to eat, he needs to be pampered. ‘I'll have to fix that’, you thought as you pressed your lips on his collarbone. He lets out a breath, his body heating up from the kisses you plant on his chest. Your tongue teasing his nipple causes him to whimper and you earn a broken moan when your teeth decide to nip the bud.

You suck his nipple, savoring the gasp he makes and how his fingers wove into your hair. “Please. Please more,” he groans and who are you to deny him? You couldn't say no to his pretty face even if you didn't want to. So you get down on your knees, pushing your face into his crotch and you swear you could smell the heady scent of his pre-cum soaking through his trousers. You moan, deciding to tease him as you use your teeth to pull down his zipper. You'll never know the will it took for Coriolanus not to cum right then and there.

You take down his trousers, the line of his hard cock clear in his boxes, a wet spot of his pre-cum formed where the tip is. You decided not to tease him words but with actions, your tongue licks the wetness, letting your saliva sweep into the fabric along with his salty pre. He groans above you, a thud echoing into this room as the back of his head hits the door.

You set his cock free from its confines, your mouth watering as you look at the pink tip forming a bead of pearly white pre-cum. The tip of your tongue catches it and the pleasure (or torture) of Coriolanus Snow begins.

You start simply, teasingly as your lips trail sloppy wet kisses all over his length. Your tongue traces along the pretty veins of his cock, your lips reaching his base and mouthing his cock causing him to let out a needy whine and a plea of more, more and more. You repeat the process until you catch his cockhead inside of the carven of your warm, wet mouth. Another broken groan leaves his mouth as he sees your lips stretch around his mushroom tip.

The fingers of his curled in your hair tightens and as a warning you make your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs causing him to his and immediately loosen his grip on you. An apology falls from his lips, his eyes glossing over as he feels his dick getting wet. Your mouth begins to suck his tip. Your tongue savors the bitterness of him as you swirl your tongue around his slit, lapping up as much as possible.

Meanwhile, Snow was biting his lower lip as hard as possible, the blood pooling in his mouth as he tried to keep much of his sound quiet for the sake of others who might be home. His mind was blank, all he could think was how pretty you looked on your knees like this, how you took control despite the one kneeling. You didn't even take all of him, sucking his cockhead diligently but the rest of his cock was left out. He was glad that did so because he knew he couldn't take the hot, wet mouth of yours all over his cock without cumming on the spot.

He could feel himself venture too close to spilling inside of your mouth, he let his free hand venture down to the path and he gripped the base of his cock trying to ruin his upending orgasm.

You take your mouth off him, making him let out a desperate whimper as he feels his dick out of your warm carven. You raised an eyebrow at him, feeling utterly amused by how adorable he is. You kiss his tip. “Trying to last longer, baby?” You questioned with a teasing tilt in your voice.

“I don't want to” Snow can't admit the fact he doesn't want to cum so soon, it's embarrassing so he says it in different terms, “I want this to last.” His eyes were now fully blown with lust, his curls clinging to his forehead and his cheeks painted red with pleasure.

“Hmm,” you hum, standing up trying to ignore the slight ache of your knees. You take his hand, guiding the boy to bed before pushing him on the mattress. You straddle him, his shirt was long forgotten on the floor along with the rest of his clothes. It was your turn now and you quickly did the same. Coryo lets out a needy soft noise as your skin is exposed to his eyes, his fingers skimming along the curves of your body. “Can I?” He asked, his eyes begging for your agreement.

“Yes, Coryo. You can,” you permit him and you nearly let out a wanton moan as the heat of his fingertips sweeps into your skin, warming you up as his hands experimentally begin to knead your breasts. His fingers squeeze your nipples making you softly moan near his ear. “That's it, baby. Make me feel good.” You whispered to him, “A bit rougher- ah- ah- there you go. That's a good boy.”

His hips jolt forward when you praise him and a whine escapes from the back of his throat. “Please,” he lets out, “Let me feel you. I will be good, I promise.” You gaze wonders at his angry red tip and you decide not to play with him any further for the moment. You kiss his forehead for a moment of vulnerability in all of this tension. “Okay, my prince,” you whispered as you kissed his lips next, letting your tongues meet in a rather filthy and sloppy kiss as you let him guide you to your back on the mattress.

His hand traces down and gets a hold of your hips, his fingers squeezing the flesh a tad too hard but it felt so good and the fact he would leave marks didn't bother you. Your fingers wove into his blonde strands, bringing him down to catch his lips in an open mouth kiss. As your other hand is on his shoulder, his body pressed onto yours and you moan into his mouth as you feel his comforting weight on top of you. His dick twitched against your thigh, leaking pre-cum onto your skin.

You take in his bleeding bottom lip in your mouth and suck on it, enjoying the tang of the metallic taste on his tongue as he clumsily begins to press his cockhead into your soaking cunt. You were so focused on Coriolanus that you had forgotten about your aching cunt begging to be stretched with his cock.

If it hadn't felt so good when his cock slid right in because of how wet you were, you would have been embarrassed. You bite into his lower lip, trying to adjust to the burn of being stretched by his thick cock. If you weren't so impatient, you would have taught Coryo how to prep you first but that's for another day.

Coryo feels your teeth sinking into his bottom lip and a wanton, surprised moan leaves his mouth, his balls emptying and thick spurts of his cum flood into your pussy. You cry out as you feel his cock cumming against your pulsating walls. He buried his head onto your shoulder as he gasped his apology. As much as frustration filled your mind, you knew that you had to be gentle with your plaything.

You run your fingers through his hair, comforting him. “It's fine,” you whispered, your lips placing soft kisses on his shoulder. “But I don't want it to be over,” he admitted, shyness and desperation filling in his tone. “It doesn't have to be,” you replied as you squeeze your walls around his softening cock. A wicked smile plays on your lips, as you whisper, “It isn't over until I say so.”

He nods, willing to agree with whatever you say. You pushed him off you, getting yourself on top of him as his soft cock fully slips out of your pussy, leaving the entrance pushing out of his cum. Your fingers gather his seed and you pop your digits into your mouth, your tongue lapping up his taste off your fingertips. His dick twitches from the sight, coming back to life as Coryo lets out a whine while he looks at you sucking your fingers so good with your mouth hollow.

You take his length in your hand, fingers surrounding the girth in a perfect fist. He hissed when you squeezed and began to stroke him slowly. Trying your best not to overwhelm him and failing miserably because tears were pooling in his eyes, his lips were parted to leave wounded, pretty sounds. His fingers curled on the bed sheets as you stroke his cock back to life.

You lean to press another kiss to the tip, your eyes peering at his teary ones. “You sure?” You asked, you had to pat his cheek for an answer because all that left his mouth as you questioned was a whimper.

“Do you want to continue, Coryo?” You asked, in the softest tone possible. Your mind is ready to cuddle him for aftercare and draw a shower. But instead, he shakes his head, “Don't please- I need this.”

“Okay, I won't,” you whispered back, your lips pressing a wet kiss to his cheek, and then let the kisses trail until you reach his neck where his pulse is. Your mouth begins to suck as you continue to stroke his length, your fist now covered with his drooling pre-cum, a bit more watery than before.

Your free hand goes to your cunt, your fingers rubbing your clit to feel some relief from your aching pussy. Coriolanus notices that and can't help but feel bad. His fingers wrapped around your wrist stopping your movements, a silent question in his eyes and you removed your hand in answer.

A giddiness could be seen in Coryos as he explores your cunt for the first time. You get into a position where it is easier for you both to play with each other. He spreads your pussy lips, his eyes taking in your glistening cunt (with your juices and his cum). He swipes at your folds, gathering the wetness all over his digits, and you encourage him to take the digits in his mouth, and of course, he agrees.

He will do anything to get his head empty and his body to be jelly. So he takes his fingers in his mouth, letting his tongue lick every remnant of your juices and his bitter cum. He groans, his eyes getting cross stared and his cock begins to throb dangerously in your end. He was close to the edge again by such a simple thing.

‘Cute’ you thought, but you don't want him to cum again without getting something in return. So you stopped the strokes, ignoring his confusion, and pleas for more. Instead, you guide yourself on his cock again, your eyes flashing to him with a warning that despite the gentleness you had shown, you could be cruel too.

Yet when you sink on his cock, you make sure to hold his hand, fingers intertwined for comfort. You murmur endless praises to him.

“That's a good boy.” “Look at you filling me up so well.” “Ah- fuck, baby. Your cock is stretching me out perfectly.”

Each praise made his cock throb against your pulsating walls. This time he didn't cum immediately, but the jolt of electricity that went through his veins when both of your pelvis bones were touching, now joined to the hilt felt like he did. You take the hand you were holding and kiss the inside of your wrist with butterfly kisses.

These simple actions of yours were overwhelming to him. No one had cared for him so delicately like he was glass. It meant everything to him and a rush of emotions caused tears to begin to flow from his eyes.

You chalked his crying to overstimulation and leaned forward to kiss his eyelids. “It's okay,” you whispered against his ear, “It's okay, Coryo.” You let out a soft moan as you begin to move your hips. Slow and shallow thrusts. You hear him groan too, his hand squeezing yours. His free hand on your ass, groping the flesh.

“That's a good boy,” you whispered when you began to speed up your rocking hips making Coriolanus gasp. “You're doing so well, my dear,” you praised him. You moan as your hips find the perfect angle to hit the spongy spot in your gummy walls.

You begin to ride Coryo in earnest. His cock stroked the deepest part of your slick walls with each thrust. It makes you see stars with each breath you take. It was perfect and you made sure that Snow knew that with your hushed praises. Meanwhile, Coriolanus wasn't better off either with molten lava in his body, his mind now blank with how good getting dick wet felt.

He never understood the hype about sex but now he was addicted. He was sure he was going to need you like air, like a puppy going for a pet to its owner for comfort. He was going to need you after this, again and again.

He was close, wanting to cum again, he could feel how wet your walls were and wondered if it was your juices or his own that contributed to it the most. He was close so he voiced that. “I am-” he closed his eyes, feeling the burn of embarrassment, “Close.”

You hum in response, stopping your movements to catch a much-needed breath. “You're not allowed to cum until I say so, pretty boy,” you said with authority, “I let it go the first time, now I expect you to behave.” You add, “You'll cum with my permission or else. . .” You smirk, “You're a smart boy, Coryo. You wouldn't like punishment, would you?”

Coriolanus shakes his head, he sniffs and you find it adorable how his nose scrunches up that it makes you smile at him. “I will be good, I promise,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Please.”

You give him a nod. You leaned down to kiss his lips, both of your tongues tangling together into something soft. Your hand leaves the grip it had on his hand to wrap itself around his neck. He moans inside your mouth as you put a bit of pressure onto his neck, not restricting his breathing but certainly making him light-headed. It worked as a good distraction.

Your free hand goes between your bodies and you find your clit. Your fingers begin to play with the bud. Small circles send jolts of pleasure to your core, making your cunt tighten around his dick. It made his hip snap back into yours, a deep groan resounding in the room as his hips began to thrust into you. Just small movements of sheer desperation of wanting to cum.

You were feeling the same, desperation clawing your body as the tension keeps building and building each time his cockhead grazes your g-spot. You were so close and everything turned sloppy.

Two animals in heat it seemed with how the two of you were acting. Your fingers pinch your clit as you begin to rock on his cock faster than ever, deep groans leaving Coryo's lips and his hands holding onto your hips to ground him as he takes whatever you give.

He was pussy drunk, his eyes glazed over and mouth drooling on the corners. You were pathetic enough to lick the saliva, holding his jaw open as you gathered your spit inside your mouth and then you let the goop of drool fall onto his tongue.

You thought for a moment this would snap him out from his fucked out glaze, except he swallowed it without a word, his hips stuttering in the pace and he mutters, his lips glistening, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” And god, that ruined you.

Your cunt begins to spasm around his cock, flexing walls around his length causing him to cry out for permission to let go and you yell out a yes. Liquidy spurts of cum begin to shoot out of his tip and inside your womb. Both of you let out a moan as the thrusts begin to slow down and cease.

As soon as you catch your breath and your body feels solidified, you caress his cheek. “Would you like to cuddle, baby?”

The answer to that was a breathless yes.

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[frogchiro]

Beauty is in the eye of The Beholder

Author's note: My first kinktober entry!! Yay! We're staring with a new-ish concept so I hope you like it!

Also I apologize for the short story but I was moving into my dorm for uni today and it literally took all day so I apologize in advance :((

Warnings: slight nsfw, reader is female, general creepyness, whatever König is (human or not) isn't explicitly specified but he does some unnerving/possibly uncomfortable stuff like stalking so keep it in mind, mentioned death but nothing explicit.

The almost suffocating warmth coming from behind you is almost too much. Almost. However considering the events of the day you guess that it could be called comfortable to be cuddled and nuzzled by König, your colonel, your superior and...well, mate as he calls it. It can be sometimes tricky to hear him, for a man that size he's unnervingly silent and stealthy and his voice is low and quiet, almost whispery, not to mention that König just doesn't talk much so to hear him rasp that one word, 'mate', in your direction is a feat in itself.

While at first you were terrified of the enormous male due to all the stated reasons something about him was equally unnerving and yet alluring, like an invisible pull towards him.

At first you thought you were going crazy, everywhere you went you saw the tall, lean figure of the colonel doing nothing but just...watching you. His bloodshot eyes stared at you without ever blinking as you laid a USB stick with data you managed to hack with a tremble in your hands, your eyes not daring to meet his. Another such instance was when he almost scared you to death in an empty hallway at night when you just wanted to get a quick midnight snack from the kitchen and just barely held in a scream when you noticed König standing in a dark corner, silent and static like always, his head wasn't even moving under his cowl except for his eyes which followed you as you were scuttling and whispering shaky excuses.

You were KorTac's newest asset, a skilled hacker and yet many soldiers underestimated you; you guess you can't really blame them, you're only in your early twenties and your soft build isn't really military-esque so you suppose you kinda look a little mismatched, but that doesn't excuse what people were whispering behind your back. Not all of them, not even the majority as you were considered friendly and overall harmless, and yet these few whispered sneers cut deep into your self esteem which eventually led you into the moment you were now in.

You were laying under a thick blanket with König plastered against your back, your quiet sniffles the only thing that disturbed the otherwise quiet room. You felt bad that you were taking up König's time, after all as a colonel he surely had better things to do than lay around with his 'mate' and comfort her after some asshole insulted her although a small, selfish part of you was over the moon with happiness that the huge male behind you was cuddling and comforting you so sweetly despite not muttering anything besides the occasional nuzzle and a raspy 'pretty...soft...mine'.

Turning around, you smiled tiredly at the man beside you, his wide blue eyes never blinking as they continued to stare at you with the devotion and love someone may only give their god and yet here you are, loved and cherished by this huge man, a monster many call him, a merciless goliath that kills and destroys everything in his path like a god of war but you know better. König's huge hands ran up and down your soft sides, lightly grazing your belly and finally his large, warm hands slipped under your pajama shirt and up to your breast where he squeezed lightly, pinching at your nipple.

"König...Please I-", your pleading for...whatever were quickly cut short when the long haired male leaned in with a purr deep in his chest and nuzzled his hooked nose against your cheek, scarred lips making tiny movements as if kissing you making you giggle wetly, your former awful mood lifting, instead being replaced by a warm feeling of love and pleasure as the big male above you kept nuzzling and kissing you insistently, his hand working your sensitive breasts and slipping down to your pants to finger at your clit making you moan out.

Unbeknownst to you, König already had a plan in his mind. A plan he started to make the moment his sensitive ears caught your distressed sniffles making a concerned whine come up from his chest and the moment he saw you, he could clearly see right through you. Someone hurt you. S̷̙̭̦̜͚̑͝͝o̷̹̺͓͙̭̍̚ͅͅm̸͕̹͖̩̰͝e̸̤͖̞̯̍̂̋̚͜o̷̝̫͎̬͎̟̲̦̞̍̆̿̀̀͛̐ņ̴̧͉̭̪̣̖͆̉̅̀e̵̜̜̪̯͛͑́͘ ̶͎̣̱͎̹̻͍̥̔́͝h̵̙̰͊̈́̑͛̌̚u̷͉̝̤̾̆͌̂̓̀̏̕r̸̛̞̘͉̦͙͈͎̫̩͒͊͗̓́͝t̶̯̝͎̮͕̩̹̀̍ ̷̧̨͔̮͉͇͊͂̏͌̆̅͠y̸̡̛͕͉̖͈͗̿̅ơ̷̢͖̼͉͚͔͊̍̊̂̈ͅŭ̷̦͔͚̈́̊̚. And now he needed to know who. Ah. It was Gavin huh. That overly confident, cocksure rookie who thought that the military was rainbow and fucking sunshine, shaded glasses, cool uniforms, huge expensive cars and women to fuck left and right.

He suspected that that prick made some unwanted advances towards you and the moment you rejected him it was 180 and he was nitpicking everything you did or even how you looked. König knew he was gonna be a problem from the moment he laid eyes on him and now he though it funny to make his mate cry?

You know what they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Him being the mentioned beholder and König isn't known to be the most benevolent person...If someone doesn't appreciate your beauty of a goddess, why would they need their eyes?

[grugruel]

Wicked Game

Pairings: cop!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: An out of control college party gets crashed by cops, someone tattled, and a cop chase ensues.

The chief is an old friend of your family, who you'd always had a crush on.

Thinking he's harmless, you talk back. But he can only hold back for so long.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: reader is 20, pinv sex, rough sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), choking, uniform kink, sir kink, reader being bratty, bucky doing something about it!! edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, handjob, fingering, pet names (girl, doll), praise (yay), mentions of masturbation, slight marking, degrading ish? cum eating, creampie, power dynamic, some soft!bucky at the end.

AN: This is not a Lee bodecker fic! This is just regular, muscly cop!bucky.

Blaring music and thumping bass fill an already crowded house, drunk daredevils otherwise inhabiting it.

God, my skull feels like it's about the cave in. The average college experience in other words.

I'd been drinking the least out of my friends, yet I felt the worst. They sat on the couch around me, trying the wide assortment of drugs that were splayed out in front of us. Littering the table along with various hard liqour bottles, all mostly empty.

Drugs arent my forte, but I wont nark them.

The party had only been going for an hour or so, I think? My lockscreen told me it was 2 in the night, holy shit? It had been 5 hours.

How the hell had no one called the cops yet? Little did I know, how badly I jinxed myself.

'Guys, Guys.' I lazily shrugged the shoulders of two of my friends sitting on each side of me, 'We- we, gotta go.'

'We're fine!' One of them drawled, splaying out on the couch.

I shook my head, head thumping in each bend, 'Theres literally. . .' I paused, searching tiredly for the right words, 'Uhm- No way! That the cops arent on their way here like, right now.'

'We've lasted this long.' The other said, shrugging his shoulders, grinning.

I groaned, 'Fine!' And threw my hands up in defeat, my friend observed me smugly. He held up some coke for me, raising his brows in question. To which I shook my head again.

A sharp alarm cut through the music, everyone groaned, heads complaining at the sound. I figured it was something with the sound system, but no.

I just had to jinx myself, remember?

As my ears adjusted to the sound, I realised. It's sirens, two or three. Cops.

'It's the fucking cops!' I shouted, alerting everyone. The music cut off, and the sirens clarified into the deafening sound of jail, or curfew. Depending on the cop. I was hoping and dreading the Chief in equal amounts, he could take it easy on me, or not.

I roused my friends, dragging them up from the couch and filtering them through the backdoor. Along with at least a hundred other people our age.

My attempts at freeing them had made me lag behind, one of my friends grabbed my arm, 'Come on!' She shouts, trying to pull me with them. But theres to many people between us and she loses her grip, swept away by the crowd.

The front door swings open behind me, and I freeze. Slowly turning around, I see a tall, broad shouldered figure standing silently observing the chaos from the doorway. He stepped inside, searching the crowd, and eventually. His eyes land on me.

'Give em' hell. Get the ones you can!' He barks the orders at his men, and then his eyes narrow in on me. Staring me down, 'And leave this one to me.' His words make my skin crawl, in fear of my parents finding out and possibly, excitement?

I wouldn't say no to punishment dealt by Chief Barnes.

His men rush past me out the backdoor, leading me to back up slowly. Placing the Coffee table between me and the Chief, securing myself somewhat.

Slowly, he stalks forward. A slanted smile growing with every step that he takes, making chills run up my spine. His uniform does him good I notice, shirt and pants sitting around his muscles perfectly. Belt and gun? Hot.

'Heeey, Buck.' I smile cheapishly, 'Fancy meeting you here.' Testing the waters, seeing what chances my charms have of easing the situation for myself.

He nods, raising his eyebrows in response and grins in spite, as if answering, "I'm sure it is" and "You're in deep fuckin shit now."

I laugh nervously and try again, 'I didn't know you enjoy college parties Buck? Or just, college girls?'

Amused, he steps closer, It's now only the table separating us. I step up on the couch behind me, desperately trying to make up for the space I'm losing. He puts his hands around his belt buckle, smirking. At least my incredibly funny self seems to have softened him.

He looks down, studying its content, then looks back up at me. His face turns displeased, undoing all my previous hard work to humour him.

I follow his gaze, looking at the table myself, and it dawns on me, 'No no no no!' I throw out in panic, 'Listen, Buck. . .'

'What could you possibly have to say-' he began and lowered his head, giving me a serious look, 'To get yourself out of this one?' referring to the table.

'I can think of a few things, I might have an ace in my sleeve.' I smirk. Metaphoricly speaking of course, my blouse does not have long sleeves.

He takes a firm step closer, a bemused look on his face, 'Ok Ok! It's not mine! It's not, mine.' I gesture to myself, then to the table in erratic motions. 'I'm an innocent bystander, I just sat on the couch. Never even touched the stuff.' I hold my hands up, palms out. As if it would stop him.

'Theres nothing innocent about you girl.' He tells me sternly, the corner of his lip tugging.

Stunned, there's a sudden flutter in my stumache.

Suddenly, the energy between us change. The tension grows and the look in his eyes turn hungry, like a hunter watching its prey.

'Pinky promise?' I ask, shrugging cheapishly.

He takes a few quick steps toward me, rounding the table. But I run to the end of the couch, making sure that the table is still between us. Butterflies surge through my body, giddy from excitement. This is the most fun I'd had all night. 'Buck, let's- lets be civil about this, alright? Let's just talk.' I giggle.

He chuckles, 'Oh, you think this is funny?'

Nodding, 'Kind of, yes. . .' I tease.

'We're far past talking.' He breathes, 'Had I been anyone else, had I not known your parents, you would've been in cuffs by now.'

My eyes turn mischievous, 'Whats stopping you?' I tilt my head, 'I assure you, I wouldn't mind.' And grin.

He chews the inside of his cheek, then charges, and I run, swivelling to avoid solo cups and various balloons on the floor. I hear his footsteps behind me, catching up. My agility is nothing compared to his raw muscle and speed, but I swerve into the kitchen, adrenaline kicking in. And manage to take cover behind the kitchen island.

Bucky grinds to a halt, slamming his palms into the counter, catching himself against it. Once again, im in safety. For a while at least.

'Youre gonna have to be faster than that.' I pant, grinning. He meets my eyes, pure animalistic tendencies behind them. The look on his face has me biting my lip, I couldn't wait for him to catch me. 'C'mon Chief.' I purr.

And somethings in his eyes ignite at the word, oh?

'Chief?' I test and he grunts, eyes glaring at me through his eyebrows. Naturally, I delve deeper, 'You feeling quite alright. . . Sir?'

He tilts his head with a jerk, then laughs 'You've done it now.' Those are warning words. Then he jumps, sliding over the counter.

'Holy shit!' I squeek as I take of running, narrowly avoiding his grasp. I run through the house with Bucky right on my heels, nothing but the the thrill of the chase keeping me going.

I run out by the backdoor, then stupidly enough, take a right. Into a garden, a fenced in garden. The high type of fence too. I regret my decision the second I see notice it, but its to late. Buckys steps slow behind me, and I slow to a stop myself as I come face to face with a dead-end. 'Oh, fuck me.' I breathe, absolutely exhausted.

'Famous last words, doll.' He cuckles between pants.

I turn around and smile through the pain, 'Ha ha! Funny guy. What. A funny. Guy.' I clench my teeth, sighing.

My eyes lock onto his frame, hands on his hips as he's catching his breath. Mesmerized I stare, men in uniform, huh? Im starting to see the appeal.

Slowly, he begins walking toward me, prowling like a tiger. He grabs hold of his belt, pulling it upward to adjust his pants.

God damn.

My uterus is aching, my entire body is aching. I would've drooled if I hadnt come to my senses, escaping. Right.

I make a break for it. In one quick motion, I turn around and jump. Grabbing hold of the upper ledge of the fence and pull myself up, my feet scrambling against the wood to find some sort of purchase. But im too slow, too focused. I didn't even hear him come up behind me, but I did feel his big hands on my waist.

He yanks me down and pushes me toward the fence, his body flush against my back. I gasp and he digs his fingertips into my waist, making sure I don't escape again. His touch makes me yearn for more, I want it deeper.

He levels his head with mine, leaning in close to my ear. Close enough to feel his hot breathing against the skin on my neck, 'I got you now.' He whispers, making my skin prickle with goosebumps and setting of a pulse deep below my stumache. But I wasn't willing to give up just yet. With my hands free, I pry his own from my waist and turn around, pushing him back by the chest.

Now. . . The intention was to push him hard enough to give me space to run past, but. . .

He barely budged, he grabbed my wrists and pushed me back against the fence, pinning my body between the wood and himself. Wrists in hand, he anchored my arms to my sides by grabbing onto the fabric of my skirt. Rouching it, he helt the flesh of my ass under his fingers.

I laugh nervously, 'You're not gonna tell mom and dad are you?'

He just chuckles, fuck im truly, in deep shit.

I try wriggling free from his grip, but he holds my wrists tighter, carefully slamming them into the fence above my head and leans against me. Leaving zero space for me to move, every curve of our bodies complete the others, I swear I can feel his bulge against my hip. He moves his face closer to mine, needing me to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. When I do, a self-satisfied smile covers his lips. His face inches from my own, we were basically sharing one breath as his lips barely brush over mine. 'You gonna be a good girl for me and behave?' He asks, breathing heavily.

I whine, he can't possibly turn me on more. 'Depends.' I say.

''Yeah?' He practically whimpers.

I close the distance between our lips, but he pulls back and smiles, teasing me. I meet his eyes and we look at eachother intently, as if entranced, I cant break contact.

He lets go of my wrists and traces his hands down my arms, all the way down to my hands. Chills run amock over my body, I close my eyes and lean in again, but suddenly-

I hear a clasp, then another and I can just feel him smirk against me. My eyes go wide and I realise, 'You didn't.' glaring at him.

'I did.' He laughs, 'What made you think you were in a position to negotiate?'

I look down and sure enough, cuffs bind my wrists together. Shocked, my mouth falls open. I didnt even feel him reach for them.

He backs up and grabs my arm, pulling me with him. 'Could you at least let me off around the corner from our house?' I ask as we make our way toward his car, he glaces down at me but doesnt answer, 'So they dont see me get dropped off in a cruiser, you know?' He opens the front door for me, and helps me inside, 'And maybe avoid talking to them for a few weeks, you'd really be doing me a favor, Buck.' And without a word, he closes the door and walks around to his side. Getting in and driving off.

The first portion of the ride is silent, he'd done what he had to, to catch me. Damn.

Luckily for me though, the party was a long way from home. Meaning I have some time to devise a plan.

I look at my cuffs, carefully observing them. Hmm. . . I yank my hands apart, trying the strength of the schackles, hoping the sound would gather his attention.

This was a game of chance, a game of seduction and persuasion.

Gently, I tickle the skin on my upper knee, 'I really didnt do any drugs y'know.' tracing back and forth with my fingertips, acting somber. Then lay my hand flat against my thigh, squeezing it absentmindedly. Continuing with rubbing small, firm circles with my index finger into my skin and turn to look out of the window.

Bucky clears his throat. The reaction I was looking for, perfect.

I spread my legs slightly, letting my hands slide down either side of my thigh. Clasping them together underneath and slide them up along my thigh. The skirt catching on my cuffs, revealing more and more of my-

-his hand flies to my thigh, hooking the cuff over his thumb and squeezing my flesh. Keeping me from showing anything more. Fuck, my core is throbbing from that alone.

'Buck?' I ask innocently.

'Dont' he croaks, voice sounding pained.

'Sorry-' I pause, glancing at him carefully. His eyes are fixed sternly on the road, 'We could talk about this like adults you know, make a deal.' He squeezes my thigh harder, I lift one hand with the restricted movements of my cuffs and caress his fingertips, 'A real good deal, benefitial for the both of us' I suggest.

'You talk too much for your own good, girl.'

'I'm not quite sure what you mean, Sir?. .' I bite my lip as he looks over at me, meeting my eyes through my lashes. 'You wouldn't tell on me to my parents, would you?' I ask, giving him my best puppy eyes.

He looks away, sitting silently until the next exit comes up. He flashes his indicators and turn off the main road, parking in an empty clearing.

'You want a deal, doll?' He asks, looking straight ahead. Sliding the cuffs off his thumb as his hand travel downward, fingertips sliding under my skirt, knuckles brushing over my clothed clit. Lust flashes through my nerves, and I gasp.

'A deal, or you. Both sound good to me.' I whisper, on the edge of my seat. Eagerly awaiting his answer, waiting for him.

He looks back at me, meeting my eyes with a fiendish grin, 'Then put that big mouth of yours to use.' He orders.

Nodding enthusatically, I lean over. Unbuckling his belt and zip down his pants, I reach into his boxers and fuuuuck, my hands barely fit around him. I pull him out and pull my hands to my mouth, wetting my fingers before returning them. One hand carefully stroking small circles around his tip, while the other strokes him up and down in cylindrical motions along his shaft.

The chief of police bites his lip, muffling a whimper as I move faster, 'Uhh- mmm. .' He hums, 'Yes- yes, doll. Fuck. .' He stutters.

Such a strong man crumbling under the touch of a woman, it was turning me on like nothing ever has, the power I hold is surprising.

His fingers move under my panties and slide along my slit, making it my turn to moan. I Buck my hips to give him better access, and he dips his fingers inside me. Pumping them slowly as he's getting them wet, then slides up to my clit, circling around it. 'Holy-' I gasp, 'Shit.'

We buck our hips to the others touch, leaning against the other, shoulder to shoulder, temple to temple. Moaning breathely. Our lips finally meeting in a needy kiss, tounges moving with the rhythm of our bodies. 'Please, doll. Be a good girl.' He begs between our lips.

Fuck me, that heartbeat in my utherus spread in pulses through out my entire body.

I grin and pull back. Leaning over, I carefully lick the leaking cum off his tip clean, then take him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his head, licking greedily. Tasting the salt of him. I push deeper, sucking his length into my mouth. The sloppy sounds of saliva and lips were vulgar inte the most intoxicating way. His hand continues massaging my clit while the other snakes into my hair, grabbing a fistful and aiding my movements. Helping me set merciless pace.

Bucky groans, our strokes growing in greed as we close in on our releases. He shoves two big fingers into my core, curling at just the right spot. Pleasure surge through me, leaving me to stuff my throat with his member, muffling a scream as I topple over the edge. I feel him come right after, my mouth filling with his seed and hearing his moan of completion. The bitterness of salt waa overwhelming to my tastebuds, I swallow what I can and pull myself off.

Leaving a sloppy mess around my mouth, I sit back and smile. Breathing heavily as I regain my strength, Bucky looks at me and laughs, 'You got something right here.' gesturing circles around his mouth, reffering to mine. I wide my mouth clean with my thumb and suck it off, Bucky smiles proudly at the sight. Then brings his own fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of them.

Heat ignites within me once again.

Bucky cups my face with one hand and pulls me into a kiss. The tastes of eachother mixing, I can't quite tell what is what. But it's wonderful. Bucky pulls free and looks at me, I give him a hazy, expectant look. He strokes my cheek with his thumb and slides out of the car, walking around to my side. I furrow my eyebrows as he helps me out of the passenger seat. He pulls me to the hood of the car, pushing himself against me until the back of my legs hit the grill. He leans in and whispers against my ear, 'Still need to punish ya.' He drawls, a shiver running through my spine.

'Im begging you Chief.' I look at him thtough hooded, lustfilled eyes, 'Please punish me.' I groan, smiling.

His dick twitched at the word, making him close his eyes to keep his composure. Then suddenly bends down and finds purchase under my knees. In one swift motion, he pulls, and I fall back onto the hood, 'Wanting it defeats the purpose, doll.' He growls, then opens his eyes. But the sight before him makes him unravel.

Upperbody bent to the side in an effort to prop myself up on my forearms, thanks to my cuffs. Skirt over my hips and legs spread, core exposed and ready for him.

'Do you worst, please. Sir. . .' I whisper and grin.

His eyes snap to mine, and that "You're in for it now.' Expression returns, 'Fuckin brat.' He spits.

Then, he kneels. He fuckin kneels. A shiver runs up my spine a the sight, 'Some punishment, huh?' I ask, but he only smirks. Hooking my legs over his shoulders, and grabbing each thigh to keep them spread, then, without warning, he dives in.

I bite my cheek to stop myself from screaming, pulses of pleasure run through me like electric currents. He pushes his tongue inside me, feverishly licking at my juices, exploring my walls, burrying his face in my cunt. Nose pushing up against my clit, making my back arch deliciously. 'That all you can do?' I tease, grinding my hips against his nose, desperate to get some friction. But his eyes meet mine, glaring as he moves his hands to my hips, holding me steady.

He pulls back for a second, just to spit on my cunt, then hastily returning, chasing my clit. I gasp, burrying my cuffed hands in his hair, pulling him closer as I want more. Making him moan against me, his voice vibrating against my clit. My sight blurs from the pleasure, a knot tightening inside me 'More.' I beg, 'So close.'

His tongue slide out of me, and I whine. But he licks a stipe up my cunt and then attatches at my clit, sucking and nipping at my sensitivity. My body jolts, and I shut my eyes. 'You gonna cum?' He asks, voice muffled.

I can barely answer, pleasure overwhelming me as white specks my vision, 'Ye- yeah. . ' I moan, 'So close, ju- just like th-' I begin, about to reach my climax again, but suddenly.

He let's go, pushing himself off of my clit with on last lick and sits back on his heels, watching my unravel.

'No, please, Buck.' I squrim, whining at the loss of him. I try to pull him back, but he doesn't budge. 'I'm begging, please, please.' I whimper, closing my legs and pushing them together, moving my hips for any sort of friction to finish what he started.

'Mouthy brats dont get to cum.' He chuckles and grab my knees to pull them apart. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as the knot loosens again. In a last desperate effort, I pull my hands from his hair, burrying two fingers in me while my thumb rubs my clit. Just for a second, that exctatic feeling returns, blissful sparks ignite, until- he pushes his body between my legs to keep my thighs in place and grab my wrists, ripping them from my cunt. Then laughs, he laughs.

'Not funny.' I whimper.

'It is. . . Im not done even done yet.' He says, face glistening with my juices.

I fall back against the hood groaning, as the ache in my core reaches my bones. 'I need you so bad.' I whisper.

'What was that?' He asks.

'I need you. Buck please.' I whimper.

'Can't quite hear you, doll.' He mocks, hands squeezing tighter around my wrists.

'I fuckin need you inside me, ok?' I almost shout, 'Fuck me, hard. I'm begging, jus- just need you in me.'

'Yeah?' He laughs, standing up. Hooking his hands under my knees and slide me closer to him. His hand trace my skin to my waist, getting a tight grib. Then, in one smooth motion, he flips me to my stumache.

I can't help but gasp, 'Think you can act like a brat all night, and get away with it?' He asks, smaking my ass once. I yelp, the sting making my eyes water in the most delicious way. He lines himself up with my entrance, pushing on it slightly. His tip breeching.

'Please.' I whimper, muttering a string of curses. And without warning, he shoves himself inside. Again, I bite my cheek. Pleasure rolls through me, electrocuting every nerve. He grabs my hips, sinking his fingertips deep into my skin. Silently, I beg for them to leave bruises. Theres nothing hotter than a souvenir to remember him by.

He sets a hard pace, thrusting deeply. Pulling back almost all the way before forcefully pushing himself inside again, over and over. My brain doesnt function, I can't form words, all I can do is moan. The sound of slapping skin perfectly lewd in my ear. 'Harder Buck.' I request.

He leans down, grabbing my throat and pulling me flush against his chest, pushing his nose into my cheek, 'Yeah? This not enough for you?' He asks, grunting in my ear.

'Not enough, more.' I mewl.

His hand tightens his grip around my throat, cutting off just enough air to give me a dizzying euphoria. His other hands come down on my ass again, smacking hard as he thrusts deeper. Then re-grips your hip, using it to push and pull your, making our bodies come together even harder, 'Greedy girl, cant fuckn get enough huh?' He groans between breaths, hot against your skin.

I shake my head, the only answer I can manage as I feel my walls twitching, closing around him. He can feel it too, his hips stutter, throwing his thrusts of balance. He bites my ear, lightly tugging on it before kissing my cheek gently, then kissing down my neck.

A stark contrast to the rest of his movements, it's enough to make my head spin. It's almost too much. I feel the blinding pleasure threatening to spill inside me, 'You wanna cum girl?' He asks against the crook of my neck. I nod my head enthusiastically. 'Words doll, use your words.' He breathes.

'Ye- Yes, please.' I manage, 'Wanna cum so fucking bad, Chief.'

He grunts, hand slipping from my throat to my breasts, working them roughly. Palming, squeezing, pinching 'C'mon, cum for me doll.' He says between pants and immidietly, I topple over the edge. Pleasure blinding me as he continues thrusting, continues to assault my breasts. My body begins spasming, and my knees go week, 'Bucky. . . Fuck-' I groan, but he holds me up. All my senses feel like they're about to burst as he prolongs my orgasm, stretching it out in an exhuastingly wonderful way. He bites down on my shoulder, squeezing my breasts, muffled grunts escaping him as his own body spasms and his thrusts halt, his member finally filling me with seed.

He collapses on top of me as we catch our breaths, im so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

I close my eyes for a second, but doesnt register Bucky pushing himself off of me, or him gathering me in his arms and laying me in the backseat. I don't feel him wrap his jacket around me, or the ride home.

But I do rouse from my sleep as Bucky carries me into my room and lays me down in my bed, he kisses me on the forehead, 'Hey doll.' He whispers, a soft smile on his lips.

I panic slightly as I realise that I'm home, 'Mom n' dad?' I ask anxiously.

'I made a good excuse, don't worry.' He strokes some hair from my face, 'Sleep. You need it. I'll go easier on you next time.' He promises.

'Next time?' I ask, a tired smile covering my face.

'Next time.' He assures, and you drift back to sleep. He stands up and walks to the doorway, silently watching you with admiring eyes as he carefully closes the door.

He tells your parents a made up backstory and they understand, happy to see him. They invite him to dinner next weekend and he happily accepts, he'd do anything to see you again.

He thinks about you the entire car ride home, in the shower as he beats himself off and in the morning as he wakes up with a hard on from dreams off you clenching around him.

He can do nothing but count the days until he sees you again, guranteeing himself it will be a memorable occasion.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Can you make something for a yandere masochist? Smut please

A/N: Working on all the reqs in my inbox, I just don't have much time to write! No pressure but donations always help if yall want your requests written faster!

CW: Noncon/Dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, threats, Sub! Masochistic yandere, aggressive-ish reader, NSFW

Synopsis: You find yourself kidnapped by your shy boyfriend who claims he's going to "take care of you."

Word Count: 3000 -- Tags ^^: @moonlight-melanin

If someone had told you that your meek nerd of a boyfriend would be the one to ever kidnap you, you probably would have laughed in their face. Your boyfriend who trips over every sidewalk crack? Your boyfriend who needs your help opening a water bottle? Your boyfriend, who begs for you to wrap your hand around his neck and worships the ground you walk on, no matter how hard you protest?

 No way in hell. 

Except, the utter blasphemy that was such an idea, was true. It was only a few nights ago that you found yourself bound by your hands and feet to a familiar bed. Your boyfriend, Rex, vaguely explained that he was "protecting you", and "keeping you away from bad people!” 

You came to the conclusion that the harm that he was supposedly protecting you from, was most likely your overly friendly coworkers and demanding job. Who knew a 9 to 5 could be so dangerous? Clearly your boyfriend. However, his ridiculous behavior didn’t falter no matter how many times you tried to convince him, no matter how many threats or bribes you threw his way. 

Sometimes he’d be nearly swayed, but something in his mind always snapped back, telling you that its alright if you despise him, if you follow out with your threats; as long, as he got to keep you safe. 

For how obedient and eager to please he was, you never realized how stubborn he could be. But unfortunately for what he had in stubbornness, he lacked in wit and authority. He always fell into your hands when it came to you offering physical affection as a secretive ploy to try and escape; not to mention, he wasn’t very good at keeping his hostages tied up.

By the third night of your capture, you managed to slip your moist hands out of the loose, steel handcuffs. Digging an old pen into the large hole of the chain cuff wrapped around your ankle, you wiggled it around to find that sweet spot that would release you. You were grateful for being able to reach the bedside drawer, finding a multitude of tools within it that helped you including the pen that was once yours, and some lotion that made your palms slick enough to slip out of the handcuffs. While you were grateful for their presence nearby, you didn’t want to know why they were close to the bed in the first place. 

You continued to roughly wiggle the pen, not hearing any clicks or cracks within the lock that would signify your release. The chain around your ankle wouldn't budge at all. At some point along the way with all your jamming of it into the lock’s hole, the pen got stuck. 

“No no no,” You whispered, trying to tug the pen out. You pulled as hard as you could, to no avail as ink began to stain your fingers. 

Well, your kidnapper would certainly notice that. 

You looked around, feeling incredibly anxious now that you were only halfway free, aware that it'd be unlikely that you got to keep this little escape trial to yourself. Though, the freedom of your hands made you feel more powerful than you had in days.

But the quick and excited footsteps outside of the bedroom door made your stomach sink. They drew closer, only stopping to fill the silence with a rapid knock to the door. Beads of sweat rolled down your neck as your dry mouth swallowed; with shaking fingers, you covered up your hands and feet under the bed comforter. 

‘Just keep them under the blanket, and he won’t notice…’

The door opened shortly after the knock, not waiting for you to respond. In came your Rex, your boyfriend-slash-kidnapper. He clammed up with a tenseness as you scowled. You brought back your signature glare that you looked at him with during the days of your capture; he seemed to shrink into himself as you didn't break eye contact. 

"Did… you like dinner? He asked, looking at your plate on the bedside table. Eyeing the plate with a frown, Rex shut the door behind him. He walked closer to your place on the bed, inspecting the plate. 

"You've hardly eaten anything since…"

"Since you kidnapped me?"

He went silent. Avoiding your judgemental stare.

"You know I'm just trying to keep you safe…" He said meekly, not fond of your cold behavior. 

"I don't want to talk, Rex. Just leave." You snarl.

 Folding your arms you turn away and focus your attention on the setting sun outside the window, reminding you that once again you'll be here for another night… another day here when you wake up. 

Rex sits down on the bed next to you, his mop of curly black hair covering his desperate face. He wouldn't be able to take it if you played the silent treatment with him-- even when you were angry like this, he'd rather suffer your wrath than hear the empty silence of his endless thoughts, keeping your sweet lips shut so tightly. 

"Please," he gripped the blankets atop your legs, trying to find a place to touch you. "I'm just doing what a boyfriend should do, don’t you get that? Why can't you understand me?"

You continued to stay silent, hearing Rex gulp as he realized you were serious in keeping your mouth shut. 

He began to grow antsy… there was a feeling of isolation in how he couldn't see all of your face as you kept your gaze to the window, how he couldn't even hold your hand or see your body beneath the mass of blanket. 

"Come on, don’t be like that…” 

Rex rolled his tongue over his teeth, gripping harder onto the sheets. His hand shakes as it reaches for yours, desperately hoping you wouldn’t tug away. 

Once he feels your arm go limp, he wastes no time in bringing it up to his cheek, hoping to feel some sort of warmth from you. Rex presses his cheek into your fingers, finding a sliver of relief in how warm and tender you feel against him. He’s hardly had the luxury of such affection since you were huddled up in his apartment. 

You don’t dare to look at the man, debating whether interrupting him or continuing to let him nuzzle would alert him faster on the fact that your handcuffs were gone. 

You didn’t have much time to think when you suddenly felt him go still, a newfound grip on your hand. He squeezed with thick fingers, the lovelust gone from his touch.

You turn to look at Rex, finding that you could not see his eyes beneath his hair and shadowed glasses. He shifted from crushing your fingers to choking your wrist, panic setting into your body. 

Rex looked up, far more quiet than you were expecting. You began to twist your arm, trying to pull it away as he bore into you. You knew the guy was odd when you first started dating, and was clearly deranged after this kidnapping fiasco-- but you never saw it clearer until now. His eyes seemed to sink into his skin as his face drained of all color. He looked almost sick, like someone hungry to hurt without any remorse. Rex’s blunt nails dug into your skin as you started to tug away roughly; his hunched body was like a feral animal ready to strike. 

Seeing as he already found out about your escape attempt, you decided it wasn’t worth wasting this chance. Maybe you could knock him down a few before he managed to get you chained up again, giving you more time before he did who knows what. 

“These arms are awfully bare.” His monotonous voice uttered. 

Rex pressed on the bruises on your wrist of where the handcuffs dug into, his eyes glazing over as you grunted in pain. Still, you fought. You brought your other arm to try and pull off his fingers, only for Rex to shift on the bed and force himself upon you. His sharp knees dug into the sides of your thighs, pulling your other arm off of him as he laid them both beside your head, against the pillows. For being quite frail and shy, he had far more strength in his desperation than you expected. You could see that he was giving his all, only tearing up momentarily when your fingers scratch him or your elbow rams into his nose. 

Within the tussle Rex managed to find the handcuffs, of which you only hid underneath the blankets beside you. Every time you tried to heighten your knees to push him off, Rex pressed deeper, bruising your skin and making you bite your lip in frustration and pain. His loose clothes and your mess of blankets made it hard to find a grip in pushing him off.

Rex pulled the cuffs up, shakily and forcefully wrapping them upon your wrists. Pulling them over the bedpost, he watched as you struggled to get out of them. But he didn’t look down at you with a smirk or a sadistic grin-- Instead, it appeared to be relief. 

Your boyfriend lowered himself to your chest as he went limp, his previous expression void of emotion except for stunned shock, shifted to a tired, nervous frown. 

“I-I don’t do this because I want to, you know.” You burn holes into him with your glare, straining to pull the cuff chain over the bedpost as Rex sat on your torso. “You don’t give me a choice!”

His loose shirt showed the front of his collarbones and the elongated muscles in his neck, the male gulping as he looked guiltily down at your chest. You were sweating from the fear and strain against the tightened metal binds. 

“Fuck off.” You grunt, continuing to tug and pull away from your tethers. 

Rex seemed to get antsy at watching you try to struggle and claw at him. His hips twitched as he moved to sit on your legs, trying to keep you from kicking him off. 

“But…If you keep pulling like that, your bruises will only get worse.” 

“I don’t give a shit.” You snapped, hardly letting him finish. Spitting towards him you continued to fight; that only seemed to spur Rex on. 

He wiggled against your hips, looking down away from you in embarrassment. the male beginning to hold your knees down, his legs wrapped around your left thigh. 

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us…” He huffed, laying his head down on your chest, and holding onto you. 

“Rex!” You shout angrily at his innaction, trying to knee him as you pushed away from the headboard. 

“I know, I know!” You could feel the hardness inbetween his legs press against your thigh. “You can hate me if you want, can hurt me if it makes you feel better,” He meekly bit his lip with a little grunt, hesitating for a moment before he pushed his hips against your thigh. “But I can’t let you leave.”

Seeing as your struggle didn’t impede his movements, Rex slowly rocked himself against you to apply pressure. He relished in how your knee came up to grace his crotch in a stinging pleasure. You may have done it in an attempt to push him off, but all it managed to do was further Rex’s desire for your brashness, and you.

“I’m yours…” He huffed, pushing his face into the warmth of your chest. His crotch aligned with your hip, adding a new sensation as he humped like a touch-starved, horny animal. “Im yours, I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m--ngh--” 

 Rex bit the collar of your shirt to stop from crying out, his moan muffled into your body as he rocked at a rhythm. In a mix of huffs he lifted his head to search for your eyes and lips. He reached up to collide his lips with yours, pressing his knee between your legs, spreading them just gently. His hands traveled down your chest slowly, hesitantly. He was always waiting for your next move, always soaking in every touch and taste of you that he could. 

You pushed against his lips, turning and ripping your mouth away. 

“I know you want to leave, but maybe I can change your mind,” He looked at you with lovestruck eyes, a growing pleasure within them. “Maybe make you feel good. I’m atleast good at that, right?” He shyly palmed at your crotch, determined and eager to make you cry out in the same desire he was swelling in. 

He just wanted your eyes to be on him. 

Rex continued to grind himself deeper into your upper thigh, wrapping his legs around your side. He released a little pant while traveling cold fingers down your chest, pulling up your shirt to expose your stomach. Reaching between your legs, he licked his lips in anticipation, cupping your sex with his hand ever so gently. 

Shutting his lips he tried to suppress his evident moans, pushing his lips against yours as he begged for an ounce of affection. You in turn, bit his bottom lip in retaliation, pressing up against to get a good clench on his mouth. You hoped it’d be enough to get him off of you, but instead Rex pressed harder, grunting in pained pleasure as he welcomed the ache. The taste of blood was left in your mouth, Rex still leaving sloppy kisses along your nipping lips, drooling as he pushed his slick tongue in your mouth, rubbing it against yours. His glasses seemed to shift downward, making him look even more of a mess.

Even as you pulled at his hair from your restraint position, Rex let out a surprised yelping groan, humping harder into your leg at the newfound pain. 

“Please, I promise to be good…” He begs between wet, one-sided kisses. “ I’ll do whatever you w…want…!” Rex hieghtened his voice with a desperate groan, showing he was close to his climax. 

His frenzied pleas showed the familiar side of the boyfriend you remembered before he kidnapped you: quiet, clingy, and too infatuated for his own good.

You could feel a wet spot of leaked pre-cum on your thigh, Rex’s hand delving under your now unbuttoned pants. 

He was quick to palm your crotch from beneath your underwear, gripping and massaging as he chased his own high, fixated on your scrunched up expression. 

His slightly open mouth drooled against your shirt as he looked up at you, desperate for you to reciprocate some kind of affection or attention. 

Rex’s expression showed he was completely enamored in the moment, with glazed over eyes and a eagerness in his thrusts as his mind solely focused on the pleasure between his weak thighs and getting something-- anything, from you. 

“You’re disgusting.” You say bitterly, grabbing Rex’s hair in another attempt to get him off of you and ruin his high. However, that did neither. 

Rex looked even more turned on, letting out painful moans at feeling you tug multiple times.

“Yes.. hah, please-- use me, do what you want--” You bit down on his shoulder as he pressed the rest of his weight down on you, leaning up to the feeling of your fingers tug. “I love you, ‘love you so much..” 

You demand him to look at you with a tug of his black curls, a small line of blood staining your lips from the hard bite you gave. 

Rex obeyed with pleasure-drunken fervor, drawing the end of his high as he witnessed his blood in your mouth. 

A part of him would always be inside you.

Rex buried his head into your neck as he orgasmed, thrusting hard up against your leg like a rabbit during mating season. Letting out a continuation of unabashed moans, his teeth bit your T-shirt as cum spilled from his release. 

In the moment, Rex had sped up his movements in pleasuring you, digging beneath your underwear to feel the heat of your sex against his hand, leaving you quite dazed yourself, You managed to hid your reaction quite well as Rex was too focused to notice, but now that seemed to shift as he began to relax. 

Rex’s pulsing touch on your crotch slowled as his breathing regulated. Though it became more difficult for you to keep your mouth shut and your face straight as he repeatedly put his thumb against the right set of nerves. 

Your boyfriend’s breath steadied as he watched you release a hitched sigh from your mouth, enjoying the way you looked at him with a dazed glare. Covered in sweat and cum, he was beginning to come down from the high he ached to feel once again. 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” He panted, face flushed and glasses falling to the tip of his nose. “ Was s’pposed to be convincing you, but I got ahead of myself…”

Rex swallowed, adjusting his glasses with the tips of his finger. The male began to quickly fondle beneath your jeans once again, ignoring how you still pushed against the headboard and cried out in frustration. He was slow at first, trying to regain the rhythm; it didn’t take long for him to find that tempo that made your knees weak. 

You felt a numbed pleasure stir between your thighs against your will, trying to toss and turn to make it go away. 

But Rex held you still, planting his weight down on your chest and stroking your heat with skill. He had touched himself so many times to pictures and thoughts of you, but he never imagined this. Even as you scrunched up your face in frustration and annoyance, he saw your teeth scrape at your lip, your hips twitching and your groans drawing out longer than before. 

You desperately clawed at your restraints, avoiding Rex’s hot and heavy stare, of which was so entranced in watching your sweet face change every time a wave of pleasure overcame you. You felt so defeated in the fact that he could tell you were feeling the effects of his touch, how you weren’t completely focused on the idea of escape anymore. 

“M’gonna make you feel so good,” Rex grinned, hazed with the afterglow of his pleasureful release and soaking up the look of undesired arousal in your eyes. 

“Just promise not to give your pleasure, your pain, to anyone else…”

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : softdom!xavier, reader has negative thoughts, implications of depression (not explicitly stated/mentioned), implication of self-harm (scars) (not detailed), slight arguing (ish), cuddling, praise and reassurance, kissing and making out, nipple play, slight clit play, fingering, soft and lazy foreplay, use of pet names "angel" "princess", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((slightly unedited))

note : the depiction of depression in this work does not mean to generalize; please keep in mind that different people can experience depression very differently!

wc : 6.1k

youtiful masterlist | works masterlist

You blew your hair out of your face as you walked quietly, your footsteps moving slow as you climbed the staircase of your apartment complex. Your hand was loosely holding the upper arm opposite to it, and you sighed.

You couldn't even practice your own profession without making things harder for everyone.

You bit back a grimace recalling the low-level Wanderer that you had even barely managed to kill—how embarrassing! Sure, maybe it had been particularly difficult for you to get proper sleep, and, sure, maybe it had been just as hard for you to find your appetite enough to eat as much as you should be eating—

But the point still stood.

You were supposed to be an accomplished Hunter, and yet, here you were, walking home with wound marks from a Wanderer that most beginners could easily defeat.

If Jenna and the rest of the team knew...

You shook your head.

They shouldn't know...

You grimly moved your thumb over the sensor of your door lock, when your ears picked up the sound of light footsteps.

It was as if by instinct that you whipped your head around almost immediately, and when your eyes fell upon a set of very familiar blue ones, you almost felt yourself shrink back.

Xavier.

"...Oh," was all he said for a moment, stopping a few feet away from you, tilting his head to the side. You knew that look; he was observing you. He had obviously found the situation odd, obviously found something wrong and out of place with it, and you weren't particularly surprised—Xavier was always observant.

But you let your arms drop to the side, pulling down your sleeves to the tips of your fingers, and unfortunately, you couldn't help yourself from being a little awkward.

"Um... Hi?" You supplied, attempting a crooked smile.

Xavier didn't reply for a moment, and the silence made your heart beat uncomfortably in your chest.

And then,

"You didn't answer," he spoke, finally.

When you gave him a confused look, he gestured towards the pocket of your jeans, where he always knew your phone was.

You winced.

"Oh... Right... Sorry. I, uh? I was kind of busy..."

Your gaze fell to the ground.

"...Okay," Xavier spoke again after a while, but you heard him take a step forward. "I was worried, so I came down to check."

Another pause—

"What were you busy with?"

Your heart thrummed loudly in your chest, and you still refused to look up at him, in fear of making your lie all the more easier for him to dismiss: "Just a little morning outing with Tara!" You tried your best to sound a little energetic.

"So.... You're okay?"

You could feel his eyes boring right into you, and he took another few steps forward until you could see the tips of his shoes from where you stood looking at the ground.

"...Yeah..."

By some magnetic force, your were drawn to look up almost meekly into his eyes, and you knew instantly that it was a giveaway. You faltered when your gazes met; Xavier's eyes were always so impossibly blue that you could never bring yourself to look away once you'd started.

"...Hey... Are you sure?" You watched a small frown grace his features then, and perhaps, it was what triggered what seemed to be a pre-programmed response to any sign of disapproval.

You put up your best smile, and nodded your head. "Yeah! I'm fine! Great, even!"

"But... The way you're standing—"

Xavier reached out as if to grab your arm, but your eyes widened.

You quickly twisted away.

Feeling your heart beat faster, you turned to unlock your door, already taking a step inside. "Nothing's wrong!" You insisted, still smiling cheerfully at him. "I'm feeling absolutely peachy! Just a normal day out! Just, you know. Socializing can get tiring sometimes, right? I'll just, um, get some rest before the banquet later—"

Xavier was observant.

He was always observant.

You knew this, and yet, you had clearly underestimated it.

"...Your blouse..." He murmured, still frowning slightly as his gaze shifted to your collar. It was upturned, and you'd missed a button. Your breath hitched in your throat when you realized that he could easily piece things together from this if you let him study you any longer.

In a rush, you reached over to fix your blous, and then looked back up at him with a nervous laugh. You put your arms in front of you to wave them with denial. "Don't mind it! I, uh... I didn't notice. I must've looked silly all day, haha...!"

And then you noticed your next mistake.

Xavier's eyes slowly traveled lower, and you gasped as you realized that your blouse had ridden up with your sudden movements, exposing a cut on your waist from the Wanderer that you had been fighting. There was no hiding it now, even as you cleared your throat and hurriedly pulled and straightened your shirt.

"You're hurt."

It was a simple statement, and the soft concern in his voice made you exhale slowly.

No, you thought, not now, Xavier...

"I-it's just a little cut. I can deal with it! I know how to treat my own wounds—"

"But you always treat my wounds."

That frown again.

Your mouth went dry.

"...Yes, but... This is... This is different, I'm fine, it's just... Just one cut..."

This time, Xavier's frown deepened, and he didn't say anything else. Instead, he pulled you in through your own door, into your own appartment, and pointed directly towards the couch—

"Sit down."

You chewed on your bottom lip, watching as he walked further into the unit and into your bathroom.

His voice was cold.

It was one you hadn't heard quite often; one he only used when he was... serious. And most notably, one he used more often with other people than yourself.

Your heart sank.

I've really done it this time... you thought, sitting down neevously on your couch and folding your hands neatly onto your lap. You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip.

Your thoughts were going a mile a minute—he was upset, he was angry. He was going to come back out of there and scold you and tell you off, and you could easily have a fight right then and there because you were so needlessly incompetent—

Footsteps.

The door shut.

Xavier knew your apartment like the back of his hand, having been over so often, that it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for—a few moments, and he emerged from the bathroom holding your familiar first-aid kit.

You felt meek as he walked over, footsteps heavier than usual, getting on his knees in front of you... But he didn't say a single word. He remained silent even as he lifted up your blouse, respectful enough not to lift it unnecessarily high, only just enough to expose your cut. It's kind of him, you thought, the simple action easing your nerves slightly. Despite the fact that you had been intimate several times before, he would still respect your space—even if he was obviously displeased in the moment.

But displeased, he was.

There was tension, and it was undeniable.

Your heart continued to beat rapidly in your chest, feeling small as he treated your wound.

"...It's our day off," he spoke curtly then.

Ah, you thought, now he's addressing the lie I told him...

"...Yeah..." you whispered quietly.

"Jenna knows we have the banquet later on."

"...i know..."

Xavier looked up, frowning, and you bit your lip at the iciness in his stare. "You know, and yet you went out and got yourself hurt."

"Th- there was a wanderer—"

"And you decided you could take it on your own, is that it?"

"B-but I did! It's gone now, and I—"

"It's gone, and you're injured. On. Your. Day. Off."

You swallow down a protest, your lips quivering slightly. You didn't know anymore, if it was the sting from the disinfectant that brought tears to your eyes, or this unusually cold demeanor that you were witnessing from him.

Or, you thought grimly, perhaps it was both.

But it was almost as if Xavier did not notice as he cleaned up your wound, reaching into the kit to bandage it. He kept a solemn, expressionless face, and the silence was loud. Uncomfortable.

"...Xavier..." Your voice came out as barely a whisper, and then he shifted to turn completely to the kit, almost as if rummaging through it.

"I'll need to take off your shirt," he spoke somewhat matter-of-factly, but he still refused to look up at you.

"...H- huh?"

"How many wounds do you have?"

You gulped. "...Just... just this one..."

Another silence.

He paused, and you almost wished that the ground would swallow you whole.

And yet still, again, was the kindness from his usual gentle nature—because he still asked for your permission. He knew well that you never took of your top completely in front of him, always preferring it on even on nights he would make love to you.

...But something told you that he wouldn't be entirely happy to let it go in this moment.

You faltered when he turned his head.

"Don't lie to me."

He narrowed his eyes.

It was a simple statement, and a valid one—you had indeed been lying to him, since the moment he'd caught you in the hallway. And yes, you deserved chastisement for it. Of course you did! When was it ever a good thing to lie so much to your partner? To avoid them and their care? You knew you were being pathetic and he had every right to be upset with you, but—

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, feeling tears prick at your eyes again.

"...Don't..." you pleaded, your voice small. You closed your eyes, bowing your head and moving to draw your knees up to your chest, withdrawing into a closed position. "Don't be like this, Xavier, please... Y- you're scaring me..."

Another apprehensive silence followed after your words, and you felt yourself shiver.

But in the next second, Xavier sighed.

There was a shift in weight on the couch as he sat beside you, and then his hands reached over to rest on top of yours. His touch this time was warm. Gentle. A stark contrast to his earlier treatment.

"...I'm sorry, angel," he murmured. The use of his nickname for you made your heart skip a beat, and he rubbed soft circles over the back of your hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I just... Look at me? Please?"

In response, you loosened your hold over your knees, and grip his hand tightly in yours. After a moment, you raised your hed with a pout, your eyes glistening with tears that threatened to spill. But his gaze was soft again—so gentle and loving like you had always known it to be.

"...'M just worried, angel," he whispered, continuing the soft, comforting strokes over your hand. "I... You promised me last time that you wouldn't be reckless, and, angel... You've been so distant lately..."

You watched as his eyes softened into a look of sadness, and your lips quivered.

"I... want you to honor your promise, that's all. These days... In our missions, you've become less cautious, more reckless... More involved with work and more distant with me and with everyone, and I just—I worry about you, angel. I... I don't understand what's going on, and just now, I let my emotions get the better of me, and I... I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

His apology came out chopped, a little uncertain around the edges, as if he couldn't find the right words to truly say to you. But his voice remained quiet and soothing, no longer as cold and icy as it had been moments ago.

"Talk to me?" he pleaded. "Please, angel?"

And you figured that you should.

This was Xavier, after all—your boyfriend, and the most loving person that you had ever known. You owed him an explanation.

...But your heart remained heavily set in your chest.

You were hesitant.

"I... I don't know how..." You managed to get out, swallowing thickly once more.

Xavier's eyes were so blue, so bright, so kind as he looked at you.

Your gaze dropped back down to your knees.

"...I don't know how to do anything anymore," you whispered. "Even if I tried to explain it to you, I wouldn't know what to say, it's just... It's so much easier to ignore, to pretend like these feelings don't exist."

"What feelings, angel?" You felt his hand squeeze yours in a manner of reassurance, but you shook your head.

"Bad ones," you mumbled, "negative ones. And if I don't keep myself busy, then I can't ignore them. I'll think too much. Then if I think too much, it... it might happen again..."

Your chest felt heavy as you spoke, even as Xavier comfortingly held your hand, even as you knew that he was listening to you with every intention to guide you through... whatever this was.

But you really didn't know how to continue anymore.

How could you say anything when you couldn't understand it yourself?

You felt so... pathetic.

"Angel?" Xavier murmured, lacing your fingers together. "What... might happen?"

For a while, you didn't speak; you didn't move.

And Xaver did not pressure you.

He stayed silent right along with you, rubbing into the palm of your hand, his gaze on you so full of love and concern that it almost made you cry.

So you closed your eyes and pulled your hand away from him. You told yourself that maybe it would be easier if they stayed closed, and you slowly unbuttoned your blouse, shrugging it off of your shoulders. You didn't want to see his reaction... But you knew what he could see, on your skin, now.

There were a few cuts on your shoulder from your fight with the Wanderer, smaller and less concerning than the one on your waist. But as you slid your sleeves down lower to your wrists and shrug it off completely... he'd be seeing more scars. Patterned, and much too neatly placed, to be a result of careless fighting.

"Angel..." you heard him breathe out, a mixture of shock, disbelief, and sorrow.

And only then did you open your eyes, meekly searching for his.

"...I— I haven't done it in weeks!" Damage control. "I'm clean, right now, but... If I don't— If I don't work, I don't— I don't know—"

Before you could break down in tears again, Xavier gently pulled you into his arms, sighing into your hair. "If you don't work, you won't have anything to distract yourself with?" he whispered softly.

You closed your eyes at his warmth, and you nod.

"But... Can I ask you why?"

It was this question that got you to tense up, enough for him to notice.

"I want to help, princess," he looked softly into your eyes as he pulled back slightly, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face. "But... I need to know how. Would you let me? Could you... Tell me? Is that okay?"

The mere fact that he wanted to help made you want to sob.

He was so... nice to you.

So kind, so patient—

You didn't deserve it.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, and you screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. "'M sorry," you choked out, and Xavier immediately held you close.

"No, princess... I'm sorry. I should be the one apologizing. I should have known... I shouldn't have gotten upset at you..."

Tears slid down your face, and you buried your face into his chest. His words churned at your stomach with a heavy feeling you didn't know how to describe. "That's not true," you whimpered. "It's... It's me. I'm always a burden... Always having to make you worry, when you've been trying your best to take care of yourself but I can't even keep a simple promise—"

You began to sob into his sweater. "Why, Xavier? I feel... I feel so worthless. How could I deserve you? How could I deserve anything you give me? And how... How could I be so selfish to want more of it?" You grip him tightly, almost digging into the back of his sweater as everything begins to pour out. "It feels... It feels as if no matter what I do... Nothing ever makes me any worthier of your love. Of anyone's."

And Xavier listened.

He didn't interrupt you, didn't speak—

He listened.

He placed his hand over your back, rubbing softly into your exposed skin, letting you speak until his consistent motions helped you relax slightly in his hold. And after a few moments of your sniffling, he gently peeled you away, before bringing you in for a soft, quick kiss.

Your eyes, blurred with tears, looked up at him confused.

"Nothing can change the way I feel about you, angel," he murmured sweetly. "You do deserve everything, and even more than that. You've done nothing wrong, princess. Don't apologize to me. I worry about you because I want to worry about you... Because I choose to worry about you." He softly placed a hand on your cheek. "Do you remember what I told you? I meant it when I said that. You are special to me. And I want to do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you by my side... to make sure you're okay. I'm sorry that I was so cold to you earlier. I'll be a better source of comfort for you now, I... I'm here, angel. I won't leave."

You remained sniffling as he spoke, and your eyes slowly drifted back down to your lap.

But you found the courage to speak.

"The banquet..." you whispered. "I... I don't want to go."

"Then don't. We don't have to."

"But... But Tara, and Jenna—"

"They won't mind, we won't be the only ones not going, right?"

You looked up, uncertain still. "...And you?"

"Me?"

"You... you said you wanted to go..."

At this, Xavier's eyes softened, and a gentle smile played at his lips. "Well... We could tell them I wouldn't let you leave me... And it wouldn't totally be a lie."

When your gaze had yet to relax, he shook his head with a little laugh. "It's less about the place and the activities... and more about the person you do them with. Remember?" He tucked your hair behind your ear and whispered softly, reassuringly. "Whatever we do, wherever we go, I'll want to be there. Because you would be with me. So if you want to go to the banquet, then I'd want to go to the banquet. But if you want to spend the night here, then I would also want nothing more."

You sniffled again, tears streaming down your cheeks as you felt your chest burst with warmth.

You truly felt so... loved. So seen, so heard, so understood—he was right; you should have gone to him for comfort when all of this had started, instead of trying to distance yourself from everyone you loved.

Xavier reached over to wipe your tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"Shh, don't cry angel..."

And then he leaned down to kiss you, nice and slow, and so soft, and loving. His lips moved delicately; nothing like the passionate kisses you sometimes shared, and for a while the both of you stayed that way. Just soft, fond kisses as he helped your body relax into him, relax into the couch, removing all the tension you had built up in your shoulders.

When you pulled away, you let out a soft sigh. He shifted and pulled you back against his chest, stroking your hair and murmuring sweet words of how much he loved you; how much you meant to him.

And you had never felt so... at peace, before. All these past weeks dealing with the void in your mind that you couldn't chase away—but here, in his arms, it was all minimized. Calm. Your thoughts weren't as scalding as they usually were.

You felt... Safe.

"Better?" he mumbled.

"...Yeah."

You closed your eyes.

There was another quiet silence before you felt him trace the scars on your arm.

"Wish I could help you relax more, make you feel more loved..." he mumbled.

You shook your head. "Despite everything I said, I already feel loved, Xavi, don't feel pressured to—"

"I'm not pressured."

There was determination in his voice when he said this, and you let out a soft, barely-there chuckle.

"Yeah," you smiled, "okay."

And he continued to trace over your scars.

"Angel?"

"Hm?"

"Do you still have thoughts right now?"

"Mmmh... A little bit. Yeah."

You tilted your head up to look at him, searching his eyes. "But... They're not so loud. This is... Comforting."

"Comforting?"

"Yeah. Staying in your arms like this..." Your eyes softened. "You're pretty comforting, Xavier."

"...But, do you... want a distraction?"

His eyes didn't stray away from yours, but you felt his fingers trail from your arm to your stomach, light, feathery strokes upwards towards your clothed breasts.

His intentions clicked, and you felt yourself blush slightly.

"Xavier..." you mumbled.

He didn't do anything more than stroke your exposed skin, never going further than you had given permission for him to.

But he asked you again, more clearly this time.

"...I could touch you," he gave you a small, faint smile. "If you want? At least... You wouldn't be thinking of anything too much that way..."

His voice trailed off as he noted your lack of response, and then he reached over to squeeze your hand.

"We don't have to do anything, angel. It was just a suggestion."

"...No, I— It's okay." Immediately, you shook your head. "You... You could definitely do that." You felt yourself get breathless at the thought of it, and you leaned back against him.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

You weren't looking at him in that moment, but you could feel him smile as he placed a soft kiss into your hair.

"Okay. Then... I'll make you feel good, angel."

It was a promise, and one that you knew he could fulfil easily.

You felt him tilt your chin up next, your eyes meeting once more, and then he kissed you. Still soft, still slow; his lips moved languidly against yours as if to ease you into it. You felt butterflies in your stomach—this was a kiss that you knew very well from him, and one that you both knew you loved. It was a kiss that said more than just "i love you"; it was a kiss that said "i like being here with you", a kiss that said " let's stay like this forever".

It was a testament—that Xavier was yours, and you were his, and he would show you that he loved you more than you would ever realize.

Slowly, you pulled back from the kiss, the both of you panting. But you didn't look away, and neither did he—not even as his hands moved lower to undo the buttons or your jeans, not even as you lifted your hips for him to pull them down.

"Do you want them off?" he mumbled, still keeping his eyes on yours. "Want you to be comfortable."

"...Mhm. S'okay. I needed to change, anyway..."

When he'd helped you out of your jeans, his lips were back on yours once more—hands gently stroking your sides, tracing your wounds, and your scars, taking his time with you. Your eyes fluttered closed. Xavier's touches were so sweet, so comforting. They could lull you into sleep, and he was right; there was no more space for you to think of any other thoughts that weren't just... him.

When he reached over to unclasp your bra, he let it fall off to the side. And then he leaned his chin over the top of your head, almost as if to get a better look.

"Haven't seen these before," he commented, a little cheekily.

You rolled your eyes—if you weren't nestled so comfortably in his embrace, you'd have reached up to hit him in indignance. "...Don't act all innocent," you mumbled.

"Hm? Wasn't acting, angel." He cupped your breasts, humming slightly, still keeping his eyes on them. You felt him gently massage them in his hands, and you let out a sigh. "They're so soft. It's different from touching them through your shirt."

"Xavier..."

He chuckled, leaning back up to give you another kiss. "I know. This... is why you've always wanted to keep your shirt on, right? Your... scars."

You felt your stomach churn with guilt for a split second, before your body shuddered and melted into the way his hands worked at your chest.

"...D- didn't want you to know..." you breathed out. "'S not easy to say..."

"I know. But thank you for telling me, angel. You can tell me anything, alright? We'll work through this together."

Together. We.

He wasn't saying that it was... your problem. He was saying it was on the both of you—that you weren't alone, and that he would be with you every step away... And it was such a sweet thing for him to say. His words touched your heart, and you felt yourself letting out a shaky breath.

"...Okay," you whispered. "Okay."

He leaned back down to suckle over your collarbone, then, nibbling gently over your skin. It was enough to draw out a soft moan from you.

"Ah... That feels nice..."

In response, his fingers brushed over your nipples. The sudden direct stimulation made you gasp—

And you understood what he meant.

It was different, like this. Now, without any fabric as a barrier, the pads of his fingers rubbed oh-so-perfectly over your little nubs, and it felt... good.

Better than you were used to.

Xavier hummed as he rest his head back on your shoulder, watching the way your breasts molded into his palm, your nipples pert and hard as he began to twist and pinch them in his hands.

"They're pretty up close," he stated again, a little matter-of-factly. "We should do this more often..."

Another pull at your nipples, and you moaned.

"Mmh, shit—yes—"

You wanted to retort, but instead, you found yourself arching your back further into his hands. Your eyes clouded over slightly.

"Yeah? Feels nice?" he murmured.

"Mhm... Feels real nice, Xav..."

He nuzzled into your neck, a soft, loving action despite what he was doing to your body.

"D'you think you could cum like this? Or do you need more?"

His motions remained steady as he spoke, his eyes flitting over your figure. And you, on the other hand, felt your breath come out in a long exhale.

You closed your eyes.

"...More."

And he smiled.

You could feel it, the way the corners of his lips turned up against your skin where he placed light kisses on the base of your neck. And then he kept one hand on your breast, his other hand began to trail slowly down your stomach.

Your body jolted slightly at the change, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps before they settled over your thigh. His hand stayed stationed there, squeezing it gently... Never quite moving upwards, not just yet. He was still quite far from where you wanted him like this, and you huffed with displeasure.

"Can I tease?" he asked, and you could feel his smile widen.

You groaned.

"No! M'already wet."

"But I want to take my time with you, princess. You're so... beautiful."

The way he moaned in your ear, kneading your thighs, made you shiver with excitement. He'd been asking you if he could tease... Yet here he was, already doing it anyway.

You grit your teeth. "I need you, Xavi."

"But... Please? It'll prolong the pleasure, you know?"

"...Why are you begging me?"

You scoffed this time, and he chuckled, his breath hitting the shell of your ear.

"I just like the way your body responds to me. You know that."

Once again, you felt that you could have smacked him on the head if you had any remaining ounce of control over your body, but you only bucked your hips forward in a failed attempt to chase his fingers. The way he laughed at you made you glare at him indignantly—It was almost like a little apology on his part when he leaned in for a quick, quick kiss, his hand sliding just a little bit further up your thigh.

"I love you, okay, angel?" he sighed. "Just... wanted to let you know that, again."

You huffed slightly.

"I know, Xavier. And I love you. But as much as I want to say thank you, I just really, really need your fingers inside me. ...Please?"

Impatience was not a look you favored on yourself, but Xavier didn't mind it—he never minded if you preferred to be quiet, or vocal, or demanding, or receptive... Xavier, despite the way he would tease, had always been driven by the need to please you.

So he finally complied with your request.

You felt him gently bring your knees up closer to your chest, feet close together before he pushed your knees apart, and then he let out a low groan. With you spread out effectively for him, he reached over to gather your slick onto his finger.

"So beautiful for me, angel," he nibbled on your ear, making you shiver. "And so, so wet."

In response, you moaned, allowing your head to lull slightly to the side as he spread your juices all over your cunt in gentle strokes. "I told you," you spoke in a hushed tone.

"Hmm... and what's on your mind now, angel?" His breath was still so close to your ear as he spoke, his tone low, and raspy—sultry, like it always was when you did things like this.

"You."

You didn't hesitate to answer, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp when his middle finger slid inside with a wet squelch.

"Mhm? And?"

"...Y- your fingers..."

He slowly dragged his finger out before thrusting back in, his breath hot and heavy. You could feel him smile.

"Anything else, angel?"

He could have almost been cooing at this point, and it was driving you insane. You groaned in frustration, lifting your hips slightly as if to get from him the stimulation you needed.

"Nothing," you moaned as you felt his thumb reach up to brush against your clit. Slow, thrusting motions, and occassional rubs—it was driving you insane. "N-nothing else, Xav, just— just how good you're making me feel—"

He let out a satisfied chuckle then, drawing his finger out and having then drip with your arousal:

"Good."

Your eyes flew wide open as he thrust back into you, moving his finger relentlessly inside as if to explore your walls. It was barely seconds before his index finger pushed right inside your tight hole as well, filling you up in a way that you couldn't do to yourself. His fingers were so long, so much better than your own, and no matter how many times he fingered you, you could never, ever tire of it.

He picked up the pace as your hips met his thrusts.

"F- fuck!" you cursed, panting as he did just that with his fingers, his thumb still circling over your clit, his other hand still avidly toying with your breast and your nipple.

The combined stimulation clouded your brain; he felt so damn good. If, when he'd just started, he had already chased away any foreign thoughts—now, your mind had nearly frozen white. Your mouth hung open as a testament to your pleasure, and he panted into your ear all the same, almost as if he were just as affected.

His fingers continued to pump into you, stretching you wide, curling against your sensitive spot, rubbing you in all the right places. Your legs began to shake, and he lightly licked at the shell of your ear.

"Close?" he murmured, having already memorized the telltale signs of the onset of your orgasm.

You could only nod, choking back a moan.

And then his lips were back on yours.

A little more frantic in his kisses this time, as he fucked you harder with his fingers, pinching and pulling and rolling your nipples—

"M-mmf—!"

You let out a muffled moan, swallowed into the kiss as you came. Your back arched, your body shuddering; a wave of pleasure came crashing into you with such force that it had you feeling shocked.

When he pulled back, the both of you were panting, your eyes clouded and hazy, his fingers wet and sticky when he slid them out of your cunt.

"...Better, princess?" he whispered, and there was another cheeky, cheeky grin on his face.

You smiled back at him, and he leaned over to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Much."

With a soft chuckle, he continued to place light, feathery all over your face, easing you out of your high, until your breathing became calmer.

"I could take you to your room," he mumbled, feeling you close your legs and cuddle into him. "Are you cold?"

"Cold? After you've just made me cum?" You scoffed, somewhat, but willingly clung to his arms. "I'm okay. But... The bed would be nice..."

Another kiss into your hair, another soft smile. "Okay."

He had you carried in his arms the next moment, soft footsteps padding the floor to your bedroom and gently laying you over your mattress. He took a few moments to wipe you down, before he drew your blanket up over your body, and slipped in to lay right beside you. He shifted your head to rest on his shoulder.

"Tired?" he hummed.

A pause, and then,

"...Yeah, kind of." You closed your eyes as you relaxed into his warmth. "But, you haven't done anything... You could put it inside me—or I could suck you off, or—"

He immediately cut you off as he gave you a small frown, and then before you could react, he kissed you almost harshly—as if to shut you up.

"Mmf— Xavier!" you gasped when you pulled away, your frown mirroring his own. "What was that for?"

"You said you were tired."

"...Huh?"

"Why would you expect me to do any more if you said you were tired?"

You searched his expression to realize that his frown was rooted instead in confusion, rather than disdain or disapproval.

"...But... Isn't it unfair...? If you just let me sleep like this..."

"...Do you want to, angel?" A small pout formed on his lips. "I'm alright like this. It's unfair if I force you when you don't want to. You should rest, if you're tired. This doesn't have to be... transactional, you know? We can do more when you want to."

The use of the word 'transactional'made you flush slightly with embarrassment, as you realized that was likely how you'd made it seem—you shook your head immediately. But his words, at the same time, gave you the space to lay back against his chest, wrapping your arms around him as the sound of his heartbeat seemed to lull you peacefully.

"...Sorry," you whispered. "I didn't mean it that way. I know our sex isn't like that..."

You sighed. "I'll... I'll sleep for a bit, then? But... thanks, Xavi."

You felt him place another kiss into your hair, a fond, loving gesture, as he shifted to hug your body tightly against his.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

It was a promise; a genuine one.

Xavier wasn't going to leave you alone, no matter how many times your mind would bug you to think that way.

And you trusted him, and you loved him... and he had shown the same back to you—now, and always.

A tiny little smile made its way to your face as your eyelids fluttered close.

"I love you, Xavier," you whispered. "Thank you."

⁺₊ / an: inspired by xavier's 4★ card pair, "shining light" and "shining traces" !! i think we underestimate how cold and intimidating xavier can really get because if he was angry at me i too would wish the ground would swallow me whole 😭

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[willowbelle]

Unravel For Me

❤︎ trafalgar law x reader ❤︎

(no pronouns mentioned)

𖤐₊˚.༄ (nsfw, 18+ only) 𖤐₊˚.༄

cw: sub!(ish) law, oral (m receiving), very very slight voyeurism, begging, throat-fucking, basically just a fic about sucking off trafalgar law-!

summary: established relationship, heart pirates reader, law is overworking himself (of course), reader wants to help him relax (i wonder how? hehe), law is flustered, law is a teensy bit subby in this one (awe)

word count: ~2,500

celebrating my 20th birthday by writing a fic about my husband! ♡︎

i hope you enjoy (>ᴗ•) !

Unravel For Me

It was a record-breakingly chilly night in the Polar Tang. Winter had only recently gnawed autumn away, piece by piece, and the waters surrounding the submarine were icy cold and unapologetically still.

For you, comfort resided in the mug of hot tea in your hand, and the fluffy blanket that enveloped your body. And of course, you found the most solace in knowing that your partner (and captain), Trafalgar Law, was only a glance away.

He was seated at his desk, his lanky form hunched over the piece of furniture riddled with countless papers and books.

He was on his umpteenth medical textbook of the night, dark gray eyes religiously scanning back and forth through the pages.

You didn’t even need to look up from your own reading to know that his back was straining.

“Posture, Law,” you chuckled softly, shooting him an amused glance.

He doesn’t turn to look at you, just grunts something unintelligible under his breath and takes your advice, setting his book down and placing his hands on the armrests of his chair. He raises his chest, stretching his back and relieving his body from its former hunched state. He knows you’re right. He’s been working too long, as always. His body needed rest, he knew that. It needed release.

You watched as his toned body stretched, entranced by his every move. The way his lean muscles twitched as he extended his long limbs, his tan skin glistening beneath the warm lights of your shared bedroom.

“Sweetheart,” you started again, your soft voice always broke down his stoic facade and tugged at his icy heartstrings. “You need to rest. You’ve had your nose buried in that boring textbook for hours now. Come lay with me.”

You moved on the bed to make room for him, hand patting at the now empty space, silently beckoning for him to sit.

“Y/N,” Law began, sighing exhaustedly, “You know I need to finish this,” he ran his inked fingers through his thick scalp of hair as he spoke, picking up his book once more. “I promise, once i’m done with this one, i’ll stop and come lay with you.”

In response to his fatigued protest, you unwrapped yourself from your blanket and rose to your feet, making your way over to your captain.

You stood behind him and placed your delicate hands on his strong shoulders, massaging them gently in order to soothe his tense, worn muscles.

“I know you know that’s bullshit, honey,” you sighed softly, “you’ll be done with this one, then move right on to the next task without letting yourself rest. I know you, Law.”

You leaned down to kiss his cheek, humming softly into his skin.

“Law,” you spoke his name again, this time softly in his ear, running your hand down the front of his chest, “let me help you relax.”

You felt Law’s body heat up beneath your fingertips at the insinuation, and you didn’t miss how a slight blush now dusted his cheeks.

He leaned back, the top of his head now leaning against your stomach as he gazed up at you. His beautiful gray eyes took on the toll of displaying the majority of his tiredness, dark eyebags adorned beneath them for all to see.

Even from miles away, anyone could see how hard Trafalgar Law worked. Your heart swelled at the sight. You wanted to do anything in your power to help him, to give his diligent, persistent brain a rest.

You moved from behind him, and he instinctively moved his chair back so you could step between it and the desk, now standing in front of him. You looked down at your boyfriend, eyes lust-blown and determined. His tired gaze never left your face as you sunk to your knees before him, looking up at him and giving him a knowing smirk.

You watched his adam's apple bob as he gulped, flustered at your boldness.

“Law,” you purred, rubbing your gentle hands up and down his thighs, “You can keep working if you’re worried about it, but please, just let me make you feel good, at least.”

Your captain’s face flushed a deeper red and he nodded shyly before moving his strong hands down to work at his belt, getting the message loud and clear.

You bit your lip, blush now decorating your face as well.

His icy gaze never leaves your lust-ridden one as he removes his belt, fingers now working at his button and zipper.

Aiming to tease him, you begin to kiss along his crotch, feeling the tightness of his jeans intensify as the result of his growing erection.

His breath hitches in his throat as you begin your magic, your delicate touch never failing to make him melt beneath you.

“And Law,” your voice a seductive whisper, “tonight, your only job…” you continued kissing his growing erection in between words, “is to sit there and let me please you.”

You smirked at the blushing man before you, amused at how easily you got him flustered.

He says nothing, just stares at you and nods, his handsome face flushed red.

You opt to help him, hooking your fingers beneath the wasitbands of both his jeans and briefs, pulling them down in one swift motion, freeing that beautiful, aching cock that you loved so damn much.

You blushed deeply and bit your bottom lip at the lewd sound of his long cock springing free and slapping against his toned stomach, the action proving just how fucking rock hard he was. It makes Law blush, too, and you smirk as you watch him turn away, embarrassed. You extend your arm up and take his chin in your hand, making him look back down at you.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby,” you purred, taking his throbbing cock in your hand and dipping your head down to lick along his aching tip, eyes never leaving his.

This little action caused Law to groan, even louder than you thought he would, hands gripping the armrests tightly, his knuckles turning white.

“y/n…” he groaned your name seductively, goosebumps decorating his skin. He tried his hardest to continue his work, leaning forward to pick up his book again. He scanned over a few words before ultimately realizing that the sentences were simply passing through his head, none of the concepts becoming concrete in his brain. He groaned, a bit frustrated, before giving in and setting his book down again. It was pointless, he was too distracted.

His mind was too full, stuffed to the brim with nothing but you, you, you, with no room for anything else. You took up all the space in his brain, and for once, he pushed work and learning aside and let you hold your reign inside his skull.

You only hummed in response, parting your wet lips to welcome his desperate tip. You swirled your tongue around his precum-soaked head, gently suckling on it.

Law rewarded your efforts with another strained moan, throwing his head back in ecstacy.

“N-Nghhh, y/n…” he moaned, your name drawn out and almost slurred as it left his throat.

You continued your dirty work, taking your cock further into your warm, wet, skilled cavern.

His head felt hot and fuzzy and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth as you took him in further, his hands immediately finding themselves in your hair, tugging on the strands, silently begging you for more.

“Sh-Shit, y/n-!” your captain groaned, breathless, head still thrown back, his eyes shut tightly.

You pressed on, your hot, slippery tongue sliding against the underside on his veiny cock. You took him in further and further, until his entire cock was encased within your hot mouth, your nose pressed against his pelvis.

“F-Fuck-!” Law cursed loudly as you took him down your throat, shaking beneath you.

His brain was swimming, drowning, even, at the feeling of your tight throat and hot mouth wrapped around his desperate, throbbing cock. He instinctively began to buck his skillful hips, his blunt tip hitting the back of your throat with each thrust.

“M-Mmm!” you moaned around his length, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes at the feeling of him hitting your throat so deeply.

“Y/N-!” he groaned beneath you, “You feel s-” his sentence was cut off by the sound of rapid banging on your bedroom door.

“Captain! Captain!” a familiar voice cried from outside the door, “Are you in there? I need help finding something!”

You felt Law tense beneath you, twitching in frustration.

“Shit,” he groaned, voice riddled with annoyance, “Bepo, of course.”

You removed his cock from your throat, but continued to lick his tip to tease him and keep him stimulated.

You looked up and him and giggled softly, still gripping his now-wet cock in your hand, “Of course,” you toyed, stroking him idly.

He moaned softly and stared down at you as the rapping on the door continued.

“I-I’m busy-!” Law attempted to make his voice sound as normal as possible, but failed miserably. He was clearly hot and bothered, and his usually stern, cold voice now sounded undeniably pleasured and desperate.

You thought you could just make out the sound of a slight chuckle from behind the door.

“Got it, Captain!” Bepo replied, “Loud and clear!”

Law threw his head back again, this time in both frustration and embarrassment, his inked hands flying up to cover his flustered face.

“Fuck,” he groaned into his hands.

You snickered softly to yourself at the stupidity of the situation, but instead of teasing Law about it, you chose to rub small, comforting circles into his thigh.

“Law,” you began, your voice pulling him to you, causing him to remove his hands from his face and look down at you once again, his face perfectly displaying his undeniable embarrassment.

“We don’t have to continue, I know you’re flustered,” you reassured him.

You saw your captain’s eyes widen. Although he was embarrassed, the fear of losing you from between his legs was a much worse feeling.

He took your chin softly in his large hand, face burning red as he stared down at you, desperate.

“Please, y/n,” your captain pleaded, “Please don’t stop,” he whined.

You eyes widened as you stared up at him. You had never heard Law beg. To be honest, you never thought you would. He was always the dominant one in the bedroom, and usually you were the one pleading for him to fuck you. But now, Trafalgar Law was completely at your mercy, begging for you as he trembled beneath you, his throbbing cock still in your grasp.

“Please,” he pleaded, gripping his armrests, knuckles growing white again.

“Oh, Law,” you began, smirking, your voice tinted with a bit of smugness, “Are you really begging for me to suck that pretty cock of yours~?”

“I-I…” Law stuttered, stumbling over his words, “I am,” he admitted, “Please, y/n, please suck my cock, I need you…”

You bit your lip at his confessions and placed your hands on your captain’s strong knees, forcing them apart, giving yourself more access to his intimate region.

This intense action made Law blush uncontrollably, and he bit his lip to stifle a moan.

“Say no more, Law,” you whispered seductively before taking him into your mouth again, all of him.

“F-Fuck-!” Law cursed, the obscenity drawn out and desperate as it fell from his tongue.

With his long, thick cock enveloped entirely in yout throat once again, you began to bob your head up and down, earning more intense groans from your captain.

“O-Oh my god, this feels so good, mmm-!” Law whimpered loudly, his pleas and praise causing you to blush, he had never been so vocal before. Law made noise in bed, of course, mostly groans and heavy breathing, but nothing like how you had him now.

You had Trafalgar Law wrapped around your finger with the way you were slobbering and sucking on his aching cock.

He was unraveling beneath your touch, but for the first time in his life, your tightly-wound captain didn’t mind coming undone.

He could feel all his pent-up stress seeping out of his skin with each well-timed touch of your hands and each flick of your skillful tongue.

As you continued to bob your head, the lewd sounds of wet suckling and gagging filled the room, your saliva spilling from your mouth around your boyfriend’s desperate cock, traveling down and coating his aching balls.

“Sh-Shit, y/n!” Law cried, trembling, his voice shaky.

You could feel him preparing himself to burst.

He continued to buck his hips and thrust into your mouth, quickling abandoning his grip on the armrests of his chair in order to grab your head, forcing you up and down harder.

“M-Mmm-!” you moaned around his twitching, frustrated cock, sending vibrations through his body.

Law was sweaty and hot, shaking beneath you. His desperate thrusts started to become sloppy as he chased his fast-approaching orgasm, relentlessly forcing his cock into your throat over and over and over again.

Tears spilled down your face as he face-fucked you, his grip still tight on your head.

With one final, particularly brutal, thrust into your face, Law felt himself come undone to your efforts, letting out a loud, erotic moan,

“A-Ahh-! y/n!”

Law held your head down as he orgasmed, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum down your throat, causing your to let out a startled whimper around his throbbing, exhausted cock,

“Mmm!”

You could hear Law breathing heavily as you swallowed every last bit of what he gave you, pulling off of his cock with a satisfied pop.

You gazed up at the beautiful man before you, his head thrown back, eyes shut tightly, body glistening with sweat, his toned, tattooed chest rising and falling with every exasperated breath.

“Law?” you began, slowly rising to your feet on a shaky legs, “Do you feel better?”

One look at your captain and anyone could tell he had been pleasured to the point of euphoria, but you wanted to hear the praise from his mouth.

Law slowly opened his eyes, a tired smirk tugging at his lips, his face filled with rapture.

“I’m thinking maybe I should start overworking myself more often, if that tells you anything,” he toyed.

You playfully rolled your eyes at his teasing, “as if that would difficult for you,” you chuckled.

He smiled, a rare sight, but one you cherished deeply. He then motioned for you to sit on his lap, which you did so happily.

Settling into his lap and laying your head on his inked chest, you looked up at your boyfriend, your eyes wide and curious,

“Seriously though, about what happened earlier,” you motioned to the door by shooting your eyes in its direction, “are you going to get hell for that?”

Law chuckled and ruffled your hair, looking down at you,

“He’ll be fine. Might even be happy that I’m relaxing instead of working,” your boyfriend smirks at you.

“All the more reason,” you purred, gently nipping at his neck, feeling his worn body tense beneath you all over again.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

©this work belongs to willowhaze26.

do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms. 

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[captain-joongz]

Space for two

Pairing: demon!Kim Taehyung x f!reader

Genre: smut, both angsty and fluffy, dark themes, positive ending, historical au (maybe like 18/early 19th century Joseon)

Summary: Trapped in a marriage arranged by our families, married to a cold, uncaring man and taking care of a farm in the middle of nowhere, I had sunken to the lowest lows. Aware of my husband's gambling habits and love for brothels that often kept him from home, I'd gotten used to the feeling of falling asleep in a cold, empty bed. But that changed one day, when an uninvited guest made himself quite at home and brought with him warm touches and scorching dreams. Gentleness coming from the one least expected may just be the push into the right direction.

Word count: 25.4k

Warnings: some dark themes, demon Taetae (he's a sweetie though), he's messing with the reader a little tho, he does have some slight yandere vibes, themes of depression and loneliness, infidelity, a shitty husband, some themes and mentions of domestic violence and verbal abuse (at one point the husband grabs her by the hair, throws stuff around the house), mentions of death and murder

NSFW warnings: slightly dubcon-ish (at first he visits her dreams), reader is inexperienced and embarrassed, slight innocence/corruption kink if you squint really hard, wet dreams, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, making out, handjob, unprotected sex (it's joseon :// you be careful out there), some slight breeding kink, half clothed sex

A/N: super late but finally here!! i'm sorry for all the delays, but this just kept getting longer and longer and i had to juggle it between schoolwork, but i hope it is worth the wait! this is actually based on a korean folklore story of prince cheoyong, which i explain in the end notes so i don't spoil anything hehe

I was preparing the food in silence, the only sounds in the room the clanking of my knife on the cutting board and slight bubbling in the pot over the fire. It was winter and so I kept the doors leading to the yard closed, but I still heard the thuds of my husband chopping firewood, the dull thumps of the wood hitting the ground, the swish of his axe in the air.

I was already well used to this, to the silence of this place.

It was a quiet that could only come from unhappiness and spite, the kind that made you feel lonely and desolate, knowing the only other person around rather chose to not speak than engage with you. It was what I had come to know very well in here.

I had found myself married quite abruptly. It was a little over a year ago, when a messenger from the Ryu family of the neighbouring village arrived at our door. My father accepted him, but didn’t speak of what the meeting was about, which raised some suspicions between the women of the family. I was the second child of the family and the eldest of the daughters, and way past the age when women of my standing usually married. It felt like we all knew what it would come to.

My unmarried status was a bit of a controversial story around these parts.

I wouldn’t call our family exactly disgraced, but we weren’t at the full glory the Kangs used to stand at, back in the days of my great great great great-grandfather, who built the family into a considerable fortune, but whose grandson to the family’s great embarrassment failed the gwageo examinations several times and couldn’t secure an official position. The family had tried to bribe their way into the office, but the local official came from a family that had been feuding with ours for a few generations, over something that was no doubt petty and no longer relevant. He basked in the desperation of our family and wished for nothing more than to see them crash and burn, thus if we couldn’t secure a position through the examinations, he wouldn’t allow any bribery in order to destroy our clan.

The embarrassment continued as neither his son, nor his grandson were able to pass the qwageo and our family was stripped of our title. We had been living on the rapidly thinning fortune, trying to keep some sort of decorum, but feeling the full force of shame the other inhabitants from our area showed towards us. To them, we were pathetic. Just some thirty years ago we were strolling through these streets as if we owned them and now, disgraced and quickly running out of options, here we were – on the same level as them.

My father was able to break the family curse by starting a successful shop with trinkets, toys and other useful little devices, which allowed us to stay afloat money-wise, but cast us further into shame, considering our family had once been part of the yangban class and thus weren’t supposed to work. Even if disgraced, rules applied to us, and we were a great embarrassment to those who we used to call friends and allies.

The curse was further broken when father in his quite advanced age managed to pass the gwageo and got a spot in local office. He pushed my younger brothers into studies, as his pride never took this situation lightly. He was brought up to be an aristocrat, but here he was, working his days away like a commoner. In the end, his obsession was fruitful when two of my three brothers also passed their examinations and entered into civil duty, one striving for the office and one for the military service. The middle son, who struggled with his studies, was put in charge of the shop where he excelled.

As such, we were suddenly catapulted back into our previous standing, after several generations of disgrace, after struggling financially and fighting for survival every month, we were back to walking the streets with our chins held high, wrapped from head to toe in silk.

And that’s where the controversy about my marriage started.

As most young people, I had been promised and engaged to a young boy from a different neighbouring village. Due to the fact that we lost our title, I couldn’t strive for marriage withing the yangban class – after all, social standing was inherited after the mother, so I couldn’t be more than a concubine since I would curse my child with low social status. But that would be a hit to my father’s pride. Therefore he rather engaged me to a son of a lower middle class trader. To them, I was someone of a better status as they had never received a title, and my family would expand their funds.

But then several things happened all almost at once.

We regained our status, thus our marriage in my father’s eyes was no longer appropriate, even though finding someone from the yangban who would want me to marry their son would be nigh impossible. He demanded the breaking of the engagement, which was something the society looked down upon, especially since he had sealed the deal years ago. The two families started feuding, the trader now even more eager to secure me for them, and my father with his regained confidence insisting upon marriage to someone “of our class”. And during this time, the boy fell ill and promptly died.

Since we were engaged, I now was to be considered his widow even though we hadn’t had our wedding, but my father insisted that the engagement was broken off and I had no such obligation. The trader of course claimed the complete opposite and demanded we go through with everything as was arranged. The people in the area, even if they followed the drama between the two families closely and listened to gossip religiously, they themselves couldn’t tell who was telling the truth. Our engagement had been in place for years, but it was also widely known that my father has changed his mind and demanded for the wedding to be off.

In the eyes of some I was free to marry, but some viewed me as a young widow, a ghost bride, and thus I couldn’t find another husband unless I wanted to bring huge shame on the family and reap cosmic consequences. But most simply disliked my father for his underhanded tactics and newfound arrogance.

But this situation had made the question of my marriage impossible to solve. It was already unlikely that a match of my father’s expectations would be willing to take me as a first wife and honour me as such, since the yangbans looked down on us heavily, and now I had become tarnished goods in the eyes of potential suitors. My family still tried desperately to pawn me off to someone, but we had turned into a huge joke between the families in the area and I was doomed. Some even started to view me as a cursed woman, touched by black magic, that would bring death to any man who would want to marry me, and that was a final nail in the coffin of my marriage.

But my father wouldn’t give up so easily. He still had something that many desired enough to risk a curse on their family – money and power.

Thus, when the messenger had come and father refused to divulge any information about the nature of the meeting, the wives and daughters that had amassed in our house over the years all whispered about a potential engagement. I thought it was possible, but it was probably for one of my younger sisters. I was wrong.

The Ryu family used to be a powerful local aristocracy, but over the last few generations they had fallen considerably. Their disgrace wasn’t as openly talked about as ours, even though they were the centre of some mean-spirited jokes, however they had one powerful advantage. They didn’t lose their title, just most of their money. While their children still could live their lives telling everyone they were yangbans, they didn’t have the money to uphold the lifestyle. Only one of their sons had an office and it wasn’t enough to keep the whole extended family afloat. There were rumours of gambling, addiction and unwise spending, which were the most probable factors in their fall.

They knew no one self-respecting would marry their children, who were all pushed into working for their livelihood, and they couldn’t marry under their standing lest the children lose their status. That’s when they came up with the bright idea to get into talks with our family.

My father didn’t waste any time. For him, this was perfect – the right class, family with still some respect left intact, he had enough money, so he didn’t mind striking a business deal with the mostly impoverished family and I was used to working, as I had also grown up before our rise. It was just the perfect deal.

From the moment I had first heard about it, it was barely two months before I found myself fully engaged and a week away from a wedding to a man I’d never met before. He was the second son; he had a house on the foot of the mountain a little further away from the town that was the heart of this area. It would take some travelling, but still remained close enough to keep close ties.

Our wedding ceremony was brief and awkward, a lot of stilted conversation and pretend joy, while my mother and sisters all gathered around me in silent support. I saw their sad and worried eyes, the graveness of their usually more cheerful voices, the barely masked sympathy they looked at me with when I interacted with my stone-faced husband. Marriage was something I had since long made peace with, after all it is what every woman has to face at some point in her life, so I had just squeezed their hands and smiled at them gently, whispered words of assurance and prepared myself for the long journey to my new home.

I had soon found out he was a cold quiet man, rough and unhappy. Most of the time he wouldn’t address me with much more than grumbling complaints, cross when I tried to speak to him, when I asked him questions or requested something to be bought, turning away from me and rather spending time tending to his house and to his animals.

I was suddenly confined to a few rooms within an unwelcoming dark house, knitting or sewing or cooking, trying to lose myself in the mindless tasks of caring for a man and a household instead of dwelling on the growing despair in the pit of my stomach. Since then the situation between us has considerably worsened, but I found that the angrier he grew with me, the less he wanted to see me and the more he avoided me, which had begun to bring me relief. I was lonely and I did feel abandoned, but it was better than surviving in the same room as him.

I had gotten used to the air of gloom hanging over this dwelling.

My hand reached over for another carrot and found none, and I startled myself out of reminiscing. The vegetables were cut and the stew was boiling vigorously, so I busied myself with finishing. The sounds of chopping wood have ceased and I could no longer hear any traces of my husband’s presence.

Curious, I opened the door and peeked outside. The bitter coldness of the air immediately bit into my face and I shuddered, my body shocked by the sudden freezing temperatures when it was so warm from the kitchen fire. Looking over the yard, I didn’t see the hulking form of the man I’d come to live with, but I did see his fresh footprints in the snow leading towards the pig sty. Satisfied I walked back in and closed the door again. Rubbing my hands on my arms and cheeks I hurried back to the pot to warm up.

Soon the sun would go down and night would fall, so he was tending to the pigs for the last time tonight, making sure they had everything, which gave me a little more time to finish up dinner.

Some maybe half hour later the door finally opened roughly and he made his way in wordlessly. There were wet footprints on the floor left behind and a puddle was slowly gathering as melted snow dripped from his coat. I bit my tongue and said nothing, just pulled out the table and started setting it for dinner.

No words were traded and yet the atmosphere chilled considerably, the mood dropping low along with the sun on the horizon. We sat down, we ate in silence. Once he was done, he again got up, put a fresh coat on and was out of the door before I could even wish him a good night.

I used to ask where he was going, but there was no longer any need for that. He spent his evenings and nights in the same place every day, it was a habit that must have started a little before our betrothal. He had found himself some new friends from the town, friends that very happily spent most of their time playing cards, smoking opium, drinking and crawling from brothel to brothel.

Around the time of our wedding, he only joined them a few nights of the week and usually came back in the middle of the night. Back then I saw it as a problem and oftentimes tried to dissuade him from throwing away money this way. His family lost all they had because their young lord lived this exact lifestyle, it was foolish for him to fall down the same trap, but it was a frequent cause of arguments between us and the more I pushed for him to not go out and spend so much money, the more he wanted to. Gradually he went more often, came back later, until I had started waking up to an untouched, unslept in bed.

But I do have to admit that nowadays I saw it more as a relief that he never spent his nights home, even if that meant our already hard-to-come-by money was being thrown out the window like it was nothing. I’d come to prefer spending time alone.

I cleaned up after dinner and started preparing myself for bed. The ritual of changing clothes, brushing out my hair and smoothing out the bedding on the mats was helping me calm down every evening, but tonight I couldn’t find rest for some reason. While I sat on the floor and carefully brushed my hair, the house felt chillier than usual and I kept hearing soft creaks from the outside as if someone was walking around on the porch. It’s just the wind and the frost, it must be.

Unsettled I lost the battle with myself and went to look out into the yard. The moment I got near the door, suddenly a gust of chilling wind bust the door open and I screamed with shock, covering my naked arms to shield them from the frost. Immediately I jumped towards the door to close it back up, not before looking out into the yard and the forest beyond the walls of our house. There was a full moon hanging over us in the night sky and its light allowed me to see everything with startling ease, casting an eerie silver glow over the murmuring trees. I quickly shut the door and sat back down to help my heart calm down, as it was beating so hard I feared it might tear right out of my ribcage.

After I laid down, it took me a long moment to settle down enough for sleep to start licking at my consciousness. I kept startling myself with every crack and every hum of the wind outside and the fright from before still coursed through my veins, making me shiver and trying to persuade me there was something wicked hiding behind the darkness, lurking in every corner and waiting for an unguarded moment.

But somewhere along the way I did nod off and when I woke up in the morning, I was certain the strong arms that at some point found their way around my waist and pulled me into a warm wide chest were nothing more than a dream. An embarrassing dream that just spoke of my sombre solitude.

In the first months of our marriage, much to my chagrin, Minhwan practiced his marital rights almost nightly. Some nights he would return late from his outings with friends and immediately roll over on me and demand I submit. I did of course, it was expected of me and I was well aware of that. I had been taught that.

But over the course of several months, the frequency of such encounters lessened as I wasn’t getting pregnant, until we no longer even spoke to each other and his side of the bed became permanently unoccupied.

Of course, there was a simple, and really the only, reason for my introduction into this family – a child. A son. That was the end-goal of this union and the purpose for my existence in their eyes. After I had failed to fall pregnant despite months of effort, the man I married who already wasn’t very kind to me slowly turned into someone crueller, angrier. I could see the frustration taking over him until he completely lost himself in the rage at my uselessness.

He couldn’t divorce me, even though my inability to bear him an heir would be a legitimate reason. His family was already teetering on the edge of respectability, and this would make them the laughing stock of the town, since they definitely wouldn’t be able to find him another bride. That was because of the other issue. Money. They bought me with what last they had left and if divorced they would not only lose my father’s protection and financial help, but also wouldn’t be able to scrounge up enough money to buy another woman, if they even found one that was willing.

Minhwan knew that, knew that he couldn’t get rid of me, and even though his status would allow him to take a second wife or even a concubine, he couldn’t afford them. What little he had he gambled away and spent on girls in the red district; and not much was left for actually running the household and keeping us alive. No self-respecting family would let their daughter enter a family like that and women who were after money and status wouldn’t find anything here. And if he had an illegitimate son from a kisaeng, he could hardly bring it here and claim him as an heir, his father would never let him disgrace the bloodline like that.

Thus in his eyes I was worse than useless. I was his doom, a wasted effort that only pushed him further down and he no doubt felt that the best thing I could do for him was to die, so he could remarry. That’s why I preferred when he didn’t return home for the nights. Living alongside such pure hatred was draining.

When I was sitting by the mirror in the morning, I had just heard him return home. I opened the door a crack and peeked outside, just catching his eye as he was changing into fresher clothes. He held the contact for a few beats of my wild heart and then looked away.

“Breakfast?” he asked gruffly, not even forming a full sentence, while still looking away from me. I followed his gaze and found it stuck to the door leading into kitchen. I sighed quietly, making sure he couldn’t hear me lest he gets angry with my insolence.

“I will prepare it in a second,” was my short answer. He wasn’t interested in hearing anything more, the less I said the better. Thus my morning routine had to be cut short. Walking past him, I was suddenly bombarded with the smell of smoke, stale alcohol and cheap perfume and powder. The stench was a bit too strong for my queasy morning stomach and I felt it roll a few times, threatening to spill even though it was empty. I subtly covered my nose and busied myself into the kitchen smelling pleasantly of food and spices. This room has become my refuge. I knew he wouldn’t overstep here, this was my domain and I felt at least a semblance of power in here.

As distracted as I was, I kept finding my tools in places where I didn’t leave them in. I would turn around and suddenly my spoon would be laying two paces further into the room then I remembered leaving it. I told myself I was just tired, I was feeling unnerved by my husband’s hulking presence on the doorstep of the room, watching me prepare porridge as if fearing I’d poison him if he’d look away for a moment, I was still flustered by my dreams and nervous from the scare the night before. Surely it was that.

That day I spent mostly inside, sitting by a dying fire trying to mend broken and torn clothes, worn thin by hard labour and years of wear, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of unsettlement that has been plaguing me since yesterday’s evening.

By the time the night fell and Minhwan left again, I found myself quite anxious to be left alone in the cold house, still feeling like a presence was glued to my side, invisible and watching me, but every time I would look over my shoulder, I’d find an empty room. Before settling down to sleep, I walked out and checked the courtyard again, and just like the previous evening, it was illuminated by a silver light so brightly it was almost shocking.

I looked to the sky and was stunned by the giant full moon hanging over my head. The night was calm, much calmer then yesterday, no wind shaking the trees and the only sound was the distant cawing of a bird. The white snow reflected the night sky and blinded me, but not enough to not notice the stark contrast of pitch black footsteps disrupting the otherwise clean coat over the ground. I could see their path clearly, leaving the house and disappearing behind the gate, and they filled me with gentle sadness. With my mind off of the ghost of a feeling that’s been following me the whole day, I made my way back inside to sleep. But I wasn’t prepared for what the night had prepared for me.

As soon as I closed my eyes and started drifting off, I felt the mat and bedding shifting as another body laid down next to me. I had fully accepted it, not questioning the arms making their way around my waist and pulling me into a warm hug. It felt as a very clear dream, and I found myself fighting to open my eyes to see, but instead chose to sink into the comfortable atmosphere. There was a hum behind me, but the voice was so deep and pressed so close to me it almost felt like a purr. Non-consciously I answered with my own, drifting with the current. I fooled myself into this, so desperately needing to feel a nice touch that I didn’t even want to think about why somewhere deep down I felt alarmed and unsettled at the situation. I buried that away and let the hands run along my sides, basked in the quiet humming somewhere right behind my ear and the warmth it filled me with.

When I woke up in the morning, it was to the sound of a door slamming open and heavy steps and sighs. I was confused for a few moments, subconsciously searching for the comfort I had felt in my sleep, only to be hit with a wave of embarrassment and mortification. I had been dreaming again, imagining inappropriately a stranger’s presence in my bed, hoping for a touch and comfort of man’s hands.

I felt the blush spill over my face just as the door to the bedroom flew open and my husband found my gaze. I saw suspicion in his eyes, most probably not used to seeing me in such a flustered state and questioning what could stand behind it. His eyes shifted subtly over the room as if looking for a hidden lover and in my mind I chuckled. He dragged me away into the woods, and living in the middle of nowhere and not allowed to leave the house without him or an attendant I couldn’t afford, how could I have possibly found a lover? No one came here and I went nowhere, the only company I knew was the animals and a warm fire, a needle and a thread and worn books, I couldn’t take the same liberties he has been taking for a better part of our marriage.

When Minhwan made sure I was completely alone, just as he left me, he looked back to me and asked for breakfast. That broke the strange silence and I was thrown right back into the routine of my normal days.

Over the following few nights, the dream kept coming back to me, but every time the unknown man in my fantasy went a little further. More often than not I found myself waking up with a start, blushing red from head to toe at the daring hands that kept straying more and more south, embarrassed with myself but also not wanting them to stop before I had the chance to experience whatever my subconscious wanted to grant me.

At first, his hands would only lightly caress along my side, as if trying to console me and help me sleep peacefully, while he hummed along some kind of a lullaby behind me. Everything always felt pleasantly fuzzy and I’d come to think of him as my dream guardian. My days, in comparison, felt dull and sad, and I’d found some sort of peace in these dreams.

But soon, the direction started to change. The hands strayed lower onto my thighs, grabbing the flesh lightly and teasingly, or going over my stomach until they were right under where my breasts were. I could feel him pressed closer to me too, his front moulded around my back, shoulders caging me in, the sweet humming slowly turning into something more akin to satisfied purring, causing me to flush red and a rush of excitement to flow through my veins. He always laid behind me and his existence felt like half here half not, but the closer he pushed himself, the more solid his presence was, the warmer I felt in the embrace and the more flustered I woke up.

Clearly, I hadn’t been taking proper care of my body and it was screaming for some sort of attention, there was no other explanation for these embarrassing dreams. The shame I felt from such urges surfacing in this manner was overshadowed only by the pressing loneliness, and I kept telling myself that even if I am a married, proper woman, dreams are dreams, and indulging in them a little wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? So, I let myself slip into sweet sleep every night, anticipating where my mind would take me.

During the day the little slip ups would continue. I would misplace things, find them in completely different places then I’d left them before. Sometimes it felt as if I was losing my mind, that the combination of the strange dreams and my sudden scatteredness meant I was finally feeling the effects of the situation I’d find myself in. But I could swear sometimes I would catch a glimpse of shadow or hear a gust of wind that sounded suspiciously like a laugh when I couldn’t find something. It made me feel even more insane.

The moment I realised what was truly happening came a few days later. Even though I was a little unsettled, I’d grown accustomed to the dreams and I treated them as my little escape, no matter whether I should have been concerned or not. I felt comfort from them and they felt like a dirty secret of mine, something I shouldn’t have been doing but it felt so nice I couldn’t stop myself. My husband spent all his nights god knows where doing god knows what with god knows who, I could allow myself this little thing.

Usually, I would sleep through the night without a problem and in the morning I’d be woken up by Minhwan coming back home and barging into the bedroom to ask for a breakfast, but that night for some reason I was shaken out of my sleep somewhere in the dark hours of the early morning. There was some noise outside, something that sounded like a wolf howl, and it was so close I was almost afraid to check the yard in case there was a wild animal there, but I had to go see whether the rabbits and chickens we were keeping were peaceful, just to be sure.

I moved to get out of the bed, but found an arm around my waist pinning me to another body and keeping me in place. My first instinct was to panic, but quickly that was overridden by utter bottomless embarrassment. What if Minhwan has been returning home earlier than I thought and this whole time my mind only substituted some unknown man in the place of my husband as I was falling asleep? Had I been embarrassing myself in front of him the whole time, dreaming about such immoral things and imagining a stranger’s embrace? But he had never touched me like this, and even when we shared a bed at the beginning of our marriage, he never showed the habit of hugging something while sleeping. He always kept himself to his side and never touched me unless completely necessary, even during marital activities. I couldn’t imagine him slipping quietly into bed in the middle of the night and embracing me so tenderly.

Complicated emotions flooded me, not knowing what to make of this, but in a moment of weakness I fooled myself into thinking this could maybe be a beginning of a better marriage. That was shattered the moment I reached back to gently pat at his thigh to wake him up to go check on the animals. There was some shuffling, the arm tightened around my mid and suddenly I could feel him nosing at the crook of my neck, laying a single long wet kiss there. I froze and flushed, completely flustered and even more confused by the situation. Then he chuckled and ice cold flooded my veins. I felt myself freeze in place, terror keeping me so still I barely even breathed. That wasn’t my husband’s voice. It was deep and velvety, rich like the dark chocolate I’d once gotten the chance to try in the city, completely different from Minhwan’s quiet rough commands.

Fear was making it hard to think, but I knew he realised I was awake based on how stiff I’d gotten, I could hear him quietly breathing and waiting for my reaction. There was certain amusement to him, I didn’t know how I felt it, but somehow I just did, something about him gave off excited anticipation and I imagined a sly smirk stretching his lips as he laid there. Then suddenly as if everything caught up to me, I felt my body jumping into motion, tearing his arm away and flying out of the bed. I grabbed the first thing I could see, which were my shoes, and turned around to try my best in defending myself against this stranger that’s apparently been sneaking into my bed deep into the night.

But the moment my eyes fell on the bed, it was empty. No sign of anyone being there. Frightened out of my mind, I searched the room with my eyes, but it was mostly bare and there wasn’t a place that could hide a man. I knew he was bigger than me, I’d felt him behind me and I was sure he couldn’t have been hiding in the sorry state my bedroom was.

For a moment I just stood there and processed before my knees gave up on me and I slid down to the floor, shoes still tightly clutched in my hands, heart beating out of my chest. I wasn’t going insane. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. There was something not human in my bed.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night sitting on the bed leaning on the wall and watching the room. My eyes frantically jumped to any movement, even the tiniest flickers of shadows would make my hands twitch, fingers tightening around my slippers, ready to jump out and fight for my life. But nothing happened. The only sounds I could hear were coming from the wind tearing into the walls of the house and messing with the trees and branches outside, and at some point the room was so still I almost felt as if I fell through the cracks into a painting and was now stuck inside.

Thus I had hours to sit there and stew in my fear and humiliation. Whatever the being was, it must have had nefarious intentions, why else would he sneak in like that and make my dreams turn to such depravity? And here I was, fooling myself into thinking it was okay to feel such cravings and giving into them, anticipating them and with bated breath hoping maybe the next night the dream lover will finally cave and touch me in a way I’d barely ever felt in my life. Instead I almost gave myself over to a demon, let him have my body and feed off of my energy, damn my soul and prove that I truly was cursed.

I also had a lot of time to think of my next steps. But what could I really do? I could never tell Minhwan and ask for his help, he’d chase me out as an impure woman. Once I’d tell him the nature of the encounters,  he’d accuse me of adultery and use it as an opportunity to get rid of me. If I was returned to my father in such a manner, death would be more welcoming than facing his rage and humiliating the family. Telling him would do more harm than good.

I could buy myself talismans and hide them around the house, but there were many, each of them used for a different ailment. I’d have to visit the village shaman and pay her to exorcise me and our home. I’d have to explain to her the troubles I’ve been having so she could paint me appropriate protective talismans. It was obvious that the being must have been a demon of lust and once I admitted that, the delicious  gossip would no doubt spread and I would be as good as dead.

No, I couldn’t tell anyone what was happening. I had to chase him out myself, no matter what it took. Come morning, I was completely exhausted but determined to deal with the situation myself.

When Minhwan barged into the house, pale in complexion and with dark bags under his eyes, I was already preparing the breakfast on the small table, looking similarly dead on my feet. The man’s eyes flitted over me, but he didn’t seem to take notice od my state and only grunted, pleased at not having to wait for food or scream for me to leave the bed.

I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even notice when he left for the yard, didn’t even have time to process the usual air of coldness and disinterest he brought with him, as I was too preoccupied thinking of the unwelcome guest. The little tricks with misplacing things must have also been him. I felt rage lick at the edge of my mind, suddenly making itself known in such an intensity I surprised myself. I’d fully start to believe I was no longer capable of feeling such strong emotions, but here I was. Thinking of million ways to get back at someone who’s been making a fool of me for his own entertainment for the past weeks.

The next few days were suspiciously uneventful. No more visits, no more “dreams”, even all my tools stayed suspiciously still and didn’t suddenly appear at places they weren’t supposed to be, but I wasn’t a fool. I knew he wouldn’t give up so easily, not to mention I still couldn’t get rid of the feeling of being watched or messed with.

And slowly he had begun giving me subtle hints he was still as present as ever. The books that were put in order, the robe that was waiting for me on by the partition one evening, water refilled in a cup I knew I’d finished. He suddenly switched to being helpful instead of messing with me, but I knew it was all just entertainment to him.

One of the bigger ones was some days later in the evening. I’d taken to walking around the veranda checking on the yard and the forest outside of the yard walls. As usual, there were footsteps in the snow, my husband left them there every night when he left, but that evening there was something different about them. I frowned, trying to discern what about them caught my attention. I leaned over the railing to inspect them closer with a sense of foreboding looming over my head like a silent monument. The moment I realised what it was I gasped and dread and anticipation filled me. The footsteps, they didn’t lead from the house. They led towards the main entrance.

This must be it, I thought to myself. This must be the night.

When I walked back inside, I lingered around each room a little, watching the surroundings like a hawk and expecting him to jump out at me from every corner and every shadow. But the house was still and silent, not even any sounds from outside creeping in. I slowly walked towards the bedroom and found it empty and in the same state as I’d left it. I made it through my little nightly ritual without a hitch, but anxious and expecting something to happen any moment. It didn’t. Lying down in bed, I continued sharply watching the room, but to no avail. Even though I could basically taste the anticipation in the still air of the room, and knew the demon was most definitely watching me back, he didn’t make any move. I fell asleep suddenly, without realising I was even teetering on the edge and when I woke up, I wasn’t sure whether the fingers I felt gently carding through my hair just as I succumbed to sleep were my imagination or not.

He didn’t return abruptly, instead he slowly built it up, as if testing how far I’d let this go. Sometimes he would hand me things when cooking or I would be looking for something only to find it gingerly sitting on the table a few hours later, as if suddenly becoming helpful would make me more accepting of whatever his end goal was and I would let him return like nothing happened.

The problem began when he started leaving flowers for me. The gentle quivering of my heart when I saw a beautiful little flower in bloom laying by my bedside was alarming to me, and I didn’t want such a confusing feeling to enter my life. But I couldn’t help myself.

Without thinking I picked it up and brought it to my nose. It smelled sweetly, almost too ripe, the scent permeating the air and everything around it, making me slightly dizzy. I couldn’t remember when was the last time I received a flower like this, maybe when my little brother was still a child and brought it for me from playing in the fields. Our father scolded him then, for running around with other boys instead of studying, but after that whenever either of us saw the little white blossom, we would giggle at each other, sharing smiles like tiny secrets.

I was startled by a tear sliding down my cheek at the memory, the sudden reminiscing of my family, of the one person I was truly close to before he joined the military and went to Hanyang. He was to be married soon too, already at that age when the promises turn to actions and I couldn’t wait for the spring to come so I could travel for his wedding. I’d met the girl before, she was a shy quiet daughter of a smaller aristocratic family who just recently got their title for their merits. I quite liked her, even if I didn’t get much time with her before leaving.

He was the one person in our family who had a chance of a happy marriage, I hoped he would. No matter what our father tried to create out of him, he was a sensitive boy, full of mischief and laughs. I so desperately wanted his life to turn out better than mine did. Or that his marriage wouldn’t end up like our eldest brother’s did. He had married first, when we still scrounged for money, I remembered going to his wedding as a young maiden and being swept away in the celebrations, wishing for my own wedding with red blushing cheeks as young girls did. His wife was a practical woman, strong and resolute, but kind. They never had much affections between them, but they had an understanding and their marriage functioned well. I believed my brother respected her as a husband should his wife, but I was wrong.

After our title was restored, our father started pushing my brother to divorce her so he could marry a lady from an aristocratic family, but he couldn’t do that. She had given him children and wasn’t causing him any troubles, so a divorce wouldn’t be allowed. So my brother did the next best thing. He married a woman of a high standing and made her his main wife, pushing the first wife into a secondary position in the family and robbing her children of their inheritance of the title. Since then she became quiet and withdrawn, no longer she was allowed to make any decisions and lived only to serve a man that didn’t even look her way anymore, couldn’t even explain to his firstborn son that he no longer would inherit his estate and left her to pick up the ashes and survive such disgrace.

It was terrifying when it happened. While she never showed much gentleness, she always smiled at the children and sometimes would sneak me sweets like I was one of her own, even when I was the second oldest child of the family. My heart bled for her, and I started to fear my own marriage, knowing I would never get any aristocrat’s respect due to our family history. At that time, I had no idea that what would happen to me would be even worse.

I was startled by a sudden touch on my cheek, a finger wiping away the few stray tears falling down while I sat on the ground and stared at the pretty flower. I gasped and tried to flinch away, but another arm snaked around my waist and I could feel his head leaning on my shoulder. He sat behind me once again, like always, holding me as if he didn’t want me to see him.

“Shhhhhh…,” came his deep honeyed voice, whispering in such a gentle way that I could feel a wave of goosebumps hitting me, “I didn’t know it would make you cry.” Against my better judgment, I could feel my body relaxing into his embrace and a few more tears slipping out. He rocked us from side to side, trying to console me, but it was like my dams broke and soon I was sobbing in his arms, pushing my face into his shoulder and clutching the single blossom in my shaky hands.

I couldn’t say when the last time I was held so tenderly by someone was, but it must have been when I was a child still, begging for my mother’s touch any time something happened. I was warm, wrapped into him, and soft. There was a hand in my hair, carding through the locks and caressing me like a lover would. I couldn’t stop the stream of tears and emotions and I felt ashamed and scared. I couldn’t trust him, and it hurt because no one’s ever treated me so softly, but I knew. Knew it might be just a way to get closer to me. So I decided to allow myself this just for a moment.

I let him hold me, listened to him hum some kind of a song I didn’t recognise, let him lull me into a half-asleep state until I was draped over him, boneless and numb. His hands never strayed like before and he seemed to be genuinely trying to console me. In my mind I scolded myself, believed myself pathetic for falling for such tricks and for being so desperate I would let a demon embrace me just to feel some warmth, but outwardly I didn’t let anything show. I was too drained for that.

When I quieted down and just limply hung off of his frame, he must have decided it was time to sleep. He grabbed me and carried me onto the bedding, making sure my head was pushed into his shoulder so I couldn’t look at his face. I found it strange, but had no energy to ask him anything, just letting him manoeuvre us around until we were lying just like we used to before I caught him, on our side with him behind me. Sleep came and claimed me suddenly and out of nowhere, but I found myself strangely comfortable.

When I awoke in the morning, the house was silent and the bed was empty, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Would I have confronted him and demanded answers? Or did I allow myself to be vulnerable around someone that wished for my downfall and now I found myself inappropriately attached? One thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t like thinking about it, and so I got up and went about my day as if nothing had happened. I did find myself wondering what happened to the flower, as it was nowhere to be found, wondering whether it even was real or if I hallucinated it. But after that night, a fresh blossom was waiting by my bedside every evening, leaving me full of complicated confusing emotions. No sight of my demon, though.

“Do you want that?” a gruff voice by my shoulder growled and I barely stopped myself from scowling. The hairpin I had been staring at was suddenly plucked from the table by the eager merchant who understood that question as my husband’s intention to buy it for me. The older man pushed it towards me and started reciting all the reasons why such a lady like me absolutely had to have such a decoration, hoping to pitch it to a loving husband doting on his wife. Unfortunately, his guess was completely wrong.

“How much is it?” I asked towards the merchant, who seemed confused by me talking to him while Minhwan stared daggers into my back. His eyes flitted between us, awkward silence taking over for a few seconds before he stuttered out the price, looking at no one in particular. I went to fish out the amount from my purse, but my hand was stopped by another much bigger and rougher one.

“You don’t need it,” Minhwan said resolutely, voice leaving no space for discussion, “Don’t waste money on useless things.” I gritted my teeth, minutely losing control of my expression as rage swept through me at his statement, but as soon as I saw my husband’s eyes narrow in warning, I schooled myself and pulled from the stall.

“Of course,” I answered with false demureness, shooting the merchant an apologetic smile before ducking my head down and following after Minhwan through the market like the picture of the perfect wife. We walked around for some time, from stall to stall, haggling for vegetables and tools, whatever was needed around the house. Minhwan didn’t like it when I spoke to the vendors, he had me trailing behind him with a veil on or my head demurely ducked down like an obedient wife, and I was to speak only when he asked me something. Thus I spent most of the time in the market saying only “yes, we need it” or “no, I think we still have enough”. I hated it, but there was nothing that could be done.

The ride back to the house was also incredibly tense. I could still feel my husband’s rage at my earlier behaviour and knew that the moment we walk back through the gates of our farm, he’ll have some things to say. So I sighed and waited for the endless journey to finally reach its final destination.

To my shock and unease, nothing came when we walked back into the house, supplies in hands and struggling to pull the baskets through the door. Silence was all that greeted me. Minhwan helped me pull things into the kitchen and then with one last burning hateful stare he walked across the house. I watched him rummage through a chest, pulling out his only other jungchimak he usually wore when outing with his friends. It was the better one, in deep indigo colour, that made him look like a young affluent yangban. I snickered behind my hand and pretended to sort through the different bags and baskets we brought back.

When Minhwan was done changing, he charged out of the door without even a second glance. I looked out of the kitchen door facing into the yard and watched him until the gate slammed shut behind him, then I returned to the task at hand with a sigh. He didn’t do this often, but sometimes when I would make him angry, he just left. Without a word. He likely wouldn’t return until late noon tomorrow morning.

I’d long since given up on trying to stop him when the sun was still high up in the sky, he would still leave, just significantly angrier, which would result in him throwing out more money, so it was better to not get in his way when he wanted to drink, smoke and fuck his frustration away god knows where with the other young men.

I busied myself cleaning around the house and caring for the animals, finishing the work he had left. I found myself gritting my teeth in anger and annoyance as I chopped the firewood, wildly swinging the axe around and taking it out on the logs. When the time to go to sleep came, I was drained, both emotionally and physically, too strung out and tensed to even enjoy my nighttime routine like I usually did.

When I turned to the bed, a single hairpin was lying on the bedding. A beautiful, red, lacquered hairpin with a carving of a flower and a single red gem in the centre. The one I’d been looking at while we were in the town and almost bought to spite Minhwan. A mix of emotions overtook me, the most prominent one being sudden anger. My heart stuttered under the weight of it, the frustration of the day and the past weeks bursting through me in one big eruption.

Our uninvited guest was keeping himself surprisingly scarce after that night I had cried, but kept bringing me flowers. I accepted them with complicated feelings, but I had convinced myself into believing that since they’re already here, since they already have been plucked, it would be cruel of me to not accept them. So, night after night I tucked them away so Minhwan could never find them. I didn’t even know where the demon was getting them, since we were in the middle of a tough winter, but after all, I should care for them all the more, right?

But the hairpin was a step too far. I did not need to be reminded of my shameful behaviour and of the fact that my husband felt it appropriate to blow all his money away but couldn’t spare a single silver to let me buy a hairpin, and definitely not in such a way.

“Okay, come out,” I spoke loudly into the empty room, “We need to talk. This can’t keep happening.” I looked around, but everything stayed silent and still. Then, a soft voice rang out.

“Close your eyes.”

I stood up and crossed my arms defensively, spinning around to try and catch a glimpse of the being.

“Why?” I asked gruffly, speaking to an empty bedroom like a lunatic, “Why do you not want me to see you?”

“I can’t let you see me until you truly want to,” the answer came, the voice just as melodic and soft as it was before, as it was always, and I involuntarily shuddered.

“I do want to see you, right now,” I replied, ticked off. He just wanted to have the upper hand and not face me head on, I was sure of that. There was silence again, seemingly even the wind outside the door quieting down to listen to us, the room unnaturally still.

“You want to scold me,” he answered petulantly after a moment, sounding more like a child. I could hear the pout on his lips, the childlike upset of doing something wrong and not understanding why. My resolve softened a little, but I pulled myself together, determined not to let the demon play me like that. I couldn’t keep letting him get away with everything.

“So you know,” I stated, the anger seeping back into my voice, “You cannot keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” I could hear genuine curiosity in his question, one that filled me with exasperation.

I gestured to the hairpin wildly. “This!” I exclaimed loudly, “The leaving of gifts, the creeping around, nothing of it. Leave while I’m still asking nicely.” Even as the words left my mouth, they felt like an empty threat. What could I possibly do against him? I’d let him go this far, what could I do to stop him now? But he completely ignored the second part and focused solely on the gifts.

“Do you not like them?” there was slight dejection present in his voice, like he didn’t understand why it was such a problem, “I thought you did. You never threw them out.” I cursed my soft heart. I should have never let him get away with bringing me flowers, I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that. I should have been resolute and told him to leave right then, not let him coddle me and embrace me when I felt sad.

I hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to answer. I found myself not wanting to upset him by saying no, falling victim to his sweet demeanour. Again. I groaned with frustration and hit my forehead with my palm.

“It’s not that I don’t like them,” I started a little softer than before, “It’s just embarrassing.”

“Why?” I groaned again. Good lord, this was going to take a while.

“Because…” I stuttered for a moment, the vulnerability of words on my tongue shocking me, “It feels humiliating. My own husband wouldn’t buy it for me and it feels like an insult for a demon to do that.” There was a beat of silence, in which I almost managed to persuade myself that there was never anyone there and I had been talking to myself the whole time, but then he spoke again.

“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” his voice was quiet, contemplative, “I wanted to make you happy.” That shocked me enough to have me stutter over a few breaths, wildly looking around the room with wide eyes. “W-why?” I managed to squeak out, flabbergasted at such admission.

“It felt like you needed it,” came his simple reply, as if talking about the weather. That statement drained the whole fight out of me, leaving me standing there unsure and confused, filled with shame and wonder at the simplicity of it all.

“What?” I whispered, not really looking for an answer, just voicing out my inner turmoil.

“It felt like you needed it,” he replied a little louder, “You were always so sad. I didn’t like it. You shouldn’t be so sad.” It was such a simple statement and yet it pulled down the walls of my heart and made it flutter. I chided myself for being so easy to fool with a few sweet words, but I couldn’t stop the lightness taking over my heart, the relief bleeding into my every pore.

Someone saw my suffering, I thought to myself. Someone noticed my pain.

“What are you?” I whispered the question into the empty house, but no man stepped out into the light, no shadow moved. He was silent for a moment and then said: “Close your eyes.” And this time I did.

The moment my lids fluttered closed, I could hear slight shuffling of clothing behind me and light footsteps. On instinct I went to turn around, but a hand suddenly tightly covered my eyes, startling me slightly. I jumped a little, pushing myself back straight into his chest, which embarrassingly enough was a position I’d gotten used to over the past weeks. Then a silken ribbon touched my cheek and the hand moved quickly to tie it over my eyes.

“So you don’t try to cut this meeting short,” he explained lightly, voice full of amusement.

“But I do want to see you, is it not enough that I no longer wish to scold you?” I asked, confused by the strange rules.

“You need to desire to see me, truly, with your soul,” he said lowly, voice deepening into the honeyed register I was used to hearing from him and I shuddered lightly, feeling the words trickle down my skin and bite into my very being.

“S-so I can only see you when I want t-to-“ I couldn’t bring myself to finish that thought, the sinful image burning into my brain making me stutter and blush so fiercely I felt as if I burst into flames. I ducked my head, but his chuckle followed me, melting over me. There was no longer any amusement in his voice, now there was something darker and heavier, threatening to consume me from the inside out.

“Smart girl,” he whispered and I couldn’t help the wave of goosebumps that hit my skin when I felt his breath on my ear and neck. The sudden turn from his earlier more innocent voice and words left me confused and flabbergasted, blushing at his newfound confidence. I felt him lean closer into me, nose almost touching the crook of my neck, only to whisper: “Time to sleep.”

Before I could react, he swooped me into his arms and I yelped in surprise, before hiding my face in my hands in embarrassment. He carried me to the bed and very gently laid me there, his hands smoothing down my nightgown and pulling the blanket over us. My face burned, but I stayed silent and let him happily chirp behind me as he pulled me closer to his chest and made himself comfortable.

It felt like years before I fell asleep. I just laid there, feeling his chest move and his breathing deepen until I was sure he was sleeping, but even then I didn’t reach back to untie the ribbon. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust his words. That’s how I finally got pulled under, with my heart trembling with careful hope.

Come morning, something new happened. When I woke up, his strong arms were still wrapped around me and as soon as I started wiggling in his grip, he woke up with a content groan and a big stretch, like a cat. I blushed again, which seemed to become more of a permanent thing in his presence. I went to call out to him to scold him, when I realised something. I didn’t know his name. I haven’t asked him for his name all this time.

“Good morning,” came his morning raspy voice, then he burrowed his face somewhere deeper into the bedding and my hair. The ribbon slipped during the night and with my movement it unravelled onto the pillow, making me freeze slightly. I reached for it, playing with it between my fingers a little, before I spoke to him too.

Good morning...” I trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to ask him his name, “d-demon?” I flushed in embarrassment. Truly perfect, why not just call him a pervert if I was going to be like that? Behind me, the man chuckled and wriggled a little, presumably to make himself more comfortable. I couldn’t believe I let myself lie with a man like that, but it was better to just not think about it.

“Taehyung would be a bit better, but I’ll take it,” he replied nonchalantly, but then suddenly stiffened. Before I could truly register his alarm, the entrance door slammed open and heavy footsteps made their way into the house. I panicked and flew out of the bed, but when I turned to warn Taehyung, I was met with an empty bed. The other half was even made as if nobody slept there.

Seconds later, the doors to the bedroom slid open and my disgruntled husband peeked in. His hair was a mess, his face taunt and white, bloodshot eyes adorned with dark circles underneath. He looked like death itself, the exhaustion seeping out of him in waves, but he still managed to scowl when he laid eyes on me still in my nightgown. I wondered what time it was, but concentrated on schooling my expression and not showing my flustered state, my heart still beating wildly in my chest. He regarded me with slight suspicion in his eyes, but ultimately decided not to comment on it.

“Make me a breakfast,” was all he said and then he disappeared into the house. I glanced at my little vanity sitting in a corner of the room and noticed the hairpin sitting gingerly right in the middle of it. I swiped it away quickly putting it with the flowers, and started getting ready for the day. But the thoughts of Taehyung and his words and behaviour wouldn’t leave me for the rest of the day, plaguing me when I was making breakfast, when I was cleaning up the melted snow Minhwan carried into the house on his shoes and clothes, and embarrassingly enough even when I went to wash up that evening, wondering whether he could see me now too.

The peak of the winter came and went, but the layer of snow stayed thick, blanketed over the world and painting it pure white. I had found myself much fonder of the quietness it brought, how it swallowed all sounds and created a bubble of calm over everything, especially when my husband was gone from the house, which has become more and more frequent. Lately he left earlier and came back later, turning more and more pale with every morning. He didn’t speak to me about what he did, he barely ever spoke at all, but the tension in his shoulders and the troubled angry expression that has made itself home on his face told me that he must have gotten himself into some big trouble. I found myself just as anxious, waiting for him to tell me we would be losing it all because he made a bet or let himself be swindled.

Taehyung, during that time, worked hard on trying to distract me, bringing me little gifts and messing about the house trying to help me. Anytime I would come across clothes that have been rearranged or things that have been cleaned up, but put into the wrong places, I would sigh and jokingly glare around the room, but I couldn’t stop the fluttering of my heart and the fondness that spread through me at hearing his disembodied giggles.

During these evenings he took to covering my mirror, sitting behind me and brushing my hair for me. We would spend this time in comfortable silence, resting against each other and enjoying the simple companionship. It was such an intimate act, like we were lovers taking care of each other, like husband and wife who love each other, I would find myself flustered and blushing, feeling like it was my wedding night all over again. It was such a strong contrast to how tensed and hostile the silence was when my husband was around, that I often shamefully dreamed and pretended that Taehyung was my spouse, that this was a part of our life and our routine. He would caress my hair, my sides, press soft kisses to my shoulders, play with my hands and my fingers, and when we retired for the night, he hugged me tightly, pressing himself into me and making me feel safe and secure.

The longer this went on, the more torn with fervent longing I was, wishing this was my life and not just pity that a passing demon took on me. I was choked up with emotions, the words “stay”, “show yourself to me”, “love me” always on the tip of my tongue, fighting to spill, chest heavy and full like I was about to burst. It hurt. I hurt. I wanted a life I couldn’t have; I wanted a man that would take my soul and leave once he’d gotten what he came for, and I hated myself for it and I hated my life.

Taehyung felt this in me, felt this shift from happiness back into tortured silence, I could feel it in his touch, in how gently his hands and fingers regarded me, how reverent his lips were on the skin of my shoulders and neck, I felt it in his voice whispering praise to me. The desperation to make it all better, the frantic beating of his heart against my back because he feared he did something to upset me. No matter how much I wanted to ease him, the words would just not leave my mouth.

And my body, it betrayed me. It lit up with every touch, heat pumping through my veins with every brush of his lips, I could feel it swirling in my lower belly and oftentimes found myself hoping for his daring hands to explore as they had been doing back then before I caught him. But Taehyung stubbornly never strayed from the safe spots, never returned to his previous antics.

One night when he didn’t show up, I had a lot of time to think about where this was going and how I was dangerously teetering on the edge of improperness. When I sat alone by the bed and worried for him, called out to him and then promptly spiralled into believing he had grown tired of me, the feelings of pain and despair it filled me with shocked me. I missed him. I missed his touch, his presence, his voice. I didn’t want him to leave me. I’d grown attached to him, to a shadow that spoke to me and treated me with gentleness and kindness.

I wanted to see him. I looked at the ribbon lying on my vanity, the one he used every night to cover my eyes so I couldn’t swindle him and peek when he wasn’t paying attention. I wanted it gone.

I wanted. I longed. I needed.

Falling asleep that night was a challenge, I couldn’t find a comfortable position when I suddenly laid alone once again, too used to a warm comforting body behind me. And when tiredness finally overcame me, he visited me in my dreams, his bold hands exploring places that haven’t been tenderly touched before; drawing out sighs out of me, body trembling with unknown pleasure as his fingers dipped between my legs and leisurely moved in little circles over the bundle of nerves. My dream self was moaning and writhing in his arms, begging for him to never stop as the pleasure mounted until it burst out in a bolt of pure ecstasy. I jolted awake, breathing heavily and still shaking from the intense sensations. Startled I realised there was wetness coating my intimate parts and the top of my thighs, the sticky feeling making me blush in embarrassment. My whole body seemed to be tingling from this experience and I couldn’t calm myself down.

“Taehyung?” I called out carefully, checking that he wasn’t around to witness this. When no answer came and the man himself didn’t come out and shown himself, I quickly ran to the vanity to grab the first cloth I found and cleaned myself. My shaky hands couldn’t hold onto anything properly and I couldn’t get my breathing back under control, the experience leaving me full of confusing feelings, longing filled with arousal mixing with shame until I my head was spinning and my chest hurt. After that, I didn’t fall asleep again, instead I sat on the bed and tried to make sense of my own heart.

The only thing that saved me from getting suspicious stares from my husband was that he himself barely looked at me. But it felt different from his usual coldness, he looked haunted and worried, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to even realise anyone else was present. It made me anxious. Whatever he’d gotten himself into, it seemed bad and if it came to it, he’d drag me down with him. For the first time in so long I found myself wishing he’d just talk to me, tell me what was happening so I could stop drowning myself in worry. But I knew that if I had come to him and asked him, he would get angry. So I waited for my life to end with bated breath.

Taehyung returned after two days and acted as if he was never gone, as if he didn’t suddenly disappear without a word and left me spinning, thinking he’d never return. When I heard his voice ring out it the empty house for the first time in so long, I couldn’t stop the tears of relief and he spent the whole evening and night holding me and consoling me, whispering into my ear how he’d never leave again.

More than ever I realised the burning desire coursing through my veins whenever he touched me. I wanted him, like wife should want a husband, and it was getting harder to ignore the way my body responded to him. I wasn’t sure if Taehyung was aware of my plight, if he registered how I seemed to stiffen anytime he pushed me closer to himself, how I held my breath when his arms snaked around my waist, how I shuddered when his hands slipped through my hair when he tied the ribbon over my eyes. I didn’t know if he noticed, but if he did, he didn’t say or do anything. Sometimes he would get closer to me, nose at my neck or play with my ear and then he would suddenly stop, as if he remembered himself, and pull away. And I wanted to scream at him. To not go. To do more.

And the more the situation went south in my marriage, the more I realised that my heart has long since been stolen by a being I haven’t even seen, but whose actions spoke louder than thousand words.

And so I decided to take the situation into my own hands. Or, well, to put it into Taehyung’s hands.

Some nights I would dream about him, even when he laid behind me I just wouldn’t have enough. And in those dreams, he would do the things I desired from him. It felt like my dirty little secret, enjoying him in such way in the privacy of my own mind, but knowing he was there. That he could be witnessing me be improper, could be witnessing my needs resurfacing in this manner. He never showed it, but sometimes I wondered if he knew, if he was waiting to make a move. And it excited me even more. The tension kept thickening, and I boiled, I boiled until one day I just… burst.

I had woken up in the middle of the night, woken up by my own dream as usual, hot and breathless, but just short of release, pent up and frustrated and needy. Taehyung behind me stirred, but his breathing stayed deep and stable, arms minutely tightening before he relaxed again. I felt my wetness seeping down my thighs, squeezing them together on instinct to chase the pulsing and throbbing there, choking out a little whimper and squirming in my place.

That seemed to shake Taehyung out of his sleep, I could hear the shuffling of his clothes, his hand flexing on my belly. He raised his head and murmured something, but I couldn’t hear through the rushing of blood in my ears. I was so aroused my head was almost spinning, my mind zeroing only on getting back to the pleasure I had been feeling. I squirmed in his arms again and whined.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” came his quiet raspy voice by my ear and I could feel goosebumps breaking out over my arms. Without saying anything I reached for one of his hands and pulled it lower, until it laid over my thigh. There was silence behind me and neither of us moved for a moment.

“What?” he whispered again, confusion lacing his voice as he started caressing my thigh, thinking I just needed comfort, “Did you have a nightmare?” I shook my head, frustrated at myself for not being able to get the words out of my mouth, so instead I grabbed his hand again and this time I gently laid it over the very top of my thighs, the tips of his fingers just grazing my intimate area. Taehyung froze for a moment, and I held my breath, fearing his reaction.

But then he released a long breath and his hand moved, grabbing onto my nightgown and slowly pulling it up over my legs. “Are you being naughty?” he asked me playfully and I trembled with anticipation, the searing heat seemingly reaching a crescendo with the promise of his touch. The moment I felt him gently caressing up the naked skin of my thigh, I whimpered again and immediately lifted my leg to grant him access to where I wanted him the most.

Behind me, there was a chuckle, so deep and rumbly I felt it in my bones, satisfied and overjoyed with my eagerness. Taehyung nosed up my shoulder, until I could feel him laying searing wet kisses into the crook of my neck. His hand suddenly shot up back to my knee, grabbing it so he could hook it over his legs and keep me spread. I blushed, but another gush of wetness seeped onto the skin of my thighs at the prospect this finally happening.

“Want to have your pretty little cunt played with, hmm?” Taehyung whispered into my hair, the smirk evident in the smugness of his voice. This was his element, and I ducked my head into my arms, embarrassed by the words and the actions, embarrassed by my body screaming for him. He didn’t seem to need an answer, pleased with my shyness and with how my body responded for me, arching into his touch and begging for more. So he indulged, both himself and me.

His fingers descended between my legs suddenly, shocking a moan out of me as they glided through the wet folds until they settled over the little bundle of nerves. He touched me teasingly, circling it lightly, tapping and pressing on it and then sliding his fingers down to play with my entrance, as if testing how much I would be able to take.

I trembled whole, overflowing with relief, pleasure and burning need for more, spilling out of me on sighs and whimpers. I lost the control of my body as it swayed and arched, pushing into his elusive playful fingers. When my whines took on a more desperate tone, Taehyung finally seemed to be satisfied enough to stop teasing. He started playing me masterfully, fingers drawing tight quick circles on my clit, making me choke on my spit, brain not comprehending the sudden onslaught of sensations.

I found myself hurling towards that edge of ecstasy quicker than I’ve experienced before, my whole body singing under his touch, thrumming with the fulfilment of all the desires that had been piling up over the past weeks.

“Let go whenever you need to, don’t be afraid,” Taehyung whispered to me, voice low and aroused, and I arched with a silent scream as the release overtook me, bursting through my body in a single white flash. Taehyung carried me through it, fingers slowing down but never stopping, little quiet groans leaving him at seeing me blissed out. When the pleasure ebbed away gradually, I pushed his hand away with a quiet whine, feeling too much all at once.

He led me down from the high gently, hands running over my body, over my sides, his voice murmuring loving words into my ear, telling me how lovely I was, how well I did for him. I soaked it all up, preened under his care and attention and loved every moment of it, the fear and insecurity about his intentions taking the backseat for a few calming moments. My body thrummed with the after-shocks of my climax, and I pleasantly floated on the feelings of relief and release.

I was still catching up to my brain, when the words “I want to see you” tumbled out of my mouth. Taehyung’s hand stopped for a moment and then grabbed onto my arm gently. He hummed, non-committally, fingers suddenly teasing again as he lightly dragged them on my arm up and down.

“Do you really?” he whispered sensually, almost purring, and I gasped at the sensation. Before I could reply, he was suddenly gone. I heard him moving around in the room, the sound of his steps, his stable breathing and the light clanking of items as he moved them. I had no idea what he was doing, but when he was satisfied, he returned to me. Taehyung leaned down to me and grasped my arm, pulling me up to stand.

“Get on your feet, darling,” he told me sweetly, the sudden nickname making me blush as if we weren’t just wrapped in each other in such sinful ways. I stood, knees still a little shaky, but managed to hold my weight. I was a little achy, but it was a pleasant and boneless feeling, as if everything had been drained away and all that was left were soft sweet clouds.

Taehyung’s hands left me, and I could hear him stepping away, his heels hitting the wooden floor heavily. I held my breath in anticipation, my hands trembling, my body still confused from the screaming pleasure it was put through just moments ago.

Then, he spoke.

“You can pull the ribbon down.” His voice was smooth, kind and happy. My arms moved as if they had a mind of their own, lifting up to my head to grasp at the ends of the ribbon to pull. When it fell away, at first I was left blinded by the light for a moment. I blinked; eyes hurt from getting flashed with white after so long in the dark. I hurriedly wiped away the few stray tears and gently pressed on my eyelids to alleviate the pressure. When I opened them again, he stood in front of me.

He was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. I gasped as I took him in, the softness of him.

He had long black hair, half done up into a bun at the back of his head. He was dressed in a black cheollik with red hems and pulled together by a silk red string adorned with dark grey jade, and his underclothes were also in black. He was barefoot, standing on my cold wooden bedroom floor like he didn’t feel the chill at all, when I already started shivering in my thin night robes. My eyes shot back to his face. He was ethereally pretty, all sharp edges but still looking so soft and lovely it stole my breath away. Even though his eyes were shockingly blue, I could see the kindness in them, unlike his mouth that was pulled into a mischievous smirk. Just I as I imagined he so often had.

I could see he started nervously fiddling with his sleeves, face flashing with panic and unsureness. He stepped from foot to foot, looking at the ground bashfully, before looking back up at me with wide round eyes full of pure-hearted earnestness.

“What do you think?” he asked, as if I was looking at fruit at the market. He squirmed in his place again and I couldn’t bare to let him believe that I didn’t think he was the most beautiful man I have ever seen. In a few quick strides I crossed the room to him and threw myself into his arms. He caught me, as always, and I had begun believing he always would, and pressed me closer into him. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled him down by his neck and pressed our lips together.

Taehyung caught on quickly, wrapping his arms around me and taking charge, kissing me like a man starved, passionate and hungry and all-consuming, filling my head and my heart with him and only him. I dreaded my husband’s return, because it would mean my little fantasy dream life would dissolve and Taehyung would have to disappear again, but for now I focused on his mouth claiming mine with such fervour it left me breathless.

Seeing Taehyung made things both easier and more difficult. Nothing much changed between us, only now I saw him messing with my things and “helping out” around the house. I heard his endless giggles and sometimes would catch a glimpse of his figure before he disappeared into a different part of the house, and I always trailed behind him and looked for whatever it was he misplaced or swapped.

I found that even though he was visible to me most of the time, he still didn’t talk much, preferring to sit by me and watch me with fond eyes. He would silently take heavy things from my hands and carry them for me, only sending a playful grin my way, or push me away from the cutting board to prepare the ingredients himself with a simple quiet “let me help”. I liked it. Taehyung filled the space with his presence, with kind eyes and gentle laughs and comfortableness I haven’t felt with anyone else. Sometimes laughs would just bubble out of my throat at his antics or at his expressions and I stopped, surprised at my own ability to laugh. I was happy. I felt content.

I loved him, and I knew that. I wanted my life to be like this from now on until the end of time. More and more often I found myself thinking how married life wouldn’t be that bad if my husband was Taehyung, and I blushed at those thoughts, but couldn’t fully fight them away. I imagined him chopping the firewood in the yard (he already did that for me after he saw me with an axe one), taking care of the animals (it wasn’t unusual for him to feed the hens and the pigs after sundown, since Minhwan was already long gone around then) and then coming home to happily eat supper I worked so hard on (he loved my cooking and never failed to compliment me). I loved watching him walking around the farm as if it was him who owned it, him who married me. Him who loved me.

And during the nights… Taehyung was more than happy to dote on me, naughty hands suddenly insatiable once I showed interest, bringing me to the peak of pleasure every morning, wandering around my curves and gently squeezing and loving on every inch he could reach. I melted in his hands, my brain suddenly interested only in how to get him to please me again. But he never moved it further, no matter how much I gently probed, tried to touch him back or insinuated that I would like to do more, he always grasped my hands and pulled me into a tight hug until we ended up falling asleep.

I was confused. I wasn’t a virgin. I knew how it worked between men and women and I trusted him with my body and my pleasure, and I wanted to return it too, learn how to please him too, but he didn’t seem to want that to happen. He would always give me this unsure smile and then hold me all the tighter and I didn’t want to push him.

But while I found my domestic bliss in Taehyung’s presence, it was harshly brought down every time my husband returned home. Even though he’d become strangely withdrawn, he always seemed to fill the house with gloom and uncomfortable tension, choking every spare inch in despair. I was dancing on eggshells around him, trying my hardest not to draw his attention lest he redirects his ire to me.

This explosiveness was also new. He’d been angry at me before, but never like this, never with bloodshot eyes and shaking hands, spewing poison until I was trembling with fear and shame, and then walking out. He would scream at me for the food not being warm, about spilling something on the floor, about not cleaning proficiently enough, and I begun to dread his returns, because he would always smell of alcohol, opium and other vices, and immediately find something to vent on, only to become silent and absent the moment after.

I could see on Taehyung he was worried for me. I wasn’t a fool, I knew he was present and heard everything, I could feel it in his sad tender eyes, in his loving caresses and the little gifts he would leave me. I wanted to assure him that everything was okay, that this was just my life and I had to deal with that, that him being around the house was already making a dreadful reality all the more bearable, but sometimes he just zoned out and I saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to come up with a way to somehow deal with this. But there was nothing that could be done.

While Minhwan spiralled and came home looking worse and worse every day, Taehyung tried his best to raise me up and make me feel better. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.

One afternoon we were enjoying a particular sunny day, the door to the kitchen cracked open to let in the crisp freezing air, but I couldn’t feel the chill, not with Taehyung plastered to my back. He hung off of me, hugging me and whining playfully, his hands ever so often straying to my thighs or breasts, trying to rile me up while I made broth. I would always slap them away, but I couldn’t hide the blush on my cheeks or the way my body started responding to him and demanding his attention lower.

I was playing with the idea of letting him pleasure me right in the kitchen in the middle of the day, when Taehyung behind me stiffened, arms tightening around me. At first I didn’t register it, but when the sound of snow crunching under someone’s shoes reached my ears, I panicked. Throwing the wooden spoon away I turned and pushed Taehyung away from me.

“Quick, disappear! Minhwan must have returned!” I whispered urgently, almost sobbing with frustration when the dark-haired man just continued standing there as we both listened to the footsteps getting closer. He was looking out the door, his face curious but impassive, as if he didn’t realise the impending doom.

“Taehyung!” I cried out desperately, pushing him away just as the doors slammed opened. I froze and turned to the door, while Taehyung’s arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into his chest. At first I recognised the gesture as protective, but then I realised it was too casual.

I forced myself to see through the panic and registered that in the door stood a complete stranger. He regarded us both with a bored expression, his eyes sliding down my panicked frozen face and then skipping to Taehyung, sneering lightly in a pretend angry manner.

“So this is where you spend your days, I haven’t seen you in forever,” he grumbled a touch whinily and made himself comfortable on one of the seating pillows in the corner. He had elegant gestures and moved about in a graceful manner, he was also dressed in expensive clothes, showing off to everyone his status as a son of a wealthy yangban family. His face was sharp and impassive, but I could see a strange spark of something in his feline eyes.

“Hyung,” Taehyung said cutely and pulled me towards the man in expensive robes, “this is Y/N.” I stared dumbly between the two men, flabbergasted at the situation I had suddenly found myself in. Hyung? Was this another demon?

The man in question nodded towards me, showing polite interest. He looked intimidating, but whenever his eyes jumped to Taehyung, there was softness in them, and his face would suddenly relax and look more human and boyish.

“This is one of my hyungs,” Taehyung said towards me and then leaned closer until he could whisper into my ear: “He’s a tiger spirit.” I gasped lightly and looked at the man. He gave me a goofy toothy grin, his posture loosening as he made himself more comfortable. I slipped into the hostess mode and started offering drinks and food and he indulged happily, even getting Taehyung to take a glass with him. I listened to their gentle teasing for a while, content with watching him be so happy and carefree.

“So if one wants to see your face around these parts, they have to come here, huh?” said the tiger with a little smirk and winked towards me. I giggled and added: “As long as my husband isn’t home.” I immediately blushed, but the feelings of shame I used to feel over this have ebbed away and now I could only feel a little twinge of it as a phantom pain, before I put it away and focused on the men in my presence.

“Oh, I know your husband very well,” the man said, his face turning into a mysterious sharp hungry grin, “He isn’t home very often.” Taehyung tensed behind me, and I glanced at him, before throwing a confused smile at the visitor.

“What do you mean you know my husband well?” I asked, ignoring the way Taehyung’s hands tightened around me. I refused to turn his way, instead focusing my all attention at the dangerous being sat in front of us.

“He plays cards out of his league,” the man stated, eyes glinting with some feral contentment, “He lost a lot of money to a lot of people. An especially big sum to a certain very dangerous man that likes to prowl around those parlours.” It felt as if I was thrown into a freezing water, the panic seizing me at this information. I had known, to a certain extent, that he must have gotten himself into something, but losing in cards and owing money to someone dangerous, that would absolutely destroy my life alongside his. Distressed, I looked to Taehyung, who immediately pushed his hand into my hair in an attempt to comfort me.

“Hyung, stop that,” he scolded the man gently, “Stop scaring her.” I blinked at Taehyung owlishly.

“You knew?” I whispered the question, my heart aching when the dark-haired man looked away with guilt etched into his handsome face.

“I told him,” the older man piped up again, gently inserting himself back into the conversation he himself started, “I happen to have an insight into the situation. Don’t fear, dear, this is between your husband and the forces he messed with.” The vague statement did nothing to ease my anxiety and my eyes flitted between the two men again, but I chose to not say anything anymore. They shared a resolute look, full of determination, and then moved on from the topic.

Mr. Min, as I finally learnt his name, stayed for a better part of the afternoon, only departing once the night fell with only the moon lighting his way. His sharp eyes seemed to glow in the dark and once again I was reminded that he was a spirit of the mountain. I snickered gently at that. Look at me, the cursed widow dining with a demon and a tiger. If the old ladies in my home village knew that, they would lose their minds.

Taehyung wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we watched his friend go, looking at my amusement fondly, but the way his hand squeezed me I could tell he was worried about the conversation we had. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and contemplated whether to bring it up again.

He sensed it, his face turning a little guilty and sheepish again, before turning to me, grabbing both of my shoulders and saying: “Y/N, do you trust me?” Did I? Of course I did. I loved him, I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone. He never failed me, never gave me a reason not to trust him. So I nodded firmly.

“Then know that it will be taken care of,” he stated, voice gentle and kind, “I wouldn’t let this impact you.” I nodded again, looking at him fondly before caving in and seeking the warmth of his embrace. He held me tightly, then and through the night, whispering words of love. I trusted them.

I should have known that this would smudge lines, that me living my little fantasy with Taehyung and him living in the house fully visible would lead to us being careless and slipping. But still, when it happened, I was sorely unprepared for the whirlwind it started.

We depended too much on the belief that Minhwan wouldn’t return home early. He didn’t, in the past weeks. Every morning, I would watch the sun climb pretty high up on the sky before the door slammed open and he trudged in wordlessly demanding food. Taehyung spent the mornings lazily spread out in the bed, stretching like an over-sized cat, grinning at me lazily and watching me get ready for the day. And usually I would be woken up by his gentle hands or kisses, or by the sun shining through to my face, or the cold would make me turn and snuggle deeper into my lover’s arms.

So when I got woken up by a scream, I was shocked and confused to my core. I jerked up into a sitting position, eyes wide open and looking for the source of the commotion, heart beating out of my chest and throat tight. It was a cry of rage, a man’s ire bursting through the quiet comfortable space of early morning.

There was a flash of movement and then suddenly I was being painfully pulled out of the bed by my upper arm. I cried out, legs fighting to get into working order and stop the pain from the uncomfortable angle. Suddenly I was face to face with a seething Minhwan, his face red and bloated, twisted into a grimace of pure primal rage. He grabbed onto both of my shoulders, nails digging into my skin until I feared he would draw blood, shaking me violently.

He screamed something, but I was too tired and shocked to fully comprehend what has happened. Panic started pumping through my veins, my breathing getting out of my control as I choked on the instinctual fear of being met with a man in such an emotional state. He shook me again and I got dizzy. Behind me the bed was empty, but very obviously slept in.

 As if wading through a thick fog, I finally realised he must have seen Taehyung in the bed and my knees buckled. He let me fall, let me knock painfully into the wooden floor as he paced around the door. Thoughts going a mile a minute I scrambled to try and come up with something, with anything instead of just sitting there staring dumbly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, slipping slowly down as my mouth opened and closed. My head hurt, my chest was so tight I could barely breathe and my heart was beating so fast I feared it might just tear right out of my body. I looked at my shaking hands and released a few strained breaths.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Minhwan was suddenly screaming right into my face and I flinched. It was as if a filter lifted off of the world and the sound was suddenly getting to me fully, the thumping of his feet on the floor, his ragged breathing, his enraged mumblings. I stared at him blankly for a moment and in a split second decided to play it the only way I could.

“W-what happened?” I asked quietly, still looking at him with wide confused eyes, movements sluggish. I put a hand to my head, shaking it from side to side. At least I didn’t have to pretend I had a headache.

Minhwan stopped pacing and regarded me with suspicion. Come on, I prayed to myself, I know you must have seen him disappear in front of your eyes. He watched me for a moment, and I made sure to look as disoriented as I could, blinking blearily around and pulling a blanket closer over my rapidly cooling body. The seconds ticked away as he just looked around the room, watched the bed, the doors, as if measuring whether the man could have gotten away around him. He wasn’t saying anything for the longest time, and I felt like I was losing my mind, fearing any moment he’ll decide I was a liar and do god knows what in a fit of rage, but then he looked at me again with eyes filled with more confusion and fear than rage.

“Do you really not know?” he inquired, and his voice was grating to me, rough from speaking and drinking the whole night. I nodded slowly and then asked again: “What happened? Why were you screaming?” His face filled with determination, and he wordlessly walked out of the room. I scrambled to follow after him.

“Where are you going? What’s going on?” I hammered him, looking for a confirmation that I was safe, at least for the moment, but he just silently started fastening his hat back on. Finally, right before walking back out of the door, he turned to me and said: “I’m getting the exorcist.”

The next few hours I spent sitting in the house in panicked silence, wondering what my fate would be beyond this day. What would the shamaness say? How will this go? Do I have to pretend to get exorcised? I tried calling out to Taehyung, but he didn’t respond once. I bit my nails and paced around the house, counting every second ticking by as if waiting for execution.

By the time the door slid open again and stone-faced Minhwan stepped in, my nerves were completely frayed, and I could barely support my own weight on my shaking knees. My head snapped into the direction of the noise, and I saw a man and a woman step inside. The moment their eyes landed on me, they bowed slightly to me, but said nothing and instead followed my husband through the house into the bedroom. I hurriedly trailed after them, shaky hands with nails bitten almost bloody grasping onto my skirt to ground myself at least a little bit.

When I stepped into the room, Minhwan was gesturing to the bed, still unmade as I was too panicked to clean, and explaining what had happened.

“I walked in and saw four feet instead of two,” he said darkly, anger shining through to the surface again, “They were clearly man’s feet. I threw a shoe at him and started screaming, but then he was just gone. He disappeared into thin air. When she woke up, she was disoriented and had no idea what was going on.” I listened to him with a lump in my throat and when they all turned to look at me standing in the door, my knees almost buckled. I hoped that my nervousness would be interpreted as my unawareness, but when the woman’s eyes bore into me with a startling intensity, I couldn’t help but flinch and look down.

She came over to me and an expectant silence fell over the room, all of us collectively holding our breath and waiting for her judgement. She grabbed my chin, not roughly but definitely not gently, and moved my head so that I was looking at her. Her eyes flitted across my face, in search of something. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but I wondered how I must have looked to her. Did I look guilty? Did I look sick? What did she see?

She examined me for a moment and then let me go and stepped back to the man. She looked at him and nodded.

“It is a demon of sickness,” the man spoke, “He was draining your wife’s life energy, eventually saddling her with plague or similar illness. It is good you caught him before he did irreparable damage to her.” I touched my own face, wondering how bad I looked for her to come to the conclusion I was getting drained in such a way, but felt immense relief. Before I caught myself, I swayed, the feelings of anxiety crashing onto me, leaving my body too weak to stay upright. I crashed into the door and barely managed to catch myself before I hit the floor full force. The woman rushed to me and pulled me up, holding onto my arm and helping me stand in a manner she must have believed was comforting.

“Don’t worry, darling, he will not get you,” she whispered in a raspy old voice, “We will take care of this.” I mumbled something out, an insincere thanks, and propped myself up by the door. Instinctively I looked to Minhwan and found him already looking at, eyes coldly assessing me. He was scaring me, I had no idea where I stood with him and what was going through his mind, but I hoped this would buy me some time. I looked back to the floor and started smoothing out my skirts with shaky hands.

“We will get the supplies we’ll need and return tomorrow with the dawn,” the man spoke again, looking mainly to Minhwan, “For tonight, hang garlic and onion around the house. The foul smell will keep the demons away. I will draw you a talisman for your door and main gate, plaster it on the wood and keep it there until we come.” My husband curtly nodded.

The pair started moving towards the door to leave and Minhwan followed them out. I took the time to slide down to the door. I was trying to keep myself calm, but the stressed tears came anyway, rolling down my cheeks and there was nothing I could do to stop them. Once Minhwan returned, I was silently sobbing on the floor, too overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in these few hours.

Minhwan regarded me silently and then moved to the main room, sat by the fireplace and didn’t speak again. I sat there, filled with dread, and waited. Waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to fly off of his handle and do something, but the house was eerily silent. In the end I pulled myself together and moved about my day as if nothing was happening, as if Minhwan wasn’t sitting in the other room counting minutes before sun went down. The uncomfortable atmosphere stretched over us like a suffocating blanket and even though I went with the motions, cooked food and served it, I wasn’t even interested in eating, and neither seemed to be Minhwan.

With dark setting over the dwelling, the moon shining over the snow and creating a silver glow over everything, I found myself anxiously glancing at my husband to see whether he would leave, but he stayed firmly sat. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I had to have a talk with Taehyung, confide in him and see what he thinks we should do. I desperately craved his comfort and calming presence, I needed him to hold me and kiss me and whisper about all the things he loved, I needed him to whisk me away into the woods and keep me away from this life I had found myself in.

As I paced around the bedroom nervously, I realised that. I wanted to leave with him. I wanted to flee into his reality and leave my own behind. I needed to talk to Taehyung soon.

The door slid open, and I flinched and instinctively moved a few steps further into the room. Minhwan looked at me, his eyes empty and dark, and then moved to the corner of the room, sitting down and staring soullessly at me.

“Aren’t you going to get ready for bed?” came his gruff voice when I stood there frozen for too long, watching him out of the corner of my eye. I could hear a certain accusation in it and my heart jumped into my throat. Without saying anything, I mechanically moved to my vanity and started brushing my hair while keeping an eye on my husband’s dark form slouched in the corner. His eyes never left me, slowly with every second ticking by filling with more and more pure hatred.

The room felt as if it was freezing, the air so heavy with tension I could taste it on my tongue. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest, my clammy hands squeezing around the brush.

“I feel quite stupid now, you see,” Minhwan started suddenly, his cold voice startling me. I turned around to look at him, trying to keep my expression neutral but knowing I probably looked truly scared and guilty. He stared at me expectantly, but when I failed to say anything, he continued.

“I saw it,” he simply stated, “the hairpin.” It felt as if time stopped, the blood freezing in my veins with one simple word. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but I ultimately failed to say anything. He knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to the market to buy it myself, there was nothing I could say to excuse that.

“I saw how certain mornings you seemed to be flustered,” he continued quietly, “how you changed, I saw the flowers you tried to hide.” He chuckled darkly, mirthlessly, but stayed sprawled out in the corner, watching me. I sat frozen in front of my vanity, brush still in hand, thoughts going a mile a minute.

“I ignored it, of course,” Minhwan carried on, seemingly okay with being the only one to talk, “I know how hard it is to get here and there’s no one close enough to sneak here like this. But when I went to town for the shamaness, I started remembering these moments. I saw the hairpin in my mind, as clear as day. And it made sense. Whatever he is, you knew about him.” I gulped, but said nothing, staring at my hands. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movements and I looked up startled. Minhwan was now moving towards me, slow and calculated, and dread filled me.

I looked up at him and couldn’t help a few stray tears escaping me. Minhwan watched me coldly, but it was so different than what I was used to from him and it terrified me. This was a different kind of rage, the kind that made people unpredictable, the kind when you know the person is so angry they’ve become calm.

He slowly threaded his hand into my hair, gripping it tightly until I could feel slight pain. He angled my head, watching the tears slide down my face with a scowl. Then he pushed my head away and released my hair, sending me crashing into the vanity. I caught myself on my hands, but the impact still hurt and I whimpered through the tears.

I heard Minhwan moving about the room, thrashing the chest I kept some of my belongings in, tearing through my fine robes and sending little reminders and keepsakes flying through the room and crashing into the floor and the walls. With every crash I flinched again and again, shrinking into myself and slowly slinking into the corner behind my vanity.

Minhwan finally got to what he was looking for – the dried flowers and other little gifts Taehyung has been bringing me. Whatever he got his hands on, he destroyed, tearing the flowers apart or breaking things by throwing them on the floor. I watched him helplessly, now fully sobbing as I witnessed my life being torn apart.

Minhwan paid me no mind, his eyes catching onto something in the chest. He bent over to pull out the object, and I eyed him carefully before I realised what it was. The hairpin. He glanced over at me and when he saw my eyes trained to it, he smirked with such malice it made shiver. He gripped it with both hands and then with a quick gesture broke it in half. Before I could stop myself, I cried out with my hands outstretched going to grab it, grab him, just do anything to stop it from happening, but I couldn’t. Minhwan threw the broken pin on the floor, and I watched the little gem break away and fall through the tiles.

Minhwan walked over to me again and crouched down so he could look at me closer.

“Did he get you pregnant?” he suddenly asked, and it was such an unexpected question it shocked me into silence as I just stared at him dumbly. Then I just slowly shook my head. Minhwan’s face stayed impassive. He just stared at me until I started squirming in my place, my skin crawling with fear and nervousness.

Then he just got up and walked out.

I stayed put, not daring to move from my place, but I strained my ears to hear whatever he was doing. He walked around the main room for a moment and then his footsteps seemed to get further away until I heard the door slide open, slide shut and then silence. I held my breath, waiting for a moment before I allowed myself to decompress, immediately slumping down onto the ground. With the stress rapidly draining from my body, I found myself a shaking crying mess. I crawled over to the chest and grabbed onto whatever destroyed piece of memory I could, cradling them to my chest and desperately hoping that I could mend it, that it would all go away. That I’d wake up in Taehyung’s arms and he’d console me and tell me it was all a bad dream.

I didn’t sleep that night. And Minhwan didn’t return in the morning. The shamaness and her husband came knocking with the dawn and I sat on the porch and expressionlessly watched the main gate rattle and shake under their fists, listened to their raised concerned voices calling to be let in. I was drained, empty and exhausted. I waited until they got tired of it and left, and then I continued sitting there watching the trees move, the sun travel the sky. I could barely feel the frost biting at my fingers, my arms, my face. I could barely feel anything.

For two days, I waited. I sat around the house and watched the walls, walked around the yard and looked outside, into the forest and the trees. Minhwan didn’t return. Taehyung didn’t return. I was completely alone, in the silent house, just wondering whether I was forsaken by both of them, wondering what would happen if neither of them came back.

On the dawn of the third day, I heard footsteps in the yard. My stomach dropped and my heart felt like a piece of ice. Footsteps meant Minhwan. Footsteps meant the end of my life, meant my husband was back and there was no telling what he would do.

I drew the blanket closer to myself and resignedly made my way outside. I would accept whatever was to come. Except the moment I slid the door open, I saw a sheepish Taehyung nervously stepping from foot to foot in our yard. I could only guess how I looked, but when he saw me, he closed the distance between us in a few quick strides, arms immediately pulling me into his chest. I felt my resolve break and desperately clawed at him, pulled him closer, just needing to touch him and make sure he was real and he came back.

He pulled back and I whined, but he took my face into his hands, gazing upon me with tenderness and sadness and despair. His fingers smoothed out the worried lines on my face, touched the puffy cheeks and eyes, gently caressed my face until I could see my vision blurring with unshed tears. Taehyung sighed and bent down to lightly kiss my forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly, his voice like soft caress for my soul after days of loneliness and solitude, and sudden onslaught of emotions hit me like a stone wall. I grabbed onto his robe and looked into his kind beautiful eyes.

“Where were you?” it came out choked on a sob and I couldn’t even wait for his answer before the dam broke and I started crying. Taehyung held me through it, he took me in his arms and carried me inside, petted my back and held my face, whispered to me and it almost felt like a huge déjà vu to the first night I let him get closer to me. He apologised again and again, and I should have pressed for more answers, but I was so relieved he returned, I couldn’t bring myself to ask more.

When I calmed down, Taehyung’s attention was finally drawn to the state of the house. I didn’t clean up the bedroom, I barely even slept, and all the broken things were still lying around. It must have been quite a sight – a broken life, and in the middle of it all, a broken me. But instead of saying anything, he just reached over to grab the remnants of the hairpin. I watched him wordlessly, heart struck with grief at the sight of it, but he played with it for a moment, eyes peeking over at me and grinning mischievously. I returned it shakily, heavy emotions still weighing the corners of my mouth down but I tried, head leaning on his shoulder.

He encased the broken parts of it into his hands and shook them little. I thought nothing of it, watching his hands turn from side to side, expecting this to be just a way to distract me, but when his hands stopped, he uncovered his palm with a grand gesture and I gasped. There, lying on his palm, was the hairpin in one piece, looking as if it’s never been broken.

I immediately went to grab it, but he moved his hand away, keeping it out of my reach. Instead, he grabbed my brush and started slowly brushing out my tangled unkept hair. I let him care for me, I sat there on the floor of my thrashed bedroom, leaned on him and listened to him hum as he played with my hair. When Tae was satisfied with it, he tied my hair with his red ribbon and then pushed in the hairpin.

The fondness in his eyes when he looked over his work warmed my heart, and I relaxed into his embrace.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Taehyung whispered again, “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” I shook my head and tightened my arms around him.

“There was nothing you could have done,” I told him and attempted to smile. I wanted to ease his worries, but I still felt too shaken.

“I should have been here,” Taehyung reiterated, “You needed me, and I failed you.” I squeezed his waist, trying to share comfort to him as he did to me. He looked at me fondly with a little smile, then kissed me gently.

“Where were you?” I asked again, this time much more calmly. Taehyung’s face fell immediately and I expected him not to want to tell me, but with some difficulty he started talking.

“I went to my hyung,” he admitted to me, and I realised there was guilt in his expression, “I asked him to sort something out for me.” I looked at him confused, but his face has turned hard and cold, gazing out of the room. I wanted to ask more, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It didn’t matter now, all that mattered was that he returned.

“We need to leave,” I blurted out suddenly, the calmness leaving my body. I turned on my knees and grabbed onto his clothed shoulders, looking into his eyes with urgency. Taehyung smiled at me and attempted to sit me back down, but I wouldn’t let him. “We really need to leave, before my husband returns,” I continued, the words falling out of me quickly, “I don’t know where he went, he hasn’t returned for a few days, but when he returns I cannot say what he will do.”

Taehyung’s hands pushed onto my shoulders, gentle smile on his face, mouth opening to tell me something, no doubt to calm down, but I jumped in before he got a chance.

“No, you don’t understand Taehyung, he knows,” I whispered urgently, “He knows about us. When he returns… Taehyung, I’m scared of what will happen…” I trailed off, hands flexing and bunching up the fabric of his robes. A few stray tears escaped my eyes, and I was surprised I even had some left in me, after the last few days.

Taehyung gave me a soft smile, hands coming up to hold my face. He gently wiped my tears away and bent down to kiss my forehead, my nose and finally my lips. I watched him, despair mixing with love and fear inside of me, making me feel like I was about to explode. I didn’t know how else explain to him that we weren’t safe here.

“I’m ready to leave,” I whispered again, desperate and broken, “Please Taehyung, I’ll go with you. I’m ready to go. There’s nothing left here.” He said nothing, but caressed my hair, fingers smoothing out the edges of my cold wet face. His eyes were trained on his hands moving on my skin, as if he wasn’t registering what I said at all. I could see in them that he was battling something, lips pursed in a bittersweet smile like they were trying to keep in some awful truths.

My heart gave a few painful pumps before it felt like it stilled completely. My hands fell from him as despair and hurt took over. Suddenly the realisation hit me, the realisation of what this must have been for him. A goodbye. My lips curled around a silent sob, but I couldn’t cry more, there was nothing left inside.

Taehyung noticed my plight and immediately pulled back into him, and I realised why he looked so guilty when we sat down.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” the words barely left my mouth, so quiet they could be barely heard, but Taehyung reacted to them immediately, arms tightening around me.

“No, darling, of course I’m not,” he replied, but I didn’t want to hear more lies, not now and not ever. My own hands balled into fists in my lap.

“Please, tell me the truth,” I said resolutely, looking straight into his eyes that were coloured by confusion at my statement. “What are you talking about?” Taehyung asked, lost and worried. His hands travelled across my shoulders and back, grabbing onto anywhere they could and then passing on as he tried to comfort me without fully knowing what was happening.

“You didn’t respond before,” I told him, and the realisation seemed to hit him almost instantly. “Oh, darling,” he whispered and kissed me softly again, “of course I want you to leave with me. But…” He seemed to struggle there, looking down to his lap guiltily, fingers digging into my shoulders nervously. I grabbed onto his shoulders too and pressed a little closer, until our faces were just a breath away.

“What is it?” I asked, desperate for a resolution, desperate to leave this all behind and go into the woods with him, follow him wherever he’d take me.

“Your husband…” Taehyung started and I tensed at the mention, but I wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth next, “he isn’t coming back.” I scrunched my face up in confusion. Taehyung avoided my eyes again, this time looking towards the door with a quiet resolution painted on his face.

“What are you talking about?” I pushed out of my mouth, mind muddled and tongue tied, “Of course he is, and he’ll bring all hell back with him.” Taehyung sighed, hands flexing into my skin.

“Y/N, you don’t understand,” he reiterated, urgency taking over his sweet, honeyed tone, “He isn’t coming back. Ever.” I froze when I finally put together what he had tried to tell me. I wish I could say I was terrified. I wish I could say that I was filled with dread and panic and disgust instead of relief, I wish I could say that I pushed him away, confused and hurt, instead of letting out a shocked laugh, hands immediately searching for his face. I turned him so he’d look at me.

He was painted with shame and guilt, with fear that I would hate him for the implication, so I gently caressed his face and laid a little kiss over his furrowed brows. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief. My heart was beating fast, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of nervousness or joy. I wondered whether that made me a bad person, whether I was cursed after all. But when Taehyung opened his eyes and gave me a toothy grin, it didn’t seem to matter much.

“What did you do?” I asked the question in a hushed whisper, as if discussing my husband’s demise was a thrilling secret just between the two of us. Based on the dark-haired man’s reaction to it he was expecting to hear a horror-struck tone, not the casualness with which I spoke about this matter, but he shook the surprise quick enough.

“Do you remember my hyung? The tiger?” Taehyung begun his explanation, a small smile taking over his face when I nodded in answer, “He was the one your husband owed money to. It was a matter of time before he’d gotten himself reaped, I just called in an early favour.” I frowned slightly at that.

“You mean that my husband was always destined to die?” the question was asked more out of curiosity than concern, but Taehyung still seemed to be a little on edge, fearing my reaction and attempting to gauge my emotional state. Still, he indulged me.

“He was since the moment he decided to play cards against a spirit,” Taehyung explained, “Tigers don’t play for money. We have no need for earthly possessions. But the more the human loses to you, the more under your power they are. With the mounting debt, the spirit only bides his time, terrorising the soul and pushing them into losing more. Then the spirit only waits until they’ve lost the amount of money that could buy their soul, before reaping. Your husband was a lost cause since Yoongi set his eyes on him.” I took in the information slowly, but to me his death was inconsequential now. Taehyung would take me away, I didn’t have to fear being left behind and collected by a family-in-law and living out the rest of my life as a proper widow, a property of my husband’s relatives. With that my only concern was taken care of and I found myself empty of any big reactions regarding his impending sudden demise.

“Do souls have prices, then?” I inquired more, interested in his earlier statement. Taehyung’s eyes sparkled slightly, as if he was delighted I wanted to know more, delighted that I wasn’t mourning, that I didn’t think him a murderer.

“Yes they do,” he answered simply, “a saint would be hard to tempt, the amount would be higher. A tyrant on the other hand, a sinner, they don’t take much.” I hummed quietly, absent-mindedly playing with some of Taehyung’s long hair. It didn’t take much to know which category my husband fell to. Getting my questions answered, I was satisfied to let this subject go. I felt as if a great weight has been lifted off of my shoulders and off of my heart. I found myself cautiously hopeful, looking forward to leaving this house and everything in it behind, letting it rot and fall to the ground and never return. But Taehyung seemed to have something else on his mind still.

“It was me,” he confessed quietly and suddenly, leaving me confused what he meant. He looked at me, gauging my reaction, fingers nervously playing with the edge of my jeogori. “It was me who told hyung to seek him out and tempt him into playing,” the man finally got out and it seemed as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders too.

I said nothing, hands migrating to caress his hair gently, smiling softly, and then getting up. I walked across the room to where my possessions laid strewn across the floor as if they were violently gutted from the insides of the chest. I found a cloth big enough and started piling the most important things inside. Taehyung watched me quietly, unsure of where I stood, still believing I could shun him for this. I smiled at him again when I caught his sad eyes watching my hands move. He returned it, in the same cautiously hopeful way I felt, and I could just think to myself. How perfect. We’re perfect like this.

“I just need to grab a few things and we can go,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. His returning one was as bright as the sun itself and I felt my drained heart tiredly jumping in joy.

When I gathered everything, he took the bundle from me gently into one of his hands, the other holding mine as I quietly led him out of the cold empty house. Outside, the air was crisp and freezing, but the sun was shining and it filled me with happiness. The snow was sparkling, reflecting the rays of sunlight, blinding me slightly, but I had everything I needed, and it was a beautiful day outside. I squeezed Taehyung’s hand and he returned it.

Once stood in the gate, I turned back to the house wordlessly. I could see through the open doors the mess that was left inside, the state of the bedroom, and the two trails of footsteps leaving forever. Taehyung watched me carefully, making sure I was okay. I nodded at him and he grinned gently. We both turned and walked away.

He led me through the forest, up the mountain path. I’d never been here before, and it seemed that it was a long time since someone else than the demon himself took this path. Briefly I wondered if it even was visible to other people or if it was one of those paths you see once out of the corner of your eyes and then never find it again, even if curiosity kills you from the inside.

Taehyung was walking confidently now, once we crossed the threshold into his world he gained strength and resolve and led me through the trees until we reached a little clearing with a dwelling firmly in the middle of it.

It was smaller than our farm, but it looked much nicer, with little windchimes and colourful decorations hanging from the beam over the porch. Their clanking created a nice ambience in the background and their colourful flashes reflected off of the snow. I smiled fondly at that, feeling at ease.

The house only really had two smaller rooms and a kitchen, but they were filled with books and clothes and paintings. Taehyung seemed to be a lover of arts, his walls full of various pieces varying from flowers to landscapes and portraits. I peeked at them curiously, but Taehyung seemed eager to pull me along until we reached the other room, where a bed was unfolded but untouched. There was a vanity on one side, very similar to the one I had, ready with a brush and another beautiful hairpin sitting next to it, waiting for their owner. I smiled at that, heart filled with so much love it felt like bursting.

Taehyung carefully laid the bundle with my things on the ground and then skipped back over to me, plastering himself to my back, arms possessively coiling around me and lips and nose immediately running over the expanse of the skin at my shoulder and neck. I shuddered lightly, noting his palpable excitement at bringing me to his home.

“This will be our bedroom from now on,” he whispered in a rough voice, laying a series of wet open-mouthed kisses down my shoulder, “This house will become a home.” His hand splayed over my stomach and pushed me more into his form, his heated body melting over me instantly, lips travelling wherever a sliver of skin presented itself to them.

I shuddered lightly, squirming in his arms. I managed to turn to face him and immediately was met with fond eyes full of unshed tears. I grabbed his face and gently pressed our lips together. I meant for the kiss to stay innocent, but Taehyung clearly had a different idea, descending onto me with an urgency of a starving man, lips devouring mine in a hot all-consuming kiss.

I moaned lightly into his mouth, hands tightening in his clothes and subconsciously pulling him closer to me. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside my mouth, sighing with content when it met mine and twisted and pushed around each other. He towered over me, with every second bending down a little more, making me arch into the kiss. The dark-haired man was grabbing onto my hips, as strong as a vice, digging fingers into the layers of fabric with such force I still felt his nails biting into my skin. My own hands slowly travelled up, tangling into his hair and wrapping around his neck. When I pulled on the strand lightly, Taehyung sighed into my mouth and pushed us closer together.

My mind was quickly becoming muddled, only thoughts of the man in my arms swimming around in my brain, body heating up rapidly and begging for his attention in the way that he used to give me. And with the way he held onto me and pressed into me, he was in a similar state.

Without interrupting our kiss, Taehyung started slowly sliding down to the floor and pulled me with him. I gasped slightly and finally broke our kiss to breathe and take in the new position, but Tae didn’t get discouraged and continued his path down my jawline and my neck. I had enough mind to breathlessly move my head out of the way and present my neck for him, which made him hum appreciatively, his low deep voice purring into my skin. All I could really do was hold on to him and let the sensations sail me further.

I could feel his hands inching higher, until they were kneading my waist, thumbs slipping under the jeogori and messing with my undergarments. My whole body trembled like a plucked string, desire wreaking havoc on my psyche. I released a shaky sigh and decided to be a little bit braver. I grabbed one of his hands, Taehyung making a little questioning sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t stop his ministrations, and I pushed it towards the bow tying my top together.

Taehyung paused only for a second, eyes searching mine for any kind of hesitation, but I only blushed under his heated gaze, the lust taking over the control of my body and pushing my chest more into his curious hands. He no longer wasted time after that, leaning a bit back and making quick work of the binding and soon he had me sitting in his lap in only my undergarments. My lips found his again, needing to feel his touch more than I needed to breathe oxygen.

With new skin now visible Taehyung seemed to be over the moon, a little content sighs and quiet moans leaving his mouth as his fingers travelled across the expanse of my shoulder blades and my arms. The intensity of the kiss kept increasing, my body confusedly trying to move with the motions and seek even more pleasure. When Taehyung gently bit on my lower lip, my hips jerked forward on their own and I could feel a hardness sliding across my centre. We both gasped, Taehyung’s hands jumping to my hips to stop them, but I felt as if a lighting struck me to my core, pleasure zapping through me on a jolt. I gasped, hips mindlessly chasing after the feeling again. Taehyung separated the kiss on a groan, his head falling to my shoulder, hands now encouraging my hips to move instead of stopping them.

For a moment we just enjoyed each other, mindlessly kissing here, grabbing onto each other and chasing the pleasure, moving against each other. I managed to get Taehyung out of his outer robes too and he was clad only in a thin undershirt that teased a little bit of his collarbones, which I immediately covered in kisses. We didn’t speak and the room was filled with the sounds of shifting clothes and airy little gasps and moans, but I needed more. I needed so much more.

Taehyung’s lips travelled down to the edge of my undergarment, kissing the soft swell teasing my breasts, and I gasped and arched and curved into him, but I could feel the smirk settling on his face as he moved away again. I whined, mind gone and begging for more solid touch, for his hand between my legs and his lips biting into my shoulders.

I pushed onto his shoulders and as Taehyung wasn’t expecting it, he went easily, slight alarm painting his face, but I just grabbed him and pulled his face back to mine. The moment our lips crashed together, I keened, licking into his mouth desperately. The dark-haired man chuckled, but he seemed to take pity on me.

With one hand gently laid on my lower back, he slowly toppled us over until I was lying on the ground with his weight settling gently on top of me, legs tangled and lips intertwined. With a wet smack our lips separated and for a moment we both just looked at each other breathing hard, but then the time and reality caught up to my overheated excited brain and I immediately started tearing at his clothes, untying anything I got my hands on and pushing the fabric away until his whole torso was on display.

I choked on a moan, the desire reigniting within me tenfold. He was beautiful, strong and lean, honey-toned skin blemishless and perfect. Distracted with all the possibilities and my body screaming at me to have the man take me now, take me as soon as possible, my hands wildly flitted over his chest, kneading the skin but not settling anywhere for too long. I decided to pay back the favour and my lips latched onto his neck, making him shudder and moan. I played around lightly, just like he had, kissing anywhere I could, moving south to his pecks and then back up all the way to his ear with wet open-mouthed kisses, revealing just how far gone I was and how needy he made me with his earlier ministrations.

Taehyung buried his face into the crook of my neck, skin rippling with every touch, releasing low groans right into my ear, which made me work even harder. I was ecstatic that I was finally able to touch him too, ecstatic by the prospect of returning the pleasure he had been bestowing me with all these mornings that would have otherwise been cold and lonely.

With that thought in mind, my hands shifted to his hips, at first seemingly just sitting there and holding onto him, but slowly moving downwards, pushing the pants down. Taehyung didn’t seem to notice at first, but once I got low enough to expose the v of his hips and the thicker part of his happy trail, he let out a loud excited groan, body shaking with anticipation.

His lips pressed into my ear. “Do you want to see me? Touch me?” he whispered, voice rough and aroused. I gasped quietly, legs falling open more so that he could settle his hips more comfortably and I could see the moment I finally pushed them low enough, breath held in excitement.

“Yes, please,” I answered in a similarly debauched hushed voice, “please, Taehyung.” His chest rumbled happily, lips busying themselves with biting and kissing into my neck. I must have been absolutely covered with little red and purple bruises and the thought sent a bolt of arousal through me, my body jerking underneath the bigger man.

“Go ahead then, darling,” he said sensually, regaining back a little control. His hips stiffened, allowing me to pull them down the final stretch, releasing his erection. It hit his lower stomach with a tiny noise, the wet tip leaving a little smear of clear liquid there. I clenched on nothing, a gush of wetness suddenly leaving me at the prospect of having him inside of me. He was watching me closely, a wild look on his face, and the more excited I felt, the hungrier he looked.

Then Taehyung pressed his face to mine again, lips caressing the shell of my ear as he whispered: “Do you want it? Do you want my cock, darling?” I nodded, a whimper escaping me, thighs and pussy throbbing with pure burning need. I was so aroused my head was spinning and every thought inside curled around the pleasure this man was providing me with. He clicked his tongue though, and shook his head a little, giving me a playful grin.

“Then you need to say it,” he stated meanly, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Good girls always ask for it.” The way his tongue wrapped around the words good girl made me borderline delirious, back arching and thighs spreading even further, until my hips hurt and I was gasping with the liquid lust coursing through my veins.

“Please!” I whined out again, hands grabbing onto his searing hot skin and attempting to pull him closer, but he didn’t budge.

“No, no, no, darling,” his voice seemed even darker and richer than usual and I was losing my mind on the little rasp, his tongue peeking out to play with the lobe of my ear quickly sending me spinning, “You need to say it.”

“Please, Taehyung,” I choked out, a few tears of frustrated arousal slipping down my cheeks, “I want you.” He smiled, giving me false sense of victory, but still kept his hips away from mine. I whined again, not knowing what else to do.

“I want to hear the words from your mouth, darling,” he stated firmly, “Say ‘Please Taehyung, I want your cock’.” I gasped at his words, the flush on my face deepening despite the lewdness of the situation I already found myself in. My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips and Taehyung’s eyes zeroed in on my mouth, fascinated.

“I want your cock,” I whispered, the arousal pushing me into boldness I’ve never displayed before, “Please, Taehyung, I want your cock so bad.” He groaned and I saw the exact moment his pupils expanded with pure lust and his eyes were overtaken by desire to have me. While his lips crashed to mine, his hand grabbed one of mine and pulled it towards his cock and wrapping it around it.

I squeezed on instinct and Taehyung moaned into me, hips bucking gently. I took a moment to feel him out, just gently ran my hands over the ridges and curves. I could feel the way Taehyung trembled, the way his breathing stuttered on tiny, muted groans, his eyes firmly shut. His hands grabbed onto my thighs and dug into them through the underskirt still half covering me from his eyes.

When I began sliding my hand up and down the shaft, Taehyung’s head once again fell to my shoulder, open mouth pressing into my skin and releasing rugged moans. His hips jerked forward in tiny motions, thrusting lightly into my curled hands. I was content with touching him, but my body also screamed for attention, thighs shaking and muscles in my belly contracting in pleasurable little ripples. I was so wet I could feel my essence sliding down my thighs and my bottom, leaving a little puddle on the bedding under us.

I squeezed around him lightly and he jerked into my hands harder, a debauched groan leaving him. I spasmed, pussy pulsing around nothing, begging to be filled up to the brim, an answering moan leaving my own lips. Taehyung looked at me through half-lidded eyes, reason completely overridden by the need to push himself into my tight wet heat at the clear need depicted on my face, he shuddered again, pre-cum leaking out the red tip of his painfully erect cock.

His hands scrambled to grab my skirt and push it up my legs until it pooled around my stomach, wet pussy exposed to his needy hands. He didn’t waste any time and pulled his fingers through my folds, teasing my clit for a moment and punching out desperate moans out of me, whole body spasming at the sudden onslaught of pleasure cursing through me, but then his fingers hurriedly slid down and pushed inside of me. At the feeling of his fingers getting so easily swallowed up by my wet cunt he groaned, thrusting them in a little and scissoring to make sure I was absolutely ready to take a cock, but both of us were beyond gone with desire.

I was enjoying the feeling of finally having something inside of me, but it didn’t last for long. After a few hurried thrusts of his fingers, Taehyung pulled his hand away and I whined, arching my back, pussy chasing after him. He quickly swatted my hands from his length and lowered his hips until we were pressing into each other, his cock snuggly sliding through my wet folds.

Our breaths were knocked out of us on deep satisfied groans. He moved his hips back and forth a few times, coating himself in my juices to ensure easier slide, and then pushed inside with one firm motion, cock driving inside of me without any resistance, filling me absolutely all the way up on the first thrust. I threw my head back, mouth open on a silent scream, the contentment of finally having him inside me lighting my every nerve on fire and satisfying something deep inside of my core. I trembled, desperately holding onto him as my brain turned to mush with barely anything.

Taehyung was having more trouble staying silent, mouth open and instantly pumping out groans and moans, shaky hands keeping my hips still and desperately trying to stop himself from immediately mindlessly driving into the divine pleasure that was the feeling of being enveloped by my wet tight walls.

I whimpered and squirmed underneath him, grabbing onto him. I wasn’t even fully aware of myself, body and mind consumed by the heavenly feeling of being filled by him.

“Please!” I whined out loud, desperately needing him to finally start doing something, like there was an itch deep inside of me that needed scratching, “Please, give me more!”

Taehyung chuckled above me, trying to stay suave and smooth but I could hear how breathless he was, could feel his hands tightening and loosening on my hips. His hips trembled against mine, jumping with excitement at my words.

He pulled his hips back and slowly slid back in, making us both sigh with content. He kept the pace slow and deep, covering me with his body and claiming my mouth with his while I fell apart on his well-aimed pace. I moaned on every stroke, arching my hips and spreading my thighs to let him hit deeper, pull him in closer.

The slow build up of the pleasure had me losing my mind. I felt like I was getting gradually submerged into boiling water, the heat steadily rising with every thrust filling me with deep primal satisfaction. My hands roamed over Taehyung’s body, appreciating his smooth skin and muscles as they jumped with movement, soaking up Taehyung’s little hick-uped groans when I passed over sensitive areas.

Taehyung changed the angle a little bit and when he pressed all the way inside, his tip pressed into a spot that had me keening loudly underneath him, eyes tightly shut and mouth wide open. My hands instinctively grabbed onto his waist and squeezed, nails digging into his skin, and Taehyung groaned loudly, hips jerking into me roughly, punching out a whiny moan out of me.

That seemed to break us into a frenzy, my hands sliding down his body and grabbing onto his ass, pushing him into me and encouraging his movements. Taehyung happily took the sign and started thrusting faster and harder, filling the room with sounds of our moans and the wet slapping of our hips. I couldn’t stop the sounds spilling out of my mouth, his every stroke hitting deep inside me and lighting my every nerve on fire, stoking the lust and the bliss in pulsing consuming waves.

I felt myself getting close to the peak I was so familiar with from his hands, the sensations drowning me and washing over me in over-powering waves. Taehyung’s moans were reaching crescendo, getting higher and whinier as his hips unfalteringly pounded into me.

“So close, darling,” he croaked with a raspy voice, “going to paint you with my seed, going to fill you to the brim.” I moaned in response, pussy throbbing and clenching around him, sucking him in deeper. I needed us both to peak, I needed it more than air to feel him unwind and release, get consumed with pleasure I provided him with.

“God, just a little more,” I answered to him breathlessly on a pleasured sigh. My hands squeezed his bottom and pushed him a little rougher. His breath hitched, but he changed his pace accordingly, slowing down but snapping his hips into me harder and rougher, making me wail with pleasure.

I felt myself spiralling into the heat, knowing I wouldn’t last too long like this. Above me Taehyung watched me through half-lidded eyes, mouth open and face consumed with raw lust at my blissed-out state. I caught his eyes just seconds before my whole body spasmed and then stilled, climax exploding over me with force that shocked a raspy scream out of me. I blanked out, trembling and overflowing with bliss and ecstasy, legs spasming and toes curling with the sensation of the fire consuming me inside out. It was the best feeling I’ve ever felt, the most intense thing my body has ever gone through, but I loved every second of it. It felt as if all the stress just drained away from my body and was replaced by molten gold.

Taehyung fucked me through the orgasm, and it took him only a few more thrusts before his hips jerked wildly, pleasure mounting until he released deep inside of me with his head thrown back and a long drawn-out moan. I felt his cock throb and pulse inside of me as it spurted his seed, his hips lightly swaying in circles to ride it out, until the boneless weightless feeling set in and he collapsed on top of me.

I was feeling so content, body pleasantly light and thrumming with aftershocks of our shared moment, eyelids heavy with sleep. I felt Taehyung slip out and move away from me, his release running down my legs and making me blush again, but I didn’t have any strength to move or wipe it away, so I just laid there and waited for the man. He returned with a piece of cloth, still just as naked, shooting me a little playful wink when he saw me looking at his body. I turned around, embarrassed, even though we had just enjoyed each other like husband and wife.

I heard his little chuckle, but then the cloth suddenly pressed onto my thighs, making me gasp quietly. Taehyung squeezed my leg in apology and continued cleaning me up. I couldn’t help the little sighs of content leaving me, the warm cloth and his gentle touches filling my heart with love.

When he was done, he threw the piece of cloth away carelessly, before jumping onto the bedding and snuggling up to me. We ended up like we always have, Taehyung holding me from behind, hands pulling me as close to him as I could go, lips and nose pressing into the crook of my neck and into my hair, trilling happily.

I let it gently lull me to sleep, melting into his loving embrace, listening to his content purrs, our bodies moulding perfectly together like it was always meant to happen. I closed my eyes, and welcomed sleep, feeling the most comfortable I’ve been in years.

I couldn’t remember what I was thinking right before I slipped under, but I did with the feeling of just everything being right.

I would be okay. We would be okay.

hope you enjoyed yourself and see you around <3

A/N: the story of prince cheoyong, the son of the dragon king who neglected his wife to which a demon of pestilence took a liking and sneaked into her bed - one day cheoyong returned home and saw four feet sticking out of the bed instead of two, and he chased out the demon with singing and dancing, saving his wife and becoming a guardian god - it was said that no demon or evil spirit could enter a house as long as there was a likeness of cheoyong there, so people bought his portraits or talismans with his face and put them on their door, but i kind of switched the sides hehe

[courtingchaos]

Strawberry

Pairing: Line Cook!Eddie x Barista Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie lets slip that he wants something from you, and you’re more than happy to oblige. 😉

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Alright, a little explanation. This is technically the fourth installment for this little AU. I just…haven’t finished the other two yet. So if some of this feels like it was maybe pre-established? It is, just in another document that y’all will be able to see soon…ish. Also! This is my first pegging fic, so I ask some mercy for any inaccuracies/issues you may find! Strawberry is the safeword.

Warnings: Pegging! Eddie is being pegged by Reader, A little dom reader if you squint, oral (male receiving), mentions of alcohol, language.

18+ NSFW No Minors Allowed or Wanted

“Okay, so what am I looking for here?”

“Dildos.”

“Yeah, I meant on the wall.” You smirk at Eddie while he gives you a disappointed stare.

“Oh hardy har har.”

You laugh at him and he tries to hit you with a bottle of lube. There’s a small tussle that follows and the poor clerk at the register looks over the screen and clears her throat at the two of you. “Y’all good?” You hide your face in Eddie’s shoulder while he tries his best to straighten out. He nods and waves at the clerk and then slaps your shoulder when you keep shaking against him.

“Would you fuckin’ behave?!”

“Never! You brought me into a sex shop to shop for dildos, what do expect from me?”

“Class?” He says, turning you around to face the wall of silicon again. You snort and grab the bright pink dildo in front of you.

“Is this what you had in mind?” You push it into his chest and he turns it over, staring at the front of the package.

“It’s only 5 inches, you think I can’t handle more?” You know he’s kidding, but you can see the pink blush on his ears where he’s starting to embarrass himself. You decide to push it further since this afternoon is turning into one long bit anyways.

“Oh baby, you couldn’t handle what I’d like to give you.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and you grab at his hip, pretending to hump the side of him while his face flushes. “Aww,” You lean in close and push your nose into his rapidly heating cheek, “You gettin’ all hot and bothered?”

“Maybe.” He looks sidelong at you when your fingers creep under his t-shirt and graze his stomach. You smush your face in more and laugh into his cheek while he shoves the box back on the shelf. “Listen, you wanna pick this out or not?”

“Oh no no, this wasn’t my idea.”

“Well if you don’t want to do it, we don’t have to.” He drops his smile to give you a serious look. You know he means it, always does when it comes to your shared comfort but he’s not getting away that easy. You grab him by the belt loops and pull him behind a pillar, out of the direct view of the cashier.

“I’m sorry, you think you’re just going to casually mention that you’ve been thinking about me pegging you and then try and back out of it?” He looks down at you and tries to stop the smile creeping out across his face. “No, I am absolutely going to do this but it’s your pick Eddie.” You nod your head over to the wall. “I want you to choose.”

He rolls his eyes but turns to look again while you wind your arms around him from behind to hold him tight. You trail along behind while he wanders the store, showing you stuff over his shoulder while you nod in approval or tell him no. You keep your chin hooked on his trap so you can stay close to his neck, your breath whispering over his skin when you reply to him. Your hands wander, light fingertips bunching up his shirt a bit to drag across his hip.

He’s a little bit of a mess in this tiny store. Between you talking softly in his ear about the various toys and the gentle kisses you place on his bare skin, he’s sweating.

“Are you trying to start something?” He whispers to you when you point out the grouping of handcuffs.

“Isn’t that the point of this little errand?”

“Kind of, I just didn’t think you’d be so into this.”

“Fucking you? Eddie, that’s all I think about now.”

“Hey that’s my line.” He says that a little more breathy than he means to and watches your eyes light up. You bare your teeth, snapping playfully at him. It’s a good thing his hands are full because he wants to drag you out of the store and shove you in the backseat of his truck. Obviously you can tell he has an idea so you grab some stuff from him and gesture to the register, mischief in your eyes. “You ready?”

The plain black paper bag sits in the corner of his room taunting him while the universe actively works against him. He’d gotten called in twice and you’d had to stay late every night this week, resulting in no time for anything remotely fun. You’d only gotten as far as looping the black harness around your hips, trying to figure out what belt tightened around which leg. He’s only got fantasy fueling him through the week, the image of you turning around in the full length mirror inspecting your new accessory the fuse for all his thoughts.

It’s the end of your week, a late Sunday and he knows when you show up you’ll be tired and quiet and looking for a shower. He’s already started dinner, having gotten out of work on time himself for once, just so you don’t have to worry about it. He is however, still stuck on the bag and the items therein.

This isn’t his first time getting fucked, but it is his first time doing it with you. He hasn’t really trusted anyone like this in a long time and he’d let it slip one night, a too hot shower and your hands in his hair making him comfortable and vulnerable and he’d been just drunk enough to slur the thought out. You’d been quiet at first, fingers still sudsing through his curls and nails scratching at his scalp. He’d tried to take it back until you’d shushed him and dragged your hands down his chest, leaving one lying flat while the other wrapped confidently around his cock.

“You want me to fuck you?” Words hushed under the spray from the shower head. All he can do is nod, throat sticking when he tries to make a sound. You move your hand slowly up and down and he tilts his forehead into yours to watch, mesmerized and drunk on you and a good handful of cocktails. “Hmm?” You purr at him, raising the hand on his stomach up to tilt his head back enough so he can see your eyes. “Whatcha gotta say to that big guy?”

His laugh turns into a gasp when your hand speeds up and your fingertips dig into the side of his jaw. You’re holding him in place, watching him twitch and moan under your hands. He’s edged closer than he thought, the coil of heat springing to life low in his belly.

“I’m serious Eddie, tell me.” Your smile is dangerous, a glint of teeth under the sweetness. He grabs at your neck to steady himself and to try to bring you in for a kiss but you hold tight. Keep his head in your grasp and your lips just out of reach. “Tell me you want me to fuck you and I’ll let you kiss me.” The hand on his cock slows down. He groans long and low and his grip tightens behind your head. You squeeze around the fat head of him and he can still smell the liquor on your breath when you talk. “Tell me and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fu-ck please, god damnit.”

“Huh?” You’re being cruel and he’s lapping it up. He’s been waiting to see this mean side of you, knew it was in there somewhere.

“Please…fuck, I want you to fuck me.”

You lean in and drop the hand on his face so he can crowd you against the shower wall. The kiss is bruising, all teeth and slipping skin and you barely have to speed up your hand before he’s cumming, spilling hot over your fist. You hiss and ‘aww’ at him when he gets overstimulated but he still leans against you, knows you’ll take care of him like he does you.

He can hear movement in the hallway that pulls him out of his thoughts. Gives himself a shake to try and tamp down the memory he’s been reliving for 20 minutes. He almost ducks into his bedroom when he hears the key turn in the lock, an attempt to hide the semi that’s clear as day under his shorts. You get in first though and he greets you a little stiffly, a jerky wave from the stove where he’s still stirring curry.

“You okay?” You’ve barely put your bag down and kicked off your shoes and you’ve got worry all across your face.

“I’m fine!” He lies, still picturing the shower. You get up close to him, eyes darting between his own. You’re not mad but obviously not in the mood for anything at all probably. He knows that dead look well.

“Why don’t you take a shower? Dinner’s almost ready.” He wants you out of the kitchen so he can refocus and calm down. The last thing he needs is to be up your ass about anything. (He just wants you up his.)

You make a noncommittal sound. Give him a once over and he thinks you might spot his half hard dick but the look goes away as quick as it came.

“I’ll just be a few minutes, I promise.”

He’d heard the shower start and had to wrangle himself in, had half hoped you’d come out feeling better and maybe walk your fingers up his back. You’d yet to leave the bathroom though, an hour after he heard the water stop. He knows you’re just decompressing, staring at your phone and scrolling scrolling scrolling but also he’s out here. Worked up, unknown to you, but worked up all the same.

Eddie has somehow twisted himself into a bad mood. Dinner had been ready for a while and you’d said just a few minutes. Yet here he sat, staring at a tv screen with some video game he had no interest in tonight. Finally he hears the bathroom door open and you swan out, damp hair half dried from how long you must have been sitting on the edge of the tub.

“Have a good shower?” He asks flatly, barely giving you a side eye when you walk past into the kitchen. He’d put your plate in the microwave and had made a point to have all the dishes done so you’d maybe get how long you’d been.

“I feel a little more human, but no amount of hot water can make up for the travesty that was tonight.” You’re oblivious apparently and he just huffs, a small nod directed at the TV. “You okay?” You sit directly next to him on the couch, sympathy in the crease of your brows.

“I said I’m fine.” He had. Like an hour ago. Deep down, in the part of his brain that isn’t mad for no reason, he knows what he sounds like. Knows he’s snapping and being a little mean but he feels a certain way and can’t seem to get out of the funk of annoyance.

“I know I was in there for a while, I’m sorry.” You sound deflated. He should put his controller down and look at you and talk to you but he just keeps staring forward, unable to get his brain off its one track of ‘Horny and Angry’. He gives a half shrug and before he can unpause the game you reach a hand over and rest it on his knee. “Seriously Ed, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He does look at you then, feels the anger melt a little when he sees the tired look you give him. You pat his knee and eat in silence, watching him meander aimlessly around the map. You get up and wash your plate and wander back into his room, the whole time he’s screaming at himself to follow you in and apologize. He’s almost ready to toss the controller to the side when he hears you rummaging around in a paper bag.

“Hey Ed?” You call to him from inside his room.

“What?”

“Can you come in here?”

Eddie finds himself in a lot of situations with you. Most of them fun, some of them suck but this one has moved to the top of his Best of All Time list. It’d taken him a fraction of second too long to answer you and you come out of the bedroom to stand in front of him. Wordlessly lean down and kiss him, hands soft where they fall on his neck. All of his built up frustration boils to the surface and all he wants is to move you back into the bedroom. He‘s halted when you press him back, those hands on his neck a little tighter.

“What have you been up to?” You whisper against his mouth. He’s not sure how to answer, doesn’t really know what your asking. The context is missing and-

“Have you just been mean because you’re horny?” Your laugh brushes across his face.

“Mean? I made dinner.” He’s still pissed.

“And you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder since I got out of the shower.”

“No, you got out of the shower an hour ago.”

“Did you time me?” You stand straight and one hand trails up to lightly hold his jaw. You look appraisingly down your nose at him. “I said I was sorry.”

“And I just wanted you to come eat dinner.” He huffs.

“I don’t think that’s what you wanted. I looked in our goodie bag.”

“…okay.” He might know what you’re talking about now, remembers the empty box he left in there.

“Did you start without me?” The tilt of your head feels condescending and he likes that a little too much. Wants to see how far he can push it. Maybe he can make you feel guilty for making him wait.

“Like two days ago, yeah.” A smug smile stretches his lips. “I got tired of waiting.”

You ‘tsk’ at him and very suddenly the hand under his jaw isn’t so soft. It grips while your other comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, keeping it tilted back in place. You hover over him, just barely out of reach again and this isn’t the part of the game he enjoys, when he can’t reach your lips.

“Eddie.” Your voice is low and soft. “You told me specifically that I’d get to see you use any and all things we bought, that included that pretty little plug. So where is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

That makes you full on laugh in his face, breaking character for a moment. “I’m sorry Ed, are you being serious or is this-“

“Fuckin’ play along.” He murmurs through a grin.

“Are you being purposefully bratty?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were the only one allowed to pout around here.” This moment of levity makes his stomach unknot. He knows you’re not mad at him, not really. Maybe a little annoyed but he can work with that. You pull his hair a little, another tug that makes his mouth fall open.

“Are you wearing it right now?”

“What? No. I was last night though.” He knows that’ll piss you off, considering you’d gone home to your own place after work instead.

“Are you fucking-“ When you straighten up you pull him with you. He stumbles and drops the controller on the floor with the sudden movement, head still trapped between your palms so he can’t quite see the floor. He’s following you to his room while a laugh builds in his chest. This is what he’s been waiting for all week, longer if he’s honest with himself. He always wants to take care of you in all the ways but recently he’s been feeling a little restless, a little frustrated.

“I like this side of you, where’s she been hiding?” He laughs when you push him down against the bed. The paper bag falls over and he notices the only thing in there is the empty box he left. He slides his eyes over to you where you stand at the foot of the bed.

“I bet you thought I was on my phone that whole time, huh?”

He doesn’t say anything, the heat of arousal blooming low, that anticipation making his stomach tense.

“I noticed when I came in, you’re so easy to read sometimes. Also, your shorts are very loose.” You head into the bathroom and he immediately rips his shirt off, very suddenly sure of where his night is headed. When you come back out he catches the purple silicon in your fist and lets out a quiet moan.

“God you are easy, aren’t you?” Your gaze wanders over him sitting up on his elbows, completely naked and staring at you wide eyed and smirking. His dick lays heavy against his stomach and there’s no hiding his excitement from you. “You know I was going to be all sweet about this and treat you like a hot house lily, but I don’t think you want that.”

He shakes his head. “No. Where’s that mean barista I fell for? She only seems to come out when I don’t do the dishes right.”

“Do you want me to just roast you about your drink all night? I can do that, easy.” You toss the strap on the bed next to him and descend on him. “Do you want me to be mean to you?” You ask between kisses on his stomach, hands roving over his sides and tracing dark ink.

“Maybe a little.” He says it shyly while looking down his chest to catch your reaction. You just tilt your head, contemplating while moving up his body. When you get to his neck, soft lips under his jaw moving up, you lick the shell of his ear and watch the shiver run down his spine.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Oh, never sweetness.” He’s all shining eyes and slowly emptying head, the weight of the harness next to his hand the only anchor he’s got to this moment. You pull away from him though, entirely too clothed and serious.

“I mean it Eddie. This is new shit, I’m not messing this up.” The finality in your voice gives him enough clarity to stop teasing for a second.

“I promise I will strawberry the fuck out of this if I don’t like it.” He holds up his hand, scouts honoring you. “Now would you please take your fucking clothes off and put the fucking harness on.”

In the time it takes you to get everything situated, you tell Eddie all about your hour in the bathroom. How you’d been planning since your lunch earlier to come home and do this. He tries to help you with the straps once but you slap his hand away and push him back on the bed.

“Hands to yourself.” Wordlessly he scoots back to the middle of the bed to watch you finish undressing. “Good boy.”

That makes his eyes roll and his cock jump. Good boy. It plays on repeat, echoing off the back of his skull while you talk about how you got it, finally understood the appeal when you’d gotten the harness on. Watched yourself run your hand up and down the purple silicon and you’d just had to try it out. “That’s why I was in there so long. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

He pauses, vision going foggy when he realizes what you’ve said. It’s not the most scandalizing thing but you were two doors away, fucking yourself with his new toy. Ignoring him and the dinner he made so you could tease him later with this information.

“It’s not quite you, you’re something else.” You say with a wink, a few steps away from the bed. You’re slow approach makes the strap bob and he watches it with baited breath and mouth watering. He’s not sure where to look anymore, every inch of you setting his thoughts on fire. If he thought you were hot before this is going to end him, the way you kneel on the bed and shimmy up his chest, the tip of your big purple dick nudging his lips. “You gonna help me out or what?”

His laugh is light but his eyes are all dark, pupils wide and lids heavy when he looks up at you. Keeps eye contact when he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to barely lick the tip.

“Oh come on, I know you can do better than that.” You coax him and run a hand over the top of his head, anchoring your fingers in the soft curls. “Show me what else that mouth can do.” A pull at the crown of his head to lean him forward and he catches that heavy look in your eye. It makes him sit up and tuck his elbows under his back to prop him up better so he can fully blow you. His eyes slip shut when he opens his jaw, a soft gasp from above let’s him know he’s doing it right. Good boy good boy good boy.

“Is this why you get so cocky?” Your voice is strained over the wet sound oh him sucking. “Is’hot.” You reach back to grab his cock, the soft heat heavy in your palm. His tip is slick with precum where it’s been dribbling on his stomach. “I haven’t even touched you yet and look at you.” A slow drag of your hand up to squeeze the head and he groans, mouth full and drooling. He hears you whisper under your breath, a faint ‘oh my god’ before your hand travels down further and your fingertips inch under to grab his balls. He jerks up and gags and you laugh, still gripping his hair to hold him in place. “Ed you look so pretty like this.” The pressure on his sac tightens and his brain goes off line. Eyes rolling when you keep pulling his hair and give a little thrust into his mouth. “Is this what I look like? Hmm? When I blow you?” His arms tremble with the strain but he refuses to give up, not when you’re touching him like this and teasing him like this and making all those breathy little comments above him. He bobs his head and rolls his tongue around like you could feel it, tries to swallow around the head bullying the back of his throat. He has to force his eyes open to look up at you, to see you shake your head at him and pout condescendingly. “No, I don’t think I look half as good as you.” You keep switching between rolling his balls in your palm and slowly jerking him off and he’s starting to think he’s going to cum before you ever fuck him. He taps your knee twice to get your attention and you let go of everything, making to swing your leg over when he stills you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-“ His voice is hoarse and wet and he has to swallow a few times before he can talk. “I need you.”

“Need me to what?” Its genuine, concern still laced in your words. He’s staring up at you though, fully fucked out look on his face, pliant and loose on his bed and you know he’s okay. “Tell me Eddie. What do you need?” A soft touch pushes back his hair from his face, skin damp and hot. “What do you want?” You know it’s a hard thing to admit so you give him time. Let him run his hands up your thighs and over your stomach. He kneads your tits, pushes them together and when you grind down against the backside of the strap looking for some kind of friction he pinches a nipple to make you gasp. He keeps a hand at your chest and uses the other to pull you down for a kiss. He’s flushed and hot under you, skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat. The groans rumbling in the back of his throat make you anxious to hear more. You want to know what he sounds like when he’s under you and lost in his own pleasure. Head empty except for your voice and your touch.

Rarely does he give up control, typically the giver with you but this is special. He’s already quieted down, smart remarks replaced with these whimpers and pants in your mouth where he holds you close to kiss you. When you pull away his eyes are shining and you make a show of shimmying down till you’re kneeling between his thighs and looking up at him.

“You want me to touch you?” You grab his cock and he nods, watches you lazily jerk him. A few licks to the underside of his head and his face scrunches up in concentration.

“Tell me.”

“Yes please.” He breaths out and you open your mouth and sink down, nose buried in the wiry hair. You keep your eyes up, watching him drop his head back against the bed. He drags his hands down his face and when you pull up, pulling his own little tongue swirl move on him he holds his fist over his mouth. You let go with a gasp.

“Absolutely not.”

He looks down his nose at you, eyes wide.

“I’m not doing all this for you to be quiet.” The smile you give him feels feral. “I wanna hear it all, Eddie. Every little sound.” You give him a final look before bowing your head to swallow him down again. You’ve rendered him speechless it would seem, until you slide a hand down and gently tug on his balls. A long groan and a hand sliding into your hair makes you smile around your mouthfull. They’re heavy in your palm, rolling them around until you can wrap your index and thumb finger around to pull down. His hips jerk and when you feel his thighs tensing you sit up, panting and laughing at his visible distress.

“Wh-“

“Under the pillow there.” You nod your head towards his side of the bed. He looks dazed for a moment before patting around and finding the bottle of lube you threw under there earlier.

“Oh you’re crafty.”

“You have no idea.”

He hands it to you and you can see him holding his breath. You let him squirm for a little while longer, let him watch you open the bottle and cover your hand in it. It drips on his stomach and cock and you watch his muscles contract, his anticipation visible everywhere.

“You gonna relax?”

“I am relaxed.” He lies. He pulls his feet up next your knees and squishes you between his own. “I’m just excited.” His own squirrelly little smile flashed at you. You’re excited too, but nervous. You’d done your own reading outside of everything you’d asked Eddie but still. This was your first time doing this and you didn’t want to hurt him.

“Tell me if anything hurts?” He nods and keeps watch of your slick hand. Watches you graze his balls again and feels your fingers graze over his ass. Elbowing his legs to give you more room and you slide a slick finger over the tight ring of muscle. His eyes slip shut and his mouth falls open on a deep, breathy laugh. He’s gripping the back of his thighs when you prod gently, tip of your index finger looking for a little give. You grab the bottle again and open it, drizzling more lube over your strap. Before Eddie can comprehend anything, you grab both cocks in your free hand and thrust.

“Oh my fucking god”

“Good?” You use that outburst to push your finger in gently. Eddie moans and tries to find his footing again when his feet start to slide on the sheets.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna cum immediately.”

“Doing what?”

“Everything.”

“Oh good.” Another thrust of your hips and another push of your finger and it’s no time at all before you have him at your mercy. Everything is slick and sticky and you’ve managed to get two fingers in, stretching him just enough before he snaps at you.

“If you don’t fuck me right now this night is going to end very fast.” It’s a low warning, gasped down at you where you’re still jerking him and your strap off. You almost want to laugh but the sight of him flushed and wanting is making you feel crazy. When you finally let go of him and gently remove your fingers, you tap his leg to get him to look at you.

“Promise me if it hurts you’ll tell me.”

“I promise, just…please.” His eyes are giant orbs of black ringed in deep brown, blown out in lust and heat and want. Any real thoughts you might have had about being textbook over this is out the window and you just watch yourself line up against him, tip barely pushing against tense muscle before it pops in. Your inhale matches his and you both marvel at this new sensation together. The slightest movement forward and you can feel him clenching around the strap and pulling you in. It takes you a few moments of adjusting and readjusting, making sure you aren’t hurting him or moving too quickly when he snaps again.

“Would you fucking move?” He wheezes. His thighs tremble in anticipation and he’s about to bite his lip in two if you don’t move your hips.

“Hey, I’m trying to be gentle-“

“I’m fine! Just move!” He cuts you off and stares you down when you open your mouth again to argue. He’s about to suggest you lay down and he can do all the work when you suddenly sit up off your calves and push forward. No snap of your hips or quick shove into him just enough that you sink in halfway and he drops his retort. Drops his head against the pillow and drops his hands to the comforter where they grasp for something, anything to hold on to. It’s like you punched the breath right out of him and he groans, short gasps when you push forward again and finally fully seat yourself against him. All he can feel are your hands clutching at his thighs and the fullness of you finally in his ass.

“oh fuckfuckfuck.” It’s been a minute since he’s done this but he’s happy he waited for you. He’s currently busy watching stars explode behind his eyelids but he knows you’ve got that shit eating grin plastered on your face. Barely moving against him, just little thrust to get a better grip on him and his chest is heaving with breathy laughs.

“Is that what you wanted?” He does answer you, just in a strangle of words. You can see his throat bob where he’s swallowing and trying to talk and you just shush him. Run a hand up his abdomen and to his chest where you can feel his heart beating fast.

“Oh I know baby.” A gentle pat on his sternum before you drag your hand down again and grab him, cock slick with all the extra lube. “I bet that feels good, huh?”

He just whimpers at you. It’s such a sweet sound coming out of him. You’ve barely gotten into the swing of this and he’s already a wreck.

“Ed, you’re so pretty like this.” A slow drag of your hand pulls another garbled sound from deep in his throat. Another roll of your hips makes him sigh and laugh and suddenly you’re finding your rhythm. His bed rocks under you when you really start going, the whines punched out of him on every thrust fueling you.

“Does that feel better?” You coo at him and he pushes his head back further into the bed. Let’s out a deep, stuttering cry when you roll your hips back into him and angle up. He lifts his leg up momentarily, dazedly looking for a place to set his foot and you hook him under his knee. Gently pull it up close to your chest where the hair tickles your sensitive nipple. The sounds knocking out of him are pathetic and small, little whimpers and whispers of your name drawn out between a litany of fucks. He’s barely listening to you, too dick drunk to pay attention to anything else but they way you roll your hips against his.

This isn’t a fast night and you wouldn’t call this lovemaking by any stretch. He had pissed you off earlier and maybe you were making him suffer a bit but really this was for him. He’d talked this up for a few weeks and driven you to the shop and bought the toys and then you’d made him wait. Not purposefully, but nonetheless it’d been your fault you two hadn’t done this yet. Getting a little lost in thought causes you to slow for a moment too long and Eddie is whining again, lifting his hips up slightly and trying to fuck himself on your big purple dick. The glassy look in his eyes, the way his whole face is drawn downward while he bites his lip. He’s moving his hand again, up and down the length of his cock where you’d stopped your own movements. Desperate and whining and maybe this is a little for you too.

“Oh my god, look at you.”

His eyes find yours before squeezing shut, a pained expression while he rolls his body against you.

“You have no idea how hot you look.” You fuck into him with shallow thrust, obviously hitting that spot that’s making him keen. He’s grabbing onto anything he can, nails digging into your skin when he catches your arm. “This is-you’re amazing Eddie.” Your hands roam up his sides while you crowd him, leaning in and down to give him a desperate kiss. This closeness makes it hard for you to move as much but he’s still whining while his hands find your hair and your neck, holding you close.

“Please don’t fucking stop-I’m-“ his voice hitches when you obviously hit that sweet spot, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“You close?” Whispered into his open mouth, it’s all damp air and hot breath and you’ve never been more enraptured by something.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” You’re watching artwork unravel under you. The way his skin flushes red under all that black ink, the heaving of his chest and the sounds punching out of his throat. You marvel at him lasting this long, his cock ruddy and leaking against his stomach, untouched in the last few minutes and you feel a little bad. “Oh come on Ed let me have it.” You grab the sides of his neck, fingers splayed up into his hair. His hips jump at the contact and he babbles and begs for you to keep going. “Let go for me.” The slick sound of him trapped between your bodies and the string of pleas from him fill the room and you know he’s teetering on the edge.

“Come on baby, let me hear you.”

He goes stiff for moment, neck taut under your thumbs rubbing circles. His hands pull at the back of your neck and his knees dig into your hips and the absolute cry he lets loose has you feeling some type of new way. He spills hot between you, lines shooting up to his chest and he jerks under you. Body convulsing and mouth running while he rides out his high and you slow the roll of your hips. He’s breathing like he’s run a marathon, eyes hazy and staring through the ceiling above. You give him a minute to calm down before you sit up and inspect the mess you’ve made of him.

“You okay?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Eddie.”

A grunt then, hands dropping from the back of your neck to slap against the sheets. You run a finger down his chest through the mess of cum and sweat and lube and laugh lightly.

“You have fun?” You try to shift back to pull out but he hooks his ankles behind you, keeping you close.

“Can I have a kiss?” He asks, small and unfocused. He’s still staring up at the ceiling but his eyes are a little less hazy.

“Oh of course you can.” You lean back down and cage his head in between your forearms. You give him a few gentle pecks while you card your fingertips through his hair. His breathing is coming back to a normal pace and you can feel the tremor in his legs calming down.

“Hey.” Whispered softly against his lips to try and get his attention. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…great.” He finally tears his gaze away from the ceiling to look at you. “I’m thirsty.”

“If you let me get up I can help with that.”

It’s with a lot of sighing and protest that he finally unwinds his legs and lets you pull out. He gasps and grimaces but gives you a pointed finger.

“If you ask me one more time.” He watches you untangle the harness from your legs and the mock outrage you shoot him.

“I’m concerned!”

You leave the bedroom naked to get him water and then head back to the bathroom to get a washcloth.

“I’m not going to bruise your ego if I clean you up am I?”

Eddie still hasn’t moved, legs hung over the side of the bed and arms splayed. “I don’t care.”

So you hand him the glass of water and kneel beside him, wiping up the mess you two made. He almost chokes on his water when you run the towel under his balls.

“Warn me!” He rolls away from you while you laugh and try to get anything else off of him. “Just stop, come here.” He pulls the towel out of your hand and throws it towards the bathroom, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to him. It takes some finessing to get you both under the sheets, and even more time for Eddie to finally get situated with his nose buried under your ear.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Immensely.” He sighs and winds his limbs around you, keeping you close to his overheated body. It’s quiet for a while while you trail your fingers over his skin and through his hair, soothing him into a calm state. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“I didn’t even get to help you.”

“I told you, I took care of that already.” You smile when you feel him still.

“I forgot about that.” You can feel his eyebrow raises against your neck.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to, you fucked them all out of me.” There’s a giggle fit between you two before you settle down again. You work around him clung to you to plug in both your phones and to turn off the bedside light. You think he’s gotta be falling asleep with how heavy he’s leaning into you when he makes a little noise into the crook of your neck.

“What’s up?”

“I feel really stupid saying this right now, but I really want to say it. I know it’s probably some after glow bullshit but…” He trails off. Head still buried in your neck but you can feel the heat of his blush.

“What is it?” You give him a little shake and he just holds on tighter. “Seriously, you can tell me Eddie.”

“I won’t bite.”

He laughs. “I love you.”

It’s your turn to stop. With how much of him is draped over you, you know he can feel your heart beating faster but he can’t see the stupid grin spreading over your face.

“I don’t expect you to say it back or anything I just…I know it’s only been a few months but it’s how I feel and I wanted to say it.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Even before the sex shop.”

That makes you laugh loudly and it takes a few minutes for you to calm down enough to talk.

“Do you want me to wait until we wake up to say it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” That smile is still there for the whole dark room to see. You settle back down against him, hand wrapped around the back of his head cradling him to you. He peppers a few kisses against your neck, lazily nuzzling before he starts to drift off. When you hear the first sounds of deep breathing you turn your head to bury your nose in his curls and whisper at him.

“I love you too.”

(Sacrifice for the readmore)

[fishsticksloser]

Since we have sfw mating season turtle's, what about a nsfw one?

HEAR ME OUT-

(Feel free to ignore if your uncomfortable or your too busy to do it)

Mating Season Pt2

Future RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: smut ish, fluff, feral turtles, talk about rough sex, talk about biting/marking, wounds mentioned

A/N: I'm not gonna write small little drabbles, but I will go more in depth

Donnie

He still had precautions

But you insisted on helping him

Who was he to say no?

He went through everything his species does during mating season

He explains that you will have to be under water for an extended period of time

That he can bite and scratch

Donnie really really wants to make sure you're okay with everything that might happen

This is a huge step in your relationship

It doesn't matter how long you've been together, Donnie would never ask you to be with him during this time

You can tell it's starting because he gets more affectionate

Normally kissing your neck more

He talks about the way you smell

But when the time comes, you're there with him

He made sure there were things for you to do, things for your safety

Like oxygen for you when you're underwater

He made a really big nest for you

When you see it, he grins like a little kid

He made it for you after all

If you don't show that you like it, he'll tear it apart and restart

Donnie bites a lot

He does accidently scratch you a bit, but that was just because he was trying to hold on

He's also fiercely protective

He growls and snaps at literally anything

When he sleeps, he's wrapped around you, not allowing you to leave

You're his

When mating season is over Donnie is affectionate

He feels so bad for biting and scratching you

Being rougher than normal

He'll try to convince you not to join him again

Leo

Obviously there were still precautions

Can't have the boss going feral now can we?

Leo tried not to show when it's coming on, opting to remove you from the situation completely

But it doesn't work, he needs you too bad

Leo gets overly touchy

He taps your butt, your hips, your chest, your neck, your face

He whispers in your ears about how good you look, how you smell, how soft your skin is

The few nights before his rut actually starts, he's goes at it with everything he has

He mumbles about how pretty you are under/on top of him

But he keeps it passionate, not rough

When his rut actually starts it's a different story

He's loud

Moaning, whimpering, and... yes, talking

Leo is rough, but tries to make it pleasurable for you too

He's still a talker even when not in the middle of coitus

The tapping becomes a bit harder, more consistent

Mostly tapping your face, hips, and butt

He still whispers in your ears, but its more about what he wants to do to you, how pretty you look while he takes you

Leo bites a little, he still has some control of himself

If he feels like he's going to bite, he'll find something else to bite

The nest he builds is relatively small, but so comfy since he's allowed to have pillows and bulky blankets

When it's over, you better believe this man is worshipping your body

He'll cover any bite or scratch in kisses, making sure you feel loved beyond measure

Mikey

Since he's gotten older, it's gotten a bit worse

He's still pretty normal, but he can get territorial

Someone touches you (even by accident) or is talking to you?

You might wanna take him back to your room

He gets hot, literally since his ninpo is fire based

Mikey acts pretty normal until something happens to you (like stated above)

It's best if people stay away from you, especially his brothers

Leo has had a scar on his right arm (cause that's his prosthetic now) from Mikey attacking him after he helped you with something

Why specifically his brothers?

Because they're turtles too and they're too much like him so what if they try to steal you

That's Donnie's theory at least

The nest he builds is comfy and warm

He really likes having you in it all the time so it stays warm

He'll crawl in and snuggle with you, letting our tiny chuffs

He's not a biter at all during rut

Mikey does scratch a little, but its more when he's trying to hold on

He still has a lot of control, so he tends to be very loving and passionate

But on his bad days, he's slightly worse than Leo

He defiantly still talks, overall he's almost completely normal except for the territorial and protective aspect

Afterwards, he almost cries

No... He does cry over what he's done to you

He really needs reassurance that you're okay

Mikey will give you lots of cuddles and kisses a little while after they heal

Raph

He gets a bit like this

He also gets worse as he grows

Whereas when he was younger, he was pretty chill

Raph gets more territorial

People steer clear of both of you because of how big and scary Raph is

He tends to become a bit mindless, focusing on only you

He sniffs and nuzzles you, chuffing loudly

If anyone so much as looks at you, he growls and pulls you into him

His next is huge to fit his large body

When you see it, he pulls you into the nest, wanting to make sure you like it

It's not as bulky and soft as Leo or Mikey's but not as thin as Donnie's

He is a chaser, he will run after you

It's part of his species mating rituals

Though he does go slower than necessary due to how fast he is

Raph is a biter

The first few times, he bit you hard leaving a scar

Now he tries to get old tires, something else so he doesn't hurt you

He also scratches, trying to keep you close

When it's over, Raph will cry and apologize while he takes care of your wounds

He feels so bad

Like Donnie, he will also try to convince you not to join him again

[neverinadream]

Finishing What We Started

Summary: One dress has Y/N leaving later than she had originally planned.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes-ish

Song Inspo: Leaving Me Feeling Confident - The Driver Era

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, nsfw, smut, pre-established relationship, dom!christian (with like the tiniest hint of soft!christian), sub!reader, praise, uses of the she/her pronouns, possessive!christian, mentions of ownership, body appreciation, the reader does get called a whore and a slut, slapping, teasing, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, handjob, mentions of cum,...think that's it

Notes: happy new year whores! this was an idea that the gc discussed like ages and ages ago that i had stashed away, it was that long ago that christian was still at chelsea when we were discussing it 🫣 anyway....did we like it? do we want another part? feedback is really appreciated

A giggle slips past Y/N's lips as Christian wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back from the mirror and disrupting Y/N as she adds the final touches to her makeup. "Don't you look gorgeous," he compliments, kissing the parts of her shoulders exposed by the straps of her dress. It was old, something he had seen her wear multiple times before, but to him, she looked more beautiful each time she wore it. A goddess wrapped in gold. "And you smell heavenly, too," he chuckles, breathing in the mixed scent of her favourite perfume and the peaches in her shampoo, "you know, I'd smell even better if you let me use your shampoo too."

"Over my dead body, babe," she's quick to reply, trying to decide between two different lipstick shades. She settles on the darker shade, deciding not to go with her usual shade of choice, and applies it to her lips. "We'd have a threesome long before I'd ever let you touch my hair products," she jokingly tells him, holding back a giggle as he lifts his head a little higher, his eyebrows perked as he looks back at her in the reflection of the mirror, "oh, yeah, I'm curious to know what Weston is packing."

His arms loosen from around her waist, dropping both to his sides, and he takes a sudden step back. "Wes?" Y/N nodded her head, remaining as serious as she could. Their eyes catch in the mirror and he searches hers for any sign that she was joking. "You're fucking with me," he scoffs, quickly dismissing her when he spots the corners of her lips twitching, "I know it!"

"Of course, I am.” She slips her lipstick into her purse before spinning around to face him. His arms wrap back around her waist, an instant reaction to her wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'd never want to be shared with anyone."

"Good."

His head tilts slightly to the side, the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a partial smile. The look in his eyes, a hunger and desire made to burn the receiver, has her squeezing her thighs together.

"Are you sure you have to go tonight?" He asks, his breath fanning over lips that were begging to be kissed.

"I've already cancelled plans once this week," Y/N replies, raking her painted nails softly against the nape of his neck, "I don't want my new colleagues to start thinking I don't like them just because I happen to have a boyfriend whose hands seem to have a mind of their own."

"Oh?" He grins, walking his fingers down the small of her back. Each step left her body tingling, the sensation strongest at her core. "You mean these hands, right?" A sharp gasp pushes past her lips, reacting quickly to the way his hands squeeze her bum. He only chuckles when she gives his chest a soft push. "Who would you have more fun with tonight? With some girls in some cocktail bar? Or with me, in our bed, where I can worship this beautiful and always sexy body?" His hands began to roam over other parts of her body, caressing her hips, trailing his fingers up her sides, trying to touch as much of her body as he could. "I bet your answer is with me," he hooks his fingers under her chin, keeping their eyes connected, "Correct?"

"Nope." She shakes her head, holding back a giggle as he rolls his eyes. "But…" His eyebrows perk up once more like a dog excited and ready to obey whatever it was she had to say next. Her hands unwind from around his neck and slide down his chest, his eyes breaking away from hers to follow their path. "...you could always give me a teaser of what I might get later tonight."

He smirks. "How long until you have to leave?"

"I should've left five minutes ago."

"Then I better get to work," he licks his lips, bringing his hands to her sides, already pulling her dress up her thighs, "hike that dress up, baby, let me see what's mine."

The gold satin of her dress slips easily up her body, bunching around her waist, and reveals the tiniest piece of lace Christian had ever laid his eyes on. It covered what it needed to and yet still managed to leave nothing to the imagination. Her giggle snaps his eyes back up to her level.

"What is this?" He asks, hooking his finger under the thin band. He pulls it back, snapping it against her skin. "You were going to go out in this?"

"I thought about going out in nothing at all," she answers, his cock twitching at the thought of her bare pussy hidden underneath all this gold, waiting to be discovered, "but then I remember you wouldn't be there to fuck me in the toilets when the two of us are too tipsy to care, and decided there's no fun in that."

"Do the people you work with know how naughty you are?" Christian sinks to his knees, pulling the piece of lace off her hips and down her thighs, scooping it up into his hand and stuffing it into his pocket. "Do they know you cover your pussy with tiny bits of lace and beg to be fucked in nightclub toilets?" He kisses her left thigh and then the right, running his hands over the backs of her knees. She balances on one foot as he lifts her leg over his shoulder. "Do they know behind all those sweet smiles and little laughs that you're just a whore?"

"Well, I prefer the term slut," Y/N replies, carving a path through his short curls, "but being called a whore is perfectly acceptable too."

"I'm sorry," he chuckles, pausing to suck on the inside of her thigh. She jolts, tugging on his hair, whimpering as his tongue licks over the spot. "Do they know that you're just a slut?" He asks again, correcting himself.

"No, they don't, but they might if you keep trying to leave hickies in places that are hard to hide."

"Just making sure that cocky prick, who works on the front desk, knows you already belong to someone," he pleads his case, words becoming muffled noise as he licks his tongue over her cunt. Her body shudders in his hands as he blows warm air against her clit, soft mewls escaping her lips as he flicks his tongue back and forth over it. "Taste so fucking good!"

She holds the crown of his head in a firm grip, keeping him tucked between her thighs. "Feels so fucking good!" She mirrors his enthusiasm, rolling her head back and moaning.

"And to think you wanted to go out tonight-"

"-I'm still going out tonight," she corrects him, tugging on his hair, making him look up at her.

"You say that now," he fires back, licking the taste of her off his lips, "but once I have you coming in my mouth, there's no way you'll want to leave." He sucks her clit harshly into his mouth, making her whine and pull on his hair. He releases it with a sharp pop. "You'll be cancelling your plans faster than it takes for me to get the rest of that dress off."

Back on two feet, she makes her way over to their bed but softly yelps as Christian leaps to his feet and takes her by the waist. He presses a moan out of her pressing his cock, hard and strained against the front of his jeans, into her ass. "Feel that, baby?" He holds her hips still and grinds against her, panting hot breath past the side of her face. "Really gonna let me eat your pussy and then just leave me like this?"

"God gave you two hands, right?" Her smart mouth replies. "Just use your left," she taps his left hand, "maybe then it might feel like someone else is doing it."

"Don't need it to feel like someone else is doing it." His hand finds the small zipper and yanks it down. She laughs, fresh arousal trickling through her body and down to her cunt as he pushes the dainty straps off her shoulders, pulling the rest of the dress with them. "I need it to feel like it's my girl stroking my cock."

She looks down at the dress, a halo of gold silk at her feet. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm giving us both a head start," he says, mouth pressed to the back of her ear, "now get on that fuckin’ bed."

"On my back or my stomach?"

"Should that even be a question?" He gives her ass a slap for her blatant stupidity. The sting lingers as she crawls onto the bed, feeling his eyes watching her with hunger inside as she gets into position. "Perfection," he hums, kneeling behind her, running his fingers down the path of her spine and over the curve of her ass. He gives it another slap, his cock pulsating at the whine that leaves her. "You're staying in this bed tonight, princess," he tells her, grabbing at the back of his top and pulling it off.

"Then you better-" The words stop coming, her voice silenced by a single finger pushing slowly inside. She whimpers, grabbing at the covers, laying her face down against the mattress as he pumps his finger in and out of her, gradually stretching her tight walls. He withdraws his finger and circles it around her hole, teasing her until she whines for him to stop. "Christian!" She begs his free hand snaps to her hip, holding her in place as she tries to push back onto his finger. "I'm already late, so stop teasing me."

Goosebumps rise on her skin as he covers her back with gentle kisses, starting from the middle of her spine and working up to her shoulders. "Did your ears suddenly stop working?" He asks, propping himself up, his large hand splayed out beside her head. He listens for her whimpers, sliding two fingers inside her cunt and then back out. "Me and you are staying in this bed tonight," he repeats, pushing his fingers back inside, "you can go out with your new friends when I'm not here."

"What are you going to do?" She turns her head, meeting his lust-filled eyes with raised eyebrows and the trace of a grin. "Tie me to the bed?"

"Don't give me any ideas, princess," he replies, flicking his eyes to her lips, "we still have some ribbon leftover from Christmas."

A chaste kiss is placed on the corner of her mouth before he rears back on his knees, his focus shifting to the fingers withdrawing from her. His cock twitches and a soft groan slips past his lips, watching his fingers become coated in her arousal the more he pumps them inside her.

"One day, baby."

Christian pictures her laid on her stomach, her wrists and ankles bound together, wrapped in scarlet red ribbon, finished with a bow. The perfect present. A new toy for him to play with.

"One day," he repeats, withdrawing his fingers, and slapping her right cheek when she whines about the emptiness. He sucks them clean, groaning as her taste bursts on his tongue.

"Taste good?" Y/N asks, wiggling her hips, enticing him to taste some more.

He chuckles, unfastening his jeans and pulling his boxers down with them. His cock springs free, the tip engorged and a deep shade of red, leaking a lot of pre-cum, and he tips his head back, a moan trickling up his throat, as he wraps his hand around the head. With two slow strokes, he jerks his hand, squeezing the crown on the upstroke.

"C'mon," he grunts, digging his knees further into the bed to ground himself, "I think it's time you paid me some attention."

Y/N crawls onto her knees in front of him. "This morning wasn't enough for you?" She teases, poking her nails into his chest and scratching them down his skin. Four red lines directing towards his stomach gradually appear, the soft tingle of pain shooting straight to his cock.

He hooks his fingers under her chin, directing her eyes up at him. Christian wasn't the biggest of men but there was still enough of him to make her feel a little bit intimidated. "If I could, princess, I would have my cock stuffed between those sweet lips all the time," he says, running the calloused tip of his thumb over her lips, purposely smearing her lipstick. She grins, nipping gently at the digit. "But you would like that, wouldn't you?" His words aimed to degrade her, but it just leaves her squeezing her thighs tighter together. "You've always been so hungry for this cock; always desperate to get your smart mouth around it."

"I can't help it," she purrs, wrapping her hand around his wrist, pushing his thumb into her mouth. She bobs her head, sucking his thumb deeper until there's nothing left. His thumb pulls out with a sharp pop. "It's just so tasty."

A soft grunt catches in his throat as she wraps her hand around the centre of his shaft, holding it still as she licks her tongue over the tip. It's salty taste has her eyes rolling, a torturous moan rattling deep in her throat as she draws it into her mouth and sucks gently. He pushes on the back of her head, urging her to take more, and she obliges, swallowing him deeper, and pumping what she cannot fit with her hand.

"You're mine forever, okay?" His breathing grows more and more laboured as she switches her pace between slow and teasing and fast and hungry. "I'm the only one who gets to see you like this," he croaks, rutting his hips to meet each of her movements, "this is my mouth to fuck, no one else's."

"No one can compete with you," Y/N reassures him, licking her lips, breaking a string of spit.

He smirks. "I know."

"Not even Rocco-"

"Who?"

"The cocky prick, who works on the front desk," she giggles, not even surprised that Christian had forgotten his name as quickly as it took him to dislike him.

He shrugs. "Cocky prick suits him better."

Her hand takes over stroking him to release, ascending kisses up his chest as she sits up. Her thighs clamp tighter, a new wave of arousal flooding her core, listening to his groans growing more and more desperate.

"Y/N!" Her name slips off his lips like it was a prayer of sorts. Sacred to him and only him.

"That's it," Y/N nods, feeling him twitch in her hand, squeezing and pumping him faster, "watch me as I make you come."

She watches, mesmerised like always, unable to tear her eyes away from the swirls of gold in his dark eyes, even as his cum wets her fingers. She loved seeing him like this. Limp and spent, struggling to catch his breath, hiding the blush that always crept up his neck and made a home on his cheeks, seeking comfort in the crook of her neck.

"Don't," he mumbles, moulding his arm around her waist, trying to keep her close as she attempts to leave the bed. He kisses up her neck and over her jaw. "I haven't finished with you yet."

"It's gonna have to wait." She strokes her clean hand over his jaw, the stubble pricking her palm. He tilts his head, his head still foggy. She leans in and kisses his lips, catching the faint chuckle that trickles up his throat. "I'll message you when I get there," she says, grabbing some tissues from off the box on the dresser, cleaning up most of his cum.

Too tired to convince her to stay, and too aware he was just being selfish by keeping her away from her new colleagues once again, Christian collapses onto the bed.

"Finish this later?" He asks, watching her pick up her dress and disappear into the ensuite. Several minutes later, she returns with a cleaner hand, fixed hair and makeup and her body covered once more by the dress that had made her late. "That thing you called a thong is in my pocket," he mumbles, pointing to the end of the bed.

She walks back to the bed and kisses him goodbye. "Think I'll go without it," she winks, giggling as he lets out a torturous groan.

———————

Football Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @brasiliangp @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @kathb59 @emcv1427 @gagaslonina @afterpills @pulisicsgirl @ricciardhoe3

[zeltqz]

the ask was for a sanzu x fem reader nsfw and they’re both getting high together in the car and they do the thing where they bloke smoke in each other’s most and one things leads to another. But I thought it would be funny of on the middle of their sesh, ran calls and idk you could decide if he answers or not. Lol

— mile high club

ø contents: smoking, smut, possessiveness, fluff, takeomi slander ish bc i hate the mf, friends to lovers, mutual oblivious pining, akashi brothers' mentioned beefing

o word count : 7.1k.

ø notes: is it even a sanzu fic if i dont include some sort of tension and psychological explanation to do with the neglect he faced from Takeomi? no? ok anyway...

@wenumsmol 🫶🏾

The sun sets over the streets of Tokyo when you park the car in the garage of the Akashi household, having dropped Haru off at home since you’re now his designated driver because his license got suspended for reckless driving.

“We’re here.” The car shuts off when you turn the key, both hands resting on the wheel like the professional, respectable driver you are. “Now get out of my car.”

Sanzu groans from the backseat, laying flat on his back, hand splayed over his forehead, the cold heat from his hands doing wonders to soothe his burning headache. 

“Oi.” Over your shoulder, you peek at him, fighting the urge to poke him awake. “I said we’re here.”

“I know.”

“ So…get out?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t—” You bite your words, stopping yourself to give yourself time to take a deep breath, soothing your bubbling frustration before it erupts. “You don’t want to enter your own house?”

He raises a long, slender finger, pointing insistently out the window. You follow his gaze to the back corner of the garage, Takeomi’s bike perched on its stand. 

“Ohhh,” you realise, unbuckling your seatbelt to turn and face him fully. “Well..you can’t avoid him forever.”

He removes his hand from his forehead, eyebrows knitted, forehead creased as he glares at you. “Watch me.”

“I’m serious, Haru.”

“So am I.” He’s sitting up, face stern and serious, you swear his green eyes practically glow in the dark as they catch the edge of the yellow tint garage light. 

When it comes to Takeomi, Haruchiyo mainly plans on avoiding him at all costs, dodging him around the house, wearing headphones at full volume just to drown out the sound of his brother’s voice, not coming back home for days on end, rather spending the night at yours or Mikey’s house.

He’s developed different coping mechanisms : talking to Mikey is a big help, though Mikey isn’t one for therapeutic advice, he’s still willing to lend a helping ear and listen to Haruchiyo rant on and on. It’s not much help though, only hearing responses like ‘ hm ’ , ‘ oh ’, and ‘ah’,  maybe if Mikey has a little energy left in him, he’d nod occasionally, but that’s about as much help as you’d get. 

His second coping mechanism is you,  someone he’d befriended a couple months back and kept you by his side secretly ever since, using you as a personal chauffeur and a therapist, but more importantly a best friend. Someone who’d be there for him without judging him and his dirty secrets; someone who likes to be around him not because they’re scared or intimidated, but because they enjoy his presence. 

He cannot be in the right state of mind when talking to his brother, not wanting to remember their interactions in the morning, so he relies on getting stoned or drunk to wipe his memory. It’s a potentially dangerous mechanism, but Sanzu enjoys the adrealine rush of trying something new, enjoys the out of body experiences, the fuzzy feelings, the wild imaginations and visions that make his world look colourful rather than monochromatic. 

“Haru.” You call his name with that sweet voice of yours, one that makes his heart warm. “You can talk to me about anything, okay? I’m always gonna be here for you.” 

He’s looking down at his lap, mouth twisted in a way he always does when he’s deep in thought. You can’t help but wonder just what’s going through that brain of his, knowing fully that up there is a mess of unorganised feelings and emotions he’d never been able to fully process.

“Haru. Is everything oka—”

“You know what I want?” He cuts you off, changing topics with a bright smile. 

His decision to switch topics isn’t something that offends you, knowing that he takes time to fully open up and you’re willing to wait as long as he needs. “What do you want, Haru?”

“I want weed.”

“There’s no weed, wait. What are you doin—” He moves quickly, his lean body brushing past yours, balancing a hand on your lap for leverage as he reaches inside the glove compartment pulling out his stash. “What the hell! You stashed your crap in my car?!”

“Of course I did.” He cackles at the dumbfounded look on your face, moving to the backseat. “Where else would I put it?”

“Uh—I don’t know? Your room? Anywhere but my damn car! I got pulled over the other day. What if I had gotten caught and they searched my car?”

“Did you?” He shrugs half heartedly, opening the ziplock bag. Almost instantly the car smells of marijuana, your nose wrinkles as you try to process it. 

“Well, no…but that’s not the point!”

“Shhhh,” he shushes you, taking his time to roll his blunt, all the while you’re glaring at him. “Stop pouting. You should be thanking me.”

“For what?”

“This.” He licks the joint to seal it, lifting it towards you like it’s his artistic masterpiece. The smile on his face screams child proud of their school project, diamond scars stretching cutely as his smile only widens. “It’s strong. Try it.”

“It better be.” You snatch it from his hands, holding it between your teeth as you manouevr yourself to the backseat to seat beside him. 

His chin is heavy on your shoulder as he watches you light it, wanting to be as close to you as possible not only to get a whiff of that perfume he loves that you practically drown yourself in, but to see your initial reaction to the weed. 

The smoke burns your throat before you could fully inhale, coughing violently whilst pounding on your chest to ease it. Haruchiyo grabs water from the front, tossing it to your lap as you erupt in a series of coughs. “What is that?” 

“I dunno.” He eyes the joint between his two fingers, looking oddly fascinated by it. “I just heard it was strong.”

“No shit.” It hurts when you talk, still feeling the ghost of smoke searing your oesphagus. 

His spare hand hooks onto your legs, and you yelp as he swings them over on his lap, slender fingers rubbing up and down your thigh as he smokes. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t wanna.” You shift upwards on the seats, sitting on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to rest your forehead against the side of his face and shoulder. The scent of his cologne is overpowered by the marjiuana, but it’s still visible, dipping your face between his neckline and sighing. “This one is too much.” 

“Are my eyes red?” His jaw moves when he speaks, and it tickles as his smooth skin brushes against your cheek.

It pains you to move from your current position, his warmth and scent are soothing to you, but you shift back, turning the car lights on to see better. The corners of his eyes are red, and he’s struggling to keep them fully open. 

“Yeah, they are.” The urge to brush his cheeks is tempting, and your fingers twitch and hesitate by your side.

“Hey hey, wanna see somethin’ cool?” When you nod, he shifts upwards, his hand grabbing to hold onto your waist to ground you before you slip off his lap. 

The sudden contact had you stiffening, blood roaring in your ears as his strong hand held your side. You watch him perform a trick, his diaphragm contracting as he inhales, lips pursed as he exhales, several rings of smoke following suit. Your brows raise in surprise, ready to praise him when he sucks it all back in with one huge breath, the rings dismantling in the air. 

He turns back to look at you, chin high in the air, eyes tinted red gleaming as he grins at you, cheerful and animated. You can’t help it, reaching out to cup his soft cheeks with one hand, tracing over the outline of his lips, the shape of his scars with your thumb. 

It’s like he’s frozen stiff as your fingers feel up his face, and he blinks at you as you look at him with those soft eyes of yours. “You’re so cute, Haru.”

His eyes dilate; from the light in the car, or the strong weed you don’t know, can’t tell. What you can tell is that from his silence, his mind is running wild, thoughts bouncing across his brain from left to right, mirroring the way his eyes dart over your face, your lips, and the curve of your nose.

“So are you.” The words spill out from his lips faster than the blush creeps onto his cheeks. He looks away, embarrassed, clearing his throat before smoking from the joint again. “I learnt it from Ran. That useless lazy fucker is sometimes helpful.”

“Ran, huh?” Your fingers find themselves latched to the front strands of his hair tucked into a ponytail, twirling it on your fingertips. “He’s the tall one, right?”

He chuckles, short and amused, voice muffled from the joint between his lips. “All my friends are tall, ya know?”

“Well maybe if you let me around your friends, I’d be able to identify them.”

“You’ll live without ‘em,” he says, blowing smoke in your face, snorting when you cough and swat the smoke away, then try to hit the side of his face, only for him to catch your hand in time. “Your reflexes suck ass.”

You struggle to shift your hand from his grip, frowning at him. “I’m not a ninja.”

“I can teach you to be one.” 

“You a sensei, now?”

“I’m anything and everything. Like Batman.” 

He smiles when you laugh softly, the sound making him feel lightheaded, paired along with the weed flowing through his veins. “Batman is rich, though. You’re not.”

“I can steal money, all is good.” His hand, warm and hot, slides under the hem of your shirt, leaving a searing trail behind his movements that burns into your skin. “I’ll buy you anything once I get rich. Promise.”

He’s been subtly leaning closer as he speaks the whole time, but you don’t notice until his forehead brushes yours and you’re both staring at each other, daring the other to move closer.  “ Anything? ”

Green eyes fall down to your lips, not even trying to look subtle. “Anything.”

Fuck, at this angle you look so pretty, staring down at him with those dreamy eyes of yours, looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. He always feels like that around you, another reason why he loves getting high around you. It forces him to be vulnerable around you, letting the feelings he’s been shovelling down refsurface.

Though it’s risky, and there’s nothing more he fears than rejection, he’s always been a risk taker. You make him feel good with your words, your presence, your voice, the silly moments you two share alone in his car, your room, his room. 

Your lips are what he favours the most on your face, always glossy with whatever flavour lipbalm you wear that day, and he physically fights the urge to kiss them just to guess it. His eyes are drawn towards your lips like a magnet. The way you bite at them when you’re focused, chew on the skin when you’re nervous, lick them when they’re dry, he notices, and wonders how soft they truly are.

“Do…do you wanna kiss me?” Your question catches him off guard, brows knitting in confusion as he wonders if he’s been speaking his thoughts aloud this entire time, but in truth, he’s been making his intentions obvious as he’s been staring at nothing but your lips the entire time.

“Huh? Don’t be weird.” He instantly facepalms himself mentally, fighting the urge to turn back time to take back his words, but it’s too late when your brows rise, lips parting slightly in surprise before looking down at your lap with a slight frown.

“Oh, sorry. That was weird, wasn’t it?”

“It’s fine.” His heart stings in his chest, he can feel it clenching painfully leaving nothing but a hollow feeling in the depths of his stomach when he realises you’re upset. “Why’d you ask that anyway?”

Maybe he can shift the narrative, find out a way to spin the conversation back to kissing. He still has a chance. “Have you never kissed anyone before?”

“I have!” The pout is back on your face, but not from being sad; he can tell the difference, so he sighs in relief. But still…the way your lower lip juts out slightly has him fighting the urge to tug and bite at it. “I’m not a virgin, idiot.”

He doesn’t bother trying to hide the surprise on his face, and you notice. “What? It’s that hard to believe someone would fuck me? Am I that ugly or something?” 

The effects of the weed start kicking in,  now you feel yourself getting emotional over nothing.

“I never even said anything.” 

“You didn’t need to. I’m not stupid, Haru.”

He flexes his jaw as he glares at you, trying to shovel his anger down. The argument is pointless, so he stays silent, bringing the blunt back to his lips. He inhales it for longer this time, and it can’t possibly be healthy for his lungs, but he doesn’t care.

“What time is it?” you ask, and his hand squeezes your waist tighter, stopping you from squirming from his lap.

“Why do you need the time?”

“Because I gotta get going at seven.”

“...why ?”

“Because…” you chirp, shifting to face him with a huge smile on your face, “I’ve got a date.” 

When you bite down on your lip, he can’t even be bothered to look down at it, or notice it. It’s silent in the car as you wait for Haru to be your best friend/wingman that hypes you, ask you for his name, height, age, job, personality, whatever. But he’s silent, face unreadable, and the tension in the car rises thick when he continues to stay silent; your excitement fades along with your smile.

He knows he’s been silent for too long, now everything is awkward, but he can’t find the right words to say. Congratulations? It’s just a date, what do you expect him to do? Find you wedding rings? 

His brain isn’t co-operating either, not in the right state of mind to process his words like a filter, so he says nothing before he says something he’ll regret.

“...Anyway,” you have to choke your words out, refusing to show your slight embarrassment, “hurry up and get high, so I can leave and get laid.”

“I am high.”

“Then I can leave.”

“No, you can’t.” He glares back when you glare at him, but he can’t find it in himself to control himself any longer. Maybe it was a bad idea to get high in a confided space with you, on his lap, with your face so close to his. 

“Why can’t I?”

“...’cause he’s a loser, and you don’t wanna get laid by a loser.”

You snort. “He’s the only loser available, so maybe I do want to.”

“What if…there’s another loser available?” He goes stiff and still when your eyes flick up to his face, looking concentrated at him eye to eye as if you were trying to decipher his words. “Me. I’m the loser.”

“You?” He simply nods and you do the opposite and shake your head. “You’re not a loser.”

“Yeah, I am.” You shift on his lap when he shrugs, leaning his head back against the headrest, and you watch as smoke leaves his lips as he exhales. 

His senses are intensified with the drugs, your fingers tickling their way up his shoulders, along his neck, to behind his head, lacing them between his soft hair. Leaning down, you hold his face in your hands and kiss him.

The moment your lips touch his, he feels like the world paused, and he’s dying to find whoever has control over the remote of his life so they could press play and he could embrace you like he deserves. Or, maybe he’s dying, and whoever is up there allows him to imagine just one night with you before he fades into nothing.

It’s real, all real. The tender slide of your lips against his are real, the sensation of his teeth sinking into your soft plump lips, biting, and nibbling at it is real, the gentle moans he eagerly draws from your lips when his tongue swipes against yours, wet, messy and sloppy is real. 

“Fuck—” you whisper along the swell of his lips, pulling away to examine his face.

He looks gone, shallow half-lidded eyes looking up at you with blown wide pupils, mouth half open as if he’s forgotten how to close it. 

“Haru, you there?” Your knuckle traces along the side of his face, stopping under his chin, lifting it to look up at you.

“Yeah yeah, ‘m here.” 

Your giggle echoes in his ears, and he’s never been harder in his life, cock pressing uncomfortably tight against his pants. “Good, because you look wasted right now.”

“Just, fuck— stop talkin’. C’mere.” He pulls you down for a kiss with a hand at the back of your head, sloppily working his mouth against yours. He tastes like weed, the smell strong but it doesn’t stop you from licking into his mouth, desperate to drive the strong taste away and replace it. 

Big, strong hands wander the length of your back, slipping under your shirt, cold hands hugging you tight, tight to his body that you can’t help but arch into him.

A sound that comes from the inside of the house has you pulling away, turning to face the window, and he trails his lips down the length of your neck. His nose pokes into the flesh of your neck as he sucks deep, red hickeys onto the plane of your neck, breathing heavily as he savours the feeling of your soft feeling of your skin. 

He could get used to this; the weed makes him feel like your skin is ten times softer, or maybe that’s how it generally feels and you’re just perfect, so soft everywhere. 

“Tak—take this off.” The words are lost to your neck as he sucks along the column of your throat, rogue hands wandering along your chest, up your shirt, kneading your tits through your bra.

“Okay, okay, wait —” When you pull backwards, he follows, leaning up from the seat, lips attached to your neck by the hip. “Haru. If you want to see me naked, you’re gonna have to let me remove my clothes.”

“Just…wait a min’ longer…” He sucks harder, and you shudder as shivers race down your body at the feeling of his teeth nibbling at the sensitive part of your neck. When he’s satisfied, he pulls away, admiring his handiwork. “You look so sexy like this, fuck.” He’s tugging your shirt off, throwing it behind you, uncaring of where it lands. 

Warm hands roam your stomach, your sides, sliding up further to wrap around your throat. “So beautiful ‘n sexy, just for me.”

“You already said sexy.” He hums absentmindedly, obviously not paying attention if the way he’s squeezing the fat of your breasts were any indication. 

“You’re sexy times two.” He grins up at you before pulling your bra cup down, and you inhale sharply when it brushes down your nipple. “No, no actually. Times infinity.”

You flush hot at his words, especially when his lips brush against your ears, biting down against the shell. He’s sweating from the heat in the car plus the heat from both your panting bodies. 

“Don’t you think we should—ah fuck—” He tugs you upwards on his lap, your clothed cunt grinding against his hard cock, hands curling into fists behind his neck. 

“We should what?” His musical chuckle vibrates along your ear, sending cold shivers down your spine, forcing you to arch to chase the feeling away. You squeal when he bites down along your ear once more, smirkingpleasantly at the soft, squishy press of your tits against his chest.

“We should go to your room. I mean there’s not much room in here.” Your neck aches from the angle you’re sitting at, neck bent at an awkward angle to avoid hitting the roof of the car. 

There’s not enough space in this crammed car to fit yourself comfortably. Haru, on the other hand, is more than comfortable, seated on the seats like a king that’s blessed the majestic view of your half naked body atop of his. 

“I got an idea,” he says, not giving you a moment to wonder what he’s thinking before he’s lifting you from his lap, plopping you onto the seats. Your forearm darts quickly to cover your chest when he pops the car door open, lips pressed together tightly as he walks to the front seat, yanks the door open without a care and readjusts the seats back, pushing it till there’s enough room between the wheel. “This space big enough for ya?”

You tilt your head past the seat, surveying the space with a keen eye. There’s enough room for you to kneel down and take his cock in your mouth without a fuss or a struggle. A bed sounds nicer though, the thought of sinking into his soft mattress as he fucks you crosses your mind, but it’s overpowered when you remember his siblings are home and you’d rather die than let them hear you.

“Seems good,” you shrug, sliding quickly out the car; the cold air from the garage AC hits you smack in the chest, hardening your nipples momentarily. 

“Ah, ah wait.” Haru pulls you back before you could climb on top of him. The cute way your tilt your head at him, confused, makes his heart do a triple beat for a moment. “I wanna try somethin’.”

“Okay…” 

It’s stressful the way he’s manouevring you along the seat, pressing your back into the front seat as he shifts to kneel between your legs. “Hold your legs up for me.”

You swallow hard, unable to taste your saliva with how fast your nerves are racing. Doing as he said, you bring your hands under your thighs, holding them up as he tugs your pants down, struggling to get them past your bent knees, glaring at you when you choke on your laugh, muttering out a quick apology. 

“Don’t apologise now. You’ll be beggin’ for it later, trust me.”

His confidence is over the roof right now, evident in his strong posture, shoulders back as he leans forward, swiping a finger along your folds with ease. 

“You’re really wet.” Your slick catches on the tip of his finger, and you want to hide your face between your hands when his pink tongue darts out to lick at it. 

“Could you maybe not do that? It’s awkward…”

He hums when he looks at you; now it’s his turn to tilt his head at you. “How else am I supposed to eat you out then?” His hands press themselves between yours under your thighs, and your back aches from almost sliding down the seat in this awkward position. “You want me to skip the prep? Fuck you into the seat right now?”

“I mean—” It sounds like a good idea, but then you remember the length and thickness of his cock through his pants and swallow excessively. “Prep please.”

He smiles at you, the car light reflecting off the side of his face as he dips his face closer, digging his fingers into the swell of your thighs, nose pressed against your folds and sniffs so hard it’s like a vacuum, your clit tingles with the need to have his tongue in you. 

“This gonna sound so weird, but I really don’t give a fuck but…” he moans as he licks along your slit, a long, wet stripe from the bottom to the top, “you taste so good, fuck—”

“Haru stop…” He seals his lips around your clit, fingernails digging into your thighs as he sucks hard, numbing your clit with the continous flicks of his tongue moving at rapid speed. “Oh my go—”

Your hands fight the urge to fly to his hair, pull him closer to grind his nose against your stubborn clit, but you remember his instructions, to keep your hands on your thighs, keep you spread open for him. 

He’s devouring your pussy like a starved individual, flicking his tongue rapidly, slurping the wetness that drips from your puffy folds. You try to close your legs, try to squirm away from the ticklish feeling of his wet tongue trying to squeeze its way through your cunt, but it’s intoxicating, and overwhelming, especially when his finger tickles against your hole.

It’s fascinating watching it go in and out, and Haru dreads pulling his mouth away from your cunt but he needs to watch your face as his finger slides knuckle deep inside you. His bloodshot eyes twinkle as he watches your slick coat the length of his finger, translucent liquid dripping down his knuckles to the seat. 

“You always get this wet?”

“I don’t know…” It’s not often you finger yourself, so the experience is first hand. You’re also partially amazed that your body managed to produce this much slick from a single finger. “Wait, wait, right there. That feels so good—”

“Here?” His finger curls inside you, itching the side of that spongy spot. 

“No, no—not there, wait—” Your hips shift to the side a little, then it’s like something switches inside you, hands shaking against your thighs as he spreads you out with a second finger, applying pressure to that spot that has your moans increasing in pitch. 

His cock twitches with the need to replace his fingers, sink himself deep inside you, watch your eyes cross as you melt in pleasure. He leans forward, slurping, sucking along the sensitive hood of your clit.

Your body feels numb, voice coming out as breathy pants as you tilt your head back to hit the headrest, giving into the warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside your abdomdem as he fingers you to your climax. 

He knows that you're close when your walls cling and squeeze his fingers tight, barely giving him enough room to move them. His own tongue slithers through your folds, lapping up the leftover slick. The taste of you is better than he’d expected, and he thinks he could live between your legs for the rest of his life. 

There’s a swell of pride swirling through his chest when he feels you lose yourself on his fingers and tongue, your teeth pressing into your bottom lip painfully as you jolt and sit up from the effects of your orgasm. Your hands forget holding your thighs up, gripping onto his hair tied up loosely in a ponytail and tug him forward, craving the warmth of his mouth sealed around your clit as your world comes tumbling down.

It takes a couple moments for you to get yourself together, still holding painfully onto his hair before letting go. He presses ticklish kisses along your thighs, licking at the wetness spread along them. 

“That was—” You swallow, trying to find the words since your brain isn’t co-operating. “That was so good.”

You look all cute when flustered, face heated and flushed, your pretty lips left open as you pant heavily, desperately trying to catch your breath. 

“Think I found my new addiction.” He grins up at you, big hands squeezing the fat of your thighs as he kneels up between your legs, wrapping them around his waist and leans in for a kiss.

Your hands cup his cheeks, holding him close to you as he licks into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue, giving you a moment to gather your nerves because you’re going to need it. 

“I’m ready,” you mumble into his mouth, feeling the shiver that races down his spine.

“Bet, okay. Hold on.” He draws back, big hands spreading your thighs apart.

You look at him through your lashes as he sheds his shirt, tossing it behind you. His body is lean, capacious, abs faint but visible and your mouth waters, hand flying out to run down his stomach. Your touch is so light, his muscles flinching away from the ticklish feeling. Everything you do to him makes him feel so good. 

He grips both your hands, pinning them above the headrest. “Keep ‘em there,” he says, unbuckling his belt, sliding his pants down to his knees. He grabs a condom from his back pocket, ignoring your humourless stare.

“You planned this?” You gesture at the condoms with your head. 

“Better be safe than sorry.” He bites the end of the wrapper, pulling the condom out, rolling it slowly down his shaft. 

Your eyeroll is cut short when the tip of his cock angles itself at your entrance. He can see the way you’re dripping, the slick smeared along your thighs. 

Warmth engulfs the head of his cock as he slowly pushes it in you, and he hisses, biting his lip to stop himself from thinking how good you feel, how tight you’re going to squeeze his cock, how he’s going to cum inside you—

You’re panting, the tip of his cock stretching you out, almost screaming when it pushes past, the thick head making you dizzy it carves a path inside you. “Ah, Haru that—” He pushes deeper, and his eyes roll back when you clench around him.

Haru swears, gripping onto the base of his cock, squeezing it to stop himself from cumming too quickly, pushing through the urge to shove the rest of his length inside you. He stills halfway, needing to take a moment to compose himself, his mind fuzzy and warm, and he feels lightheaded. 

He has to close his eyes, knowing if he looks down, seeing his cock between your legs, halfway inside you, he’d cum in an instant. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to wait—I can take it,” you pant, hips desperately trying to rut forward. “Please…”

He takes a moment to swallow, groaning lowly, as he pushes the rest of his cock inside you, trying to ignore the tight suction of your walls. The moment he bottoms out, he’s falling forward, dipping his face between your neck and shoulder and moans, the sound desperate and needy, causing your pussy to clench and quiver around him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, arms wrapping around his head as you hold him closely, enjoying the feeling of his breath tickling your shoulders. “You okay?” 

It’s funny how you’re asking him this instead of the other way round, and a part of you feels pride in the fact you could make someone this desperate and needy without effort. 

“I’m good…it’s just…fuck , you’re so tight.” He forces himself to inhale deeply, eyes squeezing shut painfully to compose himself. He shivers at the feeling of your nails raking up and down his hair, scratching at his scalp addictvely. “You’re good though, right? It doesn’t hurt?”

You shake your head, smiling softly at him. “Nah. The seats a little uncomfortable but…that’s about it. You can move, Haru.”

“It’s uncomfy? Oh…” You almost want to cry when he pulls out, but he’s lifting you from the seat, switching your positions, slotting you back down on his lap. 

“You want me to ride you?”

He nods, biting his lip when you grab onto his cock, seating yourself down on his cock. 

“Oh my god—” You feel so full, his thick cock stretches your walls, whimpering beside his ear when he rolls his hips sensually, pressing his cock deeper inside you. 

“ Holy shit , you’re so tight.” Your pussy drives him into a frenzy, eyes threatening to roll back at the way your cunt squeezes him so tight, clinging to every inch of him. 

He swears, voice low, sounding wrecked as you begin riding him a little faster, slowly lifting your hips up and down. The obscene squelch of your pussy grasping pathetically around his thick shaft has him biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. 

“ Haru.” You wail his name, collapsing onto his chest, shuddering when his hands, rough and warm, grab onto your hips to slow your pace down. 

“Yeah?” His voice is quiet, like a whisper, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“Lemme move—” You trail your lips down his neck in an attempt to soften him, waiting for him to let go of you so you can move faster. There’s a nudging spot inside you, an itch that needs to be scratched. Your attempt to move is shut down again, frustration building up and up the longer you feel his cock twitch inside you. “Haru please…”

“If I let go, you gotta promise to take it slow.”

“But I wanna make you feel good.” You whisper along his lips, tugging at it with your teeth. He groans into your mouth, and shifts for a moment, his cock follows suit, twitching desperately for some friction. “Wait, do that again.”

“This?” He rolls his hips upwards, rolls your hips backwards and forwards, and you drip a little wetter down his leg, wetting his thighs. 

“Yes. Do it again.” 

He starts a steady pace, steady enough for you to feel the way he’s deliberately aiming at that spot in you that makes you squirm around. 

“I’m so close.” He says beside your ear, his voice lingering in your head, clouded by the feeling of his hands roaming your back, scratching at it with every bounce you give him. 

“Me…me too.” 

He’s tense, gritting his teeth when you clench around him. You shift backwards, unslinking your hands from around his neck to grab at his knees, using them as leverage to support yourself as you roll your hips in circles.

He can feel the energy buzzing between you both, can feel the tingling sensation on the edge of his fingertips, the drugs running through his veins has the regular feeling of sex intensifieid, and he swears he can feel every inch of you. 

Everything is so hot right now, the temperature in the car, the feel of your hands braced against his knees, the way your nails dig into the bone, the way your tits bounce in his face as you fuck yourself on his cock. 

You clench when you cum, and he leans forward suddenly, grabbing your hips to lift you up, slamming you back down with a loud moan, hips jerking as he cums inside you. 

You’re shaking, trembling at the feeling of his cum spurting inside you, the wet sensation is ticklish, cold shivers running down your spine. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles again, holding you down to feel your greedy walls sucking him in further. “Holy fuck, I could stay here forever.”

“I need a shower.” You say once you come back to your senses, groaning softly when you lift yourself up and off his cock, the wet squelch following after echoes throughout the car. 

“That’s so hot.” He mutters, eyes wide with fascincation as he reaches out to thumb at your clit, enjoying the way you shiver and let out a soft moan as he rubs it in circles. “Holy shit that’s so hot. You’re so hot.”

“I kno—” It’s distracting when you can feel his cum dripping out from you slowly making you lose your train of thought , the drip of it is anticipating until it forms a small pool between both of your bodies. “I know.”

“You hesitated.” 

“I didn’t.”

He removes his thumb, wiping the wetness from it along his tongue, tasting you, and you feel your face flush at the action, burning hot when looks up at you, the corners of his mouth dragging up slowly. “You did.”

“Shut up.” 

Sanzu’s reaching towards the backseat for his stash, and you laugh at how his arm barely reaches it, flailing it uselessly around the air. 

“You’re not gonna reach it, Haru.”

“Watch me.”

He grunts and groans like he’s lifting heavy bricks, and you start to take pity on him. “Dude, just give up.”

“No.”

 If there’s one thing about Sanzu it’s that he’s determined, but not in the way you think. It’s more the stubborn version, always trying to do the impossible, ignoring you when you tell him it’s not possible, then sulks when he fails. 

He clicks his tongue, shifting you down on his lap so he has more room and this time successfully grabs at it. “Told you. Always hatin’ on me.”

You giggle, faint and shrill, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder, watching him dug through the contents of the bag, his slender, skilled fingers professionally rolling another blunt. 

It’s silent in the car again, you two both bask in each other’s presence. Both of you refusing to discuss what happened earlier, not sure if those sudden feelings you felt were because of the weed or if there’s something else deep inside, a false truth you’ve refused to make terms with, or shoved them aside for another unknown reason unbeknownst to you.

Your head is racing with thoughts, pictures of Haru wondering where you suddenly felt these emotions towards him came from. The thought of sharing him with anyone else angers you, but it shouldn’t because you’re both friends. The thought of him laying in a car with another girl on top of him angers you, makes you feel bitter and resentment towards this imaginary woman your brain fabricated inside your head.

It’s like your body is working against you. 

Stupid weed. 

Haru’s gone for the second time today, and for the first time in what felt like ten minutes—in actuality it was only three—you look up at him. He looks like he’s falling asleep, those chubby cheeks of his so promising, so soft, you can’t help but shift upwards, pressing soft kisses against them.

It should be weird to him  that he doesn’t question your sudden out of character movements, but then again you both did just have sex not longer than five minutes ago. 

His phone rings at the backseat, pulling you away from his neck where you were sucking fresh purple hickeys onto and he groans when your ass brushes aginst his cock. It’s been slightly hard the entire time, still not over his recent orgasm, but not strong enough to maintain itself to stand tall. 

“What’re you doin’?” You freeze as your hand hovers over his phone. 

“Your phone’s been ringing non-stop. It’s irritating.” The caller ID is Ran, and part of you wants to answer it so you can know what he looks like. It’s been nudging at your brain the entire time, trying to figure out which one of his friends is who, trying to put the pieces of the faceless group of boys together to solve the puzzle. 

“Just ignore it—okay then.” You answer the phone away, turning the camera away from your naked body onto Sanzu’s face. You squirm around, trying to find where Sanzu threw your bra and shirt as the two engage in small talk.

“What do you want?”

Ran snorts on the other end, his voice deep, familiar, and husky. “Don’t needa get all pissy, you big baby. Takeomi wants to know where you are.”

“What the fuck does that have to do wit’ me?”

“Call him, or somethin’. I don’t fuckin’ know?”

Haru sniffs, nose wrinkling when the smoke he blows out invades his nostrils. “Tell him I’m busy.”

“Being a fuckin’ junkie?” Ran snorts, petty and bitterly, voice now laced in sarcasm. “So productive.”

Haruchiyo rolls his eyes at the same time you put your shirt back on, reaching under your shirt to fix the straps of your bra. “I’m doing more than getting high, you slug. I’m with my friend.”

You had tuned out the conversation from the beginning, your main priority being your clothes, but at the mention of ‘friend’, he jostles his leg, catching your attention. “Say hello.”

“Uh…hello?”

“Oh? Who might you be?”

“I’m—” Haruchiyo ends the call before you could even get the first letter of your name out. “What the hell?”

He lazily shrugs, tossing his phone into the backseat without a care. It hits the edge of the seat, before hitting the floor with a mild smack. Two noble fingers grasp at your chin, redirecting your gaze from his probably broken phone to his face. 

The kiss is passionate, and long, his wet slide of his tongue laving itself inside your mouth. Your face grows hot when his lips wrap around the length of your tongue, sucking the moisture from it, replacing it with his own. It’s messy but you don’t care, happily drinking the mixed saliva from his mouth. 

His sharp teeth sink into your lips, stopping you from pulling away, kissing you with fervour as his heavy head spins, and bright flashes of colour appears behind his closed eyes.

“I’m so hungry,” he gasps out when he finally pulls away, wiping the saliva from his mouth with his forearm, giving you back the breath he stole from your lungs with that kiss.

“You want me to drive you to McDonalds?”

He grins up at you, that stupid adorable look on his face that has your heart warming in your chest. “Is this your way of asking me out on a date?”

“It’s my way of forcing some food down your throat before you die of starvation.”

“What if I was thirsty instead?”

“McDonalds sells drinks, dumbass.”

“ Or… ” He places his hands on your hips, pulling you forward on his lap. You yelp at the motion, hands flying to the headrest behind him to stabilise yourself. 

What he’s insinuating is lost to you for a moment, only becoming obvious when his hand snakes down to your pussy, thumb nudging insistently at your clit. His eyes dip down to your chest, your nipples still hard and poking through the thin fabric of your shirt, then drags them back up to your face and smiles.

“You’re so horny.” Your eyeroll is fabricated and fake, part of you deep down wants it too. 

“You like it though.” It’s true, and he knows it too. The defeated look on your face is all he needs to know when he moves to open the car door, nodding his head outside. “Let’s go to my room now.”