#what are smut endings to be honest

[kanedacchi]

live reaction of me realizing that smut writers actually have an excuse to write smut about the 1A students because of the post time skip

[mane--attraction]

Jotun Physiology Headcanon (with respect to one Loki Laufeyson)

A/N: I FORGOT I STARTED WRITING THIS. I created the draft on October 16, 2020 :,) I think the last time I edited it before this week was like 2022.

 A bit different than what's been on this blog so far, but I've had this concept for years and figured I'd put it out there in my own way. :)

MINORS DNI

Regardless of how “bestial” they are or not (the Asgardians are not exactly reliable narrators), the Jotuns are creatures of the cold; this much is clear. Therefore, one might assume that physical activities that generate too much heat would be less than ideal, especially ones that require skin-to-skin contact, even if they want to engage in it. So, for the continuation of their species, biology might have given them a further incentive: aphrodisiac sexual fluids. Ingesting it (both male and female fluids) is the most immediate way to gain any effects, although the chemicals that create the aphrodisiac portion can also be absorbed through the various membranes during sex (male-giving), although the results aren't as pronounced as swallowing the fluids.

So. Back to Loki. :)

Similar to how he is unable to cause frostbite and other Jotun things in his Asgardian illusion, the effects are less pronounced when Loki appears Asgardian. That isn’t to say it doesn’t work, because it definitely does, but not to the same extent as when he is visually a Frost Giant; in general, the effects double (at a minimum) in his true natural state. Asgardians are not affected much: they just get essentially a buzz, a little push; they may grow warm, a little extra arousal, but nothing major. Humans, being far removed from the conditions of the rest of the Nine Realms (magic and other various things that I have no knowledge of), are far more susceptible to its effects: even a fraction of fluid is enough to start something—a heat in the loins, quickening of the heart, an increased desire...and a full “dose”? Burning need, stronger than the most turned on a person has ever been, enough to take over their thoughts entirely, if it's allowed to get that far. And such an all-consuming desire can only be fulfilled in one way: engaging in sex with the one who caused this altered state. And, even then, it's a bit of a cyclical thing, because the more fluids enter the body, the longer the effects last...but if one does not fuck, then one will be incapacitated for at least a day or few, if not more, depending on how much has been consumed. And this is just the baseline from his Asgardian default; from his Jotun form, expect to become delirious with a need that nothing on Earth could even hope to instill in a person, enough to feel like one will go mad.

Side note: There is no such thing as "a little bit of cum" for male Frost Giants. Naturally, they're typically, well, giants, so it's proportional (mostly). This means that Loki produces an...excessive amount when compared to an Asgardian or a human, regardless of which form he takes. Not typically enough to overflow as an Asgardian, it's a bit more within believability then. As a Jotun, prepare to have him leaking down your thighs. Y'know, if your mind isn't leaking out of your head from wanting him so badly. :)

Did I write this whole thing just to excuse the fact that I wanted Loki to have aphrodisiac cum to write a couple particular scenes that may or may not ever be posted? Yes, yes I did.

[horrorslu7]

hi! “use your words, baby” with corey cunningham from the smut prompts?

Hii, hope you liked it, I would love to have feedback on my smuts.

Dream of you.

Summary: You had a rather heated dream and your boyfriend Corey helped you out when he noticed.

Pairing: Corey Cunningham x fem!reader.

Trigger warnings: Slight somnophilia.

It wasn't rare for you to have more heated dreams. Usually Corey wouldn't notice or know at all because of how asleep he was.

You both worked a lot but he tended to have a deep sleep. He was out like a light as soon as his head touched the pillow and he felt your warm skin against his own.

This night was different though, usually after dinner you both would maybe watch a movie or an episode of a series and then go to sleep due to both of you being tired. But Corey didn't have to go to work today and while you went to work he took the opportunity to take a nap and then cook your favorite dinner for you.

It was really sweet but now it was 1 am and you were dead asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling with his eyes wide open like an owl.

Your head was on his chest and his hand was slowly caressing your hair, he started doing that before you fell asleep which just made it easier for you to do so but he kept on caressing it very softly in order not to wake you up.

Eventually he started to stare at your face watching you sleep, you looked very peaceful even though your eyebrows started to furrow slightly. Corey couldn't help but wonder what were you dreaming of, though he didn't wonder for long before soft and small moans started to escape your lips.

Corey blushed slightly, could you be having a wet dream?

If the moans and whimpers weren't enough, your legs pressing together definitely were a big confirmation. Corey's eyes dilated while looking at your sleepy and messy figure.

You moved slightly, now having your head on your pillow looking away from Corey, your neck completely exposed to him.

He took the opportunity to get closer to you and leave a few kisses on your neck making you shiver.

His hands traveled to your lower abdomen caressing it softly and then playing with the waistband of your panties. His soft kisses on your neck starting to wake you up.

Your eyes fluttered open and with lustful eyes you looked at him, your mind and eyesight seemed to be blurred by your sleepiness as well as your lust. You slurred out Corey's name trying to beg for him to touch you.

"Use your words, baby." Corey said just above a whisper leaving kisses on your neck below your ear.

"Please Corey, I need you." His hands moved inside your underwear, his fingers moving on top of your clit before he entered one finger inside of you.

His kisses started to move from your neck to your chest and then abdomen. Your hands moved to his head while the other rested next to you, you couldn't help but close your eyes thanks to how tired you felt.

Corey moved and placed his head in between your legs after taking off your underwear. He looked at you before his tongue moved to your clit, you looked back at him with a shy smile spreading across your face.

Your hand went to his hair and you slightly pulled it using what seemed to be the only strength you had. He inserted another finger inside you and curled them slowly reaching your g spot.

Moans and whimpers scaped your lips as you called out for Corey telling him that you were close, the stimulation he was giving you making you wake up almost fully.

The knot that started to form on your lower abdomen finally leaving as a wave of relaxation and euphoria hit you.

Corey kept on moving his tongue and fingers riding out your orgasm before looking up at you with dark eyes and glossy lips thanks to you. That sight alone was enough to wake you and turn you on enough to go for a second round.

[imaginedisish]

Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself. 

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time. 

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night. 

Or so you thought. 

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?” 

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?” 

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth. 

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.” 

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head. 

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him. 

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game. 

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy. 

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you. 

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask. 

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer. 

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again. 

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop. 

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him why. 

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone. 

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask. 

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. 

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?” 

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes. 

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.” 

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people. 

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks. 

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks. 

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly. 

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—” “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say. 

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below. 

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on. 

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts. 

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.” 

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts. 

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties. 

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. 

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you. 

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit. 

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly. 

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing. 

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles. 

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst. 

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.” 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming. 

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop. 

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp. 

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release. 

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively. 

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit. 

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist. 

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[yuujispinkhair]

CollegeBoy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up – Part 2 B

-> Option B: "Let's have a baby!"

You can read Part 1 here.

I decided to write two different versions of Part 2 (both are comforting). Option A: The Reader has an abortion Option B: The Reader decides to have the baby(s).

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff + Smut. 18+. Light angst with a happy end. 7K words. Unplanned pregnancy, Reader decides to have the baby. There's a short moment of worry during the pregnancy, but nothing bad happens. Pregnancy sex, praise, slight lactation kink. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples + benkeibear

The first night after finding out your college sweetheart accidentally knocked you up is a sleepless one for you. You're lying in Sukuna's arms, staring at the wall while your mind whirls, refusing to let you find any rest. You are grateful that Sukuna is here. At first, you had tried weakly to tell him that you wouldn't be mad if he needed some time to himself. But he just huffed and rolled his pretty eyes before pulling his t-shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor before his hands went to his jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down while telling you in that low, stern voice,

"You think I am going to leave you alone after this? Absolutely not. Now get your pretty ass into bed, princess. I am staying."

And now he is lying behind you, snoring softly against your neck after he, too, struggled to fall asleep for over an hour. And you can't help but snuggle against Sukuna's warm, muscular body. His presence is reassuring, and his strong body and soft breath on your neck stop you from spiraling, even though you still can't find any rest.

You are busy making a pro and con list in your mind. Could you really make it work if you decide to have the baby? Could you handle going to college and being a mom? Wouldn't an abortion be the more sensible thing to do? On the other hand, would you be ok with the what-ifs haunting you after deciding against the baby? It's the most challenging decision you've ever had to make.

But if you are honest with yourself, your heart already knows what it wants.

The idea of having your own little family with Sukuna makes you smile. The mental image of Sukuna going to class with your little one in a baby carrier won't leave your mind. And you tear up a little when you imagine how sweet a life like that could be.

But you try to give your head a chance, too. It's not hard to find reasons why you shouldn't have a baby at this stage of life. Yet, any argument that speaks against a baby also leads to an excuse as to why it can still work. And after all, you know you won't be alone. Because there is Sukuna. Sukuna, who didn't run when he found out he knocked you up. Sukuna who told you he will support you no matter what you decide. Sukuna, who told you he will make sure you and the baby have it good if you choose to have it.

And now, one of his large hands is resting on your belly, long fingers sprawling possessively and lovingly over it, and it's a touch that fills you with longing. It's a touch that makes you see a future in which you and Sukuna are young parents and live together in domestic bliss.

It's that thought that finally makes you drift off to sleep, too.

"Kuna?"

You gnaw on your lip nervously as you turn around in your boyfriend's arms and look at him, about to tell him your decision. Sleepy maroon eyes meet yours, and a lazy smirk spreads over Sukuna's tattooed face.

"Hmm?"

You always love how soft he looks right after waking up, with his pink hair ruffled and his voice even lower than usual, his gaze unguarded and warm. You reach down to take one of his large hands in yours, holding it with both of your smaller hands as you say the words that will change your and Sukuna's life forever,

"I think I want to have the baby."

It's, at the same time, the most terrifying and most beautiful thing you ever said. You gulp nervously, watching Sukuna's face carefully. He blinks, and the smirk vanishes from his face. Instead, he looks at you with a serious expression in his beautiful maroon eyes. He nods, never breaking eye contact as he says,

"Then we'll be a family from now on."

You still stare at him with wide eyes, clutching his hand tightly, and Sukuna laughs softly, leaning closer to nuzzle his nose against your forehead,

"Hey, don't look so worried, princess. I meant everything I said yesterday. Every word. I won't run. We'll make this work. You and our baby will have it good. I will make sure of that. I love you. I won't leave."

Your heart flutters at the reassurance, and when Sukuna wraps an arm around you, you snuggle against him gratefully, sighing softly as you push your face against his warm, buff chest. You can hear his too-fast heartbeat, which gives away how nervous Sukuna is, too. About the pregnancy and the prospect of being a dad at such a young age. But Sukuna doesn't show it. You know he is being strong for you, so he can be your safe place. It makes you press a tender kiss to one of the tattoos on his naked chest while mumbling a soft, "I love you, too."

You believe Sukuna when he says the two of you can make it work. You have a feeling that with Sukuna by your side, you can do anything.

You get an official pregnancy test done at your doctor's office only two days later, followed by the first ultrasound examination, which you come out of with ringing ears after your doctor beamed at you and congratulated you on a twin pregnancy.

You walk over to Sukuna, who is waiting for you in the waiting room and wordlessly press the ultrasound picture against his chest. You wait a few seconds, barely able to keep silent while Sukuna examines the small picture with narrowed eyes until he finally is like,

"What am I supposed to see here? Wait a moment...why are there two?"

And you burst out laughing, looking at him, unable to stop grinning as the realization settles over Sukuna's face, and the corners of his mouth twitch until he bursts out laughing too,

"I should have known! Of course, I knocked you up with twins!"

There's a certain pride in his voice, and it makes you laugh even more. The first shock of finding out that you will have not only one but two babies to look after is lessened by the humor of it all.

Sukuna brings the picture closer to his face,

"Those little peas are supposed to be my children? Did you see how fucking small they are? Well, little ones, you have a lot of growing to do if you want to be as big and strong as your daddy!"

You chuckle and hug him, overcome with emotions at hearing Sukuna talk like that, already so naturally slipping into the role of the soon-to-be daddy.

"I will probably not be able to move at all with your two huge, heavy babies in my belly. Why do you have to be so big, Kuna?"

Sukuna flashes you a proud grin while wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer,

"Oh, don't act like you aren't crazily into it. And yeah, us Itadoris are big babies, so you better be prepared."

You open your mouth to whine, but Sukuna places a finger on your lips, smirking at you,

"Stop complaining, princess. You know that you have me. I'll make sure to feed you well when my brats make you hungry. And I'll get you everything you need. We both know that you won't have to lift a single finger."

You know he is right, and he already proves it to you when you get home again, and Sukuna gently pushes you onto the couch, telling you that you have to rest.

"I'm gonna make lunch now, and no, you aren't allowed to help! Be a good girl and just chill."

And so you sit there, with a hand lightly rubbing your belly, the ultrasound picture lying next to you, looking at the TV that is showing some game show. But you don't really register what is happening on the screen because you are too busy getting accustomed to the fact that you are really going to be a mom.

As the weeks pass, a small bump begins to show on your belly, and neither you nor Sukuna can stop touching it and staring at it in fascination. It still feels unreal that there are supposedly really two babies growing inside you. The little pea-sized spots you could see on the first ultrasound didn't look like little humans at all. But the small bulge tells you that there is truly something happening inside your belly.

You have several doctor's appointments, and Sukuna drives you to all of them. He always comes up with you to the waiting room and sits there, holding your hand, a reassuring presence by your side. He always lets you know he is there for you. That he isn't running from the responsibility.

Your doctor informs you that you can bring your partner with you to the next ultrasound so he can see the babies, too, if he wants, and when you tell Sukuna about it, he agrees immediately.

"Of course, I'm coming with you! I need to see what my brats are doing."

It makes your chest feel warm. Sukuna isn't just enduring all of this. He doesn't just play the dad because he feels like he has to. He is truly interested in your little family, which is growing in your belly.

You can tell that Sukuna is nervous on the day of the ultrasound. You catch him patting the pocket of his leather jacket as if to grab his cigarettes, only to let his hand drop again when he remembers that he threw all of his cigarettes away on the day you told him you wanted to have the babies.

It's cute to see your tall, muscular boyfriend with his piercings and intimidating-looking tattoos, sitting in the waiting room, playing nervously with his tongue piercing and grabbing your hand so tightly that it's a bit painful.

He is playing it cool in front of the doctor, though, his usual arrogant smirk perfectly in place. Joking around and oozing confidence. Until the screen fills with the ultrasound images, and Sukuna suddenly becomes completely silent.

The "peas" have grown quite a bit and they actually resemble tiny human beings with small arms and legs. Even though you can't feel it yet, they move around wildly, doing somersaults as if to show their daddy that they are just as athletic as he is.

You turn your head to look at Sukuna, and your heart clenches when you see the thunderstruck expression on his tattooed face. He stares at the screen in awe while his lips tremble ever so slightly.

You reach out to touch his arm, gently caressing his tattooed biceps, and Sukuna looks at you with his maroon eyes glittering suspiciously. Your bad boy who always acts so tough, but here he is fighting tears upon seeing his babies in action for the first time on a flickering ultrasound screen.

It makes tears well up in your eyes, too, your chest filling with almost overwhelming love. And suddenly, everything feels even more real. This is really happening! You are having Sukuna's babies! Sukuna and you will be parents!

And as if he read your mind, Sukuna's low voice is in your ear suddenly, sounding solemn and shocked and in complete awe,

"Those are our little brats."

You can only nod wildly in response as tears glitter in your eyes.

The two (or four) of you leave the doctor's office in a daze. Sukuna's arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, and you feel him pull you closer to his tall body anytime you walk past someone, protecting you from any possible danger. Sukuna even drives much slower than usual. It makes you smile to yourself, filled with love and gratitude for the man by your side.

The man who didn't run, the man who took responsibility, the man who turns to look at you at a red light with his eyes full of love.

Sukuna parks in front of your apartment and sprints to your side of the car to open the door for you and offer you a strong arm. He doesn't leave your side all the way to your apartment, making sure you won't fall on the stairs or slip in the hallway. And you can't help but grin to yourself. It makes your body buzz with excitement, knowing this tall, strong man is so protective over you and the babies that are growing in your belly. His babies.

Somehow, it makes Sukuna even more attractive, even though you never thought he could get any hotter than he already is. It makes you lean against him and smile toothily up at him once you enter your apartment. You put your hands on Sukuna's defined pecs, feeling him up through his thin t-shirt as you get on your tiptoes to kiss him sweetly. Murmuring against his lips,

"You're already such a good daddy."

Sukuna laughs and pulls you closer, smirking his sexy smirk against your lips before he pushes his tongue into your mouth, kissing you thoroughly before he carefully picks you up princess style to carry you to the bedroom and continue what you started.

"Oh my god, what!? I am going to be an uncle?"

You are convinced the whole dorm hears Yuuji's excited scream as he pulls his brother into a bone-crushing hug, and Sukuna's low laughter fills the room.

You smile as you watch the brothers high-fiving each other and grinning like two madmen. Sukuna announced the big news to Yuuji in his usually blunt manner. He pulled you against his side and put one large hand over your belly while smirking at his brother and telling him,

"You'll soon have serious competition for the title of Biggest Itadori Brat. We're pregnant with twins. Two boys, just like you and me."

By now, Yuuji has let go of his brother and comes over to you, smiling from ear to ear and telling you how happy he is for you and Sukuna. There is no sign of disapproval or judgment, only genuine joy. And it makes relief wash over you. You hope that more people will react nicely once your baby bump is big enough so you won't be able to hide your pregnancy anymore.

You once heard someone say that no pregnancy goes by without a big scare.

And you get your scare when you get up one morning to use the toilet only to discover a bloodstain in your panties.

"K... Kuna..."

You say his name instinctively, needing him by your side as the fear makes your pulse race. And Sukuna is by your side in lightspeed, running into the bathroom only wearing his boxer briefs, hair messy and ruffled from sleep, with wide eyes and worry written all over his handsome face.

"What's wrong, baby?"

Your voice trembles when you explain,

"There is... there is blood."

The first tears run down your cheeks as you press a hand over your mouth. You are scared out of your mind. Scared that this means you lost the babies. Scared that something went wrong, and now your happy little family will never be.

You almost scream at the irony. This pregnancy wasn't planned. Not so long ago, you contemplated getting an abortion. But now, the thought of losing your babies makes you spiral!

It's Sukuna's low voice that pulls you out of the panic attack.

"Don't worry too much, princess. It's not a lot of blood, ok? We'll get it checked. But I am sure it's nothing bad. Come here, sweetheart."

He gently pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly while his lips press little soothing kisses to your temple and cheek. So surprisingly soft for a guy with such a bad boy reputation.

You can tell by Sukuna's posture and the tenseness in his muscles that he is worried, too, but he stays strong for you, and that is exactly what you need at that moment. He is your big, strong boyfriend, someone you can lean on and who knows what to do because he always knows everything.

Sukuna is gentle with you. He helps you get dressed and carefully carries you down to his car. He talks to you on the whole drive to the hospital to distract you. He stays by your side when you are told to take a seat in the waiting area, holding your hand the whole time until a nurse picks you up and leads you to an examination room. The last thing you see before turning the corner is Sukuna's soft, reassuring smile, even while his wide gaze gives away how scared he is, too.

Ten minutes later, you return to Sukuna with a relieved smile on your lips. You can see the breath he lets out, the way the tenseness leaves his broad shoulders and the way his hands unclench.

"The babies are fine. They were as active as ever. The doctor said everything is as it should be. The bleeding could have been caused by all kinds of things, but it's nothing bad. I should just try to avoid stress and rest a bit more."

And Sukuna wraps you in his strong arms, hugging you a bit too tightly, clinging to you as you feel him exhale shakily.

"I'm glad the three of you are fine. Promise me you will really rest more."

"Of course I will. I want the babies, too, Kuna. I won't do anything that could put them at risk."

To your surprise, you feel Sukuna tense up again, and then he pulls away just enough to look at you with a scowl on his beautiful face and worry in his eyes,

"I am not just worried about the babies. I am worried about you, too. Always about you. Fuck, I love you. I need you to take good care of yourself. I can't lose you, princess!"

And you almost melt into a puddle right then and there, feeling tears well up in your eyes again, this time because you are so touched, and so relieved, and so in love with the boy in front of you.

"I love you too. Thank you for being there for me, baby."

"Always, princess."

Your belly is constantly growing, and by now, you aren't able to hide your pregnancy anymore. You get several curious glances on campus. Some people approach you directly. Others whisper when you walk past.

But those whispers stop the moment Sukuna joins your side, walking next to you like some bodyguard, one strong, tattooed arm casually thrown over your shoulder. He leans down to kiss your temple while his cat-like maroon eyes watch the people in the hallway, smirking his most dangerous smirk at them, daring them to make a mean comment and suffer the consequences.

Sukuna places one large hand on your swollen belly, sprawling his tattooed fingers possessively over it as he sneers at the group of girls who are known to be the biggest gossips of the whole campus,

"Those babies are mine. You can let everyone know that. And if anyone has a problem with it, they can come to me and say it to my face."

And you can't help but laugh and lift your head proudly, too, grinning from ear to ear, glad that you are dating the campus bad boy and won't have to endure any bullying because you managed to get knocked up by your college sweetheart. No one dares make any snide comments after finding out who the father of your babies is

You're sitting on the couch reading a book when there's a sudden movement in your belly. You gasp and stare at your baby bump.

"Oh my god, Kuna! Come quick!"

Your loud squeal is one of excitement this time, but there is still alarm written all over Sukuna's tattooed face when he hurries into the living room, cooking spoon still in his hand,

"Fuck! What's wrong?"

But you are quick to chase his worry away, meeting him halfway, walking toward him with a broad smile on your face and your hands cupping your swollen belly.

"It's the twins! I can feel them move! Come here so you can feel them, too!"

And Sukuna looks at you with wide eyes, dropping the spoon he was holding and rushing over to you. He stops in front of you, his gaze traveling down to your baby bump.

You laugh and grab his large hands, placing them firmly on your swollen belly. It takes barely a second, and then Sukuna's gaze snaps to yours,

"Our little brats are kicking me!"

You giggle and nod,

"Yeah, it's so cool, right? I just hope they won't get too wild."

And Sukuna grins and looks at you with an amused and super proud sparkle in his maroon eyes,

"Oh, I know they will be wild. Don't get your hopes up, princess. They are strong, just like their daddy. Right, my little gremlins?"

Sukuna's voice is amused but also tender, making your heart feel full. You know that he already loves his little ones. You can hear it in his voice and see it in the soft look on his face.

Sukuna drops to his knees right in front of you, hugging you and resting his head gently against your baby bump, a tender smile on his face.

A display of such pure devotion and love that it makes you tear up a bit. Sukuna grins as he pulls up your shirt, and then he presses two soft lingering kisses onto your swollen belly. You can feel his smile against your skin just a second before you feel another strong kick from one of the twins, or maybe both of them. As if they want to greet their daddy and show him how strong they already are.

Sukuna laughs, putting his hands on your belly again, grinning as he feels his sons move around,

"Hey, listen up, little brats. Daddy is proud of you for being such strong ones, but be nice to your mommy, ok? Don't kick her too much."

You chuckle and put a hand on Sukuna's head, gently petting his pink hair and running your fingers through the silky strands as you smile down at him. You are sure that you must have heart eyes because Sukuna looks so good kneeling before you, hugging you, and kissing your baby bump while talking to his babies in your belly.

Every last sliver of doubt you might have ever had about this pregnancy dissolves at that moment as you watch your man being so loving and cute. So excited about the development of your babies.

He grins up at you, that boyish grin that always gives you butterflies, and you catch yourself thinking that you really hope your little boys will have the same grin one day.

Of course, you heard about pregnancy cravings, but you couldn't imagine how intense that would be. Now you know it.

You're having a lazy evening on the couch, watching TV with Sukuna, when a commercial for a specific yogurt starts playing, and suddenly, it is all you can think about. You need that yogurt! Right now!

You whine about it like some five-year-old, and Sukuna laughs and pulls out his phone, filming you, telling you that he always wants to remember these epic moments of your pregnancy lunacy. And you huff dramatically and roll your eyes at him and hit his biceps playfully while pouting at him,

"But Kuna, please. You want your babies to become big and strong, right? I am sure they need dairy products right now, and that's why I crave that yogurt! It's them! It's your twins! They make me want that yogurt so bad! Please get it for me, baby, will you?"

You bat your lashes at him, and Sukuna grins at you, reaching out to cup your chin and gently press your cheeks together. His grin grows as he slowly leans closer.

"Stop it, princess. You already know full well that I will buy you that fucking yogurt. If my girl wants that yogurt, she will get that yogurt."

He presses a quick kiss to your pouty lips before he gets up from the couch and is on his way to the door. He looks over his broad shoulders, winking at you. And a second later, your boyfriend is already out the door on his mission to get you all the yogurt you crave.

He returns 20 minutes later, carrying a whole pallet of the desired yogurt, walking toward you with a proud expression on his handsome tattooed face.

"See, princess. You have me to get you everything you need. Now give me a kiss, and I will give you a yogurt."

Sukuna grins that beautiful boyish grin at you, his eyes filled with warmth and tenderness, and you laugh and grab his jaw, giving him a loud, wet smack on his tattooed cheek and then a sweet, slow kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, baby. You are the best."

And you feel him smile against your lips as his large hand cups the back of your head to hold you in place so he can kiss you some more before you can pull away to indulge in your newfound yogurt addiction.

You catch Sukuna standing in the twins' room in your new apartment, paintbrush in hand, his naked chest heaving, sweat mingling with the paint stains on his skin next to the tattoos adorning his muscular body. And it's one of the sexiest sights you have ever seen. Your man building a nest for your babies.

Money is tight, so you could only afford an old and rather shabby apartment. But Sukuna is very determined to turn it into a nice home for his little family. He told you that you don't need to hire any professional craftsmen. Sukuna will do it all by himself (and with the help of his brother). He will make sure you and your babies have a clean and pretty place to live in!

And he keeps his word.

Only a short time later, the apartment is ready to move into, and it looks amazing. A cozy little place for you and Sukuna and your little boys.

Living together with Sukuna feels incredibly nice. You have already been spending all your time together ever since you were pregnant, but knowing that you are actually living together now makes things feel different. Sweeter somehow. Domestic. Just like you dreamed it would be.

This is Sukuna's and your place. Your shared home. It is where you will raise your babies, where you will laugh and cry, eat together, make love, and celebrate the twins' birthdays.

Sukuna's favorite part of the apartment is the kitchen. He spends a lot of time in there, cooking and baking for you, claiming that he needs to feed you well so you get all the nutrients you need right now.

He is stern when it comes to your health, watching you with hawk eyes when you eat and shaking his head when you push some food to the side,

"Uh uh. I looked it up, princess. Those are essential during pregnancy. You will eat them."

As annoying as it can be, you can't be mad at Sukuna. He is just trying his best to take good care of you, after all. And in the end, you always hug him and kiss him and tell him he is the sweetest, which makes Sukuna look very pleased while he announces,

"My girl will always have it good with me."

He is right, and you are very happy about it. Sukuna is super protective of you, even more so now that you are pregnant with his babies. He doesn't let you lift a single finger, insisting that you aren't to carry anything heavy and that you shouldn't do the laundry or clean the apartment.

You laugh when you come home from class and find Sukuna and Yuuji deep cleaning the kitchen together, both sweaty and bitching at each other but motivated like hell to get everything shiny and clean.

"Brat, you missed a spot there! Get your lazy ass up and keep scrubbing my fucking sink! This is for your nephews, you little shit! You don't want them to get all kinds of infections, do you?"

"No, of course not! But Kuna! Grandpa never had a clean house, and you and I lived too! You are such an asshole, oh my god!"

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, feeling bad for Yuuji but also filled with love at seeing Sukuna so aggressively motivated about your domestic life. So eager to prepare everything for the twins.

Sukuna is a good man for you. Tough on the outside but caring on the inside. And you already know that he will be a wonderful father.

Your pregnancy progresses without any complications. But you are not immune to the emotional rollercoaster of the pregnancy hormones raging in your body. You cry more easily, sometimes without even really knowing why. You get anxious over the smallest things. And sometimes, everything is too much, and self-doubts fill your mind.

It's those moments that make you suddenly cry and hug yourself, unable to regulate your emotions, hiccuping from all the tears,

"I can't do this! I have no idea how any of this works! I suck at everything I do! I will be such a terrible mom!"

But Sukuna is there for you each and every time, catching you anytime you fall. He wraps you in his strong arms, comforts you, pulls you against his muscular body, and lets you use his broad chest as your pillow, not caring at all that your tears and snot soak his t-shirt. He strokes your hair soothingly, cuddles you, and talks to you in that low, velvety voice. All soft and sweet, murmuring reassurance to you while he pets your hair,

"Shhh, it's ok, baby. You can do it. You'll be an amazing mommy. And even on the days when you can't do it, there will still be me who can do it for you. I won't let you down, ever. You aren't alone in this, princess. You will always have me."

It makes you cry even more. But the tears turn into tears of joy, affection, and love. Sukuna is your rock. To everyone else, he may seem like a superficial troublemaker who only wants to have fun, but you know a different side of him. The accidental pregnancy showed you that Sukuna is so much more than meets the eye. You know you can always count on your bad boy with the face tattoos and the pink hair. You know he will keep his word.

You snuggle gratefully against him in those moments, crying until you fall asleep on his chest, feeling safe and loved and knowing that when you wake up a few hours later, things will look better again.

You talk to your doctor and schedule a planned c-section after seeing how big the twins are already at this point, making you freak out at the thought of trying a natural birth.

Your doctor laughs and tells you that it's no wonder they are big after seeing their daddy, and somehow, it gives you butterflies and makes you smile like an idiot, even as you nod and agree that, yes, Sukuna is really tall and big.

When you tell Sukuna the news, he is, on the one hand, proud that his brats are growing so healthily and seem to turn out just like him, but on the other hand, he is worried about you.

"I will be with you during the c-section. You better know that, princess."

"Of course, I know that, baby. But I am ok, really. I am not scared of the surgery. I am actually glad I don't have to try pressing those big boys out the natural way!"

You look at Sukuna, and his lips twitch, and then you both burst out laughing at the same time before he pulls you against him and hugs you loosely, careful not to squish your swollen belly too much.

Your baby bump is huge by now. You can't see your feet. You can't bend over. You can't move the way you want to. Your belly is heavy and in the way all the time now, and it's a bit annoying at this point.

But Sukuna always manages to make you feel better about it.

He constantly walks up to you, stands behind you, and reaches around you, cupping your swollen belly with both hands, joking about how it is exactly like the basketball he is used to from practice, only prettier.

And you laugh and complain playfully and turn around in his arms, kissing him while still smiling. And he smirks at you and informs you,

"I told you that you have me to take care of you, princess. Stop whining, and just come to me when you need help. It's really that easy."

He is right.

You tell Sukuna you are having trouble putting on your shoes, and Sukuna is instantly by your side. He makes you sit down again, takes your legs into his hands, puts your shoes on for you, and ties the shoelaces.

He is there when you need to pick up something. He is there to do the laundry for you and carry groceries and even your bag when he walks you to your classes. He is there to remind you that you should lie down and rest. And if you don't listen to him, Sukuna can still easily pick you up and just carry you to the bed or couch.

And as much as you are starting to get annoyed by your baby bump and your heavy breasts and swollen face and legs, Sukuna absolutely loves your pregnant body.

There are moments when you are close to tears and feel insecure about your new body shape, missing the way you used to look before, but Sukuna won't let you talk yourself down. He leaves no doubt about how attracted he is to you.

"Stop it, baby. You are so fucking sexy. You think you don't make my dick hard anymore? I'll show you how wrong you are about that, princess."

He walks up to you, making you gulp hard when you feel him stop behind you, his husky voice in your ear, hot breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine.

He presses his tall body against you while his large hands wander lovingly over your body, cupping your plump breasts, caressing your swollen belly, squeezing your squishy hips and thighs while hot, wet kisses trail up and down your neck and Sukuna rubs his rock-hard erection against your back, letting you feel how hard you still make him.

"If you weren't already round and swollen with my twins, I would fuck a baby into you right this second. But just because I can't knock you up again right now doesn't mean I can't fuck you."

Sukuna is careful to put you in positions that are comfortable for you and won't hurt the babies. And his thrusts are a bit gentler than usual, but his hips still roll against you with that perfect, sexy pace, dicking you down so good that it makes you sob his name and forget all about the insecurities you felt earlier.

You are lying on your side, and Sukuna is spooning you, fucking you from behind with those slow, deep strokes that make your head spin. His strong arms are wrapped tightly around your body, his hands squeezing your breasts, and he growls in your ear when a few droplets of milk already spill from your swollen tits.

You mewl when Sukuna doesn't wipe his hands on the sheets but licks your sticky milk off his fingers, groaning as if it's a sweet treat, telling you how good you taste.

He flicks his thumb over your puffy clit, making you scream with how good and intense everything feels with the pregnancy hormones and the increased blood flow in your body. Forgetting all about the insecurities you felt earlier as you give yourself to Sukuna and let him worship your pregnant body.

One of his hands is holding your swollen belly, while the other is between your thighs, spoiling your pussy with his loving caresses. And all the time, he praises you with that low, sexy voice, telling you how crazy you drive him.

You squeal loudly when your pleasure peaks, and you clench so hard around Sukuna's cock, that you take him with you over the edge, making him groan loudly against your neck while his large hands sprawl over your pregnant belly, holding it firmly as he ruts into you and spills his hot cum into you.

Sukuna is always sweet to you after sex, but even more so now that you are pregnant. You get cleaned, you get cuddled, you get praised, you get offered snacks, which makes you laugh softly and pull Sukuna into a deep kiss, telling him that the only snack you want right now is him.

All of this helps you accept the changes in your body and even appreciate them. Sukuna makes you feel desired and sexy, even when your legs and face are swollen, and your big baby bump makes it impossible for you to move the way you used to.

Sukuna loves your baby bump.

And not just during sex but all the time. He can't keep his hands off it. A large tattooed hand always rests on your swollen belly when you snuggle on the couch together, watching your favorite shows. Or at night, when you lie in bed, and Sukuna hugs you from behind. He even does it in public, proudly showing you and your baby bump off.

It makes you smile, thinking that just a few months ago, you and Sukuna were both freaking out about him accidentally knocking you up, but now you are both so at peace with how things are. Even happy and excited to share this new chapter of your life with each other.

You are standing in the baby room section of Ikea three weeks before your due date, a hand resting gently on your swollen belly, smiling when you feel your babies' occasional kicks.

Their daddy is busy picking out a changing table while looking completely out of place with his black clothes and intimidating-looking tattoos amidst all the white and pastel-colored furniture surrounding him.

He is sticking his tongue out in concentration, his tongue piercing glittering in the artificial light as he takes measurements with a measuring tape to determine which changing table fits better into the kid's room. And your chest fills with warmth as you watch him.

He is so focused, so invested. This is important to him. Your babies are important to him. You are important to him.

Before you even know it, you are standing behind Sukuna and wrap your arms around him, hugging him and snuggling against his broad back, at least as much as your huge baby bump allows.

Sukuna looks over his shoulder with that boyish grin on his tattooed face, looking so good that the sensation of your babies kicking you isn't the only fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"Do you want the blue changing mat or the yellow one, princess?"

You chuckle, unable to stop the broad smile spreading over your face,

"You are so sexy, daddy."

Sukuna's smirk grows bigger, and he lifts one eyebrow,

"You think this is sexy? Just wait until you see me giving our brats the bottle or changing their diapers."

"I'll probably faint from all the sexiness!"

You both start laughing at the same time. And Sukuna turns around to steal a few kisses before he wraps his strong arms around you and tells you about all the sexy dad things he will do when his brats are here.

And you both laugh as you stand there hugging and joking and flirting in the middle of Ikea, feeling as if you are in your own little bubble. And you kind of are, aren't you? This is your little family. Sukuna and you and the babies in your swollen belly.

And you realize that you can't wait for the little ones to finally be here. You can't wait to finally see Sukuna holding them, carrying them around in his tattooed arms, hearing him sing them to sleep with that sexy low voice, and seeing him be the proud daddy that you know he will be.

I WANT THAT SEXY DADDY IN MY LIFE AAAHHH 😭💗 This story became so much longer than I thought, but I just couldn't stop writing. I found so much comfort in this whole series. Our fave bad boy becoming all mature and responsible 💗

I hope you enjoyed Option B and that it could make you smile, too!! Thank you so much for all the sweet comments and tags on Part 1 and Option A. It was such a nice journey with y'all!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[giamee]

🌐 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 '𝐍 𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘!

hsr men x f!reader .... SMUT!! 🚨🚨🚨

request ؛ ଓ @coreakin-sakarat What will the honkai star rail men play when yr having sex and who bottom or both and do they go rithm oh oh and do they use toys on u and what are their favorite parts of ur body to fuck

gia's notes ؛ ଓ i did this as more of me just... talkin abt what i think the hsr men are like in bed in order from least to most freaky in my humble opinion. i hope that you like it even though i didn't exactly hit every point u brought up :(

DAN HENG .ᐟ୨୧ starting it off sweet with him, i see dan heng as more of a bottom than anything... he's not super experienced, quite a tender lover, and i see him as remaining quite serious and stoic within the bedroom too. definitely more of a slow and sensual pace, just wants to feel it all with you <3 he's quite hesitant to try things out imo, but i reckon that you could convince him to try out using toys with some convincing! 1000% a thigh guy, really likes pulling out and painting your thighs with his cum as he watches them shake. presses kisses to your forehead as you come down from both of your highs. lowkey i get the vibe that the aftercare and the cuddling and falling asleep together is more satisfying to him than having sex. THIS MAN CRAVES SKIN TO SKIN!!!! he will interlace your fingers while fucking and kiss all over your face!!! a very sweet lover <3

GEPARD .ᐟ୨୧ this man SCREAMS pleasure service top to me. he could cum in his pants just by watching you i swear. he just wants to satisfy you as best as he can :((( your wish is his command frfr. he'll put you in whatever positions you want fully customisable experience just say the word. will sometimes pause midway through sex just to ask you if he's doing a good job and if it feels good with his big puppy dog eyes AWEE. i think he would probably be a little hesitant to try out toys, especially at first? his logic reverts to him assuming that he wasn't good enough at pleasuring you and so you have to revert to a piece of plastic... but be a bit dominant and show, don't tell, him just how good a vibrator can feel and he'll be a lot more on board with the idea <3 his whole mentality is just.. do anything to give you pleasure so if you're on the freakier side, this man is game! (PEG HIM) the little sadistic side of you gets a kick seeing tears well up in his eyes if you edge him just to hear his whines and moans... he might be a top but this man is a sub thru and thru. a bad bitch (you) tells him what to do and he listens!! anyways back to when you and him are fucking... this man is just utterly in love with your pussy, they way it gushes and clenches around him, and his absolute favourite position is any where he gets to just bury his face in ur tits while he's buried inside of you because everything is just so comforting and all of him is now surrounded by something so warm and soft... he's in heaven <3 so yeah he's a tits guy who would have thought!! no matter the shape or size HE'S PUTTING THEM IN HIS MOUTH <3 his thrusts get real sloppy at the end when he's about to cum too, starts babbling in your ear about how good it feels and how much he loves u. what a cutie pie

ARGENTI .ᐟ୨୧ to be honest? i had to think a bit about this one. to me, argenti doesn't really seem like the type to bring up using toys... but that doesn't mean that he isn't game if you mention it. he seems ... not passive exactly? but he just seems like the type to go with the flow with sex. whatever you're into he'll just be like shit i'm down let's go. not kinky per se, but he's definitely a passionate lover. very much wants to explore sensuality. ooh maybe he would be into some sort of wax play or blindfold type behaviour i take it back. would probably chuckle if you decide to get on top and place his hands on your hips to help you adjust to his size and set your own pace <3 very loving, wants to celebrate the beauty of your naked body and worship it in the name of adrila. so yeah if you've got a praise kink, HE'S YOUR MAN!!! you feel like the subject of a poem as he sings your praises, telling you how pretty you look and sound when you cum. like shiiiii that would be enough to make me blush <33 in terms of pace and stuff, i feel like he would be pretty standard? maybe on the slower side because of... you know... passion. it's nothing crazy but still a good time. he seems like he prefers to be looking up at you so RIDE THAT MAN!! maintain eye contact as you sink down on it. raise your hips back up ever so slowly and watch the slightest twitch of his brow as you swivel your hips, sinking back down on it ever so slowly. you might just see him blush. and just as the name suggests, the knight of beauty is a SIGHT to behold when he cums (probably inside).

WELT .ᐟ୨୧ yeah peepaw has got some EXPERIENCE to him lmaoo. he's got a sort of... cheekier? side to him. as an older man, though, he doesn't exactly have the same stamina as he did in his youth :( but that doesn't mean that he can't still get down and dirty with you!! quite the opposite actually. so his solution? he uses toys on you <3 he's more of a bottom but he is DEFINITELY in charge. his dirty talk OMFGG im giggling just thinking about it he would praise you and whisper such sweet words to you as he slowly splits you open on his fat cock, telling you how you're such a good girl for taking him so well, how you feel so good around him, all so he can feel you clench around him like a vice grip as he finally bottoms out <33 def would just have his hands around your waist as he moves you up and down his length when you're feeling weightless. but if he's in a more passive mood, he also LOVESSSS just sitting back and watching you struggle to ride him with a lazy adoring look in his eyes as he holds a vibrator to your clit <333 he'll coo at you as you start crying from the overstimulation, his hands wiping away your tears so tenderly and encouraging you to keep going just for him <3 a little bit of a sadistic side to him because he really does just love watching you squirm. another thigh and ass guy imo, really loves the way they jiggle as they slam down against his own thighs as you start to pick up the pace and ride him with increasing desperation. also loves watching them shake when you cum <3. so yeah as a no brainer i think one of his favourite positions would be reverse cowgirl. yum <3

BOOTHILL .ᐟ୨୧ now dont get me wrong this man FUCKS. since he's a cyborg does his dick count as a toy...? yeah fuck it let's go with it HIS BIOCOCK VIBRATES!! so the sensations on that will go CRAZYYYY. and then i'm thinking because of his synthesia beacon and stuff he doesn't exactly experience much sensation down there. so when you're having sex, what gets him off the most is just seeing your pleasure as you unravel. makes him feel good vicariously <3 so yeah definitely a missionary lover in my eyes so he can watch all your facial expressions and reactions as he hits all the right places, how your brows furrow and your eyes slide shut and eyes roll back in your head as he keeps up his unforgiving pace at juuuuust the right angle <33 but don't get me wrong he's no vanilla bitch either!! if he wants to be feeling more ... sensations he can and will make you just sit on his face for actual HOURS just eating you out to his heart's content. you'd think that his tongue is cybernetic too with the way it flicks across your clit at a borderline INHUMAN speed. but no he's just that good. some of ur most intense orgasms have been from him tonguefucking you like this, his head firmly sandwiched between your quivering thighs as you're basically humping his face as u ride out your high. and hey, he's not complaining <3 and then his smug shit-eating grin does NOT help at all when you're still trying to come back down to earth and he's sitting up wiping the slick off his face with that hungry look STILL in his eyes good lord i hope u can survive the night. this bastard has definitely ruined toys for you, they just don't feel the same any more <//3

BLADE .ᐟ୨୧ fucks hard. angry and/or jealous sex with him has just gotta be >>> 😮‍💨😮‍💨 he's on the rougher side and for MOST of the time will dom. and also tbh i don't really see him as being the type to use toys since he's more spontaneous in terms of having sex (public sex. he's got a high sex drive) but very very passionate for sure- lots of grunts and low moans right up in ur ear mhhhnrng. but also at the same time i feel like he would be quite emotionally detached from sex at first, seeing it as more like stress relief than an act of intimacy? and don't get me wrong, some of the best fucks of your life have come from him when he's just trying to release some pent up anger, but on the flip side there's a more vulnerable side to him, almost. one that's barely there any more from years of bitterness and resentment, but still manages to creep up on him on those late nights where he can't quite sleep. so if you're with him on those rare occasions, this is when you experience him not fucking you, but making LOVE. he won't talk, but he doesn't need to, not with the way he's holding you close to him and kissing you with something akin to desperation as he sinks into you and kind of just... stays there for a bit. it's oddly comforting to him, and if he's feeling especially weak he'll need some comfort- just to get him through the night. it's these nights where you take control more, setting a slow and sweet pace and kind of just... hushing him and whispering sweet words to him as you slowly let yourself grind over him, feeling the way he twitches inside of u <333 but yeah back to not vulnerable blade. a fan of quickies for sureeee (see: high sex drive) another tit guy because i am biased. the force of his thrusts in some dark alleyway or hidden corner will have them jiggling and threatening to fall out of whatever shirt you wear. and if he's got you lifted up in his arms, your legs wrapped around him as you're chest to chest with each other, he just can't tear his eyes away from your boobs. leaves bites on them, laves over them like a damn dog until they're coated in saliva and stiff and perked up because of how cold it feels when drying on your skin. if you're in doggystyle, you'll feel his hands clasp over them from behind, a few short and sweet squeezes to them before his blunt nails are flicking over your nipples just to hear you squeal <3

AVENTURINE .ᐟ୨୧ just like blade, he very much has two different modes. let's start with the freaky one bc that's fun. he's quite open to experiment with all aspects of sex- who's in charge, who's topping, toys, positions, you name it. he trusts you enough to do anything with or to you short of causing each other pain. so yeah he's a freak alright!! i feel like if you're in an established relationship, he'll feel guilty due to the amount if time that he spends away from you because of his job, and make it up to you by spoiling you with gifts... he loves to buy you new toys to try out as he sits back and just watches as you squirm and then writhe in pleasure as he slowly palms himself, eventually unzipping his trousers and jerking himself off until he cums all over u <33 definitely gets a kick out of seeing his cum painting your pretty face and how your tongue darts out to catch it before it drips onto the floor <333 or maybe he just strokes himself to stay hard, his eyes hungrily watching you as your own remain transfixed on his cock, the flushed tip disappearing with every stroke of his hand, the slick noises of his precum overpowering the buzzing hum of the dildo inside of you. and then when neither of you can handle the tension any more, dying to feel each other's touch, after you've cum a couple of times and are all nice and sensitive for him, then and ONLY then will he finally put it in, quickly setting a pace to fuck your brains out like a wild animal <3 lovessss doggystyle or the speedbump position because then he's all up in your guts and ur moans/screams of pleasure are just music to his ears. definitely the type to go a little feral bc... yeah. so yeah that's freaky mode! but like blade he has a softer side to him UNLIKE blade it is still definitely there and more accessible... but that doesn't mean he exposes it to you just like that either. but yeah if he's feeling more vulnerable emotionally, especially right after he wakes up from a nightmare while you're groggily waking up next to him, he just needs comfort. you holding him and stroking his hair, telling him how he's safe and how much you love him. if you've been together for a while and he really trusts you, he might even cry. almost begs you to call him kakavasha instead of aventurine, and you oblige. and then as soon as his name leaves your lips, he's kissing you hard, gradually letting them become tender as you undress each other with the utmost amount of care. it's love that motivates him, from what you can feel from his fingers tracing your skin and how soft his lips press against yours. he lets out a quiet moan as he sinks into you and basks in your warmth for a bit, letting his arms now wrap around your frame tightly, holding you to himself as if you would disappear any moment. and you hug him too, draw patterns on his back, stroke his hair and hum as you tell him how much you love him, listening to the sound of his shaky breaths as you slowly raise your hips, sinking back down inch by inch to hear him hiss. at first, he would still refuse to let you see his face when you have sex like this, not until you gently coax him to look at you, and you see the crystalline tears already escaping from his eyes. he's definitely the type to cry during sex like this- something so soft and tender that it's overwhelming to him for so many reasons- the vulnerability of it all, how much you love and care for him written all over your face, the way you squeeze against him so perfectly. and then he buries his face in your chest as you keep whispering words of affirmation to him and he cums so fast, deep inside of you and then he stays even when he feels himself go soft. just because it feels nice. and he falls asleep just like that, clinging to you, the person he loves.

JING YUAN .ᐟ୨୧ another member of team lazy but pussydrunk (him and welt have permanent memberships lmfao) whenever the two of you fuck it usually starts with him making you work for it. involving either you getting off by grinding on his thigh or riding him, desperately throwing your weight back onto him to even simulate the feeling of his powerful thrusts- all in vain as he merely sits there, looking up at you with a maddening smile and just WATCHING you... what a creep <3 but yeah he loves loves loves seeing how worked up and whiny you get for him to do something, anything, just for him to do the exact opposite, placing two firm hands on your hips to effectively get you to stop, and you whine again from the loss of friction. and he'll merely smile, telling you how you're such a good girl for him, getti my off from watching you get so so close, just to do it over and over again. orgasm denial and edging really are his two best friends fr. so he's not really a strict dom but more of a tease, you get me? i think that YES he will use toys. really gets a kick out of vibrating panties or a vibrator inside of you that he can remote control <33 just really enjoys when you're in public trying to remain composed (what a creep <3) keeps u constantly stimulated all day, finally making it up to you when you both get back home, fucking you properly as you're on the verge of tears and ready to cum any second. hmmm hear me out on this but i think his favourite place to cum would be your back.. like yeah finishing inside is cool and all but pulling out and cumming all over your back just drives him CRAZY and ready for another round... as soon as you recover <3

LUOCHA .ᐟ୨୧ LORDDDDDD he's like jing yuan but even WORSE. he's dangerous too because in his eyes, it isn't him or a toy but him AND a toy. this man will have u in his lap thighs spread legs hanging over his knees so he can keep them open as he has one hand gripping your chin forcing to look at yourself in a mirror, the other hand holding a vibe to yr clit <33 every time your eyes start to roll back he'll do a light slap to your face, forcing you to hold eye contact with him through the mirror, his feline eyes dancing with mirth at your already fucked-out expression. and then when he's sure that his gaze is holding your attention, he'll let go of your face, letting his hand snaie downwards until his hands are collecting your slick on his fingers before pushing into you, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek that contradicts how hard he's fingering you <3 squirting is not an achievement but the new standard with him!! that man is NOT relenting until you coat his arm and the floor (even the mirror) he really likes making you kiss him just after you cum- when your brain is foggy from the intensity of your orgasm, you can barely hear, let alone process what he's saying, and when u finally manage to connect your lips to his the kiss is just so sweet n sloppy, showing how worked up he is already <33 he's a little mean with it but you wouldn't have it any other way!! because that man knows what you need and will DELIVER. and he loves alllll of you. especially your pussy. and ass lol

DR RATIO .ᐟ୨୧ ok stay with me now cos this one's more of a scenario but!!! imagine that you haven't seen veritas in a while because you've both been busy but he messages you, saying how he'll finally be back soon!!! and ur just so excited that you can't contain it, and all those lonely nights are starting to tally up... your hands just don't do the trick any more and you finally cave, getting out your old reliable dildo to try and satiate your lust. trying your hardest to focus on veritas while you fuck yourself so that you'll be able to cum... pretending that it's his cock instead of some silicone... moaning out his name into your room with your eyes screwed shut to try trick your brain into believing that it's really him!! and it seems to work because you can feel that coil in you begin to tighten, and just when ur about to cum you feel a hand on top of yours, startling you out of your impending orgasm. and you open your eyes to see none other than the man who you had been fantasising about just now <3 and he's got this smirk on his face and a certain look in his eyes, and when you glance down you can see that he isn't exactly... unaffected from watching you earlier <33 i feel like he would degrade you a little, calling you such a stupid girl for needing to think of him just to even get close to cumming <333 and you'll whine and get embarrassed, trying to hide yourself with the covers, but deep down you know he's right so you peek at him from behind your lashes, batting them and begging him to help you as sweetly as you can. and how can he deny you when you're just so sweet and submissive for him? he'll be quick to take out his cock, slipping the head through your folds, letting it catch as it skims past your needy hole, letting the tip slap against your sensitive clit just to watch your whole body twitch as he chuckles to himself before bullying his cock into you. even after fucking yourself it's still a stretch, especially cos he has you in a mating press, his strong hands keeping your thighs pinned as he puts hisbweight behind his thrusts, really slamming into you until you're bouncing back against the mattress <33 a good hard fuck that hits all the right spots he needs to in order for you to cum HARD. but if he's feeling mean, he won't even oblige your request, instead being all smug and settling back on his haunches, goading you to keep going and make yourself cum without him because you're just so close, you can do it. watches your pathetic attempts to do so as you huff and beg him because you just can't without him <//3 and maybe if you beg hard enough he'll consider helping you out... even though it's just so entertaining to watch you keep trying. ironically enough, it's the way he calls you his sweet girl as he finally pushes into you that sends you over the edge more than any of your own touches did. and once you ride out that high, body no longer convulsing on his dick, he'll pull out of you just to flip you onto your stomach, then pull your hips up to meet his before fucking into you to make you really cum because of him this time <33

SAMPO .ᐟ୨୧ this man is MOST DEFINITELY an experimentalist!!! 1000% down for literally anything. you use toys on each other el oh el. the epitome of a switch. he'll top or bottom too, it's always a good time with him. definitely a freak. tbh i headcanon him as having a crazy oral fixation... if he's not sucking on your tits already then put your fingers in his mouth!! he'll have hearts swimming in his eyes, especially if you let them slide to the back of his throat until he gags and his eyes get all teary!!! definitely a sight to behold if u start fingerfucking his throat. or maybe just gag him with your panties, letting urself hear his muffled whines and moans as you finally free his cock and deepthroat him <33 oh god his whines and moans... get this man on twitter NEEOOOWWW. as a top he's definitely more goofy about it, not super strict. sex is about making sure you both feel good and just having a good time im his eyes.

GALLAGHER .ᐟ୨୧ ... this man... a certified freak. me personally im not into it but IF U LIKE ANAL THIS IS UR GUY 1000%%%. he def loves ur ass more than anything. the type to stick a finger in as he makes out with you or just let his finger tease the ring of muscle, circling it ever so slowly to feel u squirm while sat naked in his lap. when he eats you out he'll let his tongue drop a little lower to tease both of your holes. if u let him he'll eat your ass with GUSTO. and YES he's using toys on you you're not safe... buttplugs with the cute jewel on them and when you're in public he'll give your ass a slap or squeeze just to see your face change as you feel it press a little deeper into you... he'll have a vibrator fucking into your pussy as he's all up in your guts, laughing at the way you can't even form words right now. yeahhh he's a FREAK. oh and did i mention that he's an ass guy??

SUNDAY .ᐟ୨୧ ohohoho. this man has actual YEARS of pent up sexual frustration under his belt. his wings. whatever. he's a man who thrives off of control, and this is no exception in the bedroom. massive dom. both soft and hard. but more hard <3. really gets off on u calling him sir LAWLLL. lowkey i see him being into some real freaky bdsm stuff... cos hes got the whole sexually repressed catholic thing going on n all yknow. likes seeing u kneeled w your hands tied behind your back. you stripped naked while hes fully clothed and smiling so sweetly as he watches you try and get yourself off by humping his shoe. anything for that power imbalance with him hrrrrng. and if youre feeling a bit more bratty, touch his wings. preen them, blow air on them, even grip onto them HARD with your fingers and it'll get him all riled up. and then that sweet smiling facade will drop and youll see his eyes change into something a touch more feral as he pins u down and fucks u hard and properly. just to remind u who's really in control <3. the aftercare goes crazy, naturally. but then i also saw this post talking abt how hes a PEOPLE PLEASER and i agree 10000% so when he's feeling more soft, your pleasure is his greatest reward. a headrush mix of sweet praise and filthy degradation. telling you how you're a nasty bitch who's just so good for him... how you take him so well like the filthy slut you are.... and he's just so so composed during it all like an ANGEL EHFHWJFJE it makes ur head spin istg. yeah he's a freak in the sheets LOLL

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ...... eat it 'til your teeth rot!

[ SMUT ] how the hsr men eat pussy!

alternatively, find my hsr masterlist here! ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

[espinosaurusrexex]

Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU

read Steve's story here

summary: Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope you’ll give it a try nonetheless)

word count: 16.4k 😬

warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard 🤭), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a way…, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket. 

Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.

Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster. 

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes. 

"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."

Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.

"Dinner is booked.”

“You’re really doing it huh?"

“Yup." There was no doubt in Steve’s answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.

The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other. 

Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"

Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. ”Me? No no. I’m fine."

Steve shrugged. ”You know, that’s exactly what I said about a year ago."

"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. I’m getting laid - I’m aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but don’t start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. That’s a Rogers and Wilson thing. I don’t need that type of commitment."

Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him. 

“Look, I’m happy for you, truly. I just don’t see myself in that type of life.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side. 

“Never?”

Bucky winked at him. “You know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... You’re still up for tomorrow night, right?”

“Tomorrow night?"

"Ironbar."

Steve’s eyes widened. ”Shit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. “...next time."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steve’s, he shut the office door, walked past Sharon’s desk, then Natasha’s, and then into his own office.

❁ ❁ ❁

The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Bucky’s desk. 

Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. “Looking for something, Boss?”

“No...”

“Something like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?” She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them. 

Bucky snatched it with a glare. “It would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.” He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. “And why are people even sending paper invites anymore? We’re a security firm,” he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, “just shows how desperately they need consulting.” 

“Don’t blame me for it.” Nat threw her hands in the air. “And stop complaining. I know you’re the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldn’t faze you. I’ve got more important things to do that don’t particularly fall in your area of expertise.” She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold. 

“Are you saying your job is harder than mine?” Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the lady’s room. 

“If you’re referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldn’t last a day with my tasks.” 

“Now that’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?” She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. “I want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyone’s day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.”

Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that. 

“Call me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do. 

“I’ll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.” She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Bucky’s face. “If... you plan the charity event.”

Bucky was shocked. He didn’t expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldn’t be Nat if she weren’t teasing a little bit - but still. “You think you can handle that, boss?” 

Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldn’t be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. 

Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didn’t help much in the analog part of the job. 

“Are you backing down, Barnes?” Nat’s teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude. 

“Never.” He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.”

And with that, she took the papers from Bucky’s desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It wasn’t long before Bucky regretted his decision. 

What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldn’t care less about them. 

Okay, that wasn’t true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore he’d never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didn’t prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now. 

Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year. 

There was just one problem. 

He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every person’s phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes. 

Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist. 

So, the internet had to do for now. He’d found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again. 

The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event. 

Next was to find the perfect florist that ‘is able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangements’. Yeah... that was another problem. 

Bucky didn’t buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadn’t been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. He’d steal them from their neighbor‘s garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadn’t even touched flowers anymore.

Well, that had to change now. 

Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. “Paying Steve a visit?” Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors. 

“I’m actually meeting Natasha for lunch,” she shifted from one foot to the other, “I didn’t realize she was already at the restaurant... so that’s where I’m headed now.”

Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldn’t be Bambi if she wouldn’t miss such a detail. 

“Do you need a ride? My driver’s waiting for me anyway.”

“Tha- yes that would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor. 

“Where are you going?” Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well. 

“I’m on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. He’s never thought he’d say this.  

Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: “Are you taking suggestions?”

Bucky sat up straighter now. “Uh, yes. Gladly.” This was easier than he thought. 

“There is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. It’s called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You can’t miss it, it’s like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.” She turned forward, a little flustered, “Steve gets me flowers from there sometimes, they’re my favorite.”

“Did you hear that, Stan?” A victorious smile spread on Bucky’s face as he squeezed Bambi’s shoulder. “Next stop is Brooklyn.”

“Alright, Sir.”

“You don’t know how much easier you just made my life.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye. 

“I’m glad I could help.” She waved back and then headed into the restaurant. 

Maybe the event wasn’t so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.

❁ ❁ ❁

The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. You’d seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And you’d made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them. 

The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in. 

He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didn’t fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didn’t know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water. 

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”

He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward. 

“I sure hope so.” His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. “This flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldn’t happen to be the owner?”

“Well actually, I am,” you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.

“Great. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?”

“That depends...” You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. “I reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.” Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless. 

“My company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.”

“So just as I suspected...” You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.

“Pardon me?”

You turned your head towards him and winked. “Bigger than I thought.”

“So?” He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. “Can you do it?”

“Totally.” Then you gestured to the flowers. “Do you have any preferences? I don’t have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.”

“Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.” A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.

“Alright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?” A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours. 

He tipped his head. “My life is in your hands.” 

“Good. Then please write down your details here.” You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to. 

“Wait you’re working for SPS?” 

“I own it, sweetheart.” The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. “My name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body. 

Bucky’s smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again. 

“What cause are you raising money for this year?” You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden. 

You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating. 

“Well, to be honest... we haven’t decided yet.” A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Bucky’s would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasn’t space for the things you had in mind. 

“I hope you’ll do so soon, then.” You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile. 

Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you. 

“I’d be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.” He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“Rogers really couldn’t make it?” Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready. 

“He promised Bambi to be home...” Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it.  

Tony huffed. “That woman has him wrapped around her finger!” He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys. 

“Just wait until you find the one, Tony,” Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it. 

“Me? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...”

“Mark my words, Stark. We’ll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didn’t feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Sam’s side on the topic. 

It was ridiculous, really, how fast you’d occupied his mind when it came to Sam’s comment about finding ‘the one’. He didn’t even know you aside from the ‘background check’ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didn’t know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future. 

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but he’d never let them control his life. James “Bucky” Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them. 

Though, to Bucky’s displeasure - or pleasure (he hadn’t decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasn’t uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for tonight.

“Barnes, how come you’re not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we don’t know about?” Tony’s nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.

“Sorry, what?” He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friend’s remark. “I was distracted by Betty.” Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder. 

“That’s my man.” Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.

❁ ❁ ❁

The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldn’t be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. You’d read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldn’t see through the “windows” from the outside. And you wouldn’t be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world. 

To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. He’d even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea. 

“Do you have an appointment Ms.?” A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didn’t really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After you’d smiled at him as charmingly as you could, he’d decided to let you be someone else’s problem today - or maybe he just didn’t see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?

Actually, I don’t have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.

Yeah, that wouldn’t cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen. 

“You don’t happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.” 

Your eyes got wide. “God, no. I’m not-“ Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. “I’m here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.” 

Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. “Did he now?” She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. “Well if that is the case, please have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Bucky’s office. 

She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. “Lucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.”

“Thank you.” And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant. 

Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldn’t control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary. 

“You’re here.” He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. “What brings me the honor of your visit, darling.”

He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you came by, but you do have my number, don’t you?”

“I do.” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.”

Bucky’s eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. “Show me what exactly?”

“You’ll see.” You smirked. “I happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.”

Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. “And I’ll gladly cancel the rest, too.” A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.” 

And so you did. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen. 

It wasn’t half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh. 

‘Oh, God, no, we’re not together, ma’am.’ 

Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasn’t used to women denying him - except Nat. 

You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened. 

There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. ‘Sunflower -Shelter & Food’.

“Hey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?” Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadn’t even noticed that you already moved inside. 

Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet. 

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it then.”

“What?” He called your name. But when he realized you weren’t joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly. 

“‘Think now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,” Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath. 

“How would you know?” You turned to him. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that. 

“Peter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.” You pulled him towards you by his hand again. “I brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. “Any help is always welcome here. Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.” 

Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes he’d ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal. 

Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasn’t quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation. 

“You do this every day?” He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato. 

“Whenever we can.” An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. “They are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been. 

Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating ‘you’re welcome’ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, he’d look at you and you’d gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer. 

After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises. 

There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.

On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.

He cleared his throat. “Peter... is he?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.” You chuckled and led him through the next door. 

Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain. 

“He’s very admirable for that.” 

You just hummed in response. “I don’t think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldn’t. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. He’s working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.”

The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. “What happens here?”

“Most of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they don’t always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.”

The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional. 

“This place could use some serious renovating,” Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face. 

“We try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just don’t have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But it’s only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-“

“Yeah...” Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasn’t surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things they’d bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep. 

“Well, this completes my humble tour.” You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. “I think it’s time to go home.”

You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now. 

“Are you not coming?” He asked watching as you shook your head. 

“Peter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“Here? Alone?”

“Yes.” 

Bucky stepped towards you again. “Then I’m go-“

���Stop.” Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. “Don’t do this. I know how you feel. There’s this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.” You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. “But until you don’t see anything other than pity for these people, you can’t be here without breaking.”

“Doll...”

“Bucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.” 

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didn’t like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone he’d only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside. 

You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. “Thank you for trusting me today.” And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar. 

“That’s an unusually big order, Steve...” You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. He’d always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. “Are you planning anything special?”

The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. “Actually...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m planning to propose.” He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Well not yet.” He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous. 

“I just know she’ll say yes,” you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.

“How do you know?”

You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. “It’s not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.” You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought. 

“To be honest, I haven’t even thought about her saying no. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, I’ll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.”

He relaxed a little. “Great. Thank you.” And then he turned to leave your shop. 

“I’ll have them ready by Friday.” You smiled. 

“Thank you... so much.” Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home. 

It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There weren’t many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.

So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right. 

In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. You’d noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered.  

A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod. 

“So... how is the gala coming along?” You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I can count on the flower arrangements,” he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table. 

“That bad, huh?”

His hands stopped working. “The Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-“ he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown. 

“Hey, it’s okay to not be good at everything.” You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. “There has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant to ask you...” You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. “How come you’re the one organizing the gala?”

Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I made a deal with my assistant.” 

“What was in it for you?” You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.

He shrugged. “I got to hand off some paperwork.”

Wow. “Seriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. “Yeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I don’t mind it really.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing. 

“If it weren’t for the deal, I would have never met you.” There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day. 

A wide smile spread on Bucky’s face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched. 

“It was ’68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayin’ survived ‘cause you couldn’t call that livin’.” Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. “Caught a grenade in ’69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn arm’s gone but I’m gon’ have the memory forever.”

The words didn’t seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?

And honestly? You didn’t know. 

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. “Thank you for your service.”

“Notin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Bucky’s plate. “You eatin’ that?” 

Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasn’t affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Bucky’s eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known. 

By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his company’s fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand. 

The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.

You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something you’d learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower. 

“Don’t feel bad,” you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home. 

“How?”

“Feeling bad isn’t helping them. You have the power to change things.” It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes. 

Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door. 

“Thank you,” he suddenly released - steady and calm. “For taking me. For helping me see...” 

You couldn’t help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest. 

Bucky’s arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a ‘thank you’ a ‘this means the world to me’.

After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m also glad you took the deal, Bucky.” You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek. 

When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadn’t realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself. 

“Do you want to come up?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. “Don’t want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. “We can’t have that, can we?”

❁ ❁ ❁

To say Bucky’s heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. He’d not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadn’t stopped wondering what you thought of him. 

You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen. 

It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasn’t sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug. 

Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer. 

“The living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.” Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Your place is... cute.” He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed. 

“It’s a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. “Bigger isn’t always better.” His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. “It has a lot of character.”

“Oh god, please stop, you’re just making it sound worse.” Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture. 

Bucky laughed. “I didn’t mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.”

“Are you close with your family?” Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.

And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how they’d met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away. 

Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking. 

Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body. 

“So... that’s my story.” He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. “What about you, dove?”

“Dove?” You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. He’d only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all. 

“You don’t like it?” He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly. 

“I like it.” You smiled. “I just want to know... why this one?”

A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. “Because you bring me peace.”

Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it. 

Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

You leaned forward and Bucky’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug he’d ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless. 

You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo.  

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day. 

But it wasn’t the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You. 

“Hey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.” Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence. 

“This your charity suggestion?” He questioned with his hands on his friend’s office chair. 

Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided. 

A pale hand waved in front of his face. “Earth to Bucky.” Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. “You seem oddly distracted.”

He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him. 

Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you. 

That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him. 

It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him he’d be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you. 

Bucky didn’t know what kind of magical spell you’d put on him, but within a few weeks, he’d started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day. 

“Just a lot to do with the gala and all...” Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve. 

“You know, I never took you for an event manager...” The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.”

“But you also know I never back down from a challenge. And I’ll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.”

Steve’s head tipped forward. “We both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us. 

“She really does.” Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind. 

He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.

“Always.”

“How did you know that Bambi was the one?” A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.

Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And not in an I haven’t touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldn’t stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didn’t return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...” He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.” But the blonde didn’t buy it. He caught Bucky’s chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. “Are you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?”

How did he know about you? “No??” Bucky squinted at Steve. 

“You know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.” Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friend’s face. 

“You’re an idiot.” He stood up and paced to the window.

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. “You teased me for years about my love life, can’t be mad now.”

“I’m not mad.” He was annoyed. 

They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friend’s eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. “You should ask her out.”

“What?” He faced him again. 

“You like her. I can tell. And you’ve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know it’s not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.”

“The effort is for the gala.” Bucky corrected. 

“Right. Because that’s your thing... charity galas.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And it’s your choice whether you welcome it or not.”

Life changing. Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered. 

He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you. 

With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat he’d be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but he’d also be damned if he didn’t at least try to find out if you felt the same. 

❁ ❁ ❁

There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadn’t even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again. 

Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldn’t prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didn’t even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldn’t consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew. 

“Would that be all for you?” You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him.  

“That’s all. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

“Oh, you can bet on it.” He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent. 

“Hey.” A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. “Just thought that man was a little inappropriate.” 

“He’s just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. “Bucky... are you jealous?”

Oh, hell no.

“Jealous?” Bucky wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing he’d ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. “No.”

“But you should not be so naïve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.”

A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Bucky’s heart began doing that funny somersault thing. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.” You crossed your arms before your chest. “Besides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.”

“It’s not. And I don’t. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.”

“Oh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.”

Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. “Please, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.” His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer. 

“Name one.”

“Me.”

The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. “What?” 

Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?

Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.”

Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping you’d say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again. 

“Bucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Why, don’t you just look precious!” You bent down and picked up Sam’s daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as he’d opened it because she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the handle yet. 

“You... I’ve missed you soooo much.” You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight. 

“Come play dragons with me!” The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.

“Nothing I would rather do,” you singsonged and then mouthed a ‘she’s grown so much’ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head. 

“I know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.”

About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Sam’s daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile. 

“So how have things been?” Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla. 

“Oh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.” You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat. 

“Hm...” He frowned. “That’s weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.”

You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasn’t clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to ‘get more toys’. “Except for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.”

“But you have been seeing someone, no?” Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop. 

“Babe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?” 

“Sorry,” Matt blushed, “Occupational hazard.”

You laughed and then turned serious again. “I have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. It’s - I don’t know - it just seems a little too good to be true.”

“It’s been Bucky you’ve been seeing, hasn’t it?” Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Bucky’s name. 

“How did you know?”

His fingers lifted in air quotes “A gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.”

“He... he talks to you about me?” Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile. 

"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. “What happened?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to be one of his many trophies. And I’m scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.” Your eyes turned glassy. “What if he will lose interest when I do.” Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. “Because I really really want to...”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam chimed in. “So butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and it’s about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.”

Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: “Is Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.”

Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. “Believe me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but he’s not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing he’s ever had.”

You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friend’s words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.

You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted. 

“So what do I do now?” You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Sam’s and Matt’s faces.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.” Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. “Did you get cockblocked or what?”

“Shut it, Stark, or I’ll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.” Bucky pressed through his teeth. 

“Damn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?” Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again. 

Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings. 

“I thought it was going good?” Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!

Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions. 

It wasn’t his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldn’t sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.

“Going good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?”

“Bucky met a- ouch goddamnit!” A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steve’s eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. “What the hell, man?”

“Okay, that’s it. I feel like you guys don’t tell me anything. I need details. Now.”

“No.”

Bucky didn’t need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didn’t need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasn’t too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire. 

“Buck, we- they’re your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.” Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time. 

Truthfully, Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future. 

He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed. 

“Bucky met someone. He’s organizing the charity gala this year and she’s the florist doing the flower arrangements.” He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steve’s life, his best friend’s fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky. 

“She’s also helped him find a cause to donate to. She’s been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,” Sam chimed in and Bucky didn’t even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didn’t believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out. 

“Event planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?” Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didn’t expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away. 

Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them. 

Steve cleared his throat. “I thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...”

“Yeah well, they weren’t.” Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didn’t know what to do with them. 

“Well it’s good to have you back, I guess. Can’t imagine how that would’ve turned out.” Tony’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder, who immediately brushed it off. 

“What do you mean ‘turned out’?”

His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. “Well, we all agree it would have never worked out right? You’re not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.”

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t know her. So don’t you dare assume anything about her.” Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. “Dove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.” He wouldn’t let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now. 

“Look at you growing all protective.”

“Tony.” Steve’s condescending tone rumbled over the booth. 

A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, who’d only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it. 

“You wouldn’t fucking know what I’m talking about, Stark.”

And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome. 

“Hey, Bucky!” You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. “Do you think I can change?”

“What?”

“Do you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?” His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.

“Is... is this about the other day?”

Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. “Just answer my question, please.”

“I believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.” You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“Then why... why do you think I haven’t. Through all the times we’ve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. I’ve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.”

There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.

“Bucky, I just don’t want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one you’re having on your arm.” Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.

“See, but that wouldn’t happen to you, dove. It wouldn’t. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.” Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. “I'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.” He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. “I know I'd treat you right.”

Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it. 

Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. “But how do I know...?” That this is not what you’re telling every woman in this godforsaken city? 

But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. “Because the things you make me feel scare me.” His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. “They scare me because I’ve never felt them before. Every time I’m not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. I’m going crazy. I’m lost without you, dove.”

A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement. 

“Will you be mine?” His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. “Please say yes,” he whispered and his breath tickled your nose. 

He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. “Yes.” You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours. 

Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Bucky’s words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once you’d gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.

Your hands wandered beneath Bucky’s coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer. 

You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint. 

Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect. 

“Bucky,” you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women he’d been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover you’ve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him. 

You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating. 

But still, it wasn’t enough. “There are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,” his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans. 

“You’re so right.” You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath. 

In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear. 

If you were any other woman, Bucky would’ve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way he’d make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didn’t do so with you. 

Why?

Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldn’t possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time. 

So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. “You’re so wet for me, love. So ready.” He pecked the corner of your lips. “So perfect.”

“Yes!” You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you. 

“Shit, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.” He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didn’t believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.

Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. “There you go, Baby. That’s it.”

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips. 

After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern. 

“Are you kidding? I’m more than okay. That was incredible.” Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise. 

“You look really fucking pretty when you come.”

“I’m glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.” You kissed his cheek. “And again.” And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. “And again.”

And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Bucky’s eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.

He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him. 

“Come here.” You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: “Look at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I made it easy for you to believe me.”

You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I do now.” Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them. 

“Good.” He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.

You shook your head and released a breath. “Shame on me for refusing this for so long.” Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Bucky’s thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers. 

“Don’t worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.” When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. “‘Cause I’m not planning on leaving.”

You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest. 

He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy. 

“Are you getting nervous, Bucky?” You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.

“Can you blame me?” He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. “I’ve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.”

“You did?” Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Bucky’s cheeks heat up. 

“Yes...” He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap. 

“Hand me my walled, baby. It’s in my pants.”

“Why?”

“We need a condom if you don’t want to keep dry-humping me.” He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it. 

“It’s okay. We don’t have to, I have an IUD.” 

“As much as I want to, we should be safe...” Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. “Have to get tested again.”

“Oh, ok.” You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.

You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip. 

He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. “Let me.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal. 

Bucky’s hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - he’d barely held it together then. 

You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit. 

Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult. 

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.” He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you. 

Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. “You’re amazing.” Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy. 

“Right back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to come again.” He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. “So you’re satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.”

“Shitshitshit. I’m coming!” A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm. 

“Fuck,” Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

“I don’t think I have another in me, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry, love. I got you.” And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance. 

He couldn’t wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back. 

“You feel so good,” he grunted and you just moaned in response.

“Look at me, please.” His hand turned your face. “I need to see you.” 

Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldn’t stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his. 

The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs. 

His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Bucky’s chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer. 

This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth. 

He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear he’d felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of. 

“Let me do this right. Let me take you out.” He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time he’d ever been this happy. 

You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. “Bucky, you’re literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.”

Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. “Nothing like a convincing argument, huh.”

You already know your girl couldn't decide which GIF to use. So here are the extra ones:

Woooow, you've made it this far! Thank you so much 💕 If you have some time to spare, I would reaaaally appreciate some feedback from you. A comment or a reblog can help so much to reach more people and improve writing. Talk to you soon ~Meg 💞

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also tagging my steve tags (for everyone who wanted an update on Bambi) 🤗 :

[snoopyracing]

wanna be yours // ln4

pairing: lando norris X american!reader / mclaren photographer!reader

word count: 18k (listen.... i couldn't stop so get a snack bc it's a long one)

warnings: cursing, alcohol use, smut (18+) (oral, p in v, no protection, praise kink, edging, and choking)

includes: heavy mutual pining and jealousy, asshole!lando, clueless lando and reader, a little lando X oscar X reader bff trio, friends to enemies to ???, and time manipulation ( idk wtf to call it i just changed the creation date of lando.jpg lmao)

summary: you're the mclaren f1 team photographer and lando can't help but get jealous at your friendship with logan sargeant.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Not many people in the world get to do what they love as a career. It was something you were grateful for everyday. If you were being honest, you never saw yourself being a sports photographer. After graduating high school you had your eyes set on more editorial work, but it didn't take long for you to figure out that it wasn't for you. Years had passed and then an opportunity arose for a job working with IndyCar. You sent in your portfolio and somehow you got the job. That one on a whim decision changed your life forever.

People were insanely impressed with your skills, considering you had never done sports photography before, let alone motorsports. You had made some connections with people while working the job and somehow got connected with someone on the McLaren Formula One team. McLaren liked what they saw, and after a handful of emails, some serious debating, and support from your family; you had made the leap. Now here you are in your second year as McLaren's F1 team photographer.

Oscar and you joined McLaren the same year and the two of you clicked instantly, bonding over being newcomers to the team. It took about a three months for Lando to warm up to you, but once he did, look out. The three of you were never far from each other during race week. Some of the older drivers liked to call you three 'the triplets' because you were always in tow of one another.

You had made another new friend recently, Logan Sargeant. He joined F1 the same year started with McLaren, but you hadn't really made that many friends outside Oscar and Lando besides a couple other drivers. That changed at the beginning of this season. The two of you had started to be more friendly, and it didn't take long for a connection to form. It was nice to have someone that reminded you of home around, even if you guys were from two completely different states.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Monza

The Italian Grand Prix had just ended and Lando had made podium, placing P2 to be exact. As you stood there waiting for him to get out of the car you snapped a couple pictures making sure your settings were correct. The buzz in the air after Lando or Oscar made podium was something you still hadn't gotten used to. It was electric; from the cheers and chants from the fans, to hollering from the team as he exited the vehicle. You snapped a few photos as he greeted the team, a small bounce in his step proved he was more than ecstatic about his placement. It was a tough race, everyone had brought their A game today, drivers and cars included. So it was fair to say P2 was an excellent spot to be in, even if you would have loved to see him on that top spot.

His helmet and balaclava were off and you knew he was coming your way, so you readied your camera in his direction. Looking through the viewfinder you saw the giant smile that erupted on his face when he saw you and you couldn't help but to reciprocate one as equally as big back to him as you snapped away. One last one was taken of him with two fingers up indicating the second place he had just achieved. As you lowered your camera his arms were already indicating your invitation into them. Your arms wrapped around his torso, something that was just muscle memory to you at this point.

"That was one hell of a race. Congrats Lan." He had you wrapped so tight in his embrace that your words were mumbled against his shoulder, but he understood you just fine.

"Hmm. Thank you love." The term of endearment raised goosebumps on your arms. And as you pulled away from the hug his touch lingered for longer than it should have, something you clocked immediately.

To say you and Lando had a different friendship was an understatement. In fact, you didn't know of any other driver and their team photographer to have a relationship like Lando and you. About six months into your first year with McLaren you had developed a tiny crush on Lando and for the longest time you thought he possibly may have liked you back.

The fact that he was always touching you was one of your first inklings. If it was possible, the Brit was always in close proximity to you. If you were sitting next to each other, your knees were touching or his arm was behind you. Not to mention his lingering touches, hugs lasting longer than they should, his hands lingering on your waist, his fingers grazing you as he passed by. The way he acted with you was far from professional, but you weren't complaining.

Your second inkling was the gift giving. How many people can say their co-worker got them a Cartier bracelet for Christmas? None that you could think of. It wasn't even just expensive things that he would get you. If you guys were at headquarters he would always bring you an iced coffee from the place down the road. You had mentioned once that you preferred their coffee to other places and to your surprise Lando showed up the next day with one in hand for you. Or just even the fact that when you're with Lando, doing anything, he pays. Doesn't matter what it is, he's there with his card in hand, ignoring your pleas to let you pay for once.

The terms of endearment Lando used towards you had also made you wonder if he felt more than friendly feelings. The term 'love' was used quite often, along with 'beautiful'. Both terms surely in violation of HR, but Lando didn't seem to care as he said both freely with no concern of who heard him. And each time he did you tried to hide the blush that would creep onto your cheeks or try not to let him detect how fast your heart was beating when he had you in his arms.

So, to say Lando Norris had you smitten over him was an understatement, but you never acted on that crush for two reasons. One; you didn't want to risk your job, you were sure HR would have a conniption fit if a relationship ever developed between the two of you. You were surprised you hadn't gotten a talking to by PR at least for how you guys acted sometimes during race weeks.

Second; you never truly knew how he felt. Lando Norris liked to mess with your head. In all honesty he probably didn't know that he was, you had never expressed how you felt about him, he had no obligations towards you. But to have him act like he does with you and then that same day see him on Twitter leaving a club with some girl was undoubtedly going to fuck with your head..

After the third or fourth time of waking up to news about who Lando was hooking up with, you knew it was time for your crush to go away. He clearly wasn't interested in you and you were never one to admit your feelings first. So, those feelings got tucked away into a little corner in your brain, locked away, to hopefully never be opened again. Not wanting to lose Lando entirely (and your job), you accepted that you guys were just friends. That he was just one of those people who were naturally flirty, and that maybe you shouldn't take his words and actions to heart. Telling yourself that he wouldn't even be interested in someone like you when he had so many ethereal breathtaking women at his fingertips. And it worked, until he would let his hands lingered after a hug or a term of endearment slipped past his lips. His mindless actions jiggling the door knob to those locked away feelings in your brain.

As he took the podium your cheesy grin had returned as you snapped some more pictures. He really did look amazing up there and no matter what you felt or still feel about him you were always going to be proud of him. He was one of your best friends and as long as you were concerned, nothing was going to change that. The champagne went flying minutes later and more pictures were taken. The celebration continued for a while and as the drivers did their press interviews you made your way back to the hotel to start editing and picking the final pictures to be used on social media.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Lando had made it back to the hotel after finally finishing all his post race duties. He was satisfied with his placing today, sure he would have loved to have won, but everyone was cutthroat today, he just felt lucky enough to have made podium at all. Of course his night was far from over though, the celebrations had just only begun when the champagne was popped at the podium. He planned on having one hell of a night, he deserved it. And it was a no brainer to him that you would be there with him, any chance he got to spend with you, he took. After taking a shower he grabbed his phone to call you, and to no surprise you answered on the second ring.

Your melodic voice filled his ears, a smile tugging at his lips as he heard you speak. "Hello?"

The phone was on speaker as he dug through his suitcase, trying to find a shirt to wear. "We are going out in about an hour. You coming?"

A sigh echoed through the speaker. "I've got a lot of work to still do. You know I don't just take all these pictures for my own person pleasure."

He finally found a shirt and as he buttoned it he couldn't help but laugh at your words. "Oh really? I thought you just took all those pictures because you were obsessed with me.

You scoffed at his cockiness. "You wish Norris. Someone has to fix that face."

"Ouch. Don't talk about Oscar like that." He joked.

He wasn't there but he was sure that you had rolled your eyes at him. "Whatever. I have work to do." You stated. But Lando knew that wasn't true and that you were coming out tonight, you could never tell him no. If Lando was being honest with himself, he couldn't really tell you no either. If anything the two of you just liked to play cat and mouse.

Cologne wafted through his room as the conversation continued. "You're telling me, you would rather sit in your room all night editing pictures than going out with your favorite person and some of your other friends?"

You laughed at his choice of words. "My favorite person? I didn't know Logan was going?"

Logan.

Just hearing his name roll off your tongue put a sour taste in Lando's mouth. The two American's friendship being a sore subject to Lando as of recently.

He ignored you comment, the lightheartedness of the conversation had dissipated at the mention of the other male driver. "Be ready in thirty minutes. I'll come get you." He left no time for you to respond, already hanging up and tossing his phone on the bed.

Thirty minutes later he closed his door behind him and walked down the hall to your room. The both of you were on the same floor, but about ten rooms apart. A gentle knock was placed on the door and seconds later it opened. Lando felt his heartbeat quicken at the sight of you standing in the doorway. The skirt you were wearing was very short and as you turned around to grab your phone, he saw that your top that already had him staring from the front, was completely open in the back. This was not an outfit that he was used to seeing you in. Outside the usual McLaren gear you donned, you had a casual style, and when you had went clubbing or out before you had never worn anything this scandalous. He wasn't hating it though, in fact he was far from hating it.

"Eyes up here Norris." You stated as you joined him in the hallway.

He hadn't even realized he was staring, but when your words broke him out of his trance a blush crept onto his cheeks. Lando linked his arm with yours, leading you both towards the elevator. "Sorry for staring. You look beautiful tonight." Lando stated as he pressed the lobby button on the elevator. As the doors closed the smell of your perfume swarmed around him, it was almost intoxicating, combine that with how you looked tonight and his head was spinning.

You replied with a simple 'thanks' as you leaned against the elevator wall. He realized he may have made things awkward with his ogling, but god he couldn't help himself. The ding indicated their ride was over and as the two of them entered the lobby they were met with some of the other drivers standing in a group, undoubtedly waiting for them.

"Finally!" The Monegasque driver hollered.

You approached the group, a smile tugging at your lips. "Sorry boys. You know how Lando has to make sure he looks perfect."

The laughs that came from the guys was the last thing on Lando's mind, he was more concerned over how some of his competitors were looking at you. It was the same way he was looking at you merely minutes ago. His jaw clenched as he watched Charles hand get dangerously close to your back as he walked beside you. And as you got into one of the taxis with Charles and Carlos, he thought he might break a tooth from how hard he was biting down. As the taxi that was occupied with you and the two Ferrari drivers pulled away, Lando begrudgingly got into the next one with Oscar and George, already feeling like tonight wasn't going to plan out like he had hoped.

The music was deafening as Lando entered the club. You were nowhere in sight when he had arrived, so here he was on the hunt. He stopped by the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila for him and your favorite drink to give you when he found you. When he saw Charles off to the side of the room he figured he'd find you with him, but to his surprise Charles was stood there talking to some random guy, with no you in sight.

"Have you seen Y/N?" Lando felt like he was screaming, clubs were loud, he knew that, but this one just felt like it was on another level.

Charles shook his head. "The American stole her away from me! It was a shame, we were having a good time!"

The American. No guessing as to who that was. He stopped by the bar again, this time it was two tequila shots, the burn felt good as it slid down his throat. His eyes scanned the room, it was hard to see. Between the flashing lights, loud music, and bodies in every direction, he figured he'd never find you. Then just when he was about to give up he spotted you. Your back was to him, but he could see the tall blonde driver that was with you, his hands roaming your body as the two of them danced.

Lando tightened his grip on the glass as he watched the two of them and he couldn't help but think 'who the hell invited Logan?' The same hands that were on your body seconds ago now pointed at him, motioning for you to look back at Lando. A smile spread across your face as you realized who was standing there and as you walked over he felt his demeanor soften.

"I've been looking for-" Logan had now come up behind you, his hand resting on you shoulder, causing you to pause for a moment.

Lando's eyes flickered to Logan's hand on your shoulder, then back to you. Fucking ridiculous. He wanted to take Logan's hand and break it, make him not be able to race ever again and then he wouldn't be an issue again. His softened demeanor now long gone. "Here. Your favorite." He stated as he shoved the now watered down drink toward you.

You accepted the drink, but your smile was now gone as Lando turned on his heel to leave. You weren't sure what his deal was, but he on the other hand knew exactly what he was about ready to do.

He wasn't sure how many shots he had consumed by now, but god dammit he was a multi-million dollar F1 driver, who just got podium at the hardest race of the season so far. He was going to drink however much he wanted and no one, not even you were going to ruin his fun.

Lando made his way out to the dance floor and his eye caught the attention of some random girl. Perfect. The music pounded in his chest as the mystery girl and him were less than cordial in the middle of the swarm of bodies. The alcohol coursing through his veins only added to how he was feeling right now. It didn't take long for the random girl to be in tow behind him as they leave the club, for their lips to be on one anothers in the backseat of the taxi, and for his wandering hands to explore her body in the elevator. But what does take long is for him to get into his damn hotel room. He keeps trying and trying and the keycard will not work. He was getting impatient, the last thing he wanted to do was go back down to the lobby, he wanted to get into his room. Then he heard you voice.

"Lando?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

There was a cool breeze that whipped through the night air as you walked the streets of Monza. The liquor in your veins was the only thing keeping you warm, considering your less than modest outfit choice for the night.

"I'd give you my jacket if I had one." Logan stated as he walked next to you.

You flashed him a smile. "I'm fine really. It's not that bad out."

The two of you had decided to walk back to the hotel, it really wasn't that far of a walk from the club. Plus, you had wanted to soak up as much time in Italy as you could. As you walked you were thankful you didn't go crazy with the drinking tonight, the idea of walking in heels on these streets while plastered sounded horrible. If anything at this point you only had a slight buzz. You couldn't say the same for some of the other drivers who were undoubtedly still living it up at the club.

Light conversation was made between the two of you as you walked.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" You asked.

"I did. I'm glad you decided to come out too." Silence filled the space between the two of you for a moment before the driver spoke again. "Can I ask a question?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You hated when people asked that, just ask the damn question instead of making your mind run worst case scenario, but you simply replied. "Sure."

Logan scratched the back of his neck, like he was unsure if he should even ask the question. But just before you were about the tell him to spit it out, he spoke. "What's up with you and Lando?"

Glancing over at Logan you gave him a confused look. "What do you mean what's up with me and Lando?"

Your question made Logan stop walking. "Oh come on you know what I mean. Are you guys a thing?"

A genuine laugh came barreling out of you. "Me and Lando? Oh yeah and I'm a F1 driver." You had continued to walk, but Logan grabbed your hand pulling you back towards him.

"I'm serious Y/N."

The joking manner of the conversation was now suddenly gone. "Nothing is going on between me and Lando. Believe me." You groaned, Lando was the last thing you wanted to talk about right now, especially after his weird behavior in the club.

Logan's grip on your hand still lingered. "Doesn't seem like it."

You rolled your eyes at him, why did he have a sudden interest in Lando and you? "Logan. There is nothing going on between us. I really like my job and would like to not be fired. You don't think HR has some rules set in place or something? Plus I'm not even his type. I'm not a model or some ethereal woman from some foreign country." His grip on your hand had loosened enough for you to turn and continue walking. He still stood frozen for a moment, processing your words and when he realized how far you had gotten ahead of him he had to jog to catch up to you.

"You like him don't you?" He asked as he finally caught up with you. The little locked door in the back of your brain labeled Lando was bursting at the seams, but you did not want to unlock it tonight, especially to Logan. Thankfully you could see the hotel in the distance and you felt no need to answer Logan's prying question. "I'll get it out of you eventually." Logan stated as the two of you entered the elevator.

You just shook your head at your friend as you leaned your head against the elevator walls. The adrenaline from the eventful day was starting to wear off and the tiredness had set in. As the elevator doors opened you looked back at the tall blonde, holding your hand out to him. "You gonna walk me to my room or did I let you dance with me for no reason earlier?"

Logan's eyes widened as he hurried to your side. "Coming!"

You rested your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked down the hall. "I did really have a good time tonight. Thanks for spending it with me. Even if you did steal me from Charles."

"I think me taking you from Charles was more of a favor or dare I say a good deed." Logan joked.

Rounding the corner to your room you heard giggles and shhs. Logan and you exchanged questioning looks, wondering who was being naughty in the hallway. But as you finally made it into eyeshot of your door you stopped dead in your tracks.

It was Lando and some girl you had never seen before, making out against your door. You felt Logan's grip on you tighten as he forced your feet to move with his towards your room. As you got closer the two of them still had not broken apart, only until you spoke up.

"Lando?"

Lando's eyes turned into saucers when he saw it was you standing there, but as they shifted to the right of you, they narrowed at the sight of Logan with his arm still around your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" It was a rhetorical question, anyone knew what they were doing. As you stood there waiting for a response your eyes glanced over to the girl, she was definitely his type, no doubt about it. The longer you looked the more you had wished you guys would have taken a taxi so maybe you wouldn't have had to witness this.

"Well. I can't seem to get into my room." He fumbled with the key card, still clearly drunk. "Stupid key card won't work."

Your eyes moved back to Lando, a small sigh escaping past your lips as you glanced up at the room number by the door. "That's because you have the wrong room. This is my room, 710. Yours-" you pointed down the hall "is down there, 701."

Lando's mouth formed an O shape after realizing what he had done and the random girl and him erupted into a fit of giggles. You tried to hold back the eye roll that was so badly wanting to let go. "Sorry. Let's go.." Lando paused looking at the girl he had pinned to your door seconds ago.

Jesus christ. He didn't even know her name.

"Bella." The girl answered, not even phased at him not knowing her name.

"Right Bella. Let's go." Lando dragged the girl behind him towards his room. He let the girl go in first and before he passed through the doorway, he gave one last look back at you before slamming the door shut behind him.

A loud sigh escaped past your lips as you stood there, staring at the now empty hallway. You had no reason to be jealous, you knew that. There truly was nothing between Lando and you and tonight was a prime example of him showing you he had no interest in you. But dammit, you couldn't lie and say it didn't sting when you saw him with someone else. Even when you try to push away your feelings, try and bury them so deep that you tell yourself you're fine being friends, being colleagues, but you know deep down that the want for something more will always be there. You dug in your clutch for your key card, finally finding it you scanned it. The little light turned green, but as you placed your hand on the handle you hesitated. Your forehead leaning against the previously occupied door.

"I used to like him."

Logan only gave a slight hum as a reply and when you turned your head to look at him, you knew he knew. He gave you a small smile and quick hug before bidding you goodnight.

"Talk to you tomorrow?" You questioned.

"Of course." He stated as he made his way down the hall.

As you entered your room you flung your heels off and grabbed some pajamas. Your open laptop on the desk caught your attention, you could have swore you saved everything and put it up before leaving earlier. Worst case scenario ran through your head as you turned it on, you prayed all your work wasn't gone. As the screen came to life a picture of Lando popped up. It was one of him you had taken before qualifying the day before. He had a cheesy grin on his face and he held up a number 4 on his fingers, one of his signature poses. You saved the picture and put your laptop up before climbing into bed.

Unfortunately for you, sleep did not come easy that night. You couldn't stop thinking about Lando and that girl. You knew you should just let it go, god knows you've seen him with multiple other women, but tonight was the first time you saw it with your own two eyes, in person. The feeling of seeing it actually happen versus seeing it on Twitter was like night and day. When you saw pictures being spread around, sure it was annoying, but you could just get off your phone and suddenly it was gone. Tonight though, was different, the image forever engraved into your mind. Thinking back to standing in the hallway made your stomach turn, it felt like it had officially confirmed that the idea of the two of you ever being a thing was officially dead.

Yet here you were, tossing and turning in bed. Because tonight you had officially let all those locked away feelings out for the first time in forever. You weren't sure if it was seeing him with that girl that did it or just the hinges finally breaking on that door. You just let yourself fully feel, feel every emotion your brain threw at you. Anger, jealousy, sadness, love? Even though you knew the two of you had no chance, you couldn't help but want. You wanted to be the girl he had pinned against your hotel room door. You wanted to be the girl he kissed before and after his races. Fuck you just wanted to be the girl he loved. More tossing and turning ensued and you just couldn't get your mind to shut off. As you glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand the time read 4:04. A dry laugh echoed through the room. 'Fucking number four' you whispered to yourself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As Lando awoke the next morning he knew he had made some bad decisions last night. The pounding headache was proof of bad decision number one and the phone number sloppily written on a tissue on his nightstand was proof of number two. He was thankful the girl had left before he woke up, mornings after one night stands were never his strong suit.

His mind wandered to last night as he laid in bed. Perhaps he may have been a little overzealous with his actions. He couldn't help it though, the idea of you not being his drove him crazy. The thought that you was more interested in other guys, especially Logan, always seemed to make him make some not so great decisions. Last night was a great example.

Lando wasn't entirely sure when his feelings for you turned into more than friends. In fact, when he heard they were getting a new photographer he wasn't even that keen on getting to know you. Photographers came and went in this business and a lot of the times he felt like they got in way. Sometimes he just didn't want to have a damn camera in his face, but then he met you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

February 2023

It was a formal setting, a team meeting before the start of the season. Of course the big topic was his new teammate Oscar, who he had met a couple months beforehand, along with the usual beginning of season talks. Towards the end of the meeting he had noticed a girl sitting in the corner of the room, he could tell she felt like she was out of place. He remembers thinking about how beautiful she was, but as he sat there he couldn't remember her from anywhere. Zak had already talked about who was new this season and Lando prided himself on knowing everyone on the team. So who was this mystery girl?

The meeting had finally ended and people were getting up to leave when Zak spoke up. "Oh yes. Sorry I forgot." He pointed towards the mystery girl. "Everyone this is the new team photographer. Y/N. Please make her feel welcome." Lando remembers a blush forming on your cheeks as you gave the room full of people a smile and small wave. As people filed out of the room Lando hung around, wanting to properly introduce himself to you. He noticed you were gathering your things to leave and he knew now was his window of opportunity.

You had bent down to pick up your bag and by the time you stood back up, there Lando stood, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped a little, startled at the closeness of him. His smile finally broke free as he stuck out his hand for you to shake. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you. I'm Lando." As their hands touched he could have swore he felt the "sparks" that they talk about in the movies, his heart beat racing a little as he really took in all your beauty. Not to mention your perfume (that you still used today) that was making his head spin. "Welcome to McLaren." He was finally able to spit out.

"Thank you! I'm glad to be here."

Your accent made his ears perk up. "An American huh? What made you come all the way over here?"

The blush from when Zak introduced you had never really faded and when Lando mentioned your accent it just deepend. "Well, long story short. I used to work for IndyCar, made some connections with McLaren and now here I am."

Lando heard Zak calling his name from the hallway, he didn't want to end the conversation, but duty called. "Boss is hollering for me. It was lovely to meet you though. I'll see you around yeah?" He was trying not to sound like a douche while also trying not to seem overly enthusiastic. A simple 'see ya' came from your mouth as Lando walked out the door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

For a about a month after that Lando played it cool. He watched you from a distance, watched as your friendship with Oscar formed. Watched as you did you work, something that he realized very early on that you were amazing at.

Around the three month mark Lando had decided that playing it cool was not his forte. He somewhat felt jealous as he watched his teammate and you joke around or when they would go get lunch without him when they were back at headquarters. Lando wanted to be the one you went to lunch with and joked with. He remembers a conversation Oscar and him had about you once.

It was an off week for racing and that meant a couple days were spent at Headquarters running the sim and creating content for social media. Oscar and you had came back from grabbing lunch. He watched them part ways and as Oscar came towards him Lando raised his eyebrows at him, giving him a questioning look.

"Oh don't even start. You know you can come with us." Oscar stated as he sat down.

"Well someone has to stay here and hold down the fort."

Oscar shook his head as he rolled his eyes at his older teammate, sometimes Lando's dramatics made him seem like the younger one. "Yeah I'm sure the hundreds of other people who work here can manage if Lando Norris leaves the building for an hour to go get lunch." Lando stayed silent, only crossing his arms over his chest as he stared back at Oscar. "You gonna finally fess up to why you've been acting so pissy lately?"

Lando scoffed at Oscar's question. "I just thought I would have gotten a lunch invitation by now."

"Literally told you, you can come with us. Y/N has even asked why you don't come with us." Oscar didn't let Lando respond to his comment. "Although, it is weird to me how distant you are with her. You like everyone on the team and I know you would like her too if you got to know her."

Lando shrugged, not exactly sure what to say back to his teammate. He didn't want to say, yes he knows he would like you, in fact the giant crush he has on you right now is making his stupid play cool decision eat away at his brain. The fact that even from only talking to you when necessary for work he's become enamored with you and your work. How you have a knack for capturing him in a way that no other photographer has before. How he thinks that if he lets himself become close to you that it may be bad for the both of them, but he wants to so bad. But he doesn't say any of that. All he says is.

"Well then let's all do lunch tomorrow."

The rest was history. After having lunch with you and Oscar the next day it seemed like you and him were inseparable. Looking back now Lando could have punched himself for not getting to know you better sooner.

As time went on his feelings grew stronger, but he was too scared to say anything. Too afraid to ruin the amazing friendship you guys had. Too afraid that if he opened his big mouth that things may be too awkward and you would leave your job and him. He had grown to love having a camera in his face, but only if you were the one taking the picture. And to think he might get that taken away just because of a crush destroyed him, so he kept his mouth shut.

It was fine for awhile, he would distract himself with random girls (who always somewhat resembled you) any chance he got. Something perhaps he shouldn't be proud of, but people already expected it from him. So why not live up to the playboy expectations? But he soon realized maybe his actions were hurting him more than helping him. When you started to become closer with some of the other drivers he thought perhaps he was pushing you away from him.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, so he thought maybe the best way to reel you back in was through your one true love; photography. Thus, lando.jpg was born. He wasn't going to lie, you truly had gotten him more interested in photography, but the instagram was started under false pretenses. The way his heart skipped a beat when he got a text from you about it was a little embarrassing to say the least.

you: do i need to break the news to zak that you are quitting racing to pursue photography or are you?

lando: nope. was just inspired by one of the best photographers i know.

you: oh so you're coming for my job?

lando: might need to post some content first before i go applying for jobs.

you: well i better be apart of your first post. considering i was the inspiration.

lando: wouldn't have it any other way.

And to no surprise there you were front and center on lando.jpg. Lando even made sure to make the caption "coming for her job". His sudden interest in photography had you around him more often, something he was beyond happy about. It had even escalated to the two of you hanging out, outside of work hours. As time passed it seemed like you two were just getting closer, but yet neither of you would admit your feelings for eachother.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

In Lando's mind he was content with how you were in his life at the moment, that was until a certain American driver entered yours. To give himself some credit, Lando had been pretty good with his actions lately, he hadn't been messing around with anyone for a good while now, but last night was the straw that broke the camel's back. He wasn't really sure if it was just Logan's actions last night or the fact that the Ferrari drivers couldn't have been more friendly with you either.

To Lando you were his and he never was good at sharing his toys as a child, so why should he have to share the girl he was obsessed with? His only problem though (that he could never seem to internalize) was that you weren't his. You were only his in his mind. And that's why he's lying here in this hotel room, alone, with just a headache and a phone number that will be thrown in the trash later.

He recalled the scene in the hallway last night. Sure he was drunk, but unfortunately not drunk enough to forget the whole thing. In his drunken defense he really did get the rooms mixed up, and maybe he would have eventually realized it. It was just his shit luck that you showed up, with Logan in tow. He remembered his stomach turning at the sight of Logan's arm around you. And now come morning he'd made himself nearly sick at the idea of Logan and you sharing a bed together last night, he wouldn't be surprised if you did though, he figured his actions probably drove you right into his arms.

Lando hadn't even realized what time it was until texts come rolling in asking where he was and how the car was going to leave without him.

Shit.

He had never packed his stuff up so fast in his life and as he walked out the door he knew he had probably forgot something. Speed walking was putting it politely, he was more like running down the hallway. He looked down for a split second to grab his phone out of his pocket and then suddenly he's barreling into something. That something turned out be someone, you to be exact. He hated to say it, but you were the last person he wanted to face this morning, considering their encounter in the hallway last night. But his fuck ups were casted aside as he crouched down to look at you.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" He looked you over, he knew he was like a brick wall, so it had to have hurt when he ran into you.

You rubbed your arm as you looked up at him, his blue green eyes staring back at you with a worried expression on his face. "Goddamn Lando. Watch where you're going." You huffed.

He extended his hands out to help you up and offer you quickly accepted. "I know I'm sorry." He stated sheepishly.

Instead of helping you pick up you bags, Lando took the time to sneak a peek into your room. He wasn't sure what he thought he was going to find. Maybe a naked Logan still under your sheets from last night? But to his relief your room was empty, but he wasn't as quick with it as he thought.

"What are you doing?" You inquired.

His head snapped back to you, your eyebrows raised in question of his actions, your free hand on your hip.

"Just making sure you didn't forget anything." He mumbled out quickly.

An eye roll was all he got back from you as you turned on your heel. Suitcase and bags wheeling behind you down the hall. Lando quickly followed behind you, resembling a lost puppy. As the pair entered the lobby a handful of the other drivers were down there chatting, surely waiting for their cars to arrive. Lando gave some 'heys' as he walked past, there was no time to stop and chat. There were two cars waiting outside the hotel and Lando could see Oscar in the first one. Of course he was already in the car and waiting thought Lando. It was rare for them to all be leaving together. Most of the time they just went their separate ways after a race weekend, but on the rare chances they do have flights together, you always rode in the same car as him and majority of the time they sat by each other on the plane. So he was confused to see you getting into the second car.

After quickly throwing his bags in the back of the first car he trapsed over to the second car, ignoring the shouts from Oscar about missing their flight. The door was still open and as he peered inside the vehicle he'd wished he hadn't. There sat Logan and you, already chatting away. You were practically on Logan's lap with how close you were to him.

Lando cleared his throat, causing the two Americans to look towards him. "Y/N are you riding with me?"

His grip on the door frame getting tighter as he noticed the quick glance Logan and you shared, silence lulling between the three. Your silence already answering his question.

"Actually I'm gonna ride with Logan. He has the same flight too, so it works out." Her words cutting through the silence in the air and he thought that if he gripped the door frame any tighter he was going to leave dents in it.

Perhaps he was pushing you away from him.

"Alright." Lando stated, before what some would say slamming the car door shut.

The look on Oscar's face was the last thing Lando wanted to see when he entered the car. "Shut up." Lando huffed.

Oscar shrugged in response, a small smirk playing at his lips. "I didn’t even say anything!”

Lando rolled his eyes at his teammate, choosing to look out the window as the car started to move. “You didn’t have to. Your face said it all.”

Oscar had been dealing with Lando's hissy fits about you ever since that day he confronted him about going to lunch together. To say Oscar was ready for Lando to either man up and admit to you how he felt about you or move on was an understatement.

He also knew how you felt about Lando. Oscar had a hunch about it just from the way you would look at Lando sometimes. Or the way you would always glance at him when someone had said something funny, guarenting the two of them to be a giggling mess as soon as they made eye contact. Or the way you captured him in photos. Granted you did an amazing job when it came to taking any photos, but you captured Lando in a different way. In a loving way almost, Oscar remembered his girlfriend saying you captured Lando through the female gaze. Something he didn't really get, but clearly it meant something. So when you drunkenly admitted one race weekend how you liked Lando and how conflicted you felt about it all, he wasn't the least bit surprised.

So needless to say Oscar had gotten the rundown on what had occured in the hotel hallway last night from you this morning, infact very early this morning. He was still in bed when your loud pounding on the door woke him up. When he let you in, you just started in and Oscar didn't even say anything, just climbed back into bed as you paced back and forth in front of him. In the same breath you said that Lando is a douchebag, but that you don't care that he was hooking up with random women. Oscar could only let you ramble as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

What Oscar did to get stuck in the middle of his two friends who both clearly wanted each other, but were too stubborn and backwards to just admit how they felt was beyond him. Not to mention one friends solution was to just act like said feelings don't exist. While the other friend can only seem to make things worse for himself, undoubtedly pushing the other person away.

Oscar knew your version of last night, and he knew Lando probably didn't want to relive it, but sometimes stirring the pot was Oscar's only form of entertainment.

“So I take it you don’t want to talk about the hallway incident last night then?”

Lando’s attention averted from the window back to Oscar. “How did you know about that?”

“You forget Y/N’s my friend too-" he debated whether or not to bring up Logan, but fuck it he thought "and so is Logan."

A forced laugh came from Lando. “Everyone just seems to love him don’t they?”

“Maybe Y/N likes him because he doesn’t turn into an ass when she’s around other guys and he doesn't hook up with random women in front of her hotel room.” Oscar knew he was pushing Lando's buttons, something he knew how to do quite well if he did say so himself.

Lando's jaw tensed, what was Oscar’s deal this morning? “Kindly shut the fuck up Oscar.”

Oscar put his hands up in defense. “Just saying. Your actions have consequences. Even if she doesn’t know you're being an ass because you're jealous. I would think, she thinks, you’re just being a shit friend in general. So maybe get yourself in check. Or admit how you feel. Either way something’s gotta give.”

Silence filled the air between the McLaren drivers. Lando knew deep down that Oscar was right, but he would never admit it. To Lando, his self destructive tendencies sometimes made more sense to him than the logical sane ones that Oscar presented him.

No words were exchanged for the rest of the car ride, the Italian pop song playing softly from the radio was the only thing heard. As they boarded the plane Lando still held out some hope that you would sit next to him, like you always did. But that hope was crushed as soon as you sat in the row behind him, with Logan right next to you. His headphones were immediately over his ears, not wanting to hear the two of them the whole plane ride.

The look his teammate gave him as he sat down beside him was one of pity. Maybe he really had fucked up, he had a feeling that things between you and him these past few weeks had been different. But after last night and this morning, there was no doubt their relationship had shifted.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next two races were in Azerbaijan and Singapore and you were still a little on edge from how Lando acted in Monza. Him slamming the door on Logan and you was beyond ridiculous. His attitude that whole night was also beyond ridiculous, especially considering how well he had performed in the race that day. A far cry from how he performed in the most recent two. Your job had been fairly easy on the Lando content aspect. He hadn't even placed in the top ten in Azerbaijan or Singapore, so that meant no extra pictures of podiums or celebrations for him. Which honestly, was fine with you, considering you didn't know if you were going to get asshole Lando or sweet funny Lando. In Singapore you had gotten asshole Lando, which looking back was ten times worse than his attitude in Monza.

You had some free time before qualifying and so you had inconspicuously made your way over to the William's garage. Mostly everyone there knew you by now as Logan and you had become fairly close. Not to mention the bright papaya uniform didn't allow for any blending in to occur. Logan was talking with some of the mechanics by his car when he spotted you, he quickly excused himself and came over.

"What are you doing in enemy territory?" Logan joked.

"I had some free time, came to see if I could figure out some strategies to relay back."

Logan raised his eyebrows a playful smirk developing on his face. "Oh I see. This friendship has just been a ploy all along!"

You raised your hands in defense, laughs coming from the both of you. "You caught me."

The two of you chatted some more, particularly about how excited you were for the next race, which just so happened to be in Austin. Any chance to be back in the states was one you took full advantage of. It didn't even matter that it wasn't even close to home, it was still home enough to you and you figured Logan thought so too. As the two of you talked about making plans while in Austin you heard a certain British voice holler your name.

"Y/N!"

Both Logan and yours heads turned towards the voice, the voice that sounded more like a mother hollering at her disobedient child than anything.

There Lando stood, his papaya suit making him stick out just like you and by his tone you already knew which Lando you were going to get. He was stood outside the garage, probably not daring to enter. You mouthed a 'what' at him and he motioned for you to come to him. You shook your head at him, deciding to speak up this time.

"I'm talking to Logan. What do you want?"

He rolled his eyes as he begrudgingly made his way towards Logan and you. "Don't you have work to be doing back at our garage?"

What the fuck? What was he trying to be your boss now? You were sure the look on your face was nothing shy of displeasure.

"What are you talking about? I've done more than enough for today and it's still an hour before qualis." You glanced over at Logan and you could tell he was a little taken aback from how Lando had spoken to you.

Lando's eyes lingered on Logan as he spoke. "Well still don't think you should be hanging around in other teams garages while on the clock." His gaze moved over to you. "Don't you think?"

You so badly wanted to smart off to him, make a snide comment about how badly he had done in the last race in Azerbaijan and how maybe he needed to be the one working. But you didn't, you bit your tongue, figuring it would only make things worse. So you only stated the obvious.

"Did Zak send you to come get me or something? Because last time I checked you weren't my boss."

Before Lando could respond Logan spoke up. "I think I'm gonna leave you guys to-"

Your head snapped back to face Logan, grabbing his arm before he could move. "No. We were having a conversation." As you turned to look back at Lando you could have swore you saw him staring at your hand on Logan's arm, but his gaze flickered back towards you too quickly. "Lando I'll be back at the garage in a little bit. I was talking to Logan before you interrupted and I'd like to finish my conversation if you don't mind." Your tone nothing shy of shitty.

You just wanted him to leave, he was causing somewhat of a scene to the people close by. And thankfully for you he left without a word, only a disgruntled look and a huff as he walked back towards the McLaren garage.

"Sorry." You stated as you averted your attention back towards Logan "I don't know what his problem is anymore. Ever since Monza he's been so fucking bizarre. Always hot and cold, I never know what Lando I'm going to get. It's been making my life a little stressful if you couldn't tell."

Logan glanced at Lando walking away then back to you, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I think I might have a hunch."

Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement. What more could Logan know than you? Not to sound like one of those people, but you clearly knew Lando better than Logan. "What? What is it?"

Logan did the old sealing his lips and throwing away the key gesture. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Oh come on tell me!" You exclaimed, desperately wanting to know what Logan knew.

He quickly changed the subject. "So how about going to a rodeo in Austin?"

"Logan tell me!"

He only shook his head as you unsuccessfully tried to pry the information out of him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Austin

A month had passed since Singapore and you had spent your break alone. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great. If anything it made you realize you really needed to make friends outside of people at work.

It didn't help when pictures from the Bali trip that a bunch of the drivers had went on, Lando included, started to be posted. Bali had treated him well and you wanted to kick yourself for ogling over the pictures of him. Especially after how moody he's been, but you couldn't help it. His sun kissed skin, his curls in full force from the Bali climate, and that stupid smile (that you loved so much) on his face had you smitten.

The break was over soon enough and you weren't that upset because the end of the break meant that you were coming home for a little bit. Something that you had been looking forward to again ever since Miami.

The warm sun hit your face as you walked around the paddock. Texas in October was still warm and you hoped it wouldn't get too hot today. You were giddy, mainly because of being back in the states, but you also just had a good feeling about the race today. Somehow you knew either Oscar or Lando were going to have a good day today, you had hoped both, but at least one would make you happy.

As you snapped some pictures of the crew around the garage you felt a presence behind you. Though you already knew who it was, that cologne had invaded your senses one too many times for you to forget who donned it. Deciding to let him be the one to say something, you pretended you didn't notice him behind you and took some more pictures.

"Think I might be a better photo subject, don't you think?" Of course the first thing out of his mouth was some cheeky comment.

You merely rolled your eyes, and as you turned to face him you quickly captured an off guard photo of him. Clicking the buttons to look back at the photo you grimaced, turning it around to show Lando. "I think this photo says different."

Lando moved in closer next to you to get a better look. "That's not fair! I wasn't ready!" He exclaimed, laughter laced in his words.

Shaking your head you couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Every good photo subject should be camera ready at all times. This right here proves your statement wrong."

"Yeah whatever."

You had suddenly become hyper aware at just how close the two of you were. Your arms pressed against each other as the two of you huddled around your camera. It had been awhile since you had been in this close proximity to him and you weren't sure if it was that or the cologne but your head was spinning. Your gaze wandered from his big hands that now held your camera, up his arms, then neck, and they finally landed on his face. The tan he had acquired in Bali still glowed in the Texas sun and his curls moved slightly in the breeze. God, you had missed him. You had not only missed him physically, you missed the Lando you were in the presence of right now. The funny and sweet Lando. Not the Lando you had in Singapore.

"Hey can we talk real quick?"

Hearing his voice had snapped you out of the trance you didn't even know you were in. A blush crept onto your cheeks, you only hoped he hadn't caught you staring. You only nodded your head at him, hoping you had heard him correctly.

"I wanted to apologize for how I was in Singapore. That wasn't me back there. I think I was still mentally struggling from doing poorly in Azerbaijan and knowing I would and did do poorly in Singapore just added onto it. So again I'm sorry."

Wow. Where did this Lando come from? You were grateful for him apologizing, but there were still plenty of other things he needed to apologize for.

"Oh. It's okay (even though it really wasn't). Thank you for apologizing though." You weren't going to ruin this now rare good moment with Lando, so you quickly changed the subject. "So how was Bali?"

His eyes lit up. "Oh it was amazing. Wish I could have just stayed there. You would have loved it too, you should have come!"

Well, there was never an invite sent your way, so how were you supposed to have come? Is what you wanted to say, but instead you just said. "Think that might be frowned upon in the workplace."

Lando shook his head. "I doubt it. How was your break though?"

You shrugged, it definitely was nothing like Bali. "Just spent some time at home."

A frown stretched across Lando's face. "Now see, now I really wish you would have came."

You just ignored him, the idea that he was stood here telling you he wanted you to come but couldn't even invite you stung a little bit. So you changed the subject again and the two of you chatted until race time, and for a moment it was just like old times. Lando soon left to prepare for the race and you finished up the crew pictures.

Later as you stood there while the national anthem played you had no idea just how crazy your night was about to be.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

If there was a race Lando was looking forward to the least, he would have to say Austin. The main reason being he knew Logan and you would be up eachothers asses.

But after some self reflection during the break he had promised himself he would be on his best behavior from now on. Personal life and racing included. He had trained extra hard this past week, running the sim like no other, and trying make up to the team for how badly he had performed in the previous two races. Everyone knew the car was more than capable of performing, it was the driver who was at fault for the poor position. The driver who after Singapore may have went into a spiral after realizing he may have fucked everything up more even more than what he thought after Monza.

Lando couldn't help it, it was like when he saw you with other guys, specifically Logan, his brain short circuited and every promise he had made to himself about behaving went out the window. But after having that moment with you in the garage moments ago he realized he had to keep his shit together. It was the first real carefree funny moment the two of them shared in months. He didn't want to go that long without it again, without you near him, without hearing your laugh that he had caused. So if all you were ever going to be in his life was a friend, Lando guessed he could live with it.

Him living with it lasted until the post race celebrations.

He had tried, really he had. In fact he held up the racing end of his promise by winning. His first Grand Prix win to be exact. In the post race interviews he credited his win to all the extra hard work he had been putting in and of course the team, but his big motivator may have been winning to impress you. Even if he had said he was fine with being friends, he still wanted to show to you that he wasn't the loser that you had seen in the last two races. Show you that in many ways he was better than Logan, and what better way than to win the race both of them were competing in. And the fact that it was an American race was just an added bonus to him. He was grasping at straws at this point, but the little sliver of hope kept him sane, until it didn't.

How a big group of drivers, significant others, and friends ended up at some club, karaoke bar, line dancing, and mechanical bull place all wrapped into one he will never know. But he was sure you had something to do with it. It was a far cry from the places he was used to overseas or hell even in Miami or Vegas, but he had just won the Grand Prix, he was going to have a good time no matter where he was at.

The drinks were going down smooth tonight, and at one point he had lost count of how many he had consumed. It seemed like they just magically kept appearing in front of him, he was constantly being brought drinks or shots from people wanting to congratulate him on his win. At this point he was starting to feel a little unsteady on his feet. Perhaps he may have gone too hard too fast with the alcohol tonight. He wasn't plastered yet, but he was getting there quick. He was about ready to down another shot when his teammate came up behind him. "Think you may need to slow down on the drinking for awhile."

Oscar walked alongside Lando, well more like guided him, towards the karaoke section of the place. Sitting him down at one of the booths as he slid in next to him. Lando slumped forward, his face resting wobbly in his hands. You were seated at the same booth but directly across from them.

"Jesus Lan, we've been here two hours. How much have you had to drink?" You asked.

Lando held up his pointer finger, indicating one.

Oscar and you shook your heads at the curly haired driver. "Very funny." You stated.

Lando now donned a sour look on his face, they had misunderstood his gesture. "No. I'm number 1!"

"Yes Lando you won today." Oscar reassured his teammate.

Oscar and you sipped your drinks while you prayed Lando would sober up enough that you didn't need to be worried about him. The pair was having to either decline the drinks that people were sending over for the winner or drink them themselves. They soon found themselves a little on the tipsy side from perhaps doing the same thing Lando was guilty of moments ago.

"You guys are freaking idiots." Lando mumbled. The once responsible friends that were looking after Lando were now in the same boat as him. Perhaps Lando was slightly more sober than them at this point.

After your second tequila sunrise the idea of karaoke sounded like the best thing ever. You knew Oscar wouldn't be up for it and Lando didn't look the happiest right now, so you searched the place for the one person who you knew would be up for it. You were able to spot him easily, his tall frame making him stand out in the crowd.

"Logan!"

You were tipsy enough to forget that yelling for a person in a loud club did absolutely nothing. And as you yelled again Lando tried to just tune you out, ignore the annoyance and jealousy arising in him over you hollering another man's name. He was supposed to be on his best behavior, but he should have known from before that alcohol and his good behavior don't mix.

You had finally gotten Logan's attention and as Lando saw the American driver walk towards their table he fiddled with his phone. Not even bothering to acknowledge him as he greeted him.

"Will you please do karaoke with me?" He heard you ask Logan and without even looking up he knew you were giving Logan those damn puppy dog eyes that you used to give him when you wanted him to do something for you.

He heard Logan laugh and from the corner of his eye he saw him reach out his hand for you to grab. "Yes, but only for my favorite girl."

Lando's blood ran cold at Logan's use of words. His favorite girl? His? The simple three letter word made his body tense and as the pair walked away Lando finally looked up. He had wished he hadn't as he saw Logan's arm around your shoulder as the two of them walked.

"Mate I thought you had gotten your shit together? I can feel how tense you are from over here." Oscar's speech was clear, he clearly hadn't drank as much as Lando thought.

"I'm perfectly fine." Lando stated as he looked back down at his phone.

"Yeah and my ears didn't pop from the pressure displacement in the air when you heard Logan call Y/N his favorite girl."

Lando did not like that fact that he was trapped in this booth with the one person who could read him like a book. "Can you let me out?"

Oscar scoffed at Lando's question. "You don't want to listen to Y/N and Logan sing? We have an excellent view of the stage." He took another swig of his drink as he eyed his teammate.

Not even twenty seconds later the two Americans took the stage and Lando suddenly found his phone to be more interesting. They had decided to sing some song about saving horses and riding cowboys, whatever it was Lando had tried to tune it out. But when he would hear you laugh in between parts of the song his eyes would venture from his phone up to the stage. He never looked for long, his jealousy getting the best of him when he would see how close Logan and you were. Not even physically, at this point they were clearly emotionally close, perhaps even closer than Lando and you ever were. At least that's what Lando's worst case scenario brain told him.

Lando managed to make it through their karaoke session without blowing a gasket. But as you returned to the table your smile faded as you looked at Lando, who looked less than thrilled as you approached him.

Sliding back into the booth you eyed him. Your mouth working faster than your brain. "Why are you always so unhappy when I'm around anymore? Or when we go out? If you don't want me to come out just tell me." The apology he had given you earlier didn't even exist at this point and the one good moment that you didn't want to ruin from earlier was gone too. You had enough liquid courage in you to finally say what had been eating away at you for months.

Lando was slightly taken aback by your sudden abruptness. He wasn't sure what to say at first. His teeth found the inside of his bottom lip as he tried to choose his words carefully. "I'm not unhappy when you're around, I love having you around. Also, I wouldn't invite you out if I didn't like having you around Y/N." He figured leaving out the mention of him hating when Logan is out with you was a good idea.

You huffed before grabbing one of the shots that had just been dropped off at the table. You downed it easily, slamming the shot glass back down on the table. "Really? Because you sure don't show it."

Oscar was still seated next to Lando, taking sips of his drinks as he watched the two of them go back and forth. He knew this was a long time coming, but he didn't expect to get a front row seat to it.

Lando sat up straight in the booth, suddenly getting defensive. "Why would I not want you around?"

You drummed you fingers against the table as you stared him down. "You always get so pissy when we are out. Like I'm not allowed to have fun or something. Or not allowed to have a little free time while I'm working."

"That's not true." Even though it was.

You rolled your eyes, you clearly were getting nowhere with this conversation and perhaps you should have waited until you both were sober. "You know what nevermind. I should have never brought it up."

Your sarcastic tone went straight through Lando, but he didn't even get a chance to respond back as you had already scooted out of the booth and was lost in the sea of bodies.

"That went well." Oscar stated, but when Lando didn't respond Oscar just kept going. "You remember what I said on the way to the airport in Monza? Either tell you how you feel or get your shit together? You know she's not a confrontational person, so she has clearly had enough of your shit to even bring it up." He took the last swig of his drink and as he got up from the booth he gave Lando one last final warning. "You're gonna lose her and this little conversation the two of you just had was proof enough."

Lando now sat alone in the booth, the only thing surrounding him was empty glasses. How did his nights that were supposed to be filled with celebration and good times always end up filled with drama and regrets? Oscar's words ate away at him as sat there twiddling his thumbs. How much more of this back and forth shit could he take? How much more could you take? Lando scanned the table and found one lonesome shot untouched. He wasn't even sure what it was until that familiar burn hit his throat.

Tequila.

Tequila always seemed to make him make bad decisions, so he knew tonight was either going to end badly or great. Either way he was finally going to man up and tell you how he felt.

It didn't take long to find you, considering you had made yourself the center of attention in the whole place. He heard your laughs before he saw you, but from the crowd of men gathered around the mechanical bull he knew exactly where you were.

He pushed his way to the front and sure enough there you were. When he saw you on that thing he couldn't help but stare. The operator of the machine clearly knew what he was doing, giving everyone a show. The way your thighs clenched onto the sides of the bull to help you stay on. Your ass and tits jiggling when the operator moved the bull a certain way. Not to mention just watching your body sway, you'd think you were a pro at this. Lando's mind started to wonder to how you'd look on top of him and that's when he realized it wasn't just him watching you look like that. You were surrounded by a big group of men, some of them his fellow competitors, that he was sure were also thinking the same impure thoughts as him.

He spotted the Ferrari drivers first, both of them leaning over the railing watching you intently. Then he spotted Logan, eyes wide as he watched your ass shake in the air.

This was the beginning of the end of Lando's good behavior promise. Lando could feel his blood starting to boil, knowing all these men were undoubtedly getting their dicks hard over you. He didn't mean to cause a scene, really he didn't. But before he even realized what he was doing he had jumped the railing and had his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you off the bull. Your legs kicking him and insults flew through the air as you protested his actions. He had carried you towards a relatively empty area and as he sat you down he prepared himself for the fallout of his actions.

"What the fuck is your problem?" You shouted, anger and liquor doing nothing to conceal how you felt.

Lando raised his hands in defense. "Y/N. I was just trying to protect you-"

"Why would I need protecting? Especially coming from you? The way you've acted towards me these past couple months I figured you'd rather me be dead!"

The handful of people who were around had started to stare, if Lando had thought he caused a scene moments ago, it was nothing compared to now.

Lando tried to explain himself. "You should have seen how those guys were looking at you."

You scoffed at his comment. "Well have you thought maybe I wanted them to look? I'm allowed to have a little fun Lando, maybe you should try it sometime. In fact I'm surprised you haven't found your random girl to hookup with on my hotel room door yet." Your words were laced with venom, he had finally pushed you hard enough.

His eyes narrowed at you. "Why are you bringing up what happened in Monza? All I was trying to do was save you from a night filled with fighting off all those sleazy guys. They only wanted one thing from you, especially the other drivers."

Shaking your head at Lando, a laugh escaped past you lips. "Yeah I guess you would know about using women wouldn't you?"

Lando ignored you dig at him, fully knowing what you had said was true.

"I just think you should be careful about who you are friends with. The way Logan was looking at you-" More often than not Lando was quite the hypocrite when it came to his issues with you.

Your jaw tightened at the mention of Logan, there was no reason to bring him into this.

Tonight was the final straw, you had truly had enough. This wasn't a healthy friendship and as much as it pained you, it was becoming more of a reality that this chapter of your life was needing to come to an end. As you cut the McLaren driver's sentence off you knew this may be the last time you spoke to him.

"You know what Lando, you are right. I do need to be more careful about who I'm friends with." You moved closer to him, the two of them merely inches apart, your finger poking at his chest as you spoke. "And he's standing right here."

Lando could have swore all the air left his body as you spoke those five words to him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Surely he had heard you wrong. "You don't mean that." Lando stammered, his eyes never leaving yours, trying to search for a joking gleam in your eyes. But dark, cold, and empty eyes were all that stared back at him.

"I do." You whispered, you hand lingering on his chest, you could feel his heart racing, yours doing the same.

Lando stood there dumbfounded as you walked away. He didn't protest, purely from the fact that he was still processing what had just happened. Had he finally lost you? From the looks of it he had and he hadn't even told you how he felt. Why couldn't he be normal for once? He always had to make everything about him, about how he felt.

He figured at this point what else did he have to lose? He was still going to tell you how he felt about you. Maybe if he was lucky you would feel the same, but with Lando's track record he knew his chances were slim.

You had a good head start on him, but his legs carried him as fast as they could out of the building and down the street towards the hotel. He silently thanked god that there weren't any fans outside the hotel and by the time he reached you room he was out of breath as he knocked on you door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could you have been so stupid? The tears thankfully hadn't started to fall until you had reached your hotel room, but now as you sat on your bed they wouldn't stop coming.

You knew what you did was the right thing, but you still felt stupid. Stupid for even developing feelings for Lando in the first place, stupid for allowing your relationship to turn into what it had. Why you ever let it get to this point was beyond you. It hurt, god did it hurt, but life teaches you lessons and this clearly was one. As you typed up a draft resignation letter on your phone you heard a rapid knock at your door. You had texted Oscar earlier letting him know you were coming back to the hotel, that things had gone sour between Lando and you. So, you figured that was him coming to check up on you.

But oh boy were you wrong. On the other side of the door stood an out of breath Brit, who was the cause of the tears you were now rapidly trying to wipe away. You had tried to slam the door in his face, but he quickly stuck his foot in the doorframe, a groan coming from him as the door hit his foot.

Good I hope it hurt you thought.

"Y/N please. I need to talk to you." His grip on the door was much stronger than yours and he easily was able to make his way into your room.

"Why so you can shame me or be rude to me or bad mouth one of my friends again? Think you did enough of that earlier." You stood your ground, arms crossed across your chest.

Lando closed the door behind him and as he eyed you he fully took you in. The red puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks. God he had fucked up. "What was said earlier got blown way out of proportion. That's not how I intended for you to take my words."

"It wasn't just what you said earlier Lando, it's been a combination of a lot of other things. I don't know what switched between us, but it's not the same as it used to be. You're an ass to me more than not anymore. I don't know what I did to make you act like that, but you won't have to deal with me much longer. I'm writing my resignation letter. It'll be sent in the morning and I'll be gone."

Lando had started to panic, the realness of the situation they had found themselves in had really started to set in. "No no no no! You don't have to quit your job. You love what you do."

A loud sigh passed your lips, clearly annoyed at him. "Well when the main person I work with can't ever seem to be happy with what I do or associate myself with, then perhaps quitting is what needs to be done." Maybe it was some of the alcohol still in your system or maybe you just wanted to be an ass back to him finally, but the tears had subsided and your mood had turned slightly petty. "Which now that I think about it, why do you care so much about who I hang out with? I mean it's ok for you to fuck any woman with pulse, but I suddenly become close with other drivers and now it's time to slut shame me? Wonder what the press would think about that?"

The smirk that was on you face made Lando irate, you were so fucking stubborn sometimes. All he had wanted to do was come up here and confess how he felt, fix his fuck up from earlier, but now he was riled up again.

"When in the fuck have I slut shamed you? I mean what do you want me to say? That you can go fuck my competitors? If thats all thats stopping you then please don't let me get in your way." Lando regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for you to go fuck someone else.

That wasn't at all what you were trying to get at. In fact it was the opposite, but if he was going to bring it up, you were going to play along, anything to get under his skin. What better way to hurt a man's ego than to talk about how much you would want to get with his competitors. You grabbed your phone off the bed, unlocking it and scrolling through your contacts. "Maybe I will. I mean I have endless choices don't I? I know Charles would have loved to fuck me in Monza. Or perhaps Logan? You said yourself he was eyeing me tonight. Or maybe Charles and Carlos both? You should have seen how they were with me in the taxi when we were in Monza."

Lando thought he was going to lose his mind, he felt like he was going to break his jaw from how hard he had it clenched. Just hearing you say those things had him on the edge of snapping. "Hmm. I think I'll go with Logan. Think he would know how to please me." Before you could even pretend to start texting him Lando's hand was on your wrist, prying you phone from your hands. His breath labored as he pulled you close to him.

"You are not fucking any of them."

Your eyes widened at his actions, his hands around your wrists, his pupils blown as he stared you down, and the smell of tequila on his breath. The petty joking manner you had moments ago was now long gone.

The angry tension in the air had now transitioned into something foreign, something deeper. And unknown to you but you had been the one to change it.

"Well why not?" You had tried to bring back the previous atmosphere, but the Lando that stood inches away from you was one you had never seen before.

"Because the only driver you can fuck is me."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. If there was a world record for how fast someone could blush you were sure you had just broken it, except your whole body felt like it was blushing. It radiated through your body directly to your core.

Your mind felt like tv static, you didn't know what to say or do. Lando was still inches away from you, your wrists still tightly in his grasp. "What?" Was all you could muster up and even that was barely coherent.

"Oh come on. You aren't gonna make me spell it out for you are you?" With just a wide eyed blank stare as your response he freed your wrists, but his hands now glided over your arms and shoulders and up to your neck. The feeling of his hands dancing over your skin made your eyes flutter shut. This was far more different than your knees touching or a lingering hug.

This wasn't how Lando had expected to be telling you how he felt, he hadn't even had anything like this one his mind, but you talking so freely about fucking his friends flipped a switch in him. "You gonna make me tell you how I've been obsessed with you since I saw you sitting in that meeting on your first day? How I drove myself crazy trying to distance myself from you, but you're so fucking intoxicating you just kept drawing me back in. How I basically ruined our friendship because I couldn't stand to see you with fucking Logan."

He paused, but still maintained eye contact as he pressed a chaste kiss on your hand. "Is it wrong of me to assume you've wanted me as bad as I've wanted you?" It was almost his way of asking permission to continue, and you granted it easily by letting out a faint 'no'. With that simple word his kisses moved from your hand up your arm and finally landing on your neck. It was somewhat embarrassing how hot and bothered his words and just some simple kisses were making you.

"Or how about how I could only think of you when I got with other women. Wishing it was you I had pressed up against your hotel room door in Monza. How the idea of any other man even looking at you in a sexual way made me want to break their jaw. You want me to tell you how fucking stupid I was for not telling you how I felt sooner. For basically putting us through hell and back because I couldn't keep my shit together when you talked to Logan."

His kisses had gotten sloppier, and he started to pay more attention to your neck. A small moan emitting from you when he found that sweet spot. You could feel his smirk against your neck as your moans filled his ears.

As your mind slowly processed all that he had just said, a lot more things started to click. First of all your inklings about him feeling the same were very much correct. But to think you hadn't put him being an ass because he was jealous of Logan together had you baffled. Usually you were very observant, but clearly not observant enough. You felt like your body was on autopilot as he still worked on your neck, you were supposed to be mad at him, supposed to be leaving him, leaving all the shitty moments behind. But as you stood here now you were glad he had come up to your room. Glad that you didn't fight that hard to not let him into your room. Because even if you had cut him out of your life and left, you knew deep down those feelings for him would never go away. No matter what had happened between the two of you.

Your hands pressed against his abdomen as he was surely giving you something on your neck that was going to need to be covered in the morning. "Wish I would have told you how I felt sooner." Your words were breathy as his hands now wandered up under your shirt. "You weren't the only one being driven crazy. You were-" It was hard for you to focus on your words, your brain only wanting to focus on how good Lando's hands and lips felt on you. "You were constantly fucking with my head, making me think you liked me and then getting with other women. Made me feel like shit when I saw you with them and then you made me feel like shit for months because you're an asshole."

His attack on your neck had halted, the two of you making eye contact once again. Your eyes glanced down at his lips, they were red and swollen, as much as you wanted to hate him, your desire to kiss him was much stronger.

"I know baby and I'm sorry for ever making you feel like that.'

Your eyebrow raised at the term of endearment. "Baby? Moving a little fast there aren't you Norris?"

A smirk had spread across his face. "You've been my baby in my mind for a long time. So forgive me for being eager."

Rolling your eyes at the brunette you linked your hands behind his neck, once again staring at his lips. "You gonna finally kiss me or do I need to go find Logan?"

The mere mention of the American had Lando pulling you into him, your lips meeting in an instant. It took a second for your brain to catch up, but once it did you practically melted into him. You had thought for a long time what it would feel like to kiss Lando, and you were happy to say it was better than you had imagined. His right hand was cupping your face while his left held onto your side. If you were weak in the knees before you surely were now as the two of you pulled away from each other, grinning like idiots. "Why did we deprive ourselves of this for so long?" You asked as your thumb caressed his cheek.

Lando leaned into your touch. "I don't know. I guess we both like to suffer." He gently removed your hand from his face placing an open mouth kiss to your palm. "I still need you to know how sorry I am for being such an ass. Let me show you how sorry I am you." He started to trail kisses back up your arm and you honestly didn't need any convincing. With a simple 'ok' from you Lando's lips were back on yours as he leaded you back towards your bed, your lips never separating.

The back of your knees hit the end of the bed causing you to fall back onto the bed. Using your forearms to prop yourself up you stared back at the driver who was stood at the end of the bed. He kicked off his shoes and his shirt was being pulled over his head in a matter of seconds. He didn't even give you time to gawk at his toned abdomen before he was climbing onto the bed, his chain dangling over you as your lips reconnected. Wrapping your fingers around the chain you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Your need for him growing more and more by the minute. The desire for his touch consumed you and as you started to squirm under him you heard a soft laugh come from him.

"That needy huh?" His teasing tone causing the aching throb between your legs to intensify. With only a whine coming from you as a response he looped his fingers through your belt loops, slightly tugging on them. "Which should come off first? Pants or shirt?"

You were in no mood for his teasing, the idea of having to wait any longer for his hands to be on you again sounded like torture. "Both."

"Both? That's my girl."

My girl repeated in your head as you struggled to get your shirt off. Those two simple words causing your arousal to grow even more and as he pulled off your pants you sure you had already soaked your panties. But Lando wasn't focused on that yet, to his surprise when he looked up to see you taking off your shirt, you hadn't worn a bra. Your breasts were already on full display. "Jesus." He groaned as he climbed his way back up to you. "Should have known you didn't wear a bra tonight the way your tits were bouncing on that bull." He wasted no time, immediately placing his large hands on them. As he pinched and tugged one nipple with one hand, his mouth had found its way onto the other. It was a sight you couldn't tear your eyes away from, something you only dreamed about. A whimper escaped past your lips and Lando could have died right there a happy man as your whimpers filled his ears.

As much as you were enjoying the pleasure he was giving you, it was creating a much bigger need someplace else. If your panties weren't soaked earlier, they definitely were now. The aching between your legs was becoming almost unbearable. Your hands found there way to his hair, fingers running through his messy curls. "Lan." You breathed out. His actions halted at the sound of you calling for him, blown pupils staring up at you.

"What baby?" No audible response came from you, but when he saw you clench your thighs he knew exactly what you wanted. "Oh, I think I know what you want." His fingers trailed from your breasts all the way down to the waistband of your panties, his fingers toying with it, gently snapping it against your skin.

"Thought you weren't gonna be an ass anymore?" His teasing making you crazy.

Even though he was looking down you could see the smirk on his face, the little shit was enjoying every minute of making you squirm. You watched as his hands landed on your thighs and in one swift motion they were hooked under your knees and he had pulled you even closer to him, causing your legs to be wide open for him.

Lando felt his dick twitch at the sight of your soaked panties, and once he pulled them off he thought he had died and gone to heaven at just how fucking wet you were, from him. He hadn't even properly touched you yet and you were already a mess. His hands masssaged you inner thighs and ghosted around the area you wanted him the most. "God, you're gonna be the death of me. You know how fucking soaked you are?" He took a single finger and quickly ran it up your slit, your wetness that lathered his finger quickly entered his mouth.

Your skin was on fire from just that his one little action, and as you watched him suck your wetness from his finger you thought your heart was gonna beat out of your chest. "Lan please."

"Please what?"

You threw your head back in frustration, he had to be getting off on this. "I want your mouth" you glanced down at his long thick fingers that had found a home on your thighs once more "and your fingers."

"Whatever my girl wants." He scooted down on the bed and as he lowered his head between your thighs the pit in your stomach grew. He wasted no time in getting to work, or in finding your clit. As he gently sucked on the sensitive bud you couldn't hold in your moans. The boy was a fucking expert with his tongue and from the way he was devouring you, you could tell he was enjoying it. Your fingers grabbed his curls as he fucked your hole with his tongue, his nose brushing against your clit. It was embarrassing how fast he had you close to coming undone. Your chest heaving as you felt your orgasm coming, and he hadn't even used his fingers yet, but almost like he knew what you wanted, you felt two fingers slide inside of you. Your moans getting louder as he still worked your clit and finger fucked you at the same time. When he added a third finger and curled his fingers, reaching that soft spongy spot, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He had raised his head to look up at you, a smirk splayed across his glistening face, covered in your slick. "That's my pretty girl. Come on, I know you're close. Gonna come all over my fingers and face aren't you."

His words of praise went straight to your core and as you clenched around his fingers a small laugh came from him. "Someone likes to be praised." You couldn't even be bothered to give him a witty comment back, you were on the edge of coming undone. His mouth went back to work and in a matter of seconds you were unraveling beneath him. Your legs shook as he still worked you through your orgasm. His name tumbling out of your mouth like a chant.

Your breathing was labored as you tried to come down from your high. Glancing down at Lando, he had never looked hotter to you than right now. His face and fingers covered in you, his hair a mess and lips swollen from him devouring your pussy. And the mess between your thighs that was caused by him, had you craving more.

Lando's erection was painfully throbbing at this point, still trapped behind his boxers and jeans. How he didn't just blow his load at the sight of you unraveling because of him, he wasn't sure. But one thing he did know was that he needed to be inside you, immediately. "I know you're still coming down but I need you so badly." His hands fumbling with the button on his jeans.

You simply shook your head at him, hands reaching out to help him get his pants off. "I don't care what you do as long as you can make me come like that again."

The words of praise went straight to Lando's cock, he truly didn't think he had ever been this hard in his life. The way you were looking up at him through your lashes as you toyed with the waistband of his boxers had him groaning. "Y/N stop."

A look of innocence spread across your face. "What? I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine." Your hand brushed past his still clothed erection and the whimper that came from him was like music to your ears. You soon granted him relief has you tugged his boxers down, his cock slapping against his stomach. Your eyes widened as you took all of him in. He was clearly blessed with not only good size, but girth. The mere thought of him stretching you out had you practically drooling.

You wanted to please him the same way he had you, but you had barely rubbed your thumb over his tip before his his large hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your actions. "I really just want to be inside of you."

Not one to oblige you scooted back on the bed, head resting on the pillows as you watched him come towards you. The anticipation was killing you and as he rubbed his tip between your folds it had only made it worse. "You know how beautiful you are? Think you might be even more beautiful when you take my cock won't you baby?"

Eagerly nodding at his words you couldn't take your eyes off his cock as his tip teased your entrance. You knew he was going to be a tease, so you rolled your hips towards him, patience not being your strong suit when it came to him. "That hungry for my cock huh?"

In one swift motion he had pushed himself in you, completely bottoming out. "Oh my god!" It had caught you off guard, even with how wet you were it still hurt a little as his cock stretched you out.

You hadn't even realized you had clenched around him until he spoke up. "Fuck. I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing that." His face scrunched up in pleasure.

"Sorry." You stated, pressing a kiss to his forearm.

Lando had started to move his hips and as the first waves of pleasure jolted through your body you couldn't help but think this is not how you saw your night going when you woke up this morning.

The room was filled with a mix of both yours and Lando's moans and the sound of slapping skin. You weren't trying to be dramatic, but you truly thought Lando's cock was made for you. The way he filled you up just right with each stroke was making your head spin.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you could feel yourself getting close again, the familiar pit in your stomach growing as he pounded into you relentlessly. The pleasure overwhelming you. But just at the brink of coming undone for the second time tonight he abruptly pulled out.

"You've got to be jok-"

He lightly slapped your thigh. "Ass up."

He didn't have to tell you twice as you quickly flipped over, face buried in the pillows, back arched with your ass in the air. The cool air on your now very exposed pussy sent a shiver down your spine.

Lando was enjoying the view as he lightly toyed with your clit earning a muffled moan from you. His hands gripped your waist to enter you once more when something in the corner of the room caught his eye. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand and the other under your stomach he pulled you up and back towards him until your back was flush against his chest, practically sitting in his lap. His still very prominent erection rubbing between your folds. As he positioned the both of you to face the corner of the room that's when you saw it.

Your reflection staring back at you. The horny little shit wanted to fuck you in front of the mirror. You couldn't lie the thought of it was hot. So, you took the initiative, as you raised your hips you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance.

The both of you watching in the mirror as you sank down onto him. The image right up there with Lando eating you out as one of the hottest things you'd seen. A string of curse words was heard from Lando and all you could do was grip his legs as you felt him buck up inside you.

As you rolled your hips you couldn't tear your eyes away from the mirror and neither could Lando. The new position allowing for him to feel even deeper inside you, if that was possible. One of his hands reached around and started to rub your clit, the added pleasure causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nope. Open your eyes pretty girl. I want you to watch."

When you didn't open them he told you again, but when you didn't open them the third time, his other hand was now suddenly wrapped around your throat. His large hand easily covering the front of your throat. The slight pressure he applied to the sides of your throat caused your eyes to fly open, but combine that with you riding his cock and his other hand still working on your clit you were once again on the brink of an orgasm. The sight of you in the mirror was nothing less than pornogrpahic and if Lando could, he would have taken a picture.

The feeling though was gone again, in a matter of seconds. He had basically thrown you off his cock, then pulled you off the bed, the both of you now directly in front of the mirror. You were impressed with Lando's stamina and you knew from him practically edging you (and himself) twice now, when he finally did let you come it was going to be mind blowing.

He had you bent over, hands gripping the sides of the mirror, as he spread your legs. This time there was no teasing your clit, he wasted no time, his cock slamming into you as soon as your legs were spread. His thrusts were relentless, you weren't sure if you would even be able to walk tomorrow. But from the way his fingers were gripping your waist you for sure knew there would be bruises there tomorrow. Your moans only encouraging him more as he slapped your ass, the sting only adding to your pleasure.

"God, look at you. Taking my cock like that. Who else can fuck you like this huh? Make you an absolute mess?"

You were too fucked out to respond, your legs feeling weak as you watched him in the mirror. Lando's hand reached around towards you neck, finding its previous home from moments ago. "I said who else can fuck you like this?" He gave your throat a light squeeze.

"No one. Only you." You finally mustered up, brain too consumed by pleasure to actually form a sentence.

You watched as the smirk formed on his face at your words. "There's my good girl." Your pussy fluttering at the pet name, which in turn earned a 'fuck' from Lando.

His other hand reached down to your clit, once again giving it some attention. As your orgasm approached you prayed this would be the time he finally would let you come. Your whimpers a telltale sign to Lando you were ready. "Gonna be a good girl and come for me? Come on baby. Let everyone know who's making you feel this good. Want everyone to know your mine."

With his words of praise your orgasm washed over you, hard. The pleasure was so intense you couldn't even hold yourself up anymore. Your body convulsing as your ears started to ring. Lando's name echoing out of your mouth in a less than quiet volume. It didn't help that he was still fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation bringing you almost to tears at how good it felt. Lando came seconds later, hot sticky cum filling you up. Profanties mixed with your name bounced around the room as he milked every ounce out of his orgasm.

As he pulled out a whimper came from you at the sudden empty feeling, while a groan came from him at the sight of his cum leaking out of you.

Lando basically carried you back to the bed, afraid your legs would give out if you tried to walk. His arms immediately wrapping around you as you rested your head on his chest. "Think I accomplished your request didn't I?" Lando asked with a smirk on his face. His fingers rubbing gently circles on your back.

"You did more than accomplish it Norris. I think everyone in the hotel knows that." A blush creeping onto your cheeks at the fact that you were not so quiet moments ago.

"Poor Oscar." Lando laughed. Oh god, you had forgotten Oscar's room was right next to yours. "Actually don't worry about it. He should be happy we are finally together."

Raising your head to look at him you gave him a questioning look. "Together? I never remember getting asked anything. Only being told I could only fuck you."

Lando rolled his eyes at your dramatics. "Yes and that statement still stands." His free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. He hadn't planned for tonight to go the way it did, but as he laid here in bed with you in his arms he wouldn't have it any other way. He wanted this all the time. "In all seriousness. I do want you to be mine. My girlfriend."

You would have never thought you'd be in this position. It had been a tough couple months for the two of you and just hours ago you were ready to erase him from your life as best as your could. But you still loved him, even more now if that was possible.

"Well it's a good thing I want you to be mine too huh?" His eyes lit up at your words, smiling for ear to ear. His lips were on yours in an instant, something you don't think you'll ever get used to. "Even though you were an asshole." You said as you pulled away.

Lando let out a sigh. "Well I guess I'm still gonna have to show you how sorry I am aren't I?" His cheeky expression not matching his tone of voice.

"I think so." You stated as your lips met once again.

An ignored text alert sounded off from the bedside table of the two lovers. It wouldn't be read until morning, laughter coming from Lando as your cheeks turned red.

Oscar: well I'm glad I'm not in the middle of whatever the hell that friends to crushes to miserable fucks to enemies shit you two had going on anymore. but please for the love of god remind me to never take the room by either of you again!!!!!!

[simpjaes]

CUNNILINGUIST ― s.jy (ft. p.sh)

Unfortunately for you, no man has ever given you some good head. Fortunately for you, your best friend is more annoyed by it than you are. It’s just a favor, right? or the one where your best friend jake eats you out as a way to admit his own feelings for you, also, apparently sunghoon existing is an issue.

minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog to give bestie jake conflicting feelings

WORDCOUNT― 16.1 k

PAIRING― jake x afab reader (ft. sunghoon)

CONTENT― a lot of waiting, like to the point it even annoyed me, very fluffy stuff , typical best friends to fuck buddies to “actually, I had feelings this whole time”, jealousy, jake is whiny and needy when he’s horny, reader thinks it’s cute. angst if you’re a baby about it

OTHER CHARACTERS― sunghoon as the mutual friend who bangs reader

NOTE― this was originally written by me on my other blog [@/ncteez], if you’ve read it before, that’s why!

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― BIG DICKED BESTIE, pussy eating (he gets IN THERE), masturbation in the form of dry humping a mattress and then into his hand, finger fucking, cum eating, sunghoon hook up, morning sex, lazy fingering, lazy fuck, dirty talk , unprotected sex, awkward build up,raw grinding, no blowjob in sight sorry lmao, deep penetration, cream pie, kind of cum stuffing but like not entirely intentional, cheesy love stuff 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What? Again?” Jake says, leaning back against the couch with a groan and a smack to his own forehead.

“Yeah, so basically he went down on me for less than a minute but expected me to, like, go long enough to ‘swallow’ or whatever.” You continue the story in a frustrated huff, shaking your head in self-pity.

Jake groans louder, leaning himself forward again and swiping his drink from your coffee table to take a long and thoughtful sip. 

“How many times is that, then?” He says between sips, glancing around the room as if he’s in deep thought. “I can’t help but think you pick these kinds of guys on purpose at this point.”

You look at him in mock pain, grabbing his drink and taking your own thoughtful sip of it.

“I dunno, they always talk big game during phone sex and stuff. I figure eventually one of them will live up to it.” You drone on, internally marking your recent date’s name off of your call-back list. 

“Be honest with me, have you ever actually gotten good head? Like how would you know if they’re bad if you have nothing good to compare them to?” Jake asks, letting you mindlessly drink his beverage.

It’s not weird to be having these types of conversations with him, if at all, something would seem off if you didn’t. He’s the only person in your life that you’ve ever felt this close to. At this point, you think he’d have to chase you down with a bloody hatchet for things to be awkward. Which is…kind of interesting, you guess.

“Well, I mean,” You think for a moment too long for his liking, but he gives you the space to finish your answer. “It feels good and all but it’s not like I’ve ever gotten off by it.”

“Correction –” Jake starts, blinking right at you. “You’ve never been given the chance to get off on it.” His bright  smile shows through his words, and you’re sure he’s mocking you at this point.

“Yeah, yeah. Yada, yada. I have terrible taste in sexual partners but to be fair, it’s not like the pool is that big to choose from.”

He nods in agreement, humming as if to end the conversation and still watching you sip at his drink.

“Would you be opposed to–” He pauses, making eye contact with you. “Y’know, I could do it for you.”

You pause, nearly dropping his drink out of your hand but thankfully your grip actually tightens on it instead. You swallow as you look at him, searching his face to see if this is some kind of joke.

“Jae-fucking-yun,” You deadpan, sitting his cup back down on your coffee table and leaning toward him, staring him down. “You’d really do that, for me?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, mostly playing it off as a half-joke just to see if he’s fucking with you or not. 

“How else are you gonna experience it?” 

You stare him down harder.

“You say that like you’re some sort of pussy-eating-god,” You narrow your eyes. “Are you?”

He shrugs casually with his little smile, leaning back on your couch and stretching his arms out. One of his hands lands behind your shoulder and you lean into it. 

“I’d let you be the judge of that if you’re up for it.”

Finally, you decide that he’s definitely not joking and you’re definitely gonna do it because like, that’s your best friend. Experiencing your firsts with him comes almost as naturally as walking. You had your first kiss with him, albeit it was a dare. You experienced your first concert with him, your first break up, your first failed exam, and even your first legal drink in a club. What’s so bad about letting him eat you out?

“Right now?” You ask, quirking your brow and tilting your head.

“Now, tomorrow, next week. Whenever.” He runs his hands through his hair as he says it and only now are you starting to really tune into his features that you’ve already found handsome.

Day after day you’ve seen him on this couch and in other states of dress without really thinking twice about how his lips would feel on you (despite that short first kiss). You’ve seen him kissing all up on other people, you’ve seen him in the club with wet lips from alcohol, you’ve seen him all messy and eating spaghetti at his parent’s house– but for some reason, his lips seem different now. His sleepy eyes seem different, his messy hair seems like something that should be tugged on, his fucking jawline– 

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” He looks at you up and down as if he’s judging. “You wanna go right now?”

You nod slowly, letting the traces of any lusty thoughts you’ve had about him in your life come to the front in waves. Then you quickly shake your head.

“Wait, no,” You roll your eyes more at yourself than him. “I haven’t showered since my date, maybe I should, uh…”

“Uh – yeah. Please do.” He grimaces, that same dopey smile coming back after a moment. 

“Fair.” You roll your eyes. “Gonna go shower then.” 

Part of you wonders if like, he’s being totally legit. For all you know, you’ll get out of the shower and he’ll be too busy doing something else, or like, he’ll go home or something. No hurt in seeing though.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

In the bathroom, you can’t help the feeling in your chest at even the thought that this may be about to happen.

Excitement. That’s what you feel. Not because it’s Jake. Well, maybe a little bit because you wanna see what his tongue is all about but more so because you’re about to get some presumably good head.

You shower thoughtfully, cleaning every part of your body and feeling little goosebumps rise and fall with each sensation of your air conditioning snaking its way past your shower doors. When you get out, you lotion your body so you’re all nice and soft and brush your teeth just in case things go a little further. You’re not expecting it to, but y’know, nothing wrong with having fun if it comes to it. 

After all, he’s doing you a favor by going down on you, the least you can do is smell good, be soft, and totally prepared for if he were to suggest more, right? Right. Anyway, you’re all showered up and opt to just let your hair do its own thing as you throw on your shirt and shorts. You ignore the panties at this point, because why not?

When you get back to the living room, Jake isn’t there. Naturally, you check your bedroom and there he is, still his normal self and lounging against your headboard while flipping through videos on his phone. 

“And she’s back,” he comments, reaching a hand out as if to invite you to your own bed. “Change your mind yet?”

“Not even for a second,” you smile as you take a spot in front of him, your entire body facing him as you pull your knees up and lay your chin against your arms. “Have you?”

He seems to fall into a more serious tone now, locking his phone before tossing it to the side and flicking his eyes up to look at you, scanning your legs in the shorts. 

“No,” he chokes back, shocked to see straight between the gap of your shorts and actually lay eyes on the point of this whole situation for the first time. “And you’re not wearing anything under those shorts.”

You watch his face and the way it turns from your best friend into something you’ve seen time and time again from men you’ve gone home with. It’s sexy on him though, for some reason.

“Figured I’d save you the trouble?”

He smiles, now moving himself toward you and reaching a hand behind to cradle your head. 

“Lay back,” he says softly, in a voice you’ve only heard a few times from him, “you could have left the shorts off too though.” He adds with an even softer laugh.

For some reason, it makes you feel shy. His hand guiding you to lay back all while grabbing the pillow from behind him and placing it under your head so that you’re nice and comfortable.  You watch him look at you and honestly, it’s in a way you can’t remember him ever looking at you before. If this is how he looks at other women, you may be a little jealous. 

It feels more intense right now than you thought it would.

“You’re being weird.” You say offhandedly, looking away from him and trying to keep the heat from flushing to your cheeks. 

“You’re letting me eat you out, how am I being weird?” He leans up from you, putting two hands on your knees but still waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “You want me to act like the other dudes? Dip my tongue in then wrap it up?”

You groan, rolling your eyes back to him and analyzing the way his big hands drape over your knees. 

“Okay, fair.” You admit defeat, feeling his warm palms move down the back of your thighs and to your ass. 

“Lift up,” He says, quickly pulling the shorts off of you when you do as he asks. 

“Oh–” He gasps quietly. “Damn.”

He stares directly between your legs, bracing his hands back at your knees and spreading your legs a bit. He angles his head in different ways to really look at you, seemingly enamored with your pussy as a whole. 

“Look who’s staring now.” You chuckle, instinctively hiding your face from him despite knowing he isn’t looking up at you.

“Yeah– I am,” he admits, now adjusting himself on the bed to lay down, his head easily slotting between your legs as he rests his chin on your lower belly and looks up at you. “You can pull my hair or do whatever, I’m just gonna…like, start I guess. Tell me if it’s something you don’t like.”

As normal as this isn’t, he’s speaking similar to how the two of you had taken on projects before. He typically takes the lead but offers you control more often than not. All you can do is nod at him, trying to comprehend that it’s your best friend’s head between your legs right now.

When he pulls his head back up with one last nod of confirmation, the first thing you feel is his fingers slipping up your folds, the other braced on your thigh and holding your legs open. You release a short sigh of relief at the feeling and he instantly smirks at it. 

“I haven’t even started yet,” He whispers, glancing up at you before fixing his eyes back on the expanse of your pussy. He uses his ring and pointer finger to spread your lips open, and the middle finger to rub against your hole only for a brief moment before he licks his lips and releases his own sigh of relief. “God, Sunghoon would be so jealous right now.”

You look down at him, wanting to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about and why he’d bring up Sunghoon right now, but you find yourself staring at him instead. Breath caught in your throat with the way his eyes meet yours before letting his tongue hang from his mouth as if presenting it to you in a cheeky way.

He’s so fast with it too, with the way he replaces his middle finger with his tensed tongue, forcing you to swallow your words and hold your breath even more. You can feel him lick and nibble against each of your lips before moving inward, flattening his tongue to lick one long, languid, and wet stripe up until meeting your clit. 

He wraps his lips around it, sucking once, hard, before releasing it and pulling back to look at you.

“This okay?”

Goddamn him for making you have to talk right now. You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that he said Sunghoon, fucking Sunghoon of all people would be jealous that he’s doing this right now. That’s definitely a question for later, because yeah, it’s fucking okay. 

More than okay. 

You nod to him, throwing your arm over your eyes and instinctively bucking your hips up towards his hovering mouth. 

“Oh, that was hot,” He groans out his compliment, watching the way you hide your face before he pulls his eyes back down and uses his fingers to spread your pussy open wider, enough to see your hole pulsate when he dips down to blow against it, “I can see how wet you’re getting, Is it because of me or is it just because someone is playing with your pussy?”

You half groan half moan at that, mostly because hearing these words from him is something that feels entirely too sexual. As if he hasn’t already tasted you, as if you’re not spread out by his fingers right now. You ignore his words, yet, your brain holds onto them with white knuckles and your hips buck toward him again.

“Not a talker, got it.” He notes, watching your hips chase his breath. 

He watches for much longer than you’d like for him to, and you’re about to lift up and accuse him of being just like the other guys but he shuts your thoughts off so fucking fast when you feel his lips on you again. 

His tongue explores every part of you, licking and sucking against areas you didn’t even know would feel good until his mouth lands against your clit again. This time, you can’t help it, you grind up and he hums at it as he braces your legs open just enough to skew his head and move his tongue back down. 

He’s slurping. Lost in the moment as he does it. Tasting you in full and getting a warm, pleasant feeling each time your legs try to close and your hips buck up for more. He…can’t believe this is finally happening. Fucking finally.

Unsure if you’d let him, he tries anyway. He stiffens his tongue, circling your hole before pressing just a bit, giving you just enough pressure that you feel frustrated. So frustrated that you’re the one who ends up finishing his attempt at something new. You reach down and lace your fingers in his hair, and let out a soft, needy little moan for him. 

That sound forces one from his chest too, he can’t help it, really. With the way you’re grabbing his hair and holding his head in place, pressing yourself against his mouth so much harder than before. Ah, he really, really loves doing this for you. 

To think any man would already be done? To think anyone could like, not wanna eat you out? Insanity. Stupid, stupid fucking men.

He can taste how wet you are now, truly taste it as he stretches your hole as much as he can with his tongue and another groan of his own. It’s probably embarrassing, truly, but he doesn’t care. 

Both of you are moaning at this point as you hold his head in place and grind your hips harder than you think you are. He loves it, you love it. So much that you really are barely comprehending that your best friend could do this the whole time?! And never told you until now?!

Jake is just as drunk on the moment as you are though. Totally lost in the scent and taste of you as he continues to lap away, constantly trying to prove that you can and will get off from his mouth alone. And honestly? It’s at the point that he figures he can use his fingers now too considering you let him spread you open with his tongue. What’s a little more gonna hurt, anyway?

The taste of you alone has him in heaven, cursing any man who didn’t take advantage of your pussy against their mouth. He can easily slip a finger into a hole this wet and needy, gasping in awe before glancing up at you. 

God, the way you immediately ride his finger, no huff or sound of irritation that he’s pulled his tongue back now. Your face. Fuck. 

He watches as you shamelessly chase the small amount of pleasure he can offer in terms of just head and fingering. He can imagine how hot you’d be without that shirt on, with your legs around his hips, with your mouth wrapped around him. You look blissed out, soaking his finger and keeping your hand in his hair, mindlessly grabbing and scratching at him. 

Making quick work, he goes back for your clit, circling his tongue around the bundle of nerves and noticing how you ride his finger harder. He can’t help but smirk against you when you do it either. 

The movement of your hips constantly humping against him is enough, and he can’t help but groan at the sound of your slick squelching out of you and warming his chin, he can’t fucking help but grind his own hips forward when you act like this. His cock is so painfully hard for you right now, at the taste of you, that all he can do is chase the mattress beneath him. Tensing his muscles and moaning against your clit shamelessly at the jolts of pleasure he gets from it. 

He slips another finger in with ease, feeling how much wetter you’ve gotten in the way the slide is filthy and audible. You groan out at that too, feeling his tongue flick relentlessly against your clit and only now moving your free hand from your face and trailing to your stomach. 

You can’t even talk, so you don’t. You lift your shirt up until you can at least rub against your nipples, just to heighten the pleasure your best friend is so graciously giving you.

His eyes roll back when you do that, only to fall back on you and get a frustrated grunt from him. He’s a bit annoyed that the shirt is still covering you despite your hand under it, fondling yourself. He’s thinking with his cock, so fucking aroused that he doesn’t think twice when he aggressively lifts your shirt up to your chin and watches the way your fingers poke and prod at yourself.

He inhales a sharp breath at the image, and his hips fuck harder against the mattress at that. His fingers speed up and now he’s focused. You feel him all over you from the waist down, his tongue flicking and lips sucking against your swollen clit, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you, your fingers heightening those sensations by playing with your own tits– then, oh, then you notice. 

Jake, you’re best fucking friend, is so goddamn horny that he’s dry humping against your bed and whining out moans against your clit. Probably to avoid asking for more, to avoid making you feel obligated to get him off too, to avoid anything you may not want or consent to. And that’s why he’s your best friend.

It doesn’t take long after that, your hips come to a stop as you watch him get himself off all while getting you off, and you find your orgasm bubbling up much faster than if you’d have imagined solely because of the image in front of you.

“Jake, you’re fucking whining.” You groan almost as needy as he does, rolling your hips up in a stutter. 

He was almost gonna stop, because yeah, he is whining. Gasping for air but only tasting you, only swallowing up the moans you give to him, only inhaling the dull scent of the fruity soap you used when you showered. But, you moan louder after you say that. You like it. You like seeing him act so desperate. So he continues, shamefully reaching one of his hands between himself and the bed and quickly shoving it down his pants, circling around his cock and continuing to fuck into it. 

If he thinks hard enough, you’re what he’s fucking right now, and technically, he is. With his fingers and mouth at least. When your hips stutter more, he fucks harder against his hand and holds his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get them. There, he sucks against your clit until you’re the one whining louder. 

You’re shocked at how quickly you’re getting off. Releasing a splash against him in a breathy, choked up sob. Nearly squeezing his head between your thighs to the point he almost misses the way you breathe out strings of praises toward him. But he hears them. 

He definitely heard you say that he looks sexy with your hand in his hair, and god, did he ride off of the fact that you encouraged him to get off with you. Regardless of if you knew if he could or not, regardless of if you knew his hand was providing just enough pleasure for him to do just that. 

There, as your orgasm subsides with his tongue still flicking your sensitive clit, you watch him writhe his hips against your mattress, his eyes slammed shut, and his breath coming out in pornographic moans. So this is what Jake looks like when he cums. It’s desperate, but somehow, it feels passionate too.

You’re all dazed after the fact, pussy pulsing and tingling from the loss of his lips and fingers once he pulls back and lays against your bed with a lazy smile. His pants are uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mind as he wipes his hand across his shirt and watches the way you catch your breath. 

“So,” He tries to say, clearing his throat. “I– um– hope that’s what you needed?”

You’re shy. You’re never fucking shy, especially towards Jake, but god. 

“Um, yeah,” you sigh out, lifting from the bed and looking back at him. Part of you wondering if that’s what it’s supposed to be like when someone gives you good head, or if that’s just…what it’s like when Jake gives head.

For some reason, you genuinely don’t think another man would ever eat you out to that level again. There’s no way, based on experience. 

“It was definitely what I needed.” 

He nods in a shy way, reminding himself that his pants are fucking nasty right now. So, he goes to stand up and extends a hand out to you. 

“Let’s go clean up.” 

You shake your head, not at all wanting to move from this bed. He nods again, pulling your shirt back down for you and leaning to look at you. 

“I’m gonna bring you something to clean up with, and I’m gonna shower.”

You smile at him, a bit dazed as you make yourself comfortable on your messy sheets as you think hard about the fact that this dopey motherfucker really never told you how good he was at this? Rude.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake looks all proud of himself when he comes back to your room and cuddles into bed with you much like he always has. 

“I didn’t expect to sleep over, I have work in the morning.” He whispers in a rasp against your back, curling around you like the perfect big spoon. 

You’re quick to turn on his work alarm on your phone, like you always do when he crashes during weeknights. Because, what best friend doesn’t have alarms set for each other anyway?

After a few more long moments of silence, you try to talk. Mostly because your brain is swimming with the fact that, like, you’re not sure but it’s just– wow. 

“Hey, um–”

“Hmm?” He hums out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” His sudden louder voice causes you to jump, but you relax back into his gasp. 

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” He responds with mock-confidence, shifting a bit and hugging you closer to him, as if to hide the way he’s trying to make this sound like a joke. For his own comfort, really.

You smile.

“And don’t tell other dudes my secrets.” He adds.

“I won't.”

Jake has his own smile from behind you, wondering if he really is just that good at eating pussy. The truth is, he’s done it a handful of times but he was just really really interested in doing it for you. For…reasons.

・・・・・・THIS WAS ORIGINALLY TWO PARTS, NOW IT’S ONE. YOU’RE WELCOME・・・・・・

“Hey, um,”

“Hmm?” Jake hummed out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that for me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” He responded in a sudden, louder voice. 

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” 

You remember the conversation that happened after he went down on you like it was yesterday, and he’s a goddamn liar. Nothing changed in your friendship with him, and he certainly doesn’t ask to eat you out all the time either. If anything, you’ve felt disappointed time and time again with the aftermath of that night.

It’s weighing on you in a strange way. At first, the weeks following the first and apparently, only time Jake went down on you, you almost expected him to ask for a repeat. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted him to ask but he never did. Even when he came over to hang out, even when you tried to lay down hints.

Nothing changed.

In fact, he doesn’t even talk about it. He doesn’t look at you as if he’s tasted you, and he doesn’t act like he came in his palm against your bed, right in front of you. He’s just…Jake. Sweet, caring, aloof, Jake. And you’re just you. Except you want to be someone else at this point. Someone that he does feel differently around after that.

Maybe you weren’t a memorable event for him when it comes to intimacy. Maybe he prefers to pretend it never happened? Maybe he was really just doing you a favor and intending for it to never go past the initial act. Even with his sweet words after the fact. Maybe, that was just to reassure you so it wouldn’t be awkward. 

You’re a version of you who wants to know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Did it taste bad? Did he get cold feet about it all? Arguably, if things did get weird after what happened, you’d feel more comfortable than you do with the situation as it stands. 

It is weird now, but only because it’s not weird for him. 

Even now, as you lay across the same bed where he had his head nestled between your legs, you can almost feel the tingle of what it felt like. The way his hair tickled your thighs, and the way his fingers laid against the flesh of your legs. The sun is beaming in through your windows and it still doesn’t feel as warm as it did when he cuddled against you that night. It’s been weeks and your heart is sick for him by this point. Sick with confusion, angst, lust, maybe even love if you think hard enough. 

You miss him a lot more than before as you throw your hand up to your face in a gentle slap as if to knock yourself out of it. This is insane. Every day you wake up feeling this way, thinking of him, and where you stand with him. It wasn’t like this at first, you truly expected him to come back for more and now you’re just sitting here with a loop of reasons as to why he never did. 

Insane. You’ve gotten head from so many people and didn’t think twice about them the next day, Jake is different though. You knew he would be too.

Why is Jake any different? Why do you miss him so badly right now? Why couldn’t he pick up on it either? Even worse, why do you feel like doing that with him was a mistake?

He’s with his parents for the weekend, and you’re here still thinking about shit that should have been released with your orgasm. 

You haven’t gone on any dates since that day, you haven’t met up with any one other than him to hang out, and at this point you’re starting to feel a little pathetic for falling in so deep. It’s entirely one sided, he makes that very clear.

So, naturally, you hop up with the confidence of a damn lion and decide that today, it ends. You will stop making it weird between the two of you, if he has even noticed anyway. You’re gonna get dressed, look hot as fuck, and sit on your couch swiping left and right until you find a hot piece of man that’s willing to take you out tonight.

That’s when something dawns on you. You remember Jake briefly mentioning Sunghoon to you, which seemed more like an implication if anything at the time. 

Why would Sunghoon be jealous of what happened? You can admit to being attracted to him but it’s not like the two of you hang out often or anything, and it’s also kind of a rule for yourself that you don’t fuck within the friendgroup. Jake was an exception, solely because that’s your best friend. Or, well, was your best friend. 

Now though? Who cares about these little rules you create for yourself? You need a confidence boost. You need your mind to be taken off of this little spiral you keep falling into. Most of all, you need to be proven wrong that you can still get off without it being him. 

So, texting Sunghoon? Easy. 

Thankfully, Sunghoon texting you back at lightning speed seemed even easier for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well, Sunghoon sure did a great job at getting your mind off of Jake for the past couple of hours. 

You lay here in his bed, feeling your body tingle from the sensation of just how well he lived up to the promise of a good time. For hours he touched you, licked against you, fucked you. And yeah, you did fucking enjoy it. 

But why now? Why did you only just decide to give Sunghoon a shot? Why are you lying in his bed, with his heavy arms thrown across you as he snores gently behind you, feeling the need to cry? Why do you wish it was Jake, your best friend who seemed so eager to please and then suddenly leaped ten feet back as if he never suggested it in the first place? 

Your brain is confused despite your body relaxing itself from the state of bliss you were able to experience. You really did enjoy this time with Sunghoon and think that maybe, if you continue to make late night visits to him, the need for your best friend will weaken in time. 

God, if only Jake would just talk about it.

And you fall asleep thinking about that. About how you’ve let your feelings weaken you to the point that it’s genuinely hard to enjoy being pleasured by someone who actually has the capability. 

And, well, you wake up much the same, except Sunghoon was quite quick with his fingers upon waking up himself. Showing you that even if the person you want doesn’t have a thing to do with you, he sure does. 

“Good morning,” He rasps in a sleepy voice, fingers already traveling down your stomach as he hugs up against you from behind. “Glad you finally came through for me.” 

You quirk a brow. Right, Jake is the whole reason you're here. If not for mentioning him, at least.

“I finally came through?” You chuckle, your body jolting at the ticklish sensation of his lips brushing the back of your neck. “You knew I was single, why didn’t you call me?” 

You feel a harsher kiss against your neck, and his fingers only travel further down now. 

“Bro code.” He whispers, dipping his fingers between your still naked thighs. “I’m not overstepping if you’re the one asking for it.” He slides his fingers gently back and forth between your legs, trying to work you up. “And you did.” 

You think hard about that. Bro code, overstepping limits, not coming onto someone unless they do first solely because someone must have asked him not to. And you’d think even harder about who that someone might be, but instead your brain is quickly thrown into the morning sex routine Sunghoon must offer to all of his lovers. 

You enjoy it too, the small moments of bliss where you’re not in your head about what you could have possibly done wrong with Jake for you to end up feeling this way. It’s a brief moment of numbness though, feeling his fingers pleasure you gently can only do so much to quiet your thoughts. 

“Are you saying one of your friends had dibs on me or something?” You laugh in a half-joke, arching your back to rub your ass up and against the bigger and warmer man behind you. 

“You could say that, I’m assuming he missed his chance though–” Sunghoon whispers snidely, now satisfied with how you already drip for him and sliding one of his fingers into you. His other hand, being used to hike one of your legs up and against his hip to open you up for him. “You wouldn’t be here doing this if he didn’t.” 

You clench around his finger unintentionally, pretending you don’t know who you’re both referring to. Mostly because there’s no way in hell it’s your best friend, seeing as how he’s acting like you don’t exist outside of platonic friendship with him. Then again, who else could it be? Jay? Heeseung? Fucking Jungwon? As fucking if. 

“I guess he did miss his chance–” You breathe, now allowing yourself to give into the lazy and slow pleasure being offered. “Deeper.” 

And he listens. Sunghoon goes deeper and deeper with one finger, then two, then three, up until you slip his fingers out of you and plead through your body to have more. Deeper still, holding you from behind, plunging in as if to intentionally fuck the confusion out of you. As if to, maybe, prove that Jake isn’t the only man who can please you now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When you eventually find yourself walking through your front door, you do feel better. Sunghoon did have some type of capability to make you feel as desired as Jake did. After all, it’s not often that you sleep over with a man, better yet get fucked again as soon as you wake up with him. 

Even so, you know Jake will be back tomorrow, wanting to hang out yet again as if nothing happened. Thankfully, with Sunghoon around, maybe you can pretend alongside him. Maybe even forget it ever happened. 

You can argue that for the first time, you’re even a bit annoyed when you see his name pop up in your notifications with a call as if you’re not right in the middle of texting Sunghoon. It’s not that you were trying to go back over to his house or anything, but man, he sure is trying to get you to come back for a third round already. 

Maybe you just like when people are eager to please you, or maybe you don’t like to feel as if you’re the one chasing another person. Still, you answer Jake, seemingly releasing all of this resentment you’ve built up for him in an instant. 

“What?” You huff into the phone, feeling it vibrate with another text from Sunghoon and wanting nothing more than to see what his fourth reason would be for you to come over not even two hours after you left. 

“What?” Jake responds in confusion  to you. “What do you mean ‘what’?” 

“I mean what do you want? I’m busy.” You huff again with a roll of your eyes, flopping back on your bed. 

“Oh god, something happened.” Jake groans, though he was simply calling you because he missed your voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“No, not really. Was just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight when you rudely interrupted me.” 

Something is off, Jake can feel it. Your voice has a bite to it, one that feels like you’re mad at him. Not to mention, he knows what you mean when you say you’re trying to find something to do for the night. He tries to reserve his feelings though, despite wanting that something to be him. 

“Oh, I know there’s an event at one of the clubs downtown tonight I think. Jay mentioned it–” He pauses briefly to hear another annoyed breath from you. “You’re not gonna go with him?” 

“Nah,” You wave off dismissively. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Sunghoon.” 

You don’t notice at all the brief and panicked silence for a solid second and a half before Jake reacts.

“Wait, what?” He says quickly after managing to process those words, trying not to sound as panicked as he knows he feels. “Sunghoon? Why?!” 

God, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Sunghoon that day, but his confidence was overflowing and he couldn’t help but boast at the time. It’s come back to shoot him in the dick, knowing full well that Sunghoon has been trying to get you into bed since he fucking met you. Hearing you ask for him in this context is something that makes his blood run cold. 

“Relax, I was with him last night. It’s kind of like, maybe gonna be a normal thing now.” 

You refuse to pick up on Jake’s tone. He had all the time in the world to make you feel something other than confusion, and this is just fucking petty at this point. He clearly doesn’t want to have anything with you, so why in the hell should you just sit around hoping? Waiting? 

“Sunghoon? You want to fuck Sunghoon?” He asks in a lower tone, trying to convince himself that he has to be mishearing you. You can hear him shuffle around and close a door behind him, showing that he doesn’t want his parents to hear him. But the frustration showing blatantly in his voice is somehow…satisfying. 

“I already did. I figured he would show me a good time since no one else can, and he did.” You shrug with slight disobedience. Resentment bubbling up in your gut to the extent that you almost want to grill him for having any type of opinion about it. 

Jake hangs on those words for a second. “Since no one else can.” 

He really thought he was the one who could do it for you. 

“Yeah, but–”  Jake starts, feeling like a child almost in the way he protests despite not being in a position to have a say in who you sleep with. “You know what? Nevermind. Do what you want.” He adds blankly, hanging up before you can get another word in. 

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong because you acted like he was fully capable of doing everything right. Hanging out with him consistently after the fact, not making it weird, flirting with him, asking him to sleep over. 

He wasn’t sure if he should ask you for more or if he should ask you to be his girlfriend first. The whole reason he’s with his parents right now is because he felt the need to run home to his Mom for girl advice. Embarrassing? Yes, but he really wanted to do things right. He cares about you. 

He needed just one single weekend away, and the second he’s gone you’re out fucking other dudes? Fucking Sunghoon? 

By now, that asshole is probably feeling like he’s on top of the world for getting to touch you. Not even he has done what Sunghoon managed to do with you by now and he can’t help but feel pissed about it. 

Whether you’re his or not, Sunghoon never should have been a fucking option. 

So, he calls you right back, pushing back the feeling of how pathetic it seems considering he’s the one who hung up on you. Then, when you don’t pick up, he immediately feels his stomach drop. 

You must be talking to Sunghoon, you must be setting up a time and place to meet with him. And Jake has heard that Sunghoon knows how to fuck. Other people have said he’s good in bed. Surely, if you’ve already been with him once and you’re still wanting to go back to him, those other people weren’t lying. 

To Jake, it feels like he’s losing you to his own friend with each passing second, and it’s weighing so heavy that spamming your phone with calls to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing right now feels like the right thing to do. In fact, it feels like it is the best thing in the world to do. 

He calls again. You don’t answer.

Again.

“What?!” You answer, annoyed. 

“Why would you even want Sunghoon?! Is he really that much better than I am?” He doesn’t think before he says it, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to say it at all. 

It’s his turn to experience that awkward silence because in all fairness, you don’t know how to respond to that. You feel annoyed now, you feel confused and quite frankly, blind sided. Since when did he care? 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You came onto me once and then never followed up.” You dead-pan at yourself in the mirror across your bedroom, speaking into the phone with a voice that seems scolding. “I don’t see why you’re mad that I’m hanging out with Sunghoon. We aren’t dating, Jake.”

“Since when? Who said I didn’t want to do it again?” Jake argues back in a whispered voice, showing you that he still can’t be as loud as he’d like to be. He chooses to ignore that last sentence though, pretending as if it doesn’t strike him in the center of the heart. 

“Nobody! That’s the thing, you haven’t said anything about it. Not that you want to, not that you don’t. You’re just being you and it’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

Pause.

“You’re mad because I didn’t make it weird?” It’s like his brain clicks. 

“Pretending it didn’t happen somehow makes it worse.” You lower your voice, ignoring the string of texts Sunghoon is sending you and listening closely to what Jake might say next. Your heart is racing through this hushed argument, and it feels good to admit that you kept thinking about it, even if he hasn’t.

“I wasn’t pretending that it didn’t happen,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I just wasn't sure what the next step was.”

You’re fucking appalled.

“Jake, I have been flirting with you since it happened because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’re the one who didn’t make any moves, so I figured you wanted it to end there.” You sigh loudly, but somehow feel a bit lighter. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my confidence?”

Jake sighs along with you on the other end of the line. 

“That’s why I was annoyed earlier, and that’s why I’m going to Sunghoon’s tonight.”

“What?” Jake’s voice raises a bit higher. “Still?!” 

It’s the fact that he’s trying to explain himself. Had he known that you were confused by his lack of, um, touching you, he would have done it every day since it happened! Yet, you’re still considering Sunghoon an option? Knife to the heart, honestly. 

Or maybe he’s not being clear enough with you about this. 

You, on the other hand, nod your head as you hum a confirmation to him, smiling and wondering if this conversation will turn into an event that would, perhaps, have you cancel the hook-up with Sunghoon.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You pry.

“You really called him, and now I’m just sitting here in my old room trying to find a way to get to you before he does….again.” An inhale. “ Yes! I’m fucking jealous!” 

You remain silent, trying to pretend that your pettiness isn’t solely to confirm what he seems to be implying to you. Then, an unintentional chuckle leaves your lips. 

“Why are you laughing?!” His voice is raised again, and he doesn’t seem to stop spilling what he needs to say. “I wanted to do that for you for years and you somehow still didn’t know?” He pauses. “I always made it weird between us, what? You thought I treated all of my friends like that?”

You just listen, feeling your heart beat in time with each word he speaks. Strings of sentences like, “I’m going to kick his ass.” and “You thought I’d just eat you out as a friend?! You’re insane.” and “I would have come home last night if you wanted to feel good so badly, why did you have to go see him, of all people?” 

The confirmation of Jake being the friend who forbade Sunghoon from making a move on you is right there, clear as day. 

“Ah, so the Jake I know isn’t the Jake everyone else knows?” You respond, trying to force the tingling feeling in your gut to calm itself. Hearing him be so blatant to you has your heart doing flips, and it’s not an easy task to make it stop.

“Of-fucking-course not!” He rolls his eyes, you can definitely tell. “You had me wrapped around your pinky from day one.”

“And you really thought that, with the way you seemed so uninterested–” You pause, processing his words. “I would have asked you to come home from your parent’s house to get me off? For what? Funsies? You thought I'd be brave enough or selfish enough to ask such a thing?” 

Jake sighs deeply, seemingly fed up with the situation. 

“It wouldn’t be because you are selfish.” He breathes out, almost angrily. “And for the last time, I’m not uninterested. I was just trying to do things right. I don’t just want to fuck you, you know.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell me until weeks after you ate me out?” You smile harder, trying to contain the heat flushing over your cheeks. “Until after I thought I had a pH imbalance and maybe you were just grossed out by me?!” 

“I’m genuinely shocked you didn’t know already. Made me think you weren’t interested enough to like–” He pauses, not wanting to be too telling. “I guess waiting and being polite isn’t really your style. I should have known that though.”

You let him continue, because you can tell he’s simply taking breaths and small pauses to figure out how to express his thoughts to you. 

“You can’t tell me that over the years, you never once noticed how often I stared at you.” He lowers his voice again, softening it to an extent that you actually feel the butterflies fly from your belly to your chest. 

”The fact that I jumped in head first and offered to do that for you? I didn’t think I had to tell you at this point…”He breathes out a chuckle through the line this time. “And for the record, I couldn’t get enough of it. I was just trying to like– I don’t know.”

You listen to him breathe deeply, again. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was in it just for the sex, I guess.”

There. There it is. You’re nearly kicking your feet, feeling him confirm feelings and erase any hint of doubt within you. Despite never truly noticing that he treats you differently compared to his other friends, despite never thinking too hard about the way he looks at you. 

“You acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Jake. I’m not joking. If that’s how you act when you like someone, you shouldn’t blame me for not noticing.”

“I literally tongue fucked you.” He dead-pans. “Friends don’t just do that.”

“I thought we were friends who could do that.” You argue. “But I guess you’re not quite looking to just remain friends, are you?” 

“No,” Jake sighs. “Mom told me I needed to take you out on some extravagant date and express my undying love for you with a handful of red roses, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. After all, this is you.” 

“And this is you.” You confirm. 

“I was going to come home tomorrow and try to lie our way to the restaurant, which I still can, if you want. You kind of fucked up my plan though.” 

You pause at his words, suddenly feeling like shit for not realizing sooner. In your defense though, if he really did like you from day one, you didn’t exactly have a chance to see how he would have acted without feelings. The Jake you know is your best friend, and someone you trusted with everything, you thought he treated everyone as well as he treated you. That’s why, when he didn’t change, you couldn’t read him anymore. 

Then again, all of this could have been fucking avoided if he had just voiced it to you. 

“Romance is dead and it’s your fault.” Jake tries to joke, his soft tone somehow coming out even softer as he waits for some type of response from you. 

“So, are we done fighting?” You ask meekly, tapping your finger against your phone and looking up at the ceiling with a smile that by now, you can’t escape. “Since you’ve just expressed your undying love for me and I very much wouldn’t mind going on a date with you so we can work this out face to face?” 

“Are you still going to fuck Sunghoon?” 

You laugh. 

“Oh yeah, for sure–” To his silence, you immediately take it back. “Oh my god, relax. It’s a joke.” 

“Get better jokes, asshole.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What the fuck?” Jake deadpans into the phone, his heart beating far too fast for his health, but vibing with it anyway because by tomorrow night, he’ll be next to you again. “You seriously had sex with her?!” 

“Hey, she’s the one who called me.” Sunghoon shrugs as he listens. “To be fair, Jake, I did tell her that someone else had dibs on her.”

Jake slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes. 

“You’re such a dick– I told you at least three hundred times that I like her! I don’t have dibs.” He gripes, trying to pretend that he’s not imagining Sunghoon with you, the person he wants the most. 

“Damn right you don’t, because she seemed to have a great t–” 

“Sunghoon, stop. I don’t want to know what happened, but like, stop texting her.” 

Sunghoon’s brow raises in curiosity. 

“Ah, did you finally make a move?”

If there’s anything Jake knows Sunghoon won’t do, it’s go for a woman that is actually unavailable. He has his fun, and he’s not one to turn anyone down if he has an interest in them, bro code be damned. And yeah, he’s still a little pissed at him for hooking up with you…but, it is true, Jake made you feel like he wasn’t even an option in his attempts to be a gentleman. 

Still, boundaries need to be set now. Real boundaries.

“I did, and I would really appreciate it if you back off. I’m trying to make something out of this, you know?”

Sunghoon lightens up, sighing at his loss of a would be fuck-buddy that seemed more promising than some he’s had in the past. 

“Jesus, you’re serious about her aren’t you?” He smirks as he speaks, feeling proud of Jake for finally stepping up for himself. “I mean, I can totally see why. Please excuse me as I mourn that sweet, sweet, pu-” 

“Sunghoon.” Jake warns. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“Relax, jesus.” Sunghoon plays it cool, though he actually is mourning it a little bit. “Good on you though. I’ll back off, don’t worry.” 

Jake rolls his eyes yet again, his love-hate relationship with Sunghoon becoming more fond than ever by this point. Only because the confidence he had in himself before all of this wasn’t entirely where it needed to be. It’s true that he wasn’t exactly a pussy eating god before, nor could he even say he’s amazing at sex but, when it comes to you, he can’t help but be excited. He wants to do it all, be it all for you. 

Never in his life has he eaten pussy like that, and never in your life have you felt a mouth so eager to please between your legs. 

Sunghoon could have been something, but he couldn’t have been Jake, ever. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The day couldn’t go by any slower than it already has. 

Jake comes home tonight, and by home, you mean to your apartment where he doesn’t live. 

Your mind goes in loops on what could possibly happen. Scenarios of him getting cold feet and ignoring that any of this happened at all again. Scenes of him unlocking your door, closing in on you, and kissing you before you can even say “hello”. Images of his hands on you, his mouth on you, what it would feel like if he were to…well, oh.

You snap yourself out of it, every bad scenario in your head gets replaced with one where you’ve got Jake working himself on and inside of you. It’s making you feel hot, insane, and entirely too horny for the proposed date night full of talking that needs to be had first. 

Then you freeze, your hand on the handle of your mug as you wonder a bit too hard. 

What if he doesn’t show up at all? 

You did run off the second he left the city and fuck one of your mutual friends. Arguably, you were equally as bad at communicating with him as he was to you during the past few weeks. Sure, you flirted, but was that even enough when he literally put his tongue inside of you “as a friend”? 

God, he’d have every right to not show up. To move on, to never speak to you again. 

You’ve been so stupid. Both of you have, stumbling together but apart into something neither of you could even begin to navigate. For you? Sex is easy. Feelings though? That’s where it gets complicated. Yet, still, you find yourself more willing than ever to let these feelings roam free if he accepts them at face value. 

Solely because of how shitty it felt when you were trying to pretend that Jake was nothing but a one time thing for his sake. 

And when the time comes, after hours of brooding, getting worked up, and feeling insane, you’re looking like a mess when he knocks on your door. So much for looking good for him. You’re an absolute fucking wreck when you open that door and dead-pan stare at him and his bags. 

“Hi,” He smiles, not quite making eye contact because he really is kind of embarrassed by all of this. “I’m here.” 

You step back from the door, eyes remaining on him. 

“You’re here.” You say quietly, watching him step into your apartment and drop his bags. 

You feel his breath before you hear his voice. So much closer than just moments before, right up against your ear, and his arms wrapping tightly around you. 

“Felt like I was gone for too long–” He whines slightly against you, breathing in a breath and taking in your scent. “Didn’t know I could miss you like that.” 

You fucking melt. Out of all of those scenarios and fantasies in your head, this wasn’t one of them. Which goes to show that Jake is the one person in this world who can surprise you time and time again. You’ve hugged him like this hundreds of times, but this one, oh this one. He feels so close after feeling so fucking far away.

“You were gone for two days,” You smile, nuzzling against him and gripping his waist in your own hug. 

“Two days too long, though.” You feel him smile, that little upturn of his lips pushing his cheek up and against you as he chuckles and pulls back.  “We don’t have a lot of time, but we can still make it to the restaurant if you still want to go? I can shower when we get back.”

You pull back, offering him a small nod and feeling a bit let down. You wanted more, especially after that hug. The fact that he can contain himself right now feels isolating. Are you the only one who has a vibrating brain right now? He really wants to have the conversation at the restaurant? 

He really wants to do this the right way?

You look like shit, but arguably he might think he looks worse considering the long trip back to you. Still, the restaurant is the chosen option to have this conversation, and you’re ready to get it over with so that finally the two of you can take a step forward. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The restaurant is nice. There’s a buzz of conversations surrounding the two of you but most of it feels muffled because the only sound you can truly hear is Jake’s hushed and awkward attempts to get the ball rolling. 

“So, I guess that’s why I went to my parent’s house. It’s embarrassing, I know–” He says before you cut him off. 

“Tell me how you felt the past few weeks when we were together.” You say boldly, wanting so badly to have the confirmation that he really does want this, and that he suffered much like you did.

You watch a fan of rosy tint cross his cheeks as he breaks eye contact with you, looking to the table and then back up at you. 

“Okay, um–” He stiffens a bit, glancing around to make sure no one is looking or listening in. “When we weren’t together, it was a lot easier for me to think, but when we were together, I could only really think about one thing.” He admits, nodding to himself. 

You look at him curiously before you see his eyes light up in panic.

“No! No, no. Not like, sex…” He looks down. “I mean, yeah maybe sex too but mostly I just couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make you want me more than anyone else.” 

Your heart swells at his panicked save, and then the words that follow. 

“I think I already did want you more than anyone else.” You admit back to him. “Even if I didn’t know I had feelings until you did that to me– I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He smiles, reaching over the table as if to ask for your hand. 

“What about you? What did you think about when we were together after that night?” He asks for his own confirmation now. 

“Sex. Mostly, I guess. I felt like no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good again.” You look away, feeling ashamed and seen. “Goddamn, I sound so dramatic.”

Jake snorts, laughing at how he should have expected this but the confidence boost is a happy surprise to him. 

“To be fair though, Jake, I think I had my feelings and my lust for you mixed up.” You continue. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel both of those things every time I see you, or even think of you.”

“Feelings and lust?” He nods with a smile and wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes glistening in the warm lighting of the restaurant. 

You nod in confirmation, side eyeing the waitress who walks over to take down your order. 

Both of you are somehow dissociated outside of each other, there’s no way you’re not because you don’t recall what you ordered, nor what he ordered, and he appears to be feeling much the same. The moment she walks away, he’s continuing. 

“I was really that good, huh?” A smirk from him, and a nod from you. 

“What about right now then? How do you feel when you look at me?” He follows up, looking down at the table. 

“Both of those things.” You dead-pan, squeezing your legs together as you look at him and feel the warmth radiating from even this far away. The confirmation of feelings is enough by itself to have your thoughts in the gutter about him, especially after weeks of wanting him. 

Especially after having to be in this stupid fucking restaurant in the first place.

He quirks a brow before lowering his voice, his eyes drooping a bit. 

“Do you have any fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you?” 

God, there he is. That same bold best friend who originally suggested eating you out in the first place. Not entirely unfounded that he said it, but fuck, your cheeks are searing. 

“Jake, we’re in public.” You warn, knowing damn well that you’ve not been able to think of anything else either, but for the sake of the foundation of this relationship, you want to tame yourself a little bit.

“Since we started hanging out, every fucking time.” He continues, ignoring your warning. “I would get so mad when you’d go to your little hook-ups. Sometimes I even wondered if you did it intentionally to piss me off.” 

Your cheeks are still hot, but now there’s a bit of guilt filling you. 

“You really had no idea how badly I wanted that to be me?” He continues with his streak of confidence, unintentionally dirty talking to you solely because he, genuinely, cannot deny his attraction or his feelings for you by this point. “Even right now, I want nothing more than to have you to myself.”

You pause, the guilt leaving you in an instant as it’s fully replaced with Jake’s eagerness to have you in full, finally. 

“Why–” You sigh, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face from him. “Why are we at this restaurant again?” 

You feel his hand reach back over to you, removing your hands from your face and dipping down to look at you. 

“It’s so fucking hard to contain myself right now. I can admit that.” He whispers, blinking at you. “If you feel satisfied with where we stand, I’d be more than happy to leave this table now and prove everything to you.”

An instant nod from you, and an instant confirmation from Jake. 

You’re both out of the restaurant before a single sip of water, before a single visual inspection of the forgotten food the two of you ordered, and before any doubt could creep in to ruin the electrifying atmosphere you were indulging in with him. 

For Jake, his self control wavers with each passing moment as you sit next to him in the car. You look so calm as he drives as quickly and safely as possible back to your apartment, shaming himself for ever considering the two of you go in the first place. Still, the outcome is somehow more satisfying. Both of you wanting to leave just so you can truly be alone together? He couldn’t ask for a better night. 

Still, your calmness contrasts the way his insides vibrate the closer he gets to your place, and he wonders how the fuck you manage to do it. If you were to simply glance at him at the right moment, you’d see his entire body melt in the fantasies of what the two of you may be willing to do tonight. 

Years worth of pining in his head and heart are bubbling up now. You’re inviting him in, you’re accepting him, you’re wanting him back. 

What he doesn’t know though, is that you are quite literally imagining yourself wrapped in chains to this seat. Why? Because if it weren’t for those astral chains, you’d be on top of him in an instant, reassuring him that if there’s anything in the world you’ve wanted within the past few weeks, it’s him. You’d be apologizing for never taking note of his feelings before, and kissing away all of the moments he wished he could have had with you before, replacing them with very real, firm, hot kisses. 

Thankfully though, you manage to tame the beast from within and somehow, so does he. Up until you get through your apartment door and the electrifying atmosphere sizzles away in an instant. 

You expected to have the confidence to, quite literally, jump on him as soon as your door closed. Instead, you find yourself standing in awe at the entryway. 

Jake, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to have you right this moment, speeding and parking crooked be damned, he will not allow it just yet. 

“Listen,” He reaches out to you, pulling you up and against his chest. “I need to shower before I let myself do anything.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief, noting that the awkwardness came from the fact that Jake’s energy is seeping out of him, lust and worry for possibly not being as clean as he’d like to be for this. 

It feels strange, actually. You can imagine you’ve had many hook-ups with men who wouldn’t even consider a shower before inviting you over. 

“Hurry up then, before I decide to call Sungh-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare make that joke right now,” Jake squeezes you tighter against you, hating himself for constantly bringing up reasons to wait. 

“If we are going to like,” He pauses, struggling to say it out of pure nervousness that you might change your mind. “You know, be exclusive, Sunghoon’s name is forbidden.”

You chuckle against him before shoving him back in a playful way. 

“Deal. Now, can you fucking hurry?” You roll your eyes playfully, internally a little thankful for the short moments you will have to prepare yourself for this. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Damn this shower for feeling so good. Jake could fall asleep under the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been half-hard this entire time and truly fighting with himself on how to approach this situation.

It’s kind of awkward, actually. Knowing exactly what the two of you are about to do but having to wait even for fifteen minutes makes it seem like you both have a scheduled hook up and nothing more. 

It’s not a hook up though. Jake is finally where he’s always wanted to be with you, in your shower priming his body to go absolutely fucking insane on you. Before, when he ate you out, he really was controlling himself. He wanted to do more with you so bad, and now? God…

He’s flushed as he finally makes his way out of the shower, length still stiffening and softening with each thought that passes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without wanting to laugh at how embarrassing he truly is. 

You’d probably laugh too, and he’d love the sound of it. 

Then, he’s faced with a dilemma. 

You, on the other hand, find yourself lying quietly in your bedroom after doing your best to fix the mess of yourself for whatever Jake may offer. Waiting for him, and ultimately wondering what the fuck is taking him so long when you finally hear the bathroom door open.

Faintly, you can smell your shampoo and body wash that he used as you hear him make his way to the living room and not find you. 

Then, you hear him making his way to your room. He doesn’t open the door any further than it already was and instead, stands behind it quietly before muttering out. 

“Um,” He starts, putting his hand on your door and only peeking his head in. “I wasn’t sure if there was a point to putting my clothes on–” 

Fucking pause.

God, he must sound so stupid saying that, especially after looking into your room and seeing you lying against your bed changed into the exact same pajamas you put on the night he initially made a move on you through the guise of friendship. 

Well, now it’s not even a question and he was right to assume that all he needed to do was wrap a towel around his waist and come to you. 

You watch his eyes travel your body curiously, a smile forming on his face.

“If you’re wondering if I put panties on this time too,” You smile, reaching a hand out as if to invite him to open that door and come have at it. “I didn’t.”

That’s all it takes, really, to have him pushing the door open and not-so-calmly making his way to your bed. 

Seeing his naked and damp chest is one thing, but smelling your scent all over him is another, especially when the first thing he does is practically envelop you with his body and plant his lips straight on your own. 

The first real kiss. Despite his lips having been on you before, you melt into it and find yourself forgetting how differently he’s acting now compared to before. He was so confident, so cocky, and now he’s almost docile. Meek. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He leans back to whisper, adjusting his body so that he’s more comfortable and leaning down on one arm while the other holds your cheek. “Can’t believe you let me eat you out before ever letting me actually kiss you.”

Your face heats up at the comment, making you feel more scandalous than you ever truly tried to be. But he’s not wrong, and you regret making him feel like eating you out was the only way to get to your heart.

Strangely though, it was the way to your heart. Him doing that for you practically threw you into the deep end in search for more, from him, specifically. 

“Can’t believe you decided that you should just eat me out rather than admit your feelings for me.” You counter with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against him again and pretending you can’t feel the weight of his length under the loosely knotted towel on his waist. 

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He says through the kisses, quickly losing the ability to speak when you lick against his bottom lip and, ultimately, take control of the act.

He wonders what your mouth could do to him. His entire body reacts to the way your tongue flicks and licks against his own, it takes everything in him to try and control himself from pushing too far too soon– until he realizes that there is no reason to control himself now. 

Never has making out gotten him this turned on, and it’s not a surprise because it’s you. 

He half moans, half chuckles into your kiss when he does it, pressing his hips down and against your thigh much like he did previously to the very mattress he’s got you lying against. 

“There’s so much I want to do,” He finally admits, pulling back from the kiss and hanging his head to feel how his cock reacts to the flesh of your thigh. “Please, let me do all of it.” 

You sigh, somehow feeling a pang of arousal radiate between your legs despite not yet being touched there. The weight of him on you is enough, and all you can do is nod and await the ways he intends to relieve himself with you.

Hours of head, he could give. Even more hours of burying his cock between those pretty lips and watching you return the favor for him. His confidence grows as your body moves under him, waiting, waiting, waiting for what he will do next. 

First, he plants another kiss to you, pressing his hips hard against your thigh with a breathy sigh before moving his lips down, against your neck. 

At the same time, his hands work their way up your loose shirt, cupping one breast in his palm and easily teasing your nipple with his fingers. He works his lips down the center of your clothed chest, down to your stomach, and then up again. His nose nudges your shirt up with each kiss, until his lips replace his fingers and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You’ve never felt so wanted in your life with the way he appears to be savoring you. Leaving his own pleasure neglected once again, his entire focus is on you. You arch your back up a bit, hands shooting to his head and cradling it there against your breast. 

He groans when you scratch against the nape of his neck, wiggling your hips under him and chasing the sensation that his mouth manages to send to your clit. He groans again when your nipple remains firm between his lips, and he begins to nibble. 

And this time, he moans when he manages to trail one of his hands down just to see how much it will take of this to get you wet. He tucks one hand under your shorts, only to find that you’re already dripping, soaking his fingers with a mere single slide up your folds.

“Fuck,” He sighs as if it’s a compliment when he pops his mouth off of you, flicking his head up to look at your already dazed eyes. “Already?” 

You glance away, embarrassed by how badly you want the man who was once your best friend, and is now….more than that. You can feel his fingers graze and gently play around with the heat your body has already released for him, rolling your eyes back each time he pretends he’s going to offer pressure to your clit. 

He’s fucking teasing you, and you know it.

He knows it too, because of fucking course he is. After years of torture, wondering if you’d ever manage to get wet at all with the thought of him, here you are, dripping under him when all he’s done is kiss you and fondle your nipples. 

Briefly, he remembers how needy your hips were when his tongue was seeping into you. He remembers the taste of each thrust you pressed against his face, and the smell of how badly you needed him at the time. 

As used as he was by you that night, he wants nothing more now than to pull those same desperate moans from you, to taste the wet inside of you that no man ever managed to release for you. 

“I feel like I’m going insane,” He finally breathes out, still toying with your folds and keeping an eye on the way your eyes glare back at him. “I want you so fucking bad–” He stutters now, instantly sliding his fingers into you and scooting down on the bed at lightening speed, pressing your loose shorts to the side just to get the taste of you against his lips again.

Your legs instantly shoot over his shoulders, and one of his hands reaches up to hug your thigh against him as his tongue immediately laps at every dip and crease of your cunt. His eyes nearly roll back at being able to experience this again, his fingers holding firm without a single movement just so he can feel your body confirm that you want him just as much. 

The clench around his fingers are enough, and he licks around them only for a moment before returning his lips to your clit and giving you all he’s got. 

All he can feel is your legs tightening around his head, nearly lifting your ass up and off of the bed, all he can hear is his own moans vibrating through him each time he hears you react. 

Arguably, even after that brief moment of teasing from him, feeling his mouth so eager, much like before, sent you straight into a blissed state and made you forget about the restaurant, the shower, the weeks of pining before this. His mouth is so warm, and his vibrating moans sooth your clit through its desperate attempts to beg for more. 

You can’t help the fact that your legs hug his head, or the way your hands shoot down much like before, scratching through his hair before dropping down and spreading yourself open with two fingers solely to expose your clit in full to the assault of his tongue he’s giving you. 

He missed you so much, he missed this so much. Never again will he leave you wondering, from this point forward, you should be well aware that if you so much as pushed him to his knees and lifted a leg over his shoulder, he’d be eating like a fucking king. 

Still, even with his immense love for kissing your pussy until your legs shake, there’s more to be experienced here than just this. His pace slows with the reality of that, and only now does he move his fingers with intent, and he pulls back to see how you’re spreading yourself for him, even as your legs fall from his shoulders.

“Fuck.” He rasps, lips glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and your slick. 

You lend him a drunken smile, nodding slowly as you focus in on the way his fingers scissor you open. Within a blink though, his face is right there hovering above you, staring intently at the way you react to his fingers. 

“You look so good right now, you know that?” He compliments, leaning down again to plant a kiss against you, only pumping his fingers in faster when your kiss appears to be more hungry than his own. “God, I can feel you squeeze my fingers–” 

And it’s true, he’s seeing stars solely because he can feel the clench of your pussy walls pushing his two fingers together, almost pushing against his attempts to scissor you open and curl them into the spot inside he knows you have. He can only imagine how good that would feel if he were to…

His eyes squeeze shut in a drawn out moan at the thought, his own kiss growing more hungry as he releases the towel from his waist and quickens the pace of his fingers inside of you. 

You can feel him press his cock against you, and the weight of it only becomes heavier when his fingers pause inside of you just so he can slip them out and use those same slick-coated digits to hold his length down and against you before he slides it between your lips. Now coating himself in the same wet sensation. 

You listen closely to his moan, knowing that he seems fond of neglecting his own pleasure to the point of doing near-embarrassing things to get it back when he needs it the most. It’s strangled, almost. You can hear him swallow around it when he slides up harshly, bumping your clit and causing your shorts to stretch against the crease of your thigh. 

He seems so…desperate. Yet, he can have anything he wants. 

“Keep it spread open–” He mutters when he feels you try to remove the hand that had been holding your pussy out on display for him. “I want to feel all of it.”

God, you’ve never heard him say something so sexy. Easily you do as he says, now using both hands to hold either side of your pussy open for him, and feeling the underside of his length slide against your hole. 

You let out a pleased sigh, despite your shorts becoming a nuisance at this point. It’s easy to forget you’re still wearing them though, because they only become drenched more and more as the moments pass with Jake.

You can genuinely just assume that his cock must be aching as he does this, leaking all over you. That’s something you don’t mind at all, because the stimulation is far beyond what you could ever ask for. 

“Jake–” You try to speak, only to be cut off by his hand sliding under your head and his lips attaching yet again to you.

There, you can’t help it when you remove your hands and shoot them up to his face. Holding him there, feeling the way his jaw moves when he licks into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get as much of you as he can in this moment. 

His hips fuck forward much like they did into his palm all those weeks ago, and the anticipation of if or when he finally plunges it into you drives you to kiss him just as hard as he does you.

There is nothing but the sound of kissing in the room save for muffled moans from both of you, entirely tangled up together as he does nothing more than grind himself against you. His hand cradling your head and the other still pressing his length down and against you as close as he can manage. Yours, cupping his cheeks as he kisses you, up until you run one hand down to take over for him.

In that moment, with his free and now shaking hand, he pulls back entirely and just looks at you.

He’s out of it, entirely gone from this world as he stares down with his hair drying by the minute from that shower, messy as all hell with darkened hooded eyes. He continues to stare, each thrust against you becoming pointed to the extent that it almost feels like he’s already fucked you for hours. 

And then, you feel it. The weight lifting, your shorts being stretched until they’re sliding down your thighs and off of you, and then the warmth as he adjusts his hips just barely enough to line up with your quivering hole, practically begging for him to stretch you out for the first time. 

His eyes falter only for a moment when he realizes that this is a moment he will never forget. The way you look up at him with glassy and needy eyes, out of breath, seemingly loving him as much as he’s always loved you. 

“Yeah?” He whispers, not breaking eye contact even for a moment. 

“Please.” You mutter out, not fully intending for it to sound so broken.

And as broken as your voice was in that instance, he grows much weaker by it. Dropping his head with a deep sigh, a smile, and then a chuckle.

“You really, really, can’t look at me like that and expect me to be gentle…” He pauses to look at you again. “For your sake, please tell me to slow down.”

You can barely comprehend a word he’s saying when you can feel the head of his cock teasing where you need it the most. 

“Please.” You rasp out again, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing his body forward, ultimately sliding the tip of his length into you yourself. 

“Oh, fuck–” He chokes out before sucking in a breath and letting out a moan at the feeling. His body jerks at the sensation, the sound of your voice, the way you pulse around him. “Fuck, so good.” He continues to mutter, controlling himself for only a few seconds longer just to see if you have the ability to understand that he truly and honestly will not have the ability to go easy on you at this point. 

“Deeper.” You plead, squeezing your legs tighter around him, uncaring of his attempt to control the situation. 

That’s all it takes. Your broken voice already had him shaking, and now he’s giving up any and all control that he could have possibly hoped to have. 

Right there, with your legs hugging his waist, your hands gripping the pillow behind your head, and his hands finding purchase on either side of your shoulders, he sinks himself into you as deep as he can go and feels as if the life is being choked out of him over how fucking good it feels. 

He throws his head back in an erotic and attractive moan of relief, allowing you a glimpse at the expanse of his stretched neck, naked of any marked territory. Still, your vision goes white when the stretch hits you.

So big, so strong on top of you. You can imagine he really could fuck you hard, you hope he doesn’t go gentle on you at all, actually

“Shit, please,” You moan brokenly again, releasing your pillow and gripping his forearms. “Jake, god–” You have no words to describe how good he feels inside of you, you couldn’t begin to fathom trying to explain to him how perfect he is. 

It feels deep, deeper than you ever could have imagined. His length alone should have been enough to tell you that, but you hadn’t yet factored in the girth of it. So heavy inside of you, touching each soft and sensitive surface your pussy has to offer. 

Your body jolts in adjustment, knocking the breath out of you despite him not moving just yet. 

“Shh–” He soothes, not at all actually wanting to hush your cries for him. In fact, he’s simply saying it because he could quite literally release at any moment if you continue to speak and clench him like this. And when he finally looks down at you, he can’t fucking help it.

His hips move at their own volition, and he was right in believing there is no gentle fuck to be had here. He slides out only slightly, with the intent to fuck you as full of him as he can. He wants to stay deep, because you asked, and he wants to keep you feeling stretched around him because he can truly never get over the way you look and sound right now. 

You shake at the feeling of him pressing impossibly deeper into you, keeping his hips flush against you before snapping his hips back more now. A slightly empty feeling inside of you being filled once again within a second. 

His moans sound beautiful, he feels beautiful, and all you can do is stare up at him with watery eyes and a slack jaw, wondering why it took him so long to do this with you.

Wondering why it took you so long to want it at all, when now, you think you could never feel this good with another person again. 

His arms flex in your grasp with each thrust, and his eyes land on each visible part of your body before he weakens his stance and lowers himself to you, hips still fucking you open at a pace that’s only becoming more and more rapid, more and more fucking blinding. 

“Yeah, yeah–” Jake suddenly chimes with out of breath words, kissing you before you can comprehend or respond to those words. “No one has ever reacted like this for me–” He continues, pointing his thrusts harder into you. “Feels so good, so tight around me.” He chokes up at the last few words, stuttering his and picking up a different pace.

This time, those harsh thrusts pull back further, emptying you before slowly pressing into you again. 

“I want you to remember how this feels,” He continues, seemingly rambling against your lips with each slow thrust. “No one will ever fuck you like I will.” 

Your hooded eyes shoot open with arousal at his confident boasting. Those words feel so final, as if it isn’t even a rule, but a logical fact that only the two of you could ever find to be true. 

You can’t even manage a response, and instead moan before tucking your lips up and against his neck, using one hand to grip his hair and skew his head. 

That once naked and markless neck is no more. He is yours, and you’re lucky enough now to know that this is exactly how he wants you to feel. 

“Ahh, you like that?” He questions your reaction to his words, feeling your hips make attempts to meet him halfway with each thrust. “You like when I talk?” He continues to urge your sucking lips to speak out to him, to answer him, to boost his ego just a bit more. 

“So much,” You nearly whimper against his neck, moving your lips to another spot. “Love when you’re confident like this–”

He’s in heaven hearing those words. As if it’s a confirmation that he wasn’t just talking dirty. You both truly take those words and will fuck by them from this point forward. He truly doesn’t want anyone else, and hopefully, you’d never give another person the chance to make an attempt to fuck you the way he does. 

And then the room falls silent again, as if Jake is focused on reminding you with each passing second that he’s never been more sure or right of something in his life. Despite you already believing him, the way his cock pulses inside of you is enough of a reminder even if he had never said it in the first place. 

His pace quickens again, and then slows, and then stutters. Only to fall back into a good rhythm before his entire body starts to shake through the act. 

You wonder if this is it. Is this how his body reacts when he’s about to cum? Is this what his face looks like? Is this what his eyes do? Did his arms strain like this the first time? Did his moans come out as choked and desperate? 

None of that matters, because as quickly as it started, he buries himself into you again and stays in that one spot, shaking and timidly looking down at you. 

“Don’t move, please, don’t move.” He practically begs, losing himself to the way your hips chase the feeling of constant stimulation. “Stop moving.” He pleads again, pulling his chest from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock in place deep within you. 

You watch him, unable to keep your hips still, and he watches you– trying to keep his orgasm under control before seeing your fingers trail down your stomach and to your clit.

There, he loses himself, watching you rub the soft spot just above where his cock stuffs you full. 

“I can’t,” He chokes out, snapping his hips back and allowing himself to get lost in the feeling. “Fuck, I really can’t.” He continues to mutter out, pressing his strings of cum ever deeper inside of you as he feels every muscle in his body tense. 

It feels so sensitive, but he can’t stop moving, feeling his cum fill you up to the point it’s surely being pressed out of you by his desperate length wanting nothing more than to stay inside of you.

You moan through it with him, encouraging him to lose himself inside of you, and he’s so beautiful when he does it. The fact that he does it at all has your body tensing on its own. Teetering on the edge of your own orgasm with the way your fingers almost aggressively chase after the feeling he appears to still be releasing inside of you.

And then, emptiness. You are left empty and dripping, fingers still chasing your release before–

“What the fu–” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue instantly back on you. As if he’s looping back to the beginning of it all, uncaring of tasting himself solely because through it all, he can still taste you. “Jake, Fuck–yes, right there.” You continue to groan when he replaces his tongue against your hole with his fingers, fucking into you as quickly as he can before nudging your fingers away and taking over the chase of your orgasm. 

You’re entirely amazed by how eager he is to pull it from you, and that alone is enough. The desperate ways in which he decided to pleasure you right in this moment, it’s enough.

Your hands instantly reach for his hair, gripping so tightly that you can hear the pained sound he lets out at the sheer force behind it. You very nearly rub his nose in the mess he’s made of you out of the sheer arousal you feel through your orgasm. 

You’re seeing white, feeling his fingers expertly work you open and somehow don’t feel disappointed at all that you didn’t get there before he pulled out of you. You can still feel him dripping out, fingers squelching and sliding through the mixture of both orgasms inside of you. And his tongue, good lord his fucking tongue, licking up every bit and eagerly flicking your clit at a pace much faster than he offered before.

And now, you find your legs nearly kicking him across the room. As soon as the orgasm subsides, your body goes into overdrive with the overwhelming sensitivity between your legs and all he can do is laugh at the way you practically do kick him.

Right off the bed, actually, he tumbles. 

You lay there, staring into space as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality when you see his messy hair and glistening eyes peek from the edge of your bed at you. His shoulders huffing with each deep breath he takes. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” You manage to gasp out, spread eagle and almost completely naked on your bed save for the forgotten shirt that’s still pushed up to your collarbone. 

He makes his way back up to you, pressing your legs together, lowering your shirt, and planting his heavy dead-weight right on top of you. 

A solid ten minutes pass as the two of you lay there in the mess you’ve both created. Heavy breaths turn to easy, balanced breaths together. You can barely hold your eyes open when he finally rolls off of you and right up against your side. 

“Can I ask you something?” He mutters, throat dry and stomach growling embarrassingly loud. 

“Hm?” You hum out, entirely ready to just sleep in the mess.

“Are you always like that?” He questions, a little hint of doubt breaking his confidence. “Like, did Sunghoon see you act like that too?” 

You crack your eyes open and instantly turn to face him. 

“You’re insane if you think Sunghoon is that good. I’ve never used the word ‘please’ in my life.”

Jake glances away, thinking to himself and letting those words sink in.

“Well,” He starts, pausing and feeling that little pit in his stomach return. “That’s a lie because I’ve heard you use your manners at least twice in the years I’ve known you.” 

You smile, loving that the two of you can still be somewhat catty and playful even after the fact that you just realized how insanely in love with him you are. 

“Jake, no one has ever made me act like this in bed.” You try to reassure him. “I don’t think anyone else could, besides you.”

He smiles with a nod, running his hands down your body before pausing at the half dried cum that managed to make its way up to your stomach. And then? He groans. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s insane really, that all it took for you to fall in love with the person you think you were always meant to love was him admitting it. Even more insane that he decided to take the route that involved faux playful head, with no feelings attached despite his feelings being deeply fucking attached. 

Still, the route taken to get to this point, he thinks, is fitting for the two of you. Especially now that he can look at Sunghoon without wanting to strangle him, and he can look at you knowing you’d very much invite him to strangle you, you know, considering the fact that you’re now trying to explore every sexual realm in the fucking universe with him.

Even with the desperate need to have you under him any chance he gets, and the fucking, and the arousal, none of it shines brighter than the small intimate moments he has with you that aren’t weighed down by pining or lust. 

As playful as the two of you are together, there is so much love here. So much love to still be discovered too, and he can’t help but feel excited by it. 

Romance isn’t dead, despite how the two of you tried to fucking butcher it. 

[cravetive]

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗗

✩｡ Pairings: Neighbor!Jungkook x Fem!reader

✩｡ Synopsis: Y/n didn't think testing out a new sex toy would cause so much havoc but no worries, her next-door neighbor Jungkook doesn't mind lending her a bit of assistance.

✩｡Warnings: Smut! cussing, mentions of masturbation, spanking, doggy style, sex in a public place, unprotected sex (sigh), teasing, creampie, rough sex, pinning, sex toys, sweat and other bodily fluids, a bit of exhibitionism i guess (elevators have cameras), sexual frustration, consensual sex, if you're reading this for the plot don't, there is no plot.

✩｡ Authors Note: lord give me one chance, one chance is all i need.

✩｡ Word Count: 5.k

-

“Are you using it right now?”

“Yes, it’s a bit uncomfortable, to be honest.”

“Omg! Are you in public?!”

“I just made a quick run to the convenience store for a few snacks.”

“Oh, you’re brave” Mina, Y/n’s friend spoke through the phone that was pressed between her ear and shoulder. Y/n sighed, grabbing a bottle of water and making her way to the front of the store. “it’s in low mode anyways, it just feels like I’m riding the bus on an unpaved street” Y/n laughed whilst placing her items onto the counter for the cashier to scan.  

“I've never had anyone try it out in public, this is exciting!” Y/n rolled her eyes and scanned her card, grabbing her receipt and bag before stepping out of the convenience store and into the scorching sun of July.

“Relax I’ll be home in like 3 seconds” Y/n huffed, wiping some of the sweat beaming on her forehead. Having been locked in her air-conditioned apartment for the last 2 days had caused her to forget the heat wave that had taken over the city in the last week and it didn’t matter that she was wearing her shortest summer dress because she felt like she was boiling alive.

“Okay, just remember you can change the motions and speed on the app, but I would recommend you start off slow so that you can adjust” Mina spoke urgently on the phone, but Y/n could only focus on her apartment building as it came into view, her flip flops dragging against the pavement as she took hurried steps. “Yes, yes just know that you owe me big time!” Y/n yelled into the phone.

Y/n wasn’t experimental in any aspect of her life, she liked what she liked, and she knew what she didn’t. Her life was simple, boring as Mina would describe it, but she preferred it that way, it had worked out for her, and she didn’t see the need to stray from it. which had only made her that much more apprehensive when Mina came to her with the proposition of testing out one of the new sex toys her company was developing.

Y/n didn’t like the idea at all, and she had even readied herself to decline but upon noticing the desperation in Mina’s eyes that late afternoon she just couldn’t bring herself to say no. Y/n first-handedly witnessed how hard Mina had worked on this project and she couldn’t be the reason behind its failure which had led her to reluctantly accept. It had only taken 4 days for the package to be delivered to her front door, the small box containing the pink bullet vibrator Mina had designed which was now nestled between her legs.

“I will kiss the ground you walk on after this!” Mina promised on the other end of the call which caused Y/n to laugh as she stepped into her building. her feet shuffled as she leaned forward to tap on the elevator button and She subconsciously pressed her legs together as she stood waiting for the doors to open, the low vibrations from the toy leaving her a bit out of breath.

“Alright, I’ll call you back later on” Y/n huffed which caused Mina to giggle on the other end.

“Hot and bothered already?” Mina joked which caused Y/n’s already flushed cheeks to deepen in color.

“Shut up, it’s the heat” Y/n yelled as she watched the elevator doors open.

“sureeeee” Mina teased which led Y/n to end the call without further explanation.

She stepped into the small space and pressed the button to her floor before standing all the way back into the corner, her back pressed into the mirrored wall behind her. Y/n bit her bottom lip as she watched the elevator doors close slowly. she didn’t understand the buzz behind these sex toys or this market, the bullet wasn’t even doing anything to stimulate her and if she was honest, the vibration alone was starting to irritate her.

Y/n was sure her hand could do a better job.

“Hold it!” a voice shouted which caused Y/n to snap out of her frustrated trance, she reached forward and stopped the doors from shutting. The voice’s owner rushed inside, and Y/n took in his flustered appearance as he turned back to thank her. She recognized him as the man who lived 2 doors away from her and was notoriously known for his loud parties and for the woman who came and went from his apartment. It had been more than a few times she had found herself knocking on his door at 3 am due to the loud music.

And if it wasn’t for the fact that the guy was easy on the eyes she probably would’ve already complained to management.

 His name is Chun-woo? Jungkook? Something like that she thought.

Y/n offered him a small and awkward smile before pressing herself against the wall once again. She rarely ever interacted with any of the residents in the building and today would not be the exception. She was already hot and sweaty and all she wanted to do was to get to her cool air-conditioned apartment and binge on her delicious snacks.

“It’s really hot outside” the man commented, tapping on the button that Y/n had already pressed earlier. She dragged her eyes over to his back and hummed, nodding her head in agreement.

“you’re from apartment 902 right?” He glanced back at her, and she noticed the piercing that wrapped around the end of his bottom lip, she had never stood as close to him to notice it before and for some reason it only made him appear that much more handsome.

“Yeah” she smiled, squirming in the small space in which she stood.

Within the silence that soon overtook the small elevator, she could hear the way the man struggled to catch his breath, having fallen victim to the heat wave outside. His long black hair had stuck to the dampened skin of his forehead and his broad shoulders rose and fell as the elevator began to ascend.

Y/n tried to focus her eyes on the floor beneath her and not on the man who stood there with his back now turned to her but ever so often she would find herself staring at the white loose fitted t-shirt he wore, drenched with his sweat. She also tried to stop herself from biting down on her bottom lip while she noticed the muscles that pressed from the thin material around his shoulders while subconsciously rubbing her legs together.

It was rude to stare, she knew that, but the elevator was so crammed there were only so many alternative places she could look, and he was so tall, so broad and his tattooed arm called for her attention, the intricate colors and patterns leaving her in a trance…she blinked quickly, her cheeks turning crimson from the thoughts flooding through her mind.

She opted to stare at the ceiling instead, noticing the way the bright lights would flicker subtly as the elevator continued to climb levels, and then suddenly there came a pulsation from between her legs, one that was probably already there but she hadn’t been able to notice before. Her eyes widened in horror as her mind registered the cause and her hand reached for her phone in urgency as the small vibrations from the small toy caused a faint sound inside the compact space.

“Do you hear that?” Jungkook spoke, turning to look at a very disheveled Y/n, she looked back to him in pure embarrassment, her fingers frantically searching for the app her best friend had downloaded onto her phone. 

“Mhm? Ah No, I think it’s the elevator” she giggled nervously and Jungkook nodded, biting down on his lip and turning to face the elevator doors once again.

Y/n had forgotten all about the small object that lowly vibrated inside of her, which was now causing her clit to pulsate painfully under her black thong. Her hands shook as she pressed on the pink icon shining through her screen, and her eyes scanned the app quickly trying to find the off button on the small evil little thing stuck inside her pussy.

“fuck” she breathed as sweat beads began to form on her skin.

The panic running through her body didn’t allow her to focus on the small words in front of her, no matter how hard she squinted. Her fingers continued to urgently press against random buttons, trying to shut off the damn thing but all she had accomplished was for it to change motions, going from a light vibration to full-on pumping. She covered her mouth in shock at the new movement and gripped the handrailing on her side for support.

“how the fuck- “she groaned.

“What was that?” Jungkook asked, looking at her through the reflection on the doors and for a moment she loathed how attentive this man was.

Y/n could only shake her head, her hand trembling against her phone while she tried to overpower the sensation taking over her body.

She had underestimated the damn thing, thinking all would be good if she kept it at a low tempo, who even goes to the store with a sex toy in their pussy? She cursed herself for the irrational idea.

She stared at the screen in concentration, soon finding the pulse button and beginning to tap on it frantically but the thing wouldn’t budge and soon she felt the speed increase. Her mouth widened in horror; her eyes fluttered closed as the vibrations rocked through her body in waves and soon her breaths became extremely uneven. She hoped and prayed her neighbor wouldn’t notice but Jungkook watched from the distorted reflection in front of him at how much she struggled to stay still.

She was sure the universe hated her, she must have been paying for some karmic event she had forgotten about because there was no way in hell this was happening to her.

Suddenly almost as if in coordination, the elevator began to tremble underneath her feet and then her eyes opened wide, was this a figment of her imagination? Was this a silly joke being played on her by the gods? Was this punishment for experimenting with her sex life?

The elevator shook uncontrollably causing Y/n to lose grip of the railing, she fell onto the floor with a loud thud, her bag of snacks ripping open and spilling its contents on the floor. The lights above her flickered on and off and then everything stopped.

Her heart, the rocking of the floor, her brain, and even the elevator came to an abrupt halt but not the vibrations between her legs, it was the only thing that remained as her body squirmed on the floor from the pulsations erupting from her clit.  

“What the fuck” Jungkook muttered as he held onto one of the railings, his arms strained with veins running under the skin as he was too shaken by the sudden tremble.

“Did we just have an earthquake?” he exclaimed while his eyes trailed to the spot where Y/n once stood but she was no longer there and then his eyes trailed down, where he found Y/n thrown across the floor along with her snacks. Jungkook let go of the railing and reached for her limp body in an attempt to help her.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, taking a step towards her but Y/n squirmed, backing into the wall behind her.

“Hey, relax” he spoke, his voice but a whisper as he grabbed onto her arm and lifted her off from the floor. She whimpered as he brought her back onto her feet, her hands holding onto his forearms for support.

“I think we’re stuck” he concluded, unable to feel the motion of the elevator beneath his feet. Y/n didn’t say a word, afraid that her attempts at speaking would demonstrate the utter pleasure she was in, and she was mortified. Jungkook noticed the way she slightly trembled underneath his touch, her eyes looking up at his in fear and then an urgency to calm her came over him.

“don’t worry, we can just call someone to help us” he removed his eyes from the agitated woman and scanned the panel at the side of the door, reaching to tap on the red button at the very end. Y/n could only focus on 2 things, the wetness that soon pooled through the thin fabric of her panties and the feeling of his hand on her arm.

His hands were big and soft, and she could feel the small callouses on his palm pressing against her skin. She had to get out of this situation and quickly, she could feel the pressure building in her gut and it was familiar to the one she always got when pleasuring herself during late nights.

She was going to come.

She should’ve been focused on the elevator, on trying to get out of the cramped space, and not on coming undone in front of her neighbor from 2 doors down while he held her. She pushed aside her current desires and removed her eyes from Jungkook's hand on her arm. She carefully scanned the floor for her cell phone and once in her view, she bent down to collect it, her hand fumbling with the device as she picked it up from the floor.

When she turned it over, her heart plummeted. The screen had cracked completely, a few pieces of glass missing, and the screen blinked in different colors in front of her. at that very moment, she wished the elevator would plummet down to her death, she gasped for air as the realization hit her that the only other option she had was to remove the little bullet herself, but she couldn’t, she wouldn’t.

What would her neighbor think? She would have to move from the building entirely to escape from the humiliation alone. What would she even say? oh, hey yeah hold on a minute let me remove my SEX TOY from my vagina…she was mortified.

Her attention was drawn back to the elevator in which she stood as a voice appeared from within the small speaker inside the panel and her heart skipped a beat at the sudden relief that someone would come to help her leave this hellish predicament.

“Sun tower, how can we help you?”

“Uh yea, listen we’re stuck in the elevator” Jungkook spoke his hand reaching to wipe away some of the sweat forming on his face.

“Oh yes sir, sorry about that the building has lost power due to the heat but no worries we are working on the issue, and the elevator should be up and running in no time” Y/n groaned in frustration, deciding it would be best to move away from Jungkook’s touch entirely and found her place back to the corner of the elevator.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Jungkook sighed, growing frustrated with the entire situation.

“Mhmm, it should take about an hour” the person informed.  Y/n jolted in surprise, An hour!? Y/n wouldn’t be able to hold off for an hour. Her legs were trembling, and her heart was beating abnormally fast against her chest. She knew her body and she had a good 5 minutes at best.  She ran to the speaker, attempting to focus on controlling her body as she screamed into it in desperation.

“No sir” she moaned, her teeth coming down to bite down harshly on her lips as she attempted to contain herself “You don’t understand I need to get out of here!” her hands held onto the elevator panel for dear life, and she was almost at the verge of tears. “Sorry ma’am we are doing everything we can” Her breaths were uneven as she retracted from the wall, her hands falling by her sides in defeat.

Jungkook noticed the way she struggled to breathe, her chest heaving as she attempted to bring oxygen to her lungs and his eyes squinted in suspicion.

“Hey, are you okay” he asked again, taking a few steps towards her but Y/n raised her hands, her stare darkened and blurred. “Please just stay on that side” she panted, her legs pressing together once again as she battled with another moan that sat on her tongue.

“Are you claustrophobic?” Jungkook asked and oh how Y/n wished that was the reason her body convulsed in the way it did now, her extremities shaking at the feeling of the sex toy vibrating inside of her.

“I-i” she whimpered, attempting to form words but her brain was too consumed by the pumping between her legs, her hands reaching to force her hips from buckling at the feeling. She promised herself she would never speak to Mina again, this was all her fault, she didn’t even want to do this and now she was masturbating in front of this complete stranger. She leaned over and her mouth fell wide open, a loud yelp falling from within.

“woah” Jungkook rushed to her side, his hands reaching to give her support but that only caused her to shiver, the stimulation of both the toy and the man holding her throwing her into complete disarray.

“What is that buzzing sound?” Jungkook asked again, his eyes falling on the floor in an attempt to find the source, but he was met with bags of chips and bottles of water. He focused his hearing on the sound, it was faint, but it was there, and it was driving him crazy. He followed the sound and once his eyes reached the exposed skin of Y/n legs, he looked up into her eyes in surprise.

She looked back at him in embarrassment, her face reddened in shame as sweat trickled down her forehead. She didn’t have the energy to pretend anymore or to try to explain how she wasn’t a sex addict of some sort, she could no longer control what was happening, deciding that she was no match against the orgasm that would soon rock through her.

“Are you? - “his eyes looked into hers and a moan escaped her lips in response. His body tensed at the realization, but he couldn’t take his eyes off hers, entranced by the way she trembled underneath his hands. “Is that?” he gulped looking back down to her shaking legs.

“ah fuck” Y/n moaned, burying her face into his chest, the action causing Jungkook’s heart to leap out of its position. he should’ve been focusing on the predicament they were in, how it would take an hour for the apartment to get them out of there, how hot it had gotten in the cramped space, but he could only think about the girl who was coming undone in his arms, soft pants and moans erupting from her lips into his chest.

“My phone” she whimpered “Ah my phone is broken” She gripped his arms trying to regain control of her body but it was no use, she had been pushed past her limit and she could feel her arousal drip from between her legs.

Jungkook couldn’t ignore the way her whimpers caused goosebumps on his skin, the way her soft moans called upon his member to rise and press against the fabric of his underwear. It was wrong and he knew it, she was vulnerable and unraveling in front of him, but he couldn’t fight it, he was salivating at the thought of what her pussy would look like underneath the skirt of her dress, he imagined it glistening with her juices as the toy moved inside of her and his dick quivered underneath the constraints of his clothes.

“Can I-? “He whispered his half-lidded eyes glancing into hers with lust and desperation.

“Can I help you?” Jungkook gulped, his body tensing at the question. He wouldn’t be surprised if she pushed him back and screamed at him, in under different circumstances he probably wouldn’t have been so upfront, but they had an hour to kill and it almost pained him to see her like this, the toy not being able to assist her in the way he knew he could.

It took a moment too long for Y/n to realize what he was asking, it was not like she was even in the right state of mind to think over anything at that moment yet, she nodded her head miserably, her eyes shutting as another wave of pleasure ran through her body whilst she permitted him to assist her.

“Shhh don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” Jungkook whispered into her ear which lured a moan out of her lips.

He moved in front of her, and his eager mouth found hers, their lips melting as they slid against each other, Jungkook felt the warmth of her skin as she pressed her body into his and his hands snaked along the fabric of her short dress. She was so complaint, so willing and it was driving him over the edge. He responded by pressing his body against hers and she soon felt Jungkook’s prominent boner against her lower belly.

She wondered how long he had been that hard, how long was he pondering if he could fuck her…Y/n wasn’t like this, she didn’t think about these things, and she also wasn’t often so eager to fuck a stranger in the elevator. She couldn’t control herself; she needed relief, and she needed it fast.

“mm gonna take it out” Jungkook dragged his lips away from hers with a hum and trailed his fingers down to the hem of her dress. Y/n whimpered as he teased her, his fingers hovering over the skin of her thighs which were tightly pressed together in an attempt to stop her wetness from dripping down her legs.

“Is that okay?” Jungkook whispered, staring back into her eyes with hunger and she was sure that look alone was going to have her spazzing in a short moment.

He guided his hand past her thighs, his fingers brushing by the hem of her panties and hooking his fingers along them, Y/n threw her head back in pleasure at the intrusion, her legs shaking beneath her as he played with the lace material that was between his digits.

“p-please” she begged, her body trembling from the mere anticipation.

Jungkook smirked at the sight before him, he loved the control he had, loved the fact that she needed him. he unhooked his fingers and dipped his hand inside her panties, turning it over so that his palm was now facing her sensitive clit and applied just enough pressure to make her squirm.

“Fuck, you’re wet” Jungkook hissed, his lips finding shelter on the exposed skin of her neck.

“p-please” Y/n whimpered, unable to repress the longing from between her legs.

Jungkook dipped his hand down further, finding the toy embedded between her warm walls, and groaned at the feeling of her juices coating his fingers as he slowly extracted the toy from its rightful home. The pink little object vibrated against his hand, and he chuckled lowly at the feeling, Y/n sighed in relief, perhaps thinking that was the end of her torment.

Her pussy pulsated sorely, her mind clouded by the impending climax that pressed down on her gut and she needed it, she needed it badly. She pulled Jungkook closer and crashed her mouth into his with eagerness. She would often hear the screams of pleasure that poured out of Jungkook’s apartment when she walked past his door and right now, she needed him to help her in the same way.

Y/n reached for the strings of his sweatpants and quickly undid the knot there, pulling them down from his waist and then dipping her hand into his underwear where she found his rock-hard cock, painfully quivering against the material. Jungkook groaned into her mouth, his body lurching forward at the sensation of her warm hand stroking him under his Calvin Kleins.

“fuck” he muttered as he pulled away from her kiss, his eyes fluttering close.

“I want to fuck you so bad” he groaned, his hands reaching to caress her breasts through the fabric of her dress.

“Then fuck me” Y/n moaned, and it didn’t take more than a second for Jungkook to turn her around and press her against the mirror of the elevator, his hands moving quickly to pull down her black thong and throwing it across the floor. He parted her legs and Y/n watched from the reflection as he licked his lips in admiration.

She didn’t know what she had gotten herself into and she sure as hell wasn’t prepared but she didn’t care, she needed his cock inside of her walls and that’s all she could think about.

Jungkook pushed down his underwear, exposing his cock as he gave it a few more pumps before aligning himself to her welcoming pussy. He watched her arousal drip from her core, and he whimpered at the sight. it was all that he had expected and more, he slowly dragged the tip of his cock against her wet folds which caused Y/n to yelp, her hands reaching to grip the handrails for support.

They moaned in unison as he entered her walls, her legs bucking as he began to move himself inside of her. Jungkook moved slowly, patiently waiting for her to adjust to his length but the feeling of her walls gripping him tightly like his dick was meant to be there was urging him to lose control and it didn’t help that he had a full view of her ass while his dick retracted from her pussy ever so slightly.

“f-fuck me harder” she moaned, and Y/n was sure she had never used those words before, but it was all the instructions Jungkook needed to pick up his pace. He began to thrust roughly inside of her, his hands coming down to hold her hips in place, keeping her from moving away as he pounded into her. Y/n leaned her head against the mirror, her mouth wide open as whimpers and moans fell from it.

The small elevator was soon filled with the symphony of moans and skin clashing together, Y/n could feel a burning sensation building as Jungkook kept his tempo, his black locks hanging over his face as he continued to ram into her. his hand came down quickly against her ass cheek, leaving a red imprint there and Y/n screamed in excitement.

“look how good you’re taking it” Jungkook moaned as he watched his wet cock retract and enter into her pussy over and over again. he reached underneath where their bodies remained interlinked and pressed the vibrating bullet that was still in his hand against her clit. Y/n yelped; her eyes fluttering shut at the sudden action.

“Come on, be a good girl, you know you can take it” he hummed his eyes taking in the way he was completely destroying her. He removed his other hand from her hip and reached to grab her arms, pulling them behind her back and pinning them tightly together on her lower back. Y/n shrieked in pleasure, sweat dripping down the sides of her face.

Jungkook moved his hips skillfully as he fucked into her, his eyes remaining on the view of her ass trembling as his cock glistened with her juices. It was beautiful and it only made his cock pulse with anticipation. He bit down on his lip as groans poured from his chest. never in a million years did he ever think he would be fucking his neighbor but never in a million years did he ever want to stop.

Y/n felt her clit vibrate against the toy, the nerves there buzzing with enjoyment. Her arousal dripped from between her legs onto the silicone material and down Jungkook’s hand, but he kept it pressed there while he hammered into her. She didn’t know if she liked it rough but whatever it was, he was doing, she wanted him to keep going.  

“Come for me baby” he moaned, licking his lips as if he was tasting her juices in his mouth. “I know how badly you want to come” his hand came down harshly against her ass cheek again and Y/n responded with a yelp. Y/n was bent over, her tits flowing past her dress and her hair a mess, but she could only focus on the feeling of Jungkook’s balls slapping against her clit, the bullet that worked hard to keep up with Jungkook’s thrusts, and the way this man was fucking her into oblivion.

It felt good, fuck that, it felt amazing.

Jungkook plunged into her pussy with such need, with such desire that she was sure he was close to his climax as well. Y/n’s walls clenched around his cock, urging him to come undone inside of her and Jungkook groaned loudly, his hips beginning to move with a mind of their own as he searched for his own relief.

“Ah'm gonna come” Y/n yelled, her legs giving out from under her as they began to tremble, but Jungkook held her, and gave her the support she needed. He pressed her against the mirror and continued his pace, his eyes trailing to the reflection in front of them.

“Look at us baby, look how good you look while I fuck into you” he whispered into Y/n’s ear, his eyes falling on her hooded eyes and reddened cheeks. Her walls were tight and warm, and he knew he wouldn’t last long, his hand fell on her hip once more, gripping it there while he continued to drive into her quickly. Y/n couldn’t take her eyes from his strained arms, the way his veins stuck out from underneath the skin as he gave her his all, it was almost poetic and that’s all it took for her to reach the peak, her body shuddering against the wall and Jungkook’s chest. Y/n couldn’t hear anything, her eyes falling tightly shut as her orgasm rippled through her body. Her senses were completely gone as she tried to control herself and then there was a sudden warmness dripping from her core, it dripped down her legs and onto the floor.

“Fuck, you squirted baby” Jungkook groaned, his hips buckled and with one last hard thrust, he came into her quenched walls. He let out a trail of curse words Y/n couldn’t make out, too stuck on the way she had unraveled.

She had never felt something so euphoric, and she felt guilty about it.

Jungkook removed the toy that had remained pressed against her clit and threw it on the floor beside them. the bullet buzzed and jolted on the floor before turning off. Y/n blinked her eyes open and stared at the floor in shock, the little fucking thing had finally given out after tormenting her for so long, but she was too high off her orgasm, unable to find any other emotion but relief.

She turned over and looked up at Jungkook, his face was flushed just like hers and sweat dripped from his forehead as he adjusted his dick back in his sweats, a small smirk appearing on his face once he glanced back at her. He reached down to grab her thong and assisted her with slipping it back up her legs, his stare remaining on her. He took in how her chest rose and fell with each harsh breath she took. His fingers glided upward against the sides of her legs as he brought her panties back, his hands landing on the sides of her hips before grabbing the hem of her dress and sliding the fabric down to its rightful place.

Y/n was beyond embarrassed and sore, she didn’t know what to say to the man who had just fucked her literally senseless. Thank You? no that was fucking ridiculous. She reached for her bottle of water and extended her arm out to Jungkook, offering him some refreshment, it was the best she could do given the circumstances.

“Here, drink some” she smiled while Jungkook reached for the bottle, removing the cap and bringing it to his lips, taking a large gulp.

“don’t use those stupid toys anymore, next time just knock on my door” Jungkook muttered, passing her the bottle. Y/n nodded biting down on her lip before taking a drink herself.

“Hello! Is everyone okay? we are coming in to get you out” a voice yelled from outside the elevator doors. They both giggled at each other before innocently standing side by side waiting to be freed from the confined space.  

© 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Love Me Again

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut

Exes to lovers - this was requested so I hope you like it!!

To be completely honest, Lando doesn't even know what happened that night one year ago. He knows very well that he drank too much, got drunk like never before and that the next day he lost you.

You came to his apartment and found a hair band in the bathroom that wasn't yours. Lando knew whose hair tie it was, but he tried to hide it from you and convince you that it was yours. Of course with that, he only made things worse. The fact that he decided to lie about it hurt you even more.

You threatened to leave him immediately if he didn't tell you what happened the night before and who spent the night in his apartment. It didn't take long for Lando to break down and tearfully tell you that one of his girl friends spent the night at his place after going out. The morning after, he barely remembered anything, but he could have sworn that he hadn't even kissed her, let alone slept with her.

His only fault was that he brought her with him to the apartment and let her sleep there, but even that was more than enough for you to break your heart into a thousand pieces.

You knew which female friend it was. You never even liked her and even though Lando always told you that you had no reason to be jealous, it annoyed you that she was throwing herself at him every chance she got when the two of you were together.

She was too close to him for your liking and then when you heard that she was the one who slept over at his place that night when he was dead drunk, it was over for you.

Lando cried, despaired, begged you to forgive him for months, trying to convince you that for him there was only you, but you couldn't get over your pride and forgive him. In the end, you even believed him that maybe there really wasn't anything between the two of them, but the trust was broken between the two of you and it couldn't be fixed anymore.

Since you two were together for two and a half years before you broke up, you were very close to his family. They adored you and considered you a member of the family. They couldn't believe that you broke up, even they begged you to forgive him, but even though you decided not to, you still remained on good terms with them and continued to hang out from time to time.

And just like that you found yourself on a huge luxury yacht celebrating Mila's third (idk how old is she??) birthday together with Lando and his family. It was a three-day celebration in the small circle of family and for the sake of that you decided to remain calm and behave normally around Lando.

It wasn't easy for you to be so close to him yet so far away. It was even worse for him, but he enjoyed having you around. Of course he tried in every way to reach you, approach you, talk to you, he did everything just to get your attention. From time to time he would succeed, you would find it funny how he tried everything, so you would give in and engage into a conversation with him.

On the last night, everyone went to bed pretty early because they were exhausted from celebrating, swimming and sunbathing for the past three days, but you weren't so exhausted, so you decided to stay in the lounge area of ​​the yacht and be with yourself for a while. The sky was beautiful, full of shining stars and the feeling was so peaceful. You closed your eyes for a moment, but not for long because you were soon startled by none other than Lando's voice.

"You decided to sleep under the sky tonight?" He asked making himself comfortable on the sofa next to you.

"No, I was just enjoying looking at it."

"With your eyes closed?" He mocked.

"What else do you want other than to disturb my peace?" You roll your eyes sitting up from the lying position.

"I was very hot, so I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come here to the pool to cool off" He says looking at the pool in front of you.

"It's like" You take a look at your phone to check the time. "Almost 1 a.m. and you're going to get in the pool now?"

"Yeah, wanna join me?" He smirks.

"No, thank you." You laugh rolling your eyes at him again.

He gets up from the sofa and begins to remove his shorts, leaving only his boxers on. You were a little embarrassed and you didn't expect him to start undressing in front of you, so you cleared your throat and looked away.

"C'mon, it's nothing you haven't seen before, y/n" He mocks seeing how flushed your cheeks got.

"I'm going to my room, you have fun" You say getting up and fixing your oversized t-shirt that served as your night gown.

"No, come on, stay, keep me company." He pleaded before stepping into the pool. "Please?"

It didn't take long for him to persuade you to stay, because you secretly wanted to, you just didn't want to admit it so you sat down on the edge of the pool dipping your feet into the water as you watched him slowly threw himself in. Diving under the water he swam closer to you.

"You enjoying yourself?" You ask paddling your feet.

"It would be even better if you jumped in with me" He says placing his hands on the edge on either side of you.

"Not a chance" You resist pushing him a little with your feet. He chuckles biting his lip and taking your foot in his hand pulling you to himself a little.

"Lando, don't you dare" You warn him when you feel yourself slide down a little.

"You're not wearing any shorts?" He asks tilting his head to the side to peek under your t-shirt. You gasp quickly closing your legs and pulling your shirt down.

"You're so inappropriate, get away from me" You push his chest with your feet pushing him away from yourself only for to swim back to you again.

"Did you have any fun these past three days?" He asked curiously.

"I did, I have always enjoyed spending time with your family. It was good to see everyone again."

"Even me?"

You stop and sigh softly at his question not wanting to look him in the eye. it still hurts, stings. You'd be lying if you said you weren't glad to see him. You still love him after all, but you're still not sure if you want to forgive him.

"I'd rather not answer that"

He can't hide the hurt look in his eyes after your statement, but he also doesn't want to push you away from him by bringing certain topics up again.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but I had a talk with Mila today and she told me that I am all you talk about. She says it's getting too much even for her to listen to you" Lando being Lando, of course, turns everything into a joke just to lighten the mood. You can't help but burst out laughing at the nonsense that he was saying just to say something.

"There we go, that's the laugh I wanted to hear" You blush at his caring words hiding your face in your shoulder. He takes a risk and places his hands over your knees slowly pulling them apart to stand between them and you surprise both of you when you let him.

"Lando.." You sigh hesitantly when he slowly puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him.

"Please, let me" Before you could even ask him let you what?, he pulled you down into the pool with him. You gasped and your skin crawled as the slightly cold water soaked your t-shirt making it clung to your body.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" You were breathing rapidly trying to grab the edge to get out, but Lando pulled you by your waist closer to his body.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay"

"You're completely crazy" Your mouth complains, but your body responds differently to his touch especially when he moves one of his hands from your hip to your leg making them wrap around his torso.

"That's better" He says quietly glancing at your lips. You have to admit you feel a little uncomfortable, especially with his lips less than two centimeters away from yours. You haven't been this physically close to each other in over a year and you've almost forgotten what it feels like to feel his skin on yours. "It's just me" He whispers and it somehow calms you down when you remember that it's Lando, your Lando.

"Lando, you can't do this.." You say, but wrap your arms around his neck hiding your gaze in the crook of his neck. Your gesture encourages him so he hugs you tighter and gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Baby, I miss you so much" Your heart trembles at his choice of words. "I'm losing my mind without you" His voice breaks when you look at him and he moves your hair out of your face. Your fingers make gentle circular motions over the back of his head as you press your foreheads together.

"I swear only hope that one day you'll love me again keeps me sane" He continues.

"I've never even stopped" You quietly confess.

Even if he tried, he couldn't describe the feeling of hearing that from your mouth. He felt as if he had come alive again after such a long time.

He couldn't hold back anymore, everything in him was dying to feel you, to kiss you so he crashed his lips against yours and kissed you the way you kiss a person you love more than your life, but haven't been able to touch in more than a year.

You didn't even think about resisting anymore, you gave in and kissed him back with the same force. He walked with your legs still wrapped around him to the edge of the pool pressing against you with your back against it. His hands quickly slipped under your shirt exploring your body again after so long enjoying the sound of your moans.

"Please..please tell me that no one..has touched you..no one but me" His voice was quivering as he tried to get the question out to which he wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer to.

Lando was your first. First in everything basically. And he was so proud of it. He loved your innocence and the fact that no one had ever made you feel the way he did. You were all his and that's why he had a particularly strong protective feeling towards you. And he probably would lose his mind if he heard that someone else had touched something that only belonged to him.

"No one but you" You panted making him go feral.

His hands went under your butt gripping it before his fingertips moved your panties aside. He grinded his crotch into yours nibbling at the skin of your neck.

"Lan.." You moaned wanting more, but hating to ask for it. Luckily he knows your body like the back of his hand and knows what you need very well so he slipped his middle finger inside of you. One was soon replaced by two making you throw your head back giving him full access to bite and suck on your neck.

"Fuck.." He hissed as the aching feeling in his cock kicked in desperately needing to be touched. "Baby, I need to feel you or else I'm going to explode" He grunts.

"Let's get out of the pool, yeah? We can't fuck in here"

He lifted you up from the water sitting you onto the edge before getting out of the pool himself. You took off your wet shirt leaving yourself only in soaked panties and a bra. He looked you in from head to toe before pulling you to him and laying you down on the sofa hovering over you.

As he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung off you looked down at him with a slight concern in your gaze and he noticed it.

"What, baby? Is everything okay?" He asked leaning down to kiss you caressing your cheek.

"Yeah, it's just..it's been a while.." His gaze softened and he smiled pressing a kiss to your forehead to calm you down.

"We'll take it slow, okay?" He assured you. He pulled down your bra taking your tits out and attaching his lips around your nipples and with every passing second of him doing so you were getting wetter and wetter. He then took his cock in his hand rubbing his tip over your pussy up and down a few times hissing at the sensation.

He stopped at the center and felt you getting nervous as your breathing quickened. "It's alright, baby, I know you want this, I can feel how wet you are. I'll go slow, I promise."

He slowly pushed the tip in planting kisses along your jawline to distract you from the pain. He pushed a little further and you squeezed your eyes whimpering and holding your hands against his chest.

"It hurts Lan, it's too big.." You cried out trying to close your legs so he put his hand on your cheek gently caressing it. It took everything in him not to cum right away at you complimenting his length.

"Shh, I know, baby, but you have to let me in okay? We'll make it fit, yeah? Like we always used to" He cooed you pushing your legs further apart. "Just a little bit more and it's fully in. You can take it, love, I know you can."

Little by little and he pushed all of himself in staying still until you felt comfortable enough for him to move. "That's it, just like that, baby, always such a good girl for me" He was so impatient to fuck you, to cum all over or inside you it didn't matter to him, but he decided to take his time with you because he wanted you to feel good above everything else.

Once the pain was replaced by the feeling of pleasure, he started thrusting in deep and fast stretching you out in the way only he knew how. When you felt confident enough you wrapped your legs around his torso to push him even deeper.

"Does it feel good?" He asked and you nodded. "This reminds me so much of that time I fucked you on the couch in my parent's house."

"Ohh, Lando” You moaned.

"Where anybody could've walked in on us and see me pounding you from behind. Fuck, you have no idea how much this turns me on.." He groaned.

"I missed all of you, missed fucking you, feeling you squeeze my cock, playing with your pussy, oh" His words were coming out as broken sobs struggling to last as long as possible. "I feel you clenching are you almost there, love?"

"So close"

"Yeah? You're drenching my cock baby. You're so tight, fuck, I'm gonna cum in seconds."

"Ohh..yes yes, ahh"

"Oh shit baby.." Once he saw you slide you hand down to your clit and start playing with it, he lost it. His body shuddered, his cock twitched inside you and he came undone. He kept moving slowly until both of you rode out your orgasms.

When both of you came to your senses he started hugging you and kissing you as if you were going to run away every second. You leaned your head to the side and watched him smiling.

"So..does this mean you're mine again?" He asks tracing his fingertips over your collarbones.

"It does not, but" You emphasize. "If you try a bit harder maybe you can change my mind"

"Understood. Let's get you cleaned up for round two then"

"Lando, that's not what I meant…”

[bro-atz]

the time of my life

in which: your roommates just want to cheer you up after you get stood up on your date.

pair: yunho/san/mingi/afab!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: smut, slightly pwp, foursome/gang bang, yunho has a slight foot fetish?, reader's a cum slut??, oral, anal, fingering, squirting, double (+ triple) penetration, throat fucking, fluid bonding-ish, definitely filthy, did i mention they all have massive cocks? unprotected sex (PLS USE PROTECTION IRL!), creampies, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: several things! this is an unofficial part 2 to "that's what roommates are for", this is very heavily based but not entirely based on the pilot episode of new girl, and this was brought to you by me wanting revenge on @nebulousbrainsoup and enlisting the help of @skteezcursed and @k-hotchoisan !

The second San got home, he heard the wretched opening notes to the song that made him and your other two male roommates want to scream into an abyss.

“I’ve had…” he heard you sniffling. “The time of my life…”

When he walked past the kitchen, he saw empty pints of ice cream scattered across the kitchen countertop, confirming that you were not doing well (although you sobbing while watching Dirty Dancing should’ve been enough for him to know). He entered the living room to see you curled into a ball and lying on the couch with your favorite blanket draped over you and tears in your eyes.

“Not again,” he murmured.

“Welcome home, San,” you whispered, your eyes darting to him briefly before you returned your gaze to the movie in front of you.

Before the movie could continue to make you sob, San immediately turned down the volume and sat right next to you, his strong hands pulling you up so that your head was on his broad shoulders.

“What’s wrong, roomie?” he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You were too emotional to answer. You settled for shaking your head and pressing your face into San's soft chest, your tears staining his shirt. With a gentle sigh, San let you cry in his arms while he rubbed your back.

After a good cry, you leaned back and looked at him. To be honest, San thought you would look a lot more disheveled given how you nuzzled your nose into his chest, but other than your red puffy eyes, you looked... Kind of pretty.

"I got stood up," you murmured.

"What?" San was shocked.

"Yeah... Mingi set me up with this guy, and he just never showed up..."

"What's his name?" San asked while standing up. "I'm going to go beat that guy up."

"No! Don't!" you stood up as well and grabbed his arm. "It's fine! It's not like I wanted to date the guy, anyway..."

"Huh? Then why are you sad? Shouldn't you be glad that you don't have to worry about him?"

"Because..."

You sat back down on the couch and sighed heavily. Tears were forming in your eyes again, and you were doing your best to keep them at bay. San took his seat next to you again and cupped your face, his thumb catching a stray tear.

"What if I end up alone for the rest of my life?" you asked him candidly.

"You won't end up alone—"

"No, like, think about it. The guys I like don't like me back because I'm not pretty like a model on a magazine cover or Barbie-like like Margot Robbie, the guys who like me are icky or gross or assholes, and if I were to get with a guy who liked me, then I'd have to settle, then that makes me wonder if my standards are too high and if I should cut back a little bit and just go with the flow, which is why I agreed to let Mingi set me up with this guy, but then when I do that, the guy stands me up—"

San knew that you needed to get out of your downward spiral, so he interrupted you with a kiss. It was soft, sweet, and so freaking nice, and you only got more upset when he stopped kissing you.

"Stop it," he whispered. "You won't be alone for the rest of your life, and you will find a great guy, so don't think like that about yourself."

You were speechless. Your eyes darted back and forth as you tried to decipher the look on his face and figure out exactly why he thought shutting you up with a kiss would be better than just covering your mouth.

"Also, not all of the guys who like you are icky... Or gross... Or assholes..."

The look on his face hardened slightly, and it was intense in a good way. The negative thoughts cleared out of your head so quickly as his hand guided your face closer to his, but before your lips could meet, the front door opened.

"Your friends suck, Mingi!" you heard Yunho exclaim as he and Mingi entered the apartment.

"That would mean you suck," Mingi shot back with a little bit of attitude.

San left your side and stood up. He left so abruptly, however, that you flopped forward onto the couch, your face planting in the cushion.

"I meant your friends apart from us, you dick," Yunho rolled his eyes.

"Come on, they're not that bad! San, you like them, right?"

"No, I'm going to have to agree with Yunho. Your friends are assholes," San stated definitively.

"Ha! See!" Yunho laughed.

"Ugh! What about you, Y/N? Didn't you like my friend?" Mingi turned to you and asked.

You didn't bother looking at Mingi. You kept your face planted in the couch cushion and shook your head.

"So no one likes my friends?!"

"Dude," Yunho placed a firm hand on Mingi's shoulder. "I say this with all the love in my heart. Your friends suck."

"Yeah, one of them just—"

The second you heard San speak, you shot up off the couch and covered his mouth before he could divulge any more information. Frowning, Mingi looked at both you and San before his eyes trailed off to the coffee table where there were balled up tissues and a pint of melted ice cream, and of course, he recognized the dialogue from the TV since the movie was still playing.

"Oh..." Mingi realized out loud. "Was he a prick?"

Pulling your hand off his face, San answered for you, "No, he never even showed."

"Shit," Mingi uttered as he ran his fingers through his hair in slight frustration. "My friends really do suck..."

Hesitantly, Mingi approached you. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head before whispering apologies to you over and over again. While you appreciated it, you couldn't help but start crying again.

"No, wait," Mingi started panicking. He pulled down the sleeve of his sweater and dried your tears while saying, "Why are you crying? Don't cry?"

You frowned painfully, and you tried to get the words out, but you were too choked up to even breathe properly.

"Let me see if I can get this right," Yunho spoke for you. "You got stood up, which made you feel like you weren't pretty, which made you wonder why you can't find a guy, and you overthought everything about your inability to find a suitable guy to date."

Yunho's explanation of your spiral was accurate, but you didn't appreciate the way he said it. You moved away from Mingi to glare at Yunho, and the other two men who were trying to comfort you also shot him an alarmed look.

"You don't have to be so candid about it," San sighed.

"Hey, at least I got her to stop crying," Yunho said in his defense.

"Yeah, but now she's angry at you, which is also not something we want," Mingi pointed out.

"There are other ways to get her to stop crying, you know," San said, his voice diminishing slowly and his face getting redder as he recalled the way he got you to stop spiraling and crying.

"Like what?"

San couldn't answer. He looked away while rubbing the back of his neck. Remembering how San kissed you to get you to stop talking, your face turned bright red. You lowered your head in hopes that neither of the other men would see your reaction, but your red ears did not go unnoticed by Mingi.

"Like what, San? Tell us," Yunho prompted.

"You could, uh, cover her mouth... Or tell her a joke... Or distract her—"

"You kissed her, didn't you?" Mingi accused.

"Yeah..."

"Why would you do that?!" Mingi exclaimed. "That's not fair! We promised we would set boundaries after what happened that one time!"

"You broke the pact, San!" Yunho added. Then, with a sudden, dramatic gasp, he added, "You broke the bro code..."

"Guys, I didn't mean to break the pact at first, I swear! She was just spiraling—"

"Hold on," you interjected, all three men clamping their mouths shut. "A pact? What pact?"

The men avoided your gaze; Yunho inspected the wall, Mingi scanned the floor, and San was suddenly interested in the ceiling. You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest.

"You guys better tell me what this pact is," you said with the most stern voice you could muster.

"...Alright, fine," Yunho said as he stepped forward. "You know that one night we, uh, slept together?"

"Uh huh..."

"Well, we—" Yunho gestured to himself and the other two men. "Kind of figured out that all three of us like you... And that we wouldn't try to pursue you, if you will, so that none of us got hurt..."

"So none of you would get hurt," you amended. "You're telling me that instead of being with someone half decent, you've been setting me up on horrible dates where the guys are complete jerks or try to ship me off with some loser because you don't want to step on anyone's toes?"

"It's more than that, Y/N," San sighed. "We all like you—"

"Don't I get a say in it too?" you interrupted. "Just because you like me, it doesn't mean that we'll automatically start dating!"

All three men looked down at the ground guiltily. You huffed and lowered your arms, your sadness completely vanishing, leaving you angry and annoyed.

"God..."

You grabbed the TV remote and turned off the movie before cleaning up the living room and kitchen. The three of them lingered near you as they wanted to ask you a question.

"So..." Mingi asked tentatively. "If you had to pick one of us... Who would you pick?"

You scoffed. You looked him dead in the eye and said, "After finding this out? None of you."

"Come on, Y/N, please don't be mad at us," San tried to reason with you. "We honestly thought that this was the best option for all of us to live together peacefully and happily..."

He reached for your arm, but you swatted him away. "How can I not be mad? I've been sitting here thinking I'm worthless because not a single guy worthwhile will ever like me, only to find out that the ones who are actually pretty decent tried to decide my life for me?"

You walked out of the kitchen, but Yunho blocked your path.

"You know that's not what we meant by that," he said, his voice soft, low, reassuring; but you were anything but reassured.

"Yeah? Well, that's how it feels."

You pushed past him. You walked towards your bedroom, but before you could open the door, someone hugged you from behind.

"We're so sorry, Y/N," you heard Mingi's voice rumble in your ear. "We're so, so sorry that we made you feel that way..."

Earlier, when Mingi apologized to you, you started crying, but this time, you were crying... But elsewhere. Mingi's hands around your waist this time around were a lot more exploratory. He laid them on your hip bones and pressed his chest right up against your back before bringing his lips to your ear, his low apologies getting way too sensuous.

"Mingi... Stop..." you sighed while trying your damn best to not let him know how good his hands felt on your body.

"Not until you accept my apology."

"Don't you think all three of you should apologize, then?"

"Of course we will," Yunho spoke up as he approached you from the right, his fingers tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear. Mingi stood upright again, allowing Yunho to say softly into your ear, "We're sorry."

"We're really sorry, roomie," San said as he stood on the other side of you, kissing your cheek lightly as he did so.

San continued to pepper kisses all over your face while taking your hand in his and rubbing circles on your palm, and Yunho opted to start marking up your neck, his fingers tickling your ear as he ran them through your hair. Mingi, who was still behind you, was letting out soft grunts as he buried his nose in your hair and inhaled slowly, deeply.

"What are you sorry for?" you breathed out.

"For keeping secrets from you... And trying to decide your life for you," San answered.

You pulled yourself away from Yunho and Mingi, Mingi whining as a result, and wrapped your arms around San's shoulders. You kissed him softly at first, but San's animalistic instincts kicked in, and he kissed you much harder while wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Don't you think you're paying a little too much attention to him?" Mingi asked somewhat huffily.

"You didn't tell me what you were sorry for," you answered, pushing San away just enough so he'd let you nag the other two.

"Well, I'm sorry for making you more upset when you were already feeling pretty shitty," Yunho said his apologies, and you allowed him to get near you again.

"And you, Mingi?"

"I'm sorry for trying to set you up with that asshole, and for not making a move sooner."

With that, Mingi quickly lunged for you— making you yelp— and carried you into your room before pinning you down to your bed and kissing you roughly. He shoved his hands under your shirt and held your waist tightly. You found yourself getting swept away in his passion, your hands gripping the back of his neck as you pulled him closer.

"I promise you," Mingi uttered between kisses, his breaths shallow. "I'll never make you feel like that again. I'll never let you doubt your self worth ever again."

His words would've made you cry had he not pressed his knee between your legs, his knee rubbing as he moved into you repetitively.

"Mingi, if we're going to break the pact, then shouldn't we all get a chance?" Yunho asked while getting on the bed alongside you.

"You'll have your chance after," Mingi said as he stopped kissing you and sat up.

"I think we all should have a fair shot right now, don't you agree, Y/N?" San sat on the bed as well, his hand brushing your hair out of your face. "It's your decision at the end of the day."

Your mind hazy, you didn't give a fuck. You wanted any of them— no, all of them— to treat you right after the shitty day you had. Whining, you told him, "What you said— That one. I just want to feel good..."

"You heard the lady," Mingi said with a smirk. "Let's give her what she wants."

The three of them helped you undress. You knelt on the bed and observed them. They were trying to be respectful of you, but their eyes were scanning your body. San was the first to move— just like last time. He held your hand and began trailing kisses up your arm slowly, his lips rubbing against your skin.

Yunho, however, took a more aggressive approach— apparently his own patience was wearing very thin. He swiftly lifted you, bringing your legs out. His slender fingers traced a line up the arch of your foot. Your entire body trembled because it was ticklish, but Yunho's intense gaze on your legs shifting to you sent a wide array of emotions to your brain. He stroked your leg, and like San, he trailed kisses up your leg. He started leaving dark marks on your thighs while San opted to do that to your neck.

Mingi sat behind you, his hands wrapping around you and holding your breasts. He had his lips by your ear, his teeth occasionally nibbling on your earlobe as he whispered dirty things to you.

"We're going to make you feel so good," he said, his low voice driving you insane already. "We're gonna fuck you until you can't think straight or speak well... We're gonna make you forget your own name..."

His hold on your breasts got tighter when he heard you stifle a moan. He dropped his head to your shoulder and bit down gently. You gasped, but not just because of him, but because Yunho started working on the space between your legs. You grabbed his hair and tried to get him to go slower because his tongue was flicking your clit at an insane pace. Then, when he shoved two of his slender fingers into your cunt, you were done for.

You were moaning and gasping continuously the closer you got to cumming, but those noises were minimized when San grabbed your face with one hand and kissed you roughly, his tongue practically going down your throat. You held the back of his neck and dug your nails into his skin the longer he kissed you ferociously.

The knot inside you relaxed slightly when Yunho sat up and moved away from your cunt, but then the knot got extremely tight and snapped when Mingi shoved his middle two fingers inside you and fingered you fast and rough. San stopped kissing you to let you scream and cry as you squirted all over Mingi's hands and on your bed.

All three men immediately stripped down to nothing, giving you only seconds to recover from cumming. However, as soon as Mingi shoved his cock in you, you came again since you were still so sensitive from cumming the first time. You were cumming, but Mingi didn't let up in the slightest. He rammed his waist against yours hard before pulling out and letting you actually cum fully. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you cried loudly as you covered the bed with more of your arousal.

"Don't you think that was a little too aggressive, Mingi?" Yunho asked Mingi with a slight frown.

"Not at all," Mingi said while petting your head. "I know just what she needs and what she can handle..."

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one," San quipped. He then turned to you and said, "Could you lie down on your stomach for me, please?"

You did as San requested before he manhandled you completely (not that you were complaining because just the act of turning onto your stomach was a Herculean task). He pulled your ass into the air, collected your arousal from your soaking wet pussy, and shoved two fingers into your hole. You grit your teeth to keep from yelping in surprise as he kept spreading his fingers inside you.

While San was busy with your ass, Mingi decided to slip into the space under you. He stuck his fingers in your mouth, the ones he used to finger you just moments before, giving you a taste of yourself.

"You taste sweet... Don't you agree?" he whispered to you, his other hand holding the back of your head, bringing your face closer to his.

He didn't even bother letting you respond. He kissed you, but he was a lot more gentle than you were expecting him to be. You thought that for about two seconds until he lined up his cock with your cunt. He moved his hands to your ass and sat you down on his cock quickly, sending shocks and electricity through your body. You were so startled, in fact, you nearly bit Mingi's lower lip.

Mingi started rolling his hips upwards, his large cock tearing your insides up. Tears were slipping from your eyes again, but this time because you felt so fucking good. Mingi's cock was doing suck a good job at fucking all of the thoughts out of your head that you didn't realize San moved so that he was above you, his chest pressing against your back while the tip of his cock teased your ass.

"You're going to relax and take me like a good girl, alright?" San spoke softly into your ear.

You nodded, making the man waste no more time in pressing his cock into your ass. You gripped the bed sheets tightly as you felt his cock bulge while pushing forward. San exhaled slowly through his teeth, and he let out a sigh the second he bottomed out.

"Fuck..." San said softly. "You're going to squeeze my cock off... So fucking tight..."

So, you did your best to relax again, but every time either San or Mingi moved, you couldn't help but clench, driving both men insane, making them groan into your ears. You let a long sigh of pleasure, your cunt relaxing just enough for them to start fucking you faster. The way their cocks rubbed inside you made you scream and cry— you felt so fucking good, so fucking full, but not all of your holes were filled.

Yunho by you, his fingers running through your hair before holding your head and turning it to face him. He stroked himself as he teased your lips with the tip of his cock, barely giving you a taste of his pre-cum. You opened your mouth, inviting him to push his cock all the way to the back of your throat, making you gag.

Not a single man gave you mercy after that; they fucked you as if their life depended on it. Yunho kept your head in place as he thrust his cock into your mouth repeatedly, his cock hitting the back of your throat every single thrust and making you gag. San was clenching your asscheeks tightly as your ass kept swallowing his cock into your tight hole, and Mingi held onto your waist, his cock going deeper and deeper inside you.

"Shit, I'm so close," Mingi groaned to the point where it was practically a whine. "Can I cum inside you?"

Yunho pulled his cock out of your mouth to let you verbally give Mingi permission. You cried and nodded while saying, "I want to be so full of cum that I feel like I'll explode— Ah! Fuck!"

Hearing you utter those words made San pull out immediately, his cock bulging and throbbing. He and Yunho kept fucking their fists while Mingi ruined your pussy to the point where you thought he was going to start a fire. Groaning loudly, Mingi pressed his head into the mattress and came, his cum spurting inside you. He kept his cock deep inside you, more cum filling you up every time his cock twitched.

The second Mingi let out a sigh of relief, though, San pulled you off him and laid you down on your side. He wrapped his strong arms around you and clutched your breast with one hand while the other held your leg up after he shoved his cock in your cunt to add to the pool of cum inside you. He lasted about five strokes before grunting and sighing in your ear. His cock shuddered inside you before firming up again, but he was forced to pull out by Yunho.

Yunho pinned you down on the bed so that he could look at your face while he fucked you. His hips rolled into yours fluidly, and he kissed your ear over and over again while asking, "You feel good? You like when our cocks fuck you up? You like being a little cum slut for us?"

You couldn't even let out words anymore. You cried and moaned in agreement. You held onto Yunho's back and wrapped your legs around his waist as he sped up— he'd been ready to cum ever since you choked on his cock the first time. Through the tears in your eyes, you saw him grit his teeth, his jaw tensing as he bit back his erotic sighs and groans. However, one groan slipped out when he rammed his cock inside and touched your cervix, making you cream around his cock while he stuffed you full with his cum.

When Yunho pulled out, you clenched your cunt to try to keep the cum from spilling onto your bed, but that wasn't possible since Mingi pushed your legs up and San spread your folds, their cum trailing out of you. Yunho collected some of the cum on his fingers and pushed them into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers and swallowed, Yunho doing his best to stay calm, only for his cock to betray him by springing up.

Actually, all three of them were hard again, and they all seemed to want to ruin you further, but they first had to ask.

"Which one of us do you want?"

"All of you."

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[kaciidubs]

Talk Dirty [Like You Need Love]

This song has me thinking heavily about expanding this into a fuller fic, so if people end up liking it, maybe I'll go ahead and finish it further! ✧ Summary: Chris was a great friend, picking you up from work whenever you had a late shift - so, it was only fair that you wanted to repay him. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 3.5k ✧ Warnings: Biker!AU, friends to ???, smut, slight dom! Chris, open ended ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Baby, Good Girl, Pretty, Chris is referred to as Baby, Channie ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

The streetlights came and went in intermittent strobes, passing over the two of you as his motorcycle hummed along the sparsely occupied street.

Your arms were wrapped securely around his waist just as he’d taught you, the warmth of your body against his back combating the chill of the crisp night air - he really wished he hadn’t forgotten his hoodie in his rush to pick you up.

“Are you cold?” 

As if reading his mind, your voice floated through the comms of his helmet and he shook his head, “I’m alright, baby - don’t worry about me.”

Of course, you weren’t easily swayed - it was a quality he loved about you, no matter how much he preferred to be the one to look out for everyone else, you were always there to double back on him with undeterrable determination; proved by the way you leaned a little more against his back.

He wouldn’t have thought twice about your sweet gesture if it weren’t for the shifting of your arms, your hands slowly splayed against his torso.

“I always worry about you, Chris…” Your voice was soft, dripping with sweet honey as your right hand wandered its way higher, following the soft defined path of his chest underneath his shirt. “It’s hard not to, if I’m honest.”

He took a short breath, unsure if this was truly happening or if his mind was playing tricks on him and twisting your intentions to fit his deep seated desires.

That is, until your left hand carefully danced its way to his thigh, sitting nicely against the cotton of his sweatpants.

“You always do so much for everyone else- do so much for me,” your hand flexed, nails pressing lightly against his thigh, “I just wanna do something for you in return, you know?”

The bike slowed to a roll as you reached a stoplight, Chris keeping the balance with his otherwise unoccupied leg while taking the opportunity to hold onto the outside of your own thigh.

“Be careful with your words, baby - you might give me the wrong idea.”

“Are my actions not enough?” You murmured, inching your hand higher, fingertips brushing along the inseam of his sweats, “Should I do more, Channie?”

His hand left the brake clutch to wrap around your wrist, electricity flowing through your veins like a completed circuit. “You shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”

“But I want this, I need this.”

Your hand squeezed, your voice filling his head like the intoxicating lull of a siren’s call.

“I need you.”

Green.

Chris tapped your thigh, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine when you seamlessly went back to holding onto him just like he taught you; arms around his waist, your body against his back.

The ride to his apartment felt like second nature with you - much like other things he did with you, if he were honest with himself - and the moment he pulled into his parking spot, his movements only felt more natural.

Switch engine off. Kickstand down.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping his shoulders as you eased yourself off of his motorcycle, and by the time your touch left him, Chris hopped from his seat with learned grace - his hands unbuckling and taking off his helmet in record time.

By the time your own helmet was off, cradled in your arms, his intense gaze caught your eyes, locking you in a stare off that said more than words could convey, yet their true meaning would be lost to memory with what left his lips.

“Are you sure about this?” He breathed, “Tell me right now and I’ll take you home, and we can pretend none of this happened - just, tell me.”

“Chris,” his name fluttered from your lips like butterfly wings, “I meant every word, I’m sure, I’m so sure-”

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours - the warmth of his palm settling on your cheek in a hold that dared your knees to give out from underneath you - but as fast as they’d appeared, they vanished, leaving you dazedly blinking up at deep brown eyes.

“C’mon.”

The journey up to his apartment was a blur; the melodic chime of the front door’s lock welcoming you to the final stage of your decision as he ushered you through the doorway.

Shoes haphazardly kicked off next to another pile of pairs and helmets stored on a shelf, the empty living room was graced with your presence for what felt like half a second before you were finally where you needed to be.

Chris’s room was a place you’d only been inside of a handful of times, if not to stick your head in to announce your arrival when hanging out with his roommates, then to visit whenever he had a new snippet of a song he wanted to share; there wasn’t a chance for a tour then, and there certainly wouldn’t be a tour now.

With a subtle flick of a switch, the once dark room was suddenly bathed in a dim glow from the led lights lining the ceiling - warm and welcoming, much like the arms that wrapped around you from behind, followed by a soft pair of lips you were quickly getting used to pressing against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His hold grew tighter as his lips ventured higher - a dotted line of kisses, a brush of his breath against the back of your ear, followed by the ghost of his lips along the shell. 

“Are you still sure?”

Your eyelids fluttered, your lips parting to sigh out words evoked from the fantasies of your deepest desires, “I’m yours.”

He turned you around, and for the first time you were able to truly appreciate the feeling of his lips against your own - soft, likely from the myriad of lip care products your friends tease him for, a sensation you could find yourself craving every day and never growing tired of in the end.

You kissed him back with fervor, taking the liberty of cupping the line of his jaw with one hand while the other cradled the back of his neck, the faint curls of his hair tickling your fingertips.

Chris was the first to pull away, gifting you a fleeting peck when you tried in vain to follow him, just to reach overhead and tug his shirt up and off before unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. However, he barely gave you the chance to admire the view as his hands went to help you out of your hoodie while your own hands hastily went to tug up your shirt in the messy, frantic process.

Two articles down, the warmth of his hands were now free to meet your waist and his lips were on yours once more; his hold tightening as he took a step forward, nudging and guiding you backward until the backs of your legs met the edge of his bed. Obliging to his silent request, you sat down, using the strength in your arms to wiggle yourself up enough to lay comfortably on the full sized mattress and welcome the weight of him on top of you until it wasn’t.

Looking up, you were met with his heated stare, all but devouring you with his eyes as he took in the view - though, you figured you fared the same way when your eyes ventured down, following the strong slope of his shoulders before taking in the sight of his chest.

It wasn’t a view you hadn’t seen before thanks to his aversion of shirts in his own home - granted, it was his apartment, so you couldn’t fault him for the times he’d come out of his room to see you happily chatting away with his roommates unbeknownst to him - but you could now appreciate the details you wouldn’t have taken in otherwise such as defined pectorals and the smallest beginnings of abs against his otherwise soft stomach.

Ending the unintentional standoff, Chris lent forward, his fingertips just barely grazing your lower stomach as they went to the button of your jeans, “Can I?”

“Please.”

The corner of his lips ticked up but he ducked his head before you could see the smirk blossom, though you couldn’t find yourself to care once your jeans were undone, lifting your hips to help him shuffle the garment down the length of your legs and watching him give them the same fate as your shirts.

“These too?” He mused with a teasing lilt, eyes flicking from your own to the plain black panties you wore.

A short huff brushed past your lips, an unamused pout pursuing them. “Chris.”

The sound of his delighted giggles bounced off the walls, reducing the heat of arousal to a nice simmer that your nerves greatly appreciated - that is, until his fingers hooked underneath the waistband and slowly pulled them off; the sensation of his knuckles dragging along your thighs drawing a soft gasp from you.

It wasn’t long until they were down your legs, past your feet, and dropped off the edge of the bed, leaving you entirely bare from the waist down.

“Fuck…” He breathed, propping his knee on the bed as his hands slid up from your calves to the backs of your knees, caressing your skin before gently bringing them up and out - exposing your pussy to his pure delight. “Look at you, pretty girl.”

A wave of heat washed over you followed by an embarrassed whimper, “Chris, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Looking up, he cocked his head slightly, “You said you were mine, which means I’m allowed to compliment what’s mine, yeah?” He bent down, maintaining eye contact as he kissed your knee softly, “You belong to me, right, baby?”

Your heart jumped to your throat, his words working like a spell against your lust addled mind.

“I belong to you.” You breathed softly, melting into his hypnotizing gaze.

A pleased hum vibrated through him as he dipped his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, his lips brushing against your skin, “Good girl.”

His kisses trailed higher and higher, growing messier and messier as he went - a nip here, a suck there, open mouthed and worshiping until he reached your pussy.

Just as he was about to dive in face first, your hand tugged at his hair, effectively breaking him out of his tunnel vision to give you his undivided attention.

“What’s wrong? Do you wanna stop? I can-”

“No! God, no - it’s just…” You took a deep breath, your bravado escaping you the instant you stopped him, “I want you to eat me out, but I wanna suck your dick too. I wanna make you feel good too, Channie”

“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” A shiver ran down Chris’s spine at the mere thought, his dick painfully straining underneath his boxer briefs and sweats. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? Words like that coming from a mouth like yours - you’re a fucking dream.”

His presence left from between your legs and part of you felt silly for missing it until you saw him reaching for his sweatpants - even through the black fabric you were able to make out the noticeable bulge tenting the front - the waistband of Calvin Klein nudging you in the right direction of what he wore underneath.

Pushing both articles past his hips, your eyes were immediately glued to the dips in his pelvis - the Adonis belt, a fitting alternate description of his v-line until your attention jumped to a scattering of hair beneath his navel leading to seemingly maintained pubic hair.

However, your peep show was obscured by his head as he bent forward to take his clothes off the rest of the way, giving you the chance to mentally prepare for the grand reveal. By the time he stood straight again, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left you, your eyes widening as you took him in all his glory - all of the jokes his friends would make now having validity behind their digs.

“I hope that’s a good reaction…” Chris spoke sheepishly, his ears as red as a tomato as he averted his eyes to the side, one hand twitching to cover himself while the other anxiously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Chris,” your soft call was enough to bring his eyes back to you, just in time to see you undoing your bra and tossing it to the floor, “I really want you in my mouth, baby.”

The air of shyness quickly left him as he smirked, making his way back onto the bed, “Say please.”

Reaching forward, your fingers danced along the underside of his jaw before you whispered, “Please?”

It was almost instantaneous in the way you found yourself straddled over his face, his hands massaging the plush of your thighs as if he couldn’t get enough of the way they squished and jiggled under his hold.

You leaned forward, eyes eagerly taking in his dick from the new angle; he was thick, probably an inch over average if you had to guess, with the prettiest veins that begged for your tongue to trace them.

“Don’t force yourself to take me, okay?” He called from the other end, the feeling of his breath against your cunt sending chills down your spine. “I know I’m… y’know, big, so I don’t want you to hurt yourself to make me feel good - you letting me do this is more than enough, baby.”

“I can do it Channie,” spitting into your palm, you graciously took him into your hand with a slow stroke, “I’ll be okay.”

A low groan escaped him, your sudden touch sending him into the stratosphere, “Just- Be careful for me, alright?”

Humming in agreement, you wasted no time in littering his tip in butterfly kisses and kitten licks, slowly getting yourself used to the bittersweet taste of his precum.

“Shit…” Not holding himself back any longer, Chris slid his hands up to your hips before pulling you back onto his mouth, his tongue eagerly diving between your folds as if it were an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

The action made you jolt forward, though you barely moved an inch thanks to his hold on you, your lips parting to let a moan float through.

“Mm, not too loud, baby,” he spoke against your pussy, kissing the hood of your clit, “don’t wanna wake up my roommates, yeah?”

As much as the idea called to something daring within you, you shook your head, using this as an opportunity to take the first few inches of his cock into your mouth; just enough to have the weight settle on your tongue while your hand stroked what you hadn’t gotten to yet.

“There you go.”

With that, he went back to exploring your pussy with his tongue, dipping past your walls every now and then before going back to dancing around your clit - his hands enjoying their new home on the curve of your ass.

To say the feeling of his mouth on you was mind numbing would’ve been the understatement of a lifetime - it was as if he was eating you out in the most respectfully disrespectful way, the sounds of his lips sucking your clit paired with low, breathless moans before he went back to lapping up your arousal was pure debauchery.

You tried your best to be diligent, bobbing your head in time with the curls of his tongue against your slit while your fist used whatever drool that dripped from your lips as lubricant to keep each stroke smooth and slick - your efforts not going in vain by the way his thigh would flex, or the twitch of his hips - but you were quickly falling victim to the pleasure.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he mouthed against your pussy, as if moving even an inch away would be detrimental to his psyche, “could stay here forever.”

The thought had you moaning around his cock, pulling away to give your lungs the reprieve of a full breath, only for a whined exhale to follow suit. “C-Chris, please.”

“Please, what?” Flattening his tongue, he licked a fat stripe up before giving your clit the lightest kiss imaginable, “Gonna come for me, pretty? Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” dropping your face to his thigh, you focused all of your energy into keeping your hand moving, “w-wanna make you come first, just- shit, just slow down a little!”

Chris hummed, feigning deep consideration, “But what if I want you to come for me?” His right hand slid further between your legs, his index finger stroking your fluttering walls with the promise of something more, “You said you wanted to repay me - so, let me make you come.”

Your hips bucked, muscles yearning to press back against the pressure to send you over the edge you were dangerously teetering over. “But-”

“Baby,” the velvet drawl of the pet name earned a pitiful hum in response, “you wanna make me feel good, don’t you?” He felt your head nod against his thigh, huffing out a short chuckle before continuing, “You wanna ‘repay’ me for everything I do for you, right?”

“Yes.” You sighed out, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thumb replacing his finger in favor of toying with your clit.

“Well, guess what?” Dragging his thumb up, he pressed it against your slit, “Watching you come for me- Feeling you come for me is all I could ever want from you,” slowly pushing his thumb past your walls, he ghosted his lips against your inner thigh, “show me how good I’m making you feel, baby - do it for me, please.”

He punctuated his plea by swirling his tongue around your clit once more, thrusting his thumb in time with each flick while his left hand held your hip tightly.

Your mouth fell open, a moan fighting its way through your vocal chords only to come out as choked gasps, “Ch-ah- Channie- Fuck- Channie p-please-”

Pressing his thumb in to the knuckle, Chris wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, humming out a low moan that proved to be the final straw to push you over the edge.

“Chris- C-Chris-!” Lifting your head, you put your mouth over your arm in hopes of muffling the airy moans escaping you, your vision blurring behind pleasure-fueled tears as he worked you through your orgasm.

His thumb slipped from your entrance to make room for his tongue to lap up your cum, drinking you up like a tall glass of water after a day in the sun.

It didn’t take long for you to catch your bearings, going to move away from his face until his hands tightened on your hips in silent challenge, a disgruntled grunt rising from your pure audacity of interrupting him.

“Channie, ‘s too much,” you whined breathlessly, wrenching your hand away from his - still hard - dick in favor of pushing yourself up onto your arms, “c-can’t take it, baby, please.”

Pulling away with a lewd slurp, Chris heaved a heavy breath, combating the lightheadedness of his tunnel vision while you carefully maneuvered yourself away from him - shuffling around to hover your head over a pillow before collapsing in the empty space, your body gratefully welcoming the cool sheets against your skin.

Bated breaths danced in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, Chris’s gaze locked on the ceiling as his lust-fogged brain tried to make sense of what just happened between the two of you.

“Channie?”

His heart fluttered at your soft call of his name, turning his head just to come across a sight that made his breath catch; you, his friend, laying beside him looking beautifully ruined with the golden afterglow of your orgasm that he gave you emanating from your body.

He tentatively licked his lips, goosebumps rising as your taste still lingered in his mouth, “Yeah, baby?”

“I still wanna make you come.” You murmured softly, eyes blinking at him so innocently it almost felt wrong that it made his dick twitch at the sight. “I still owe you, after all.”

Chris huffed out a chuckle, lifting himself onto his forearm before hoisting himself above you, settling his hips between your legs as he caged you in with his arms - this was a sight he could get used to.

“Instead of making this out to be you repaying a debt, how about we turn it into a ‘thank you’ gift, hm?” Leaning his head down, he brushed his nose against yours, “You thank me for the ride and the orgasm,” his lips ghosted against your own, “then I thank you for thanking me.”

“Chris, that won’t make any sense,” your voice was barely a whisper, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, “if you thank me, I’ll just thank you back - we’ll be in a loop.”

“We’ll work out the details later, then.” He murmured before leaning forward, catching your lips with his and sharing your taste off of his tongue.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @4-chan-inpadella, @butterflydemons, @kimahreummm, @ta3baee, @snowy-violet @bethanysnow

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[honeyhotteoks]

lessons in intimacy (k.ys)

summary: you didn't mean to actually meet the man who's audio porn was single handedly getting you off every night, but you do.

note: this has been a looooong time coming and is dedicated to one of my best friends, grace. 💗 i hope everyone enjoys this chaotic smut fest.... also i've recently discovered that porn is actually illegal to produce or consume in korea? so suspend your disbelief for this fic lol

warnings: camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader, it's a smut-a-thon barely a plot in sight featuring - nsfw/audio porn, guided masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, lots and lots of orgasms, use of dildo, nipple play, one night stand dynamics except they kind of fall for each other, big and i mean big dick yeosang, oral sex (f receiving), gratuitous squirting, fingering, thigh riding/grinding, protected and unprotected sex (do not do this they're being hella dumb), rough sex, maaaaaajor praise play he says good girl more times than i can count, so much use of 'baby', plus pretty girl/babygirl, absolute pleasure soft dom yeosang of our dreams, reader literally passes out from coming you're welcome

pairings: yeosang x reader

genre: smut and more smut, where's the plot???

word count: 14.5K

additional note: yeosang owns a cafe in this fic called ongozisin, it's a real cafe in seoul and you can check out their ig here! the vibes are truly so yeosang i can't even articulate it, so i just wanted to share this for the extra visual!

Paid porn for women has tiers. You stumble headfirst into this realization with your fingers stuffed inside yourself and your body slick with sweat, and there’s nothing that takes you right out of your frantic self care session than a request for your credit card number and a terms of service page. 

Your chest is heaving, legs shaking, and you feel your orgasm slip right through your fingers as you skim over his Fansly page. You should have just skipped to another one of his free audios on Pornhub like you always do, but this week was long and stressful and slightly emotionally fraught, and there’s only so many times you can ignore his husky little ad at the end of the audio file inviting you to check out the full, uncut content. 

“Jesus,” You breathe, pushing yourself up in the bed and letting your phone drop to the side as you recover your breath. 

Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to pay for porn? The internet is full of it, spilling over from every angle with any little thing you can imagine. There’s a reason Rule 34 exists, people are horny and people love attention, so if you can fathom it there’s free porn of it. 

And yet, nothing ever, ever gets you there like he does, and you’ve never even seen his face. 

You glance down at your phone again and you see his familiar header image, a deeply contrasted black and white header of tangled white sheets, and his username striking across the corner in neon green. fromryu. This is what drew you in initially, the simplicity of it all. You were sick of skimming through all of the men making porn for women with names like ‘TheMasterDominant’, ‘Your_Daddy’, or ‘forherpleasureee’ and then just listening to them groan in your ear and call you a slut for fifteen minutes. That might work for some, but it definitely doesn’t work for you. 

Ryu was different, is different. His audios are a mix of scenario based role-plays and straight forward guided masturbation for women, and you’re pretty sure he comes right along with you when you listen, but it’s just not the same.

You’ve fucked yourself to every single one of his free audios. Some of them more than once, some of them several times, if you’re being honest. You’ve always ignored his ads, because he gives so much content away for free you can’t imagine what would be behind a paywall that would get you off harder, until today. 

Your brain just couldn’t get there. You’ve heard him chuckle that chuckle before, say that line before, coax you into orgasm with those exact words before, and you need more. 

Your credit card is firmly in your hand before you can give it another thought, and with a fluttering stomach you tuck yourself into a robe and back into bed to pick a tier. With a long sip of a fresh glass of wine you lean back in your pillows and read through his welcome page. 

His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.

Third base, full uncut audios and one special audio per month just for subscribers – $4.99/month

Just the tip, uncut audios, one special audio per month, and access to a private discord server where subscribers can make audio request submissions – $9.99/month

Every inch (and more), uncut audios, exclusive audios, access to discord, exclusive video content, and access to a private Snapchat - $24.99/month

In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess. 

You click on ‘Every inch (and more)’ and plug in your card numbers before you have a second to rethink your decision. You really hope you don’t get hit with a fraud alert that you have to explain to some poor customer service representative. 

The wheel spins, the charge goes through, and suddenly you’re in. Your mouth has never been so dry. 

There’s dozens of videos, dozens. For every audio you’ve listened to on Pornhub, there’s a video that goes with it, and for every free piece of content there’s two times as much paid video content. $24.99 was nothing compared to how many hours of content you’re suddenly sifting through. 

There’s a common thread across every video though, you can already tell from the thumbnails, Ryu still never shows his face. Almost every thumbnail is the same, a white wall and a charcoal gray couch, and a man wearing oversized black sweatpants and a tight black athletic shirt. 

His knees are parted, legs spread open and casual, and his hands rest clasped between them. You swallow thickly at the sight of his arms. He’s built. His hands are so good looking you think idly that he should just be modeling watches or something, it’s ridiculous how nice they are. His skin is tanned, veins snaking up his forearms, and silver rings across several of his long, thick fingers. Can the sight of a man’s hands make you come? Your aching clit throbs. 

You skim through the video titles and tags to try and select one and your stomach twists. His videos are even more varied than the free content he posts and organized so well you think you might be in love with him already. 

There’s a folder for role play videos, and you skim through that quickly just to see. Neighbor overhears you moaning and comes to check on you, best friend takes your virginity, boss and secretary working late, brother’s best friend slips into your room at a sleepover, step-daddy teaches his babygirl a lesson. 

Your cheeks flush hot pink and you settle further into your sheets, backing out of this folder and navigating to your tried and true favorite.

Guided masturbation and encouragement. 

There are even more videos in this folder and you skim through any of those ones that say ‘exclusive’ in the title to avoid ones you’ve already heard parts of. The hashtags alone leave you breathless and you have no idea what to choose, every video cleanly tagged with what you’ll need to be able to keep up with his instructions. Hands only, rabbit vibe, hitachi wand, bullet vibe, dildo, butt plug, nipple clamps, lubricant, massage oil, blindfold, wrist restraints, ankle restraints, the list goes on and on.

You select one at almost random with the tags ‘hands and fingers’, ‘dildo’, and ‘optional squirting’. 

The screen starts black, and for a second you’re pretty sure something’s wrong, but then you hear him. 

“Hi everyone,” Your muscles melt, and you push your noise canceling earbuds deeper into your ears, “I have something a little special today,” 

You’ve never heard him talk so casually, almost like a vlogger or something. His voice hasn’t yet shifted into that deep teasing tone that kicks off every free video, and you’re already sold on every dollar you’ve spent when he starts to just chat. 

“I got a request from a special subscriber in my discord,” He says, “someone who’s become a friend and who confided in me that she’s never been able to make herself squirt,” 

Your breath comes a little more quickly. 

“It’s not easy to do, I know,” He says, tenderly, the screen still black, “and I want you all to know that if you’re still struggling after this audio, that’s okay. It takes time, and your body is not a sex toy. There’s not a perfect combination that works for every person with a vagina,” 

Your brow quirks at the inclusivity of his language choice and you smile a little, easing yourself down in the bed to keep listening to him. 

“But I’m going to do my best to help you,” He continues, “so while I get set up over here, I need you to get your own space ready. Get up out of bed or off the couch, but keep me with you, okay, baby?” 

You’re shaking and he hasn’t even said anything sexy yet. You don’t always listen perfectly to instructions, sometimes you skip ahead a bit and get to the good stuff just to get yourself off, but this time it’s different. You tuck your phone in your robe pocket and stand. 

“For this session,” You can almost see the smile in his voice and you try to imagine him, “you’ll need a couple of good towels laid out across your space. You’ll need to drink a big glass of water before we get started, and then I want you to find your best dildo, the one that really makes you come hard. The one that fills you up just right, that hits that tender little place you wish I was touching with my fingers,” 

He’s going to make you come so hard you see Jesus, you can tell already. 

“We need everything to be perfect,” He says, “and for you to be comfortable. Tonight is not the night to test out that new toy, okay? Tonight is for you and me, so go and get your supplies, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I’ll be your favorite little sexy podcast.”

As he starts warmly talking to his audience about his long lazy morning off work, you nearly crumble. You’re really not supposed to be getting a crush on this guy, but here you fucking are. He’s sweet, casual and laughs a little while he talks, and while you gather up the towels and the water and the frankly oversized dildo, you’re smiling. 

You hear him sit down and sigh and then his voice shifts, just a little, “Alright, baby, are you ready?” 

You sink back back down to sit on your own bed and you wait. 

“Just a reminder,” He says, “I will be using female descriptors throughout this video. If you’re uncomfortable with me calling you ‘girl’, like babygirl or good girl, or referring to you as a woman in any way, I am posting the similar content with male descriptors. If you’d prefer to hear baby boy or good boy, check the links below this video, okay?” 

You smile again. 

“Alright,” He hums, “now, where were we?” 

The camera clicks on and you feel the little gasp leave you. You almost forgot. 

He leans back on the couch and keeps talking, “That’s right, the lesson. Get settled over the towels, and if you’re wearing anything, it’s time to take it off for me.” 

You lay back over the towels and let your robe part open. 

“That’s so good,” He croons softly, “god, you’re so pretty, baby,” 

Your chest thumps hard. 

“Let’s start slow, okay?” His hands smooth over his thighs, “the key here is teasing, and I know how much you like it when I tease you.” 

Your hand rests on your own thigh, your other propping up the phone as you watch with rapt attention. 

“Touch your pretty thighs for me,” His voice is rich and thick in your ears, “that’s a good girl, there we go, nice and soft. Is your pussy wet? Did I do that to you again, pretty girl?” 

You’re barely breathing, eyes fixated on the screen as he strokes his own thigh through his sweatpants, slow and steady. 

“Are you aching?” He asks and you can’t help but nod, feeling like suddenly he can see you through the screen. 

“Touch just a little,” He murmurs, “but don’t jump ahead. Keep your fingers off your clit, we’re not there yet, sweetheart.” 

A little tight sound slips out of you as you follow his instructions. 

“Is your sweet slit wet?” He hums, and his hand slides up his thigh and rests over his stomach, “Are you throbbing?” 

Fuck. 

“Someday, baby,” He sighs and you watch him shift on the couch cushions, “I’ll taste you,” 

“Fuck,” You whisper. 

“But for now,” He’s smiling, you know it, “you just need to listen to me and do everything I tell you,” 

You’re nodding again. 

“I promise,” He says, “I’ll take such good care of you baby, if you listen, I promise to make you come.” 

Your stomach clenches, core fluttering, and you drift your fingertips up and down your slit, following the way his middle finger is slowly sliding back and forth on his abs. 

“Are you listening?” His voice goes husky and your head drops back into the pillows. Next time you’ll need a better way to watch him and listen and touch yourself, but you’re so incredibly desperate at this moment that it really doesn’t matter, you’ll make due. 

“You are, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “Good girl,” 

Your legs spread a little wider. 

He leans forward, you hear the rustling of the fabric and you snap your eyes back to the video to see him leaning forward, hands clasped together loosely, and you’re pretty sure you can see the outline of a bulge in his sweatpants. 

“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing. 

You love him like this. 

“Take your hand away from your pussy,” He says, just a little more commanding, “right now, baby,” 

You pull it back reluctantly. 

“Close your eyes for a minute,” He murmurs, “spread your legs for me,” 

You comply immediately. 

“Tease your nipples,” He sounds a little breathier now and you fight the urge to watch the video, “do whatever feels good, touch your tits exactly the way you like it,” 

You roll your nipples, tugging them softly and kneading your breasts with both hands now that you’re not propping up the phone. 

“Imagine me with you,” He says, “feel my fingers sliding up your calves, my lips on your inner thigh, you can feel my breath against your sweet cunt, I know you can,” 

You’re about to come untouched, that’s the thought that rocks through your mind when your hips jerk on their own, his deep voice nestled right in your ear. 

“Look at you,” He muses, “squirming around, so fucking desperate for something inside you,” 

Your breath catches. 

“You’re so needy,” He continues, “are you making noise for me? Little pants, little moans? Are you trying to be quiet?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, a soft scold, “Not with me, baby,” 

A moan bubbles up out of you. 

“Hands off.” 

Your eyes open immediately, and you don’t pull your hands away just yet, but you’re frozen still. You’re breathing hard, blush climbing up your chest, and your hips jerk slightly. If he doesn’t let you touch yourself soon, you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Good girl,” He says after a moment, “very good,” 

You drop your hands, scrambling for the phone so you can see what he’s going to do next. 

“Now watch me,” He instructs, holding his palm up to the camera, “take two fingers,” he separates his fingers, keeping his middle and index fingers tucked together, “and when they’re inside curl them just like this.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, “Just like this,” 

You slide your hand down your front, slipping your fingers through your soaked folds, but his voice makes you pause. 

“Go slow,” He instructs, “push them in nice and slow for me,” 

You follow his instructions. 

“There you go,” He sighs softly, “now curl your fingers,” 

You watch as he does it in the video and you follow instructions dutifully, your fingers brushing over your spongy g-spot. 

“Feel that?” He leans back, and the tent in his sweatpants makes you pant, “That perfect little spot that makes you whine so good for me?” 

You nod again, biting down on your lip, desperate to move but waiting. 

“When I say,” He slips his fingertips into his sweatpants, teasing you, “fuck your perfect pussy with those fingers,”

Sweat drips down your chest. 

His hand disappears into his sweats and he groans, “Now,” 

You don’t have to be told twice. 

“Harder,” He says, throaty and low, “I know you can,” 

A tight sound slips out of you as you work yourself, but you nearly fall apart when you watch him push down the top of his sweats. His cock is huge, there’s no other way to say it. Thick and perfect, aching pink at the head and when he wraps his hand around himself you feel the tense knot of your orgasm rushing back. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” You scramble in the sheets, pulsing your fingers in and out just like he told you to. 

“Look at you,” He says again, “fucking yourself for me. I bet you’re imagining my fingers, aren’t you? Just like I’m imagining your dripping pussy,” 

Pleasure rocks in your gut. 

“Use your other hand,” He instructs, “rub that clit for me,” 

You drop the phone like it’s hot, and you have to crane your neck to see the video, but it doesn’t matter. He’s given you the perfect permission to do exactly what you need and you have to take it. 

“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Do you feel like you need to come for me?” His voice gets closer to the microphone and you’re rapidly approaching the edge, “You’re so close, fuck, listen to you,” 

“God, oh god,” Your legs are trembling. 

“Do you see how hard you make me?” His fist jerks over his cock faster and your mind is unraveling, none of his other audios feel like this, “Do you know how much I want to see you come?” 

Pressure drops in your belly. 

“Fuck,” He pants, “you’re almost there, I know you want to come for me, but not until I say,” 

It’s happening whether he wants it to or not, whether you want it or not, and your fingers bear down harder on your clit, your eyes locking closed, head falling back. 

“Hands off,” He’s not teasing anymore, he’s telling, “right now, babygirl, hands off.” 

You pull your hands away and it’s possible that nothing has ever felt as bad as this one stolen orgasm. Your hands are shaking, body flushed and slick with sweat, and if any of your neighbors are up they are probably getting an earful. 

You lock eyes with the video again and his hands rest on his knees, cock standing tall and at attention, edging with you. 

“Get that dildo nice and wet,” He says, and you search your sheets for the silicone cock, “in your mouth pretty girl, imagine that’s my cock between your lips,” 

He strokes his hand slowly down his length, smearing a bead of precum down to the base of his shaft as you dip the cock between your lips and take it as far in your mouth as you can. 

“It’s time to come,” He soothes, like he knows you’re a whining, quivering mess, “I know you need it,” 

The dildo pops free from your mouth and you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to expose the smooth plane of his abs, “Fuck yourself with me, sweetheart,” 

Pleasure pops through you as you press the toy to your hot channel. 

“Nice and fast,” He pleads, thrusting into his fist, “don’t stop this time, not until you come,” 

The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere. 

“Just trust me,” He whispers in your ear, “don’t stop. I’ve got you, I’m right here, you let go baby. Don’t fight it,” 

Your back arches up off the bedding, the muscles in your arm aching as you thrust the toy in and out of yourself, pressing it up again and again into your g-spot. 

“Come, baby,” He sounds like he’s begging, and your free hand flies down to grip the sheets, “let go, you come, that’s it, there you go,” 

You turn your head, catching sight of him again and the way he works himself over. 

“There we go,” He groans sharply, his own release spurting up ropes of cum onto his exposed chest, “can you feel me inside you? Come with me, that’s a good girl, good fucking girl,” 

He sounds dizzy, panting himself, you’ve never heard him quite like this and one final thrust sends you spilling over the edge. Your vision whites, body locking up in ecstatic pleasure, and you clap a hand over your lips to stifle the moan that rips out of you. 

It takes a minute to come back from that. Your ears ringing, and the dildo slips out of you with a final pulse from your shattering orgasm. He’s talking, you register it, but his voice sounds far away and you realize that you’ve lost your earbuds. You scramble to get them back in, pulling the video up to your eyes. 

“-And that’s okay,” He’s saying, his cock tucked away and his shirt back down, “you can try again another time if you didn’t quite get there,” 

For a second you’re confused, it was the hardest orgasm of your life, but then you remember this was intended to be a guided masturbation to squirt and you blush, alone in your apartment, at the fact that you didn’t quite get there and he’s talking to you. 

“It’s all about the build up,” He explains, “but I’m sure with a little practice we can get you there.” 

You’ve never really cared about squirting until now, but he makes it sound like a perfect date and something tells you that you’ll be back here again night after night if he’ll have you. 

“Anyway,” He sighs and you hope he’s smiling above the camera, “thank you for spending a little bit of your day with me, I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel,” 

You blush again. 

“I’ll see you soon,” He assures, gentle like a lover would, “sleep well, jagiya,” 

The video cuts and you blink hard, you’re still smiling. 

You are so, so fucked. 

After that, Ryu becomes a problem. You wish it was just the videos and the dirty talk and the good orgasms, but it’s more than that. You just like to hear him talk now, the little bits at the beginning about his day are starting to get into your head. And then there’s the Snapchat. 

You kind of expected the private Snap to be sexy photos and videos of him in the almost pitch dark huskily saying good morning, but it isn’t. You still have never seen his face, but his videos are casual, friendly, too real for a man you spend every night fantasizing about. He chats about things he’s doing or books he’s reading while he’s cooking, filming just shoulders down so you can watch the muscles in his arms while he chops vegetables. You fall in love with the sound of his voice when he’s just talking, his stretched out s-sounds that only really peek through outside of his constructed scenes. You find yourself missing him a little on days he doesn’t post. 

You’ve gotten used to waking up with him, falling asleep with him, checking in on him during the day. His message announcements in Snapchat don’t feel like they’re for everyone, they feel like they’re for you. You know that’s not true of course, you know you’re paying a hefty monthly bill just to feel like this, but you don’t care. It’s been a while, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t just need some company. 

It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit. 

You wake up far too late, forgetting to set the alarm on your phone after falling asleep directly after yet another Ryu narrated orgasm, and everything has been off kilter since. You’re scrambling to get to work on time and every little thing is going wrong. Your coffee machine isn’t turning on, the sweater you want to wear is still in the wash, and your umbrella will not open despite the rain that’s ruining what would have been a good hair day. 

When you decide to stop into the coffee shop across from your office it’s not even a want, it's a need. You’re already thirty minutes late, why not make it forty-five? 

You’ve never come here, not once. You’re used to going to the shop around the block from your apartment, and this place is new. Ongozisin is the kind of place you’d normally take your time in. The space is clearly industrial, concrete walls and flooring made to look unfinished. The aesthetic is still warm though, with natural dark wood furniture and bamboo accents, Joseon era paintings and a juniper bonsai along the back wall. 

To the left side of the cafe stands a bay of tall windows and the very modern, very clean point of sale. The line isn’t too long, but you can see that the pace of this place is slower by design, so maybe you’ll just round up and call it an hour late. A door opens to your left and you watch as one of the baristas steps out from a kitchen holding two black plates of colorful, carefully constructed pastries. 

The line moves ahead of you, and the person behind you softly clears their throat to jog your attention. 

You step closer, only one person ahead of you now. 

When you hear his voice you nearly reach for your phone. 

“That’s perfect,” It’s Ryu, clear as day. His voice is distinct and deep and here. 

Your eyes snap up to the barista behind the counter, your body frozen stock still as you take him in, mind spinning. 

“Do you want any cream?” He says to the woman ordering. 

Blush lights up your cheeks and all you can think about is the video you watched the night before and his voice in your ear - Do you want my cum inside you, pretty baby? 

You should leave. There’s a reason this man is anonymous on the internet, never showing an inch of his face, and Ryu isn’t even his name, it's just what you call him. He never calls himself anything in the videos, never reveals what part of Korea he lives in, never talks about his job. He doesn’t want to be found. 

You’re about to turn, run, scramble away, but his voice comes again and this time you realize he’s talking to you. The man, Ryu, smiles, “Good morning, can I get you something?” 

You’re frozen. 

“Miss?” A little crease between his brows. 

“Sorry,” You jump forwards, ignoring the annoyed huff behind you and shaking off as much of this panic as you can, “I don’t know where my head is this morning,” 

“That’s alright,” He says warmly, “that’s what I’m here for,” 

You can’t say anything, your mind blanks. 

His eyes flick over you and then he nods, “You know, coffee? To wake you up?” 

“Right!” You nod, “Sorry, yes, an americano please,” 

“Iced or hot?” He asks. 

Are you feeling hot, babygirl? Do you need to take something off for me? 

“Hot,” You say it on a reflex but then you remember yourself, “no sorry, iced, iced please,” 

“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,” 

You make it through payment without too much more embarrassment, apologizing again, and then you step to the side. Another barista appears, slotting into Ryu’s place so he can turn his attention to the drinks he needs to make and you take the moment to get composed. 

He’s handsome, that’s a given. You expected that, but still he looks even better than your imagination conjured up, more real. He looks exactly right for this cafe too, his black hair long enough to brush the base of his neck with half gathered into a ponytail, pieces loose to frame his angular face. He’s dressed smartly too, black oversized trousers and a fitted black t-shirt, slim black boots, and an open jacket in a dramatic modern-hanbok style. You realize you’re staring the minute his eyes hold on yours and they crinkle up as he smiles. He has a birthmark, a smooth light pink flush across his eye and your heart thumps in your chest. 

“Long night?” He asks you, passing off a coffee in a mug to the woman who had been ahead of you in line. 

He just puts you at ease and you nod, “Something like that,” 

“Ah,” He knocks out the round cake of used espresso from the portafilter as he talks, “and you look like you got caught in the rain, don’t you have an umbrella?” 

“Broken,” You grimace, “it’s been one of those mornings,” 

“Mm,” He nods, focusing on queueing up espresso for your americano, but while the shots pull he turns back to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?” 

You shake your head, “No, first time,” 

“Do you like it?” He gestures around with a nod of his head. 

“Very much,” You smile, “it’s a great space,” 

He smiles again, looking proud, “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “we haven’t been open very long, but so far people have seemed to enjoy it,” 

“Oh,” You watch him pour your espresso over ice, “is the cafe yours?” 

He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,” 

You wish you weren’t late, you wish you were able to stay just a little longer. 

“Well,” You tell him honestly, “it’s beautiful here, I’ll have to come in more often, I only work across the street.”

“Ah,” He nods, “I thought you looked familiar,” 

Blush creeps up your neck. 

“Did you need cream?” He asks and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your pulse quickens at his words, but he nods towards your coffee and you shake your head. 

“Thank you,” You take the cup off the bar and step back, “I appreciate it.” 

“I hope that helps,” He says, and then he glances behind you at the large round window, “actually, I’m sorry, can you wait one moment?” 

“Sure,” You watch him duck out from behind the bar, making a quick beeline for the swinging door that leads back into the kitchen. You have no idea what he could want, there’s no way you’d be recognized by him except as a stranger on the street, and your stomach knots up. 

It takes him a moment, but he darts back out, a long black umbrella in his hand, “Take this,” 

“I can’t do that,” You wave a hand, “I’m only across the street, but that’s really kind of you,” 

“If you’re only across the street then I know where to go to get it back,” He shakes his head, “just take it, it’s raining like crazy out there,” 

He presses the handle of the umbrella into your free hand, and your breath catches in your throat, his skin brushing against yours. Your eyes flick over his rings, just the same as always. A signet with a deep black stone, a hammered silver band, a clearly vintage one on his index finger that looks like an old Catholic saint token, the finer details rubbed away with age. 

“What time do you close?” You ask, accepting the umbrella. 

“Seven,” 

“I’ll bring it back after work then,” You tell him, “is that alright?”

He nods, “But if it’s still raining, just keep it. Bring it by tomorrow,” 

“Tomorrow,” You nod. 

“Mhm,” He nods, something warm in his expression, “this will have to be your new usual spot,” 

Is he flirting? You’re wholly and entirely unprepared to deal with that considering the way you moaned his name last night. Something clicks in your brain at that thought though and you nod, “Maybe it will. I’m y/n, by the way,” 

“Yeosang,” He smiles, “it’s very nice to meet you.” 

Yeosang.

“You too,” You dip your head, “and thank you again for this,” 

“Of course,” He says, “I hope this turns your morning around a little,” 

You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a voice from the cafe bar that slices cleanly between your conversation, “Yeosang-ah!” 

Yeosang glances back and then he sighs, just a little, “I have to go,” he tells you, “but I’ll see you again,” 

“See you again,” 

He’s back behind the bar before you can blink, focusing on each customer’s order. The man who called his name is grinning, and you wonder idly if he’s the friend who owns the cafe with Yeosang or just a part-timer. 

With your stomach fluttering, you push out into the rain to get to work, Yeosang’s name on a loop in your brain for the rest of the day. When you get home, his umbrella resting by the door, you delete his Snapchat from your contacts and unsubscribe from his Fansly account. 

Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual. 

The money you used to spend on his Fansly now goes straight into the cafe, first thing in the morning before work and a last lingering stop in the evening before you go home. 

On busy days you barely get to see him and sometimes you’re left just chatting with Wooyoung, his best friend and business partner. You like him too, you like the atmosphere and their kind warmth, but if you’re being honest you find yourself living for slow days. The days where you’ve timed it just right to have a little talk before the rush of the day or the closing tasks of the evening. 

Little by little, Ryu fades from your mind, and the man in front of you is just Yeosang. The guy who runs your favorite coffee shop, the guy who dresses almost otherworldly, who smiles wide but only when you say something truly funny, who sometimes gets lost in his own head while he’s making cappuccinos. 

He’s lovely. 

Sometimes you think he might be flirting, a little more suavely and charismatic than his business partner who asked if you had a crush on him since you were coming into the cafe so much. Sometimes Yeosang adds a little extra treat to your plate of food or he adds pretty latte art to your cup if you’re staying in the cafe. That might be nothing, but it certainly might be something. 

It isn’t until another day of rain, harsh pelting rain, that Yeosang appears at your table. 

“We close soon,” He says, and when he sees the brief flash of concern that you’ve overstayed your welcome on your face he shakes his head, “sorry, I meant to ask, how are you getting home tonight?” 

“The train,” You glance outside. 

His nose crinkles, “You don’t have an umbrella today either,”

“True,” You look down at your belongings, “I didn’t check the weather,” 

“If you wait a bit for us to lock up,” He says, “I’d be happy to walk you to the station,” 

“Oh,” 

“Or if you’re not busy,” He clears his throat softly, “I could walk you to this little restaurant around the corner?” 

Flirting, then. 

You smile and nod, trying to keep your eagerness tamped down to a normal amount, “Are you asking me out, Yeosang?” 

He grins, “I’ve been trying to,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly, “I’ll wait, dinner sounds nice,” 

His shoulders sag, a little relief in his expression and he clears away your empty cup as he says, “I’ll be quick,”

You catch Wooyoung slapping his friend's shoulder as he disappears into the back room, and before you know it you’re blushing and sitting across from this man at the restaurant down the block. 

Dinner is so smooth it feels surreal. It turns out you both like the same music, and several books too, and you’ve never been on a date with a man who asked you so many questions about yourself and didn’t just talk your ear off. Dinner stretches long too, and you’re strangely grateful it’s a Friday when you finally do check the time. He has to work on Saturday at the cafe, but not until a little later in the morning, and so neither one of you really wants to call it quits. 

The after dinner walk turns meandering, and then his hand is brushing against yours, knuckles to knuckles. 

You don’t think of him as Ryu until his fingers brush down your back, lips close to your ear when he finally asks you. The way he does makes your body melt - I hope I’m not ruining things by asking, but would you like to come home with me tonight?

You agree before your mind catches up to itself, but every step of the walk to his apartment has your heart picking up speed. You had forgotten on the date how you met him, really met him, and your gut churns. 

Do you tell him? Do you lie? 

Everytime he grins at you, touches you, tucks his long hair behind his ear and nods, you can’t imagine a one night stand. You could maybe swallow the truth if that’s all this was to you, but it’s not, and so you can’t. 

On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking. 

“You can change your mind, you know,” He offers, noticing how you’ve gone quiet, and it pulls you straight out of your thoughts. 

“Oh,” Your head snaps up, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to change my mind at all, I just got a little lost in thought.” 

He nods, this time finding your hand and giving you a squeeze, his steps slowing as you approach his building, “Can I ask what about?” 

You nod, returning the soft pulse of his hand in yours before separating your skin from his. His eyes flick down to your hands, and then back up to your eyes. 

“I have a bit of a confession,” You swallow hard, “something I think I should tell you before we go upstairs,” 

“Okay,” He leans against the stone wall behind him, “is everything alright?” 

“I hope so,” You nod, “I just feel like there’s something I should say now, and if it makes you uncomfortable at all, just be honest. I’ll go home, no hard feelings,” 

“y/n,” His brows draw together in confusion, “what’s going on?” 

You take a deep breath, taking a step back to get a little breathing room, “I recognized you when I came into the cafe that first day,” 

“Recognized me?” 

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, your chest feeling tight, “for the past few months I’ve been… a subscriber,”

“A subscriber,” He repeats, and for a brief flickering second you wonder to yourself if this man just looks and sounds and feels exactly like Ryu but isn’t, but then his face blanches, “oh,” 

“I’m not anymore,” You shake your head, “and clearly you like your privacy, so I didn’t know how to just come out and say it, but if you’re actually interested in me and not just being flirty at the cafe then I just can’t lie to you… I don’t want to start something with a lie,” 

He’s quiet, and then his eyes flick down. 

It was so, so nice while it lasted. 

“I should have told you sooner,” Your stomach flips and you take another step back, “and I completely understand that you’re upset, I’ll just, I won’t say anything to anyone and it was lovely getting to know you, and I’m sorry, I’ll go,” 

His head snaps up, “Go? y/n, stop, slow down,” 

His hands smooth down your forearms as he jumps forwards, pulling you gently back towards him. Your heart is beating so loud you can practically hear it, “I’m sorry,” 

“I’m not upset,” He assures, “can we go inside to talk? I don’t want to do this in the street,” 

You nod, letting him lead you through the garden gate and up towards the house, but his words pulse on a loop in your mind. You hope he’s good at letting you down easy because this hurts. You should have known it that first day at the cafe, you should have stayed away and not played with fire. 

His house is small, but very nice and despite being sparsely decorated, you like it. You feel trapped in the entryway so unsure of what to do in this space, especially when you recognize the corner of his gray couch. 

“Can I get you a drink or something?” He interrupts your thoughts, “I have wine, probably some soju, and a bottle of truly undrinkable Japanese whisky,” 

“Undrinkable?” You blink. 

“I think it’s supposed to be very good if you like whisky,” He explains, “it was a gift,” 

“Ah,” You couldn’t feel more awkward if you tried, “wine, I guess?” 

“Okay,” He smiles, a close lipped polite smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll get us a drink and then we can talk,” 

“Sure,” You’re still frozen as he walks away down the hall to what you presume is the kitchen. It takes a minute to unstick yourself, but you make your way to the couch and wait. 

He returns with two glasses of red wine and then he sits in the chair opposite you, not on the stretch of couch next to you. 

“Sorry,” You take the wine, stomach flip flopping, “I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,” 

“Mm,” He nods, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know what to say,” You tell him honestly. 

He nods, looking anywhere but at you until he finally meets your eyes again, “You’re not a subscriber anymore?” 

“No,” You tell him firmly. 

“Why?” He asks, and the question hangs between you. 

“When I recognized you at the cafe and you were being so nice to me,” You explain, “it occurred to me that something might happen between us, as friends or otherwise, and it just felt wrong to know you as Yeosang and then… engage with your content that is clearly anonymous and meant to be private. I didn’t want to do that without you knowing,” 

He nods, setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, “I see,” 

“You are keeping it private, right? I feel like you’re careful to not overshare,” 

“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.” 

“Then I really am sorry,” You set your own glass aside and lean forwards, “I’m sure you didn’t want to bring your real life as Yeosang and your online life as Ryu together, I just recognized your voice immediately that day in the cafe,”

“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you. 

“That’s what I…” You try to parse through it so it doesn’t sound like a parasocial affair, “fromryu, you know? That’s just what I filled in for your name, I guess,” 

“Ryusang,” He nods, “it’s the Hanja spelling of Yeosang,” 

“Oh,” You soften. 

“Why didn’t you mention you knew me before?” He asks, but despite his words nothing in his demeanor is upset, just curious. 

You take another large, steadying gulp of wine and nod, “I didn’t really think the cafe was an appropriate place to tell you that I’ve gotten off to your voice before,” 

He laughs sharply and looks down, “Okay, that’s fair,” 

“Right,” You murmur. 

“y/n,” He sounds hesitant and you look back up to him, “can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” 

“Did you come out with me tonight because you wanted to go out on a date with the guy from the cafe, or because you wanted to have sex with Ryu?” The question is direct and cutting. 

“With you,” You answer quickly, and now you know exactly why he’s putting this distance between you, “you, Yeosang.” 

He’s quiet, turning your words over, you can practically see him thinking. 

“Yeo,” You murmur, fighting the urge to reach out to him, “if all I wanted was that, I wouldn’t have told you. But I really like you, Yeosang, and I’d like to see more of you and see where this could go, but I completely understand if me knowing this part of you is too much. If you don’t want to go any further with me romantically or as a friend, this can just be a nice date we both had,” 

He nods and then says, “I have one more question,” 

You wait, your stomach in knots. 

“Do you have a problem with what I do?” He asks. 

“I mean,” You shake your head, “I was a subscriber, so no,” 

“I don’t mean like that,” He clarifies his words, “I mean in terms of a romantic relationship. I like my work, both the cafe and the content, and if we start seeing each other I’m not going to suddenly stop making porn just like I wouldn’t close the cafe.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” You shift over on the couch and reach towards him, resting a hand on his forearm. 

“I’ve dated a few women,” He explains, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together, “this was not something any of them were comfortable with,” 

“Oh,” You nod, but he continues. 

“A couple of them thought it might be fun,” He adds, “but when things got more serious they expected me to stop for them,” 

“I’m sorry,” You tell him quietly, “I don’t expect anything like that,” 

“You don’t now,” He points out, “and neither did they in the beginning.” 

You can see the way this has fucked with his head a little, the way he keeps his shoulders stiff and turned away from you as he explains, and you suppose you might react the same way if you were in his shoes. 

You chew the inside of your lip as you think about how best to say this to him, but finally you manage it, “Yeosang,” you get his attention, “what you do for work doesn’t change what we do on a date or in bed,” 

He turns his head a little, the only indication you have that he’s really listening. 

“I have no expectation that you’re some… sex god,” You smile a little, “though my guess is that you’re pretty good at dirty talk,” 

A small smile appears on his lips. 

“If I didn’t like what you do for work I’d go find another guy,” You continue, “and I’m sorry if the other women you dated weren’t comfortable with it, but I’m not so shy about it. I like what you do, and you’ve helped me plenty, and there’s nothing more flattering than knowing you liked me enough to even bring me upstairs,” 

“Don’t sell yourself short there,” He looks up, shaking his head, “when you said yes to dinner I thought I’d be lucky if I got to so much as touch you,” 

Your heart quickens in your chest, “You, what?” 

He turns his body towards you properly now, “y/n,” he says, “I like you, I’ve liked you since you walked into the cafe soaking wet and exhausted, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”

“I think I’m dreaming,” You breathe, and he grins at your words. You clap a hand over your lips and groan, “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that outloud,” 

“It’s honest,” He says, “I like that about you,”

“Well,” Your hands naturally separate as you lean back onto the couch, “then believe me when I tell you that I am fine with your work. All aspects of your work,” 

His eyes flick over you, gauging how honest you’re being now, “All aspects?” 

You nod again. 

“y/n,” His voice softens, “what tier subscriber were you?” 

It clicks in your brain that you haven’t really told him everything, all the things you know about him and his work. Little audio videos here and there might be forgivable to some women, but more might be too much. 

“The highest,” You tell him, “when I say everything I mean it, the videos, the Snapchat, all of it.” 

He seems to relax at that, “And if this does go somewhere,” he gestures between you both, “if we keep seeing each other. If it becomes more than a few dates,” 

You nod. 

“You’re alright knowing that even if we were dating and going to bed together every night, I spend my free time making people come on the internet for money,” He says it so plainly that you have to blink at him. 

You turn his words over and then sigh, “There’s one thing,” 

He leans back in his chair, putting a little more distance between you both, obviously braced for your words. 

“I just have a question,” You ease him, “just something I should know, I think.” 

He nods once, his shoulders tense again. 

“Do you ever talk one on one with people?” You feel your cheeks heat, “I know you do, you have the discord, but I mean do you ever do what you do alone with someone?”

He softens, “No, no I don’t,” 

“Okay,” You nod, the tense knot in your stomach relaxing, “okay, then,”

“Would that be a boundary for you?” He asks. 

“I think so,” You tell him, “it’s different when you’re making a video to upload for anyone and talking to someone, at least to me,” 

He nods, and then he moves, shifting from his position on the chair to your side on the couch. The nerves that were knotted deeply inside you start to unfurl, his proximity feeling like a peace offering, like an acceptance of your words.

“Subscribers aren’t lovers,” He says finally, “and some people blur that line with their content, but I don’t.” 

“Then, Yeosang,” You take the opportunity to slide yourself sideways a little closer to him, “I am fine with all aspects of your work, more than fine.” 

“Will you tell me if that ever changes?” He asks. 

“Yes,” You make him this promise, “I like you too, all I want is to be honest with you,” 

He nods, his fingers flexing on his thigh as he thinks. Finally, he swallows tightly, his skin flushing a little now that you’re almost pressed together on the couch, and he asks what he’s wanted to ask all night, “y/n,” he turns towards you, “can I kiss you?” 

He’s stunning this close, enough to render you speechless, breathless. You manage a single word, “Please,” 

He’s on you in a flash, and Yeosang’s lips are warm, soft and plush and as he presses into you and winds his arms around you. Your body relaxes into his instantly, the feeling of his warmth, the scent of him, rich coffee grounds and sugar infused into his skin from his work at the cafe. 

His tongue probes your mouth, his breath hot as he sighs. Your body feels alight, hot and feverish and desperate from just a single kiss. You need him inside you yesterday. 

When he breaks the kiss, you realize you’re half straddling him. Somewhere in the heat of the moment and the muddled fog you hitched a leg over his and his hands dragged you up against him so you’re chest to chest. When your mouths break apart, you’re still merely inches from each other and panting the same little breath of air. 

“y/n,” His hands explore you slowly, moving over your skin like he’s trying to learn you, “normally I would try to keep the kink to a future date, but since you already know all of my deepest, darkest fantasies, maybe we can skip ahead?” 

“Yes,” You laugh softly, “definitely,” 

“But I am realizing something,” His hands find the curve of your ass, “I’m at a disadvantage here, you’ve seen my videos, but I don’t know anything about what you like.” 

“You,” The word bubbles up and you flush red again. 

“My voice, I’m sure you like that,” He drops it a little to emphasize the husky bedroom quality of it with a teasing smile on his face, “but what videos do you like? What were your favorites?” 

He’s about to ruin you, there’s absolutely no question. Even if he was all talk you’re sure to be coming just from his words alone, but his hands, the way he touches you, there’s no doubt he has the skills to back up everything he’s ever said in the videos too. 

“Now I’m a little embarrassed,” You admit, “an hour ago we were on a first date,” 

“An hour ago I didn’t know the woman across the table had fucked herself to the thought of me,” He counters softly, “and we can slow down if you want but judging from the wet patch on my thigh I think you want to keep going,” 

You jerk your hips immediately, angling to pull them away so you can stop embarrassing yourself all over this man after a single kiss, but his hands lock down hard over your ass and he holds your body firmly against him. 

“No, no,” He adjusts his leg so that his thigh is pressed even more firmly against your cunt, “don’t be embarrassed with me,” 

“Right,” You blush darker. 

“I’ll tell you what I want,” He offers, “would that help?” 

You nod quickly. 

One of his hands shifts to lovingly stroke up and down your back as he speaks, “I want you to enjoy this more than anything. There is nothing that gets me off harder than making a partner absolutely fall apart for me, and knowing I did that for them, and I think you already know that from my content. That’s real, that’s me.” 

You shiver a little and he leans up to kiss you, softer this time. 

“I’d like this to be good for you,” He continues, “and honestly I already want to see you again, but in case it’s only one night for you I think we should make it count.” 

The night went from nothing to everything so fast your head is spinning but you nod, surging up to kiss him with your hands pressed against his chest for balance. Your core drags along his hard thigh with your momentum forwards and you gasp a little into the kiss, your hips bucking softly on their own at the sudden pleasurable sensation. You feel something stiff and warm pressing into your belly and you feel a rush of sensation between your thighs. 

“So,” He kisses you again, leaning away so he can talk to you, “tell me what videos you liked,” 

“The um,” You clear your throat softly, “the guided ones,” 

He smiles, “Those are your favorites?” 

You nod. 

“And the roleplay?” He asks. 

“Good,” You nod, “everything you do is really good,” 

“But the guided ones get you off, hmm?” He squeezes your hips. 

You nod again, “You’re very good at what you do,” 

“Guided,” He says, almost to himself, before he drags your hips up and back along his thigh, “so you like when I talk you through it?” 

You rock your hips on your own this time, picking up on his cues that he wants you to grind on him, “Mm-hmm,” 

“Tell me more about what you like,” He keeps one hand planted firmly on your backside, but the other starts to wonder, fingers teasing the skin of your collarbones before he cups your breast through your sweater. 

  “Y-you’re so comforting,” You manage as you slowly rut your body against his, “even when you’re edging me and telling me what to do, you’re just, I don’t know,” 

“Is that right?” He teases softly, his fingers toying with the top button of your closed cardigan. 

“Mm,” You sigh, pleasure truly starting to build inside you as you rock your clit lazily against him, “and you understand it takes time for women,” 

The button opens. 

“You take your time with the build up,” You sigh, finding a better position for your hands against his firm chest while you continue to rock, “and when you talk about what you wish you could do to me if you were there,” 

Two more buttons part open and he hums softly, appreciatively, “You like knowing what I want?” 

You nod, watching as he makes short work of your other buttons. 

“Maybe I should just show you,” He slides the cardigan off your shoulders until it pools around your waist, caught on your elbows, “wouldn’t that be better than just listening?”

“Y-yes,” You sigh, your hips slowing so you can let him take the lead. 

He shakes his head, pressing his hand against your ass again to keep you moving, “That’s it,” 

You moan softly, fingers gripping his shirt, “Yeosang,” 

He chuckles at your needy whine and brushes his fingers between your breasts, stroking up your chest, down and over the wire of your bra, and lower still over the soft flesh of your belly. 

“There you go,” He smiles, “I know that feels good,” 

You nod, “So good,” 

“Jagiya,” His hands slide your bra straps down, letting the soft material of the mesh cups fall and reveal your breasts to his hungry eyes, “look how pretty you are for me,” 

You’re close. 

“Don’t stop,” He murmurs, shifting under you so that he can sit up further and press his lips to your chest, “I need you to come,” 

“Yeo,” You whine, your hips sinking into a quick rolling rhythm that feels so right. 

“I need to take my time with you,” He confesses, lips traveling from the center of your chest across the swell of your breasts, “but I don’t think I can,” 

“I-I don’t want you to,” You moan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to stay steady, “please,” 

“I want to,” He groans, “but, fuck, y/n,” 

“Yeo,” You shudder, pleasure snapping up and down your spine, “it’s not one night, it could have never been one night for me,” 

He exhales a heavy breath against your skin, hands tightening pleasantly on your rutting hips. 

You’re startlingly close to tipping over the edge, the bubble growing closer and closer to bursting, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to focus on the sensation of him, “I-I need,” 

He grips you harder, “Tell me, baby,” 

“I, I,” You stammer, body stumbling towards coming. 

“Come on,” He says lowly, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here,” 

A tight sound bubbles out of your mouth and you figure it out in a second, your hand winding into the back of his hair to direct his head, pushing his mouth until you feel his lips ghost over your pebbled nipple. 

“Oh,” He groans, his tongue catching your nipple firmly and sending a shock down your back, “there we go, I’ve got you,” 

His tongue flicks over your nipple again, closing his lips over the hardened bud to suck sharply in exactly the way you need to take you right over the edge. 

“I’m,” You grip him harder, losing yourself entirely now as you grind against him for your release, “I’m so close,” 

“Come,” He pants, latching back onto your breast to keep lavishing the same attention, his arms banding tightly around you to hold your shuddering body close.  

Your finger tightens in his hair, he begs you once more to come, and your orgasm knocks into you sideways. You moan sharply, jerking against him as you fall apart, and you feel him start to move. 

He presses fast kisses across your chest, his voice soothing, “Oh, there we go,” he sighs as he feels you trembling, “fuck, what a good girl showing me exactly what she needs,” 

His words draw a groan from your lips, your head buzzing at his praise. 

“Perfect,” He sighs against your chest, “you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,” 

You shiver, “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” His fingers trace a circle around your nipple, and something in the way he’s touching you and the sound of his voice tells you everything. He’s about to tease you, edge you, make you come, and god willing he was about to fuck you. Yeosang flicks his thumb over your nipple and smiles, “Baby, I’m going to turn you over, if you want to slow down or stop at anytime you just tell me,” 

“I think I’ll be,” You start to say, and then he maneuvers you quickly in his strong arms, gathering you close so he can turn you over on the couch, leaving you lying flat on your back against the cushions. You squeak and the way he pushes your legs together, quickly undoing the buttons on your trousers and pulling down the zip, and he glances up at the sound to check your eyes but finds nothing but your lazy post-orgasm smile. 

As he kneels and strips your trousers off he groans, “God,” 

“W-what’s wrong?” You blink, finding his eyes. 

“Absolutely nothing,” He smooths his hands up and down your bare legs, “except I’m finding it very difficult not being inside you yet,” 

“So come inside me,” You smile. 

The corner of his mouth turns up at your words, “Already, baby? It’s only the first date,” 

You process your words and roll your eyes, “You know what I meant,” 

“I do,” He smiles wider now, “but you need to come again before I fuck you,” 

“Not that I’m complaining about you touching me,” You gasp sharply as he hooks his thumbs under the sides of your thong and yanks it away, “but I’ve been daydreaming about your cock for months, so,” 

He laughs sharply, tugging his own shirt up and off over his head as he does, “I’m flattered,” 

“Shut up,” You press your thighs together and let your head flop back onto the cushions. 

“Darling,” Yeosang says, kissing each of your thighs before he starts to slowly open your legs again, “how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?” 

“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,” 

“And how long since you’ve had anything bigger than your fingers inside you?” He asks it so plainly, so calmly, while he widens your legs and starts to tip you open, another kiss to your inner thigh. 

You shiver in his hands, “N-not that long,” 

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased at that, “do you like using toys when you fuck yourself to my voice?” 

“Fuck,” You gasp as his finger traces the softest line up and down your slit. 

“Is that a yes?” He blows a cool stream of air across your throbbing clit and you jerk in his hands. 

“Yes,” You answer quickly. 

“What I wouldn’t give to watch that,” He says, kissing your inner thigh again before he continues, “but still, I’m probably bigger than your dildo, be patient with me,” 

“Oh, fuck,” You melt as he presses one finger inside your slick channel.

“Relax,” He soothes you, “just let go for me,” 

You don’t know how your life is this strange, how you went from listening to this man through your headphones while you touched yourself under the covers alone at home to his fingers sinking inside you. You’ll probably wake up from this dream with sticky thighs. There’s no way this is real. 

Those are the thoughts that dizzy you until he pushes two fingers flush into your heat and you moan sharply, your hand gripping down on one of the couch throw pillows. He feels pretty real. 

He groans, gently pumping his middle and ring finger just to get you used to the sensation, “Feel good?” 

“So good,” You sigh.

“How badly do you need to come, darling?” He asks, continuing the slow and steady thrust of his fingers. 

“So badly,” Your voice is whiny, needy, entirely informed by the feverish heat spreading through you. 

“Pretty girl,” He hums, “with an even prettier pussy,” 

“Oh, god,” You grip the pillows harder, and he’s barely doing anything to you but your legs are already starting to tremble. 

“Mmm,” His fingers begin to pulse more firmly and you feel his fingers curl, finding the spongy crook of your g-spot with practiced ease, “and you need my cock inside, don’t you?” 

“Ah, yes! Yes,” Pleasure blooms through your body. 

“Soon,” He promises. 

You moan again as he repositions, continuing the steady drumbeat of his fingers inside you as he reaches around with his opposite hand to separate your lower lips, the pad of his middle finger now alternating between maddening flicks and taps to your clit. 

“Ah! Yeo,” Your hips rock, “just like that,” 

“Good girl,” He murmurs, “telling me what you like,” 

A tight sensation fills your lower belly, a blossoming heat that spreads from your core up through your body in warm waves, “F-faster,” 

“Mm,” His thrusting picks up speed instantly, the angle slightly adjusting as he does, “that’s it,” 

The angle chance has his curled fingers pumping against your g-spot hard and suddenly the sensation drops low, almost painfully tight and sharp like you’re on the precipice of something. 

It occurs to you all at once what he’s trying to do, the way he’s trying to make your body sing, and despite the rolling waves of pleasure and how close you are to your second release, you don’t necessarily want the first time you squirt to be on Yeosang’s floor. 

“B-baby,” You whine, the pet name slipping off your tongue, “I’m gonna, I think, oh fuck,” 

“Fuck yes,” His fingers flatten down over your clit and he rubs fast, slickly rolling over your firm bud, “let go,” 

“I can’t,” You shake your head, sweat breaking out across your brow, “I’ve n-never, oh, fuck, Yeosang!”

“Come,” He commands softly, “that’s it, you come, right here, baby,” 

He’s not stopping, and with the way he’s working you there’s no way you could even if you tried. In a snap your body releases hard, a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt pulsing through your slick cunt and your legs jerk, hips snapping up as clear fluid pulses out of you. The sound that leaves your lips is wanton, broken and needy, and your ears are very clearly ringing. 

“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang hums, almost to himself, rubbing fast across your soaked slit to help coax every bit of slick from your center, “oh, baby, look at you,” 

Your legs try to snap shut at the suddenly sharp overstimulation, but all he does is take that as his cue to stop directly stimulating you and instead drop the warm flat of his tongue over every inch of your glistening pussy. You gasp sharply at the feeling, rolling your head forwards so that you can look down between your legs, and you moan softly at the sight. 

He’s buried between your thighs, lazily licking stripes up your inner thighs and over your cunt, but slowly enough that his aim isn’t to draw you into another orgasm, he just wants to taste you. To feel you on his tongue and ease you through your little aftershocks. 

“God,” You breathe after a moment, “oh, my god,” 

He chuckles, kissing the top of your mound, “Was that your first time?” 

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. 

He groans a little, palming his hard cock through his trousers to readjust, “That’s an ego boost, I’m not going to lie,” 

You manage a laugh despite your dizzy, orgasm fogged brain, “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” He strokes your thigh, “if you’re not careful I might get addicted to the way you taste when you come,” 

A shudder runs through you, “You can’t just say things like that,” 

  “It’s not a lie,” He says, “I’d spend a whole night between these thighs if you’ll let me,” 

“Mm,” You sigh, reaching down for him and brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair. 

“Now?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, “If you want my mouth, you just have to ask,” 

You shake your head, slowly starting to push yourself into a sitting position and slide your hips away from him, “Not tonight,” 

“What more can I give you tonight?” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your bare thighs, “Anything you want,” 

You cup his face, drawing him close to lock your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his nose, “Take me to bed, please, Yeosang,” 

“Let’s go,” He agrees, extricating himself from your arms so he can stand and offer you a hand up. 

You take it, but as you do you realize the wet puddle on the floor in front of the couch and you blush dark red, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry,” 

“For what?” He blinks at you, and then follows your nervous eyes. 

“I didn’t realize,” You start to say but he interrupts you with a hard kiss. 

“Relax,” He says, “if we’re lucky you’ll make a mess of my room too,”

“I don’t know how I did it,” 

He laughs again, “I do,” he smiles, “now come on, I need to see you in my bed before I combust,” 

He tugs your hand, leading you down the hall until you’re in a large master bedroom. Your eyes flick over the details - industrial, warm wood, dark green sheets, soft ambient lighting. You’re about to comment on it, but he flips you back around to face him and captures your mouth in another hungry kiss. 

“God,” He backs you up to the edge of the bed, dropping you down and falling over you, “tell me I can have you,” 

“You have me,” You pant against his mouth, all thoughts of his lovely interior decor gone in an instant when you feel the hard shaft of his cock nestled between your thighs. 

“I swear next time we’ll go slow,” He grinds his hips down, rolling his length up and down your slit, only the thin fabric of his trousers separating you. 

“Please,” You buck against him, “I need you right now,” 

“Fuck,” His hands are hot, searching, “is that right, darling?” 

“Inside me,” Your hands scramble to find his waistband, “please,” 

He nods, lips still pressed against yours, and then he leans back just enough to undo his trousers and start to push down his pants and boxer briefs. 

Your mouth runs dry immediately. He wasn’t wrong about his size. You have fairly large dildos at home, thick and long and perfect for reaching all the spots you need it to, but Yeosang was bigger, thicker and longer than anything you’ve ever had inside you. 

“Condom?” He manages as he shucks off his pants. 

You blink, tearing your eyes away from his perfect, aching cock and nod, “We probably should?” 

“Right,” He doesn’t push you to make a different choice, he simply searches his nightstand for a moment and produces a foil packet. 

He strokes his cock twice while he tears the packet open with his teeth, before watching you beneath him as he rolls the condom smoothly down his length, adjusting it so that it fits perfectly. 

You’re trembling with anticipation, you can feel it and so can he. 

“y/n,” He murmurs, leaning over you and pressing a hand beneath your back to finally unclip your bra, “I want you to do something for me,” 

You nod, sliding the cardigan and bra off your body and pushing them over the edge of the bed. 

He grabs a firm looking pillow and folds it in half, “Lift your hips for me,” 

You lift up and he slides the pillow right under your backside to leave you propped up and open for him. 

“If it doesn’t feel good,” He murmurs as he maneuvers you into the position he wants, “or if I’m hurting you at all, just tell me,” 

You nod. 

“And I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” He instructs, “I need to know,” 

You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire. 

He licks his lips, folding your legs open a little wider and slotting himself over you. He settles with one hand on your raised hip, the other braced on the bed by your head, his knees on the edge of the mattress between your splayed thighs. 

His cock finally, finally, nudges at your entrance and you grip down on the sheets below you. 

“Mm,” He groans, sinking just an inch or two into your tight heat, “you’re even tighter than I thought,” 

He pushes in a little more and you moan at the stretch, “Oh, god,” 

“Do I feel that good, babygirl?” He teases, pushing in a little more.

“So good,” You lift your head to watch the way his thick length splits you open. 

“I am bigger than your toys, aren’t I?” He rolls his hips this time, rocking himself deeper with every little thrust. 

“Y-yes,” You nod, your head dropping back to the mattress. 

“Can you take me, baby?” He murmurs low. 

“Fuck yes,” Your hips buck up again on their own as he opens you up, nearly fully sheathed inside you. 

“Just a little more,” He says, his hand tightening on your hip, “there we go, fuck, that’s it, you’re taking me so beautifully, baby,” 

Tears rush to your eyes, not from any kind of discomfort, but just from the overwhelming sensation of him. You’ve never been so full, never been so deliciously stretched and had these parts of you touched, and it rushes a blush to your chest and emotion through your veins. 

His fingers brush along your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, “Good tears, or should we stop?” 

“If you stop I’ll actually cry,” You laugh, blinking away the hazy sheen in your eyes, “you feel so fucking good,” 

“Oh,” He sighs, thrusting gently in and out of you, “what a good, good girl, you are,” 

“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him. 

“Yeah?” He starts to move now, just a bit more, rocking his cock at a steady pace in and out of your wet core, “You like when I tell you how good you are for me?” 

“Yes,” You moan, a shock of hot pleasure spiking up from your core, “please,” 

“Such a good girl letting me fuck her perfect pussy on the first date,” His voice has dropped low again, husky and direct, and you babble out a sound of pleasure as he talks, “so warm and wet,” 

“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll. 

He collapses over you a little more, his desperate lips searching for yours and the angle deepens, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside you with every downward thrust of his hips. 

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his warm skin, “Baby,” you pant, “your cock, oh god,” 

He hums against your cheek, head falling slack as his lips find your throat, sucking your pulse points and no doubt searing his mark into your tender skin. He pumps his hips harder and you moan under him, cursing again and scrambling to hold him closer. 

“Such a dirty mouth,” He nips at your neck, “are you always like this, or is my cock that special?” 

All you can manage is a taught moan in response, his cockhead now continuously connecting with your sweet spot over and over and rendering you unable to string a coherent thought together. 

He groans at the way your cunt flutters and spasms and he kisses you hard, fingers tangling in your hair, “One of these days I’ll feel you for real,” he pants, “nothing between my cock and your sweet cunt,” 

Your back arches, your mind spinning at the thought, “Yeo,” you moan. 

“Fuck,” He chokes, “the way you’re squeezing me,” 

You make a tight sound, something between a pleasured whine and a sob, and his hips stutter and stop, pressing his cock in as deep as possible as he grips down on whatever parts of you he can, breathing hot and heavy against your skin. 

You can’t really move well in this position, but your hips rock in tiny back and forth motions to try and keep the sensation rolling through you. He’s panting into your shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from coming too soon, and your mind commits to an idea before you have a second to double check yourself. 

“Yeo,” You tap his arm, “baby I need to move,” 

He pushes off you, his cock sliding out of your soaked core and you leg your legs straighten out, “What’s wrong,” 

The words are barely off his tongue before you’re sitting up, grabbing his hand and drawing him back to the bed, pushing him onto his back with a guiding hand to his shoulder. He lets you lead, watching you as you put him where you want him this time, and he smiles, eyes flicking over you appreciatively. 

“I need you,” Is all the explanation you can give, and maybe with a stranger this is foolish, borderline stupid, but you know him. He’s not a stranger really, not to you. 

With a feverish pulse of need inside you, you shift to straddle his hips, and with quick, sure hands you roll the condom up from the base of his cock and toss it to the side. 

“y/n,” He manages, but you’re lifting yourself over him now and his hands fly up to brace your waist, “are you sure?” 

“So sure,” You connect his cockhead with your slick hole and drop your hips down fast, taking the whole hard length of him inside you in one smooth motion. 

It’s his turn to moan, his head dropping back at the sensation of your wet walls and he grips at you, his hips stuttering beneath you. 

“God,” He bucks up into you, “you’re perfect,” 

“So are you,” You rock against him, finding the perfect place for your hands on his chest, “you’re so deep,” 

He moans again, and when you start to bounce up and down he curses tightly. 

“J-just don’t come inside me,” You keep bouncing, a steady fluid motion in your hips that you can tell is driving him crazy, but you have to keep your head at least a little. 

“F-fuck,” He groans, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick down to the place your bodies are joined together, “you’re making that kind of difficult,”

“I just wanted to feel you,” Your shaking arms buckle a little and you find yourself flush against his chest while you work his cock. 

“Me too,” His hands find your ass again and he starts to direct the pace, “God, I could fuck you forever,” 

A moan drops from your mouth, your hands tightening on his chest. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, and you realize your hips slowed at his words, “you feel so good riding me like that,” 

Your thighs are burning already, but you hardly care, every fast shift up and down leaves you closer and closer, “Love you cock,” 

“Mm, yeah? Say that again,” 

“I,” You curse as a spike of pleasure rolls through you, “fuck, I love your cock,” 

“Good girl,” He grips you tight, his hips jutting up to meet you now. 

Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,” 

“I’ve got you,” He adjusts just enough to hold you steady as he fucks up into your tight heat, “I’ve got you,” 

You moan, dropping your head into his chest and shuddering against him, “Baby, oh fuck,” 

“A-are you close, jagi?” He pants, fingers digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises. 

“Don’t stop,” You beg, “please, god, don’t stop,” 

He groans, keeping the pace of his thrusts and using his hands on your ass to maneuver you to meet his hips. 

“Shit,” You shudder in his arms, your orgasm fast approaching, “I’m coming,” 

“Come here,” He shifts you fast, rolling you up and off him and manhandling you up to your feet. 

You make a surprised noise at the lack of him inside you when you were getting so close, but you don’t have to worry for very long. Before you can open your mouth he has you standing, facing away from him, and bent over ninety degrees to brace your hands on the bed. 

He thrusts back inside you sharply, slamming his hips into yours and leaving you moaning and curling in on yourself, your legs starting to tremble. 

“Come on my cock, pretty girl,” He palms your ass before planting his hands on your hips and using the leverage to pull you back into each of his thrusts, “you’re so close,” 

Your eyes slam shut, fisting the sheets as you hang on, every sharp push of his cock driving deeper and deeper. You’re going to have bruises, you’re going to be sore, but none of it matters when he’s making you feel this good. 

You sob out a moan, collapsing forward into the bedding but he holds you up, “I can’t,” 

“Yes, you can,” He pants, his sweat slick skin connecting again and again with yours. 

“Fuck,” You groan, “I’m almost, I’m so,” 

“Touch your yourself,” He directs, interrupting your pleasured ramblings, “rub your clit for me, baby,” 

You slide a hand between your legs, locating your slick bud with ease and rolling your fingers over it quickly. 

“Fuck, there you are,” He groans, “that’s right, baby, come on my cock,” 

The same new sensation drops in your gut, your legs start to shake and you’re fairly sure that without his sure hands you’d be crumbling. 

“That’s it,” He coaxes you up, never once slowing the sharp snaps of his hips, “there you go, that’s my good girl,” 

Something unravels in your gut and you come with a shout, folding in on yourself as your legs quake and your mind whites out. Yeosang wraps his arms around you, curling over your back to keep you steady, and his cock slips free so he can stimulate you through your orgasm with his fingers, more liquid pulsing out of you as he fucks you over the edge. 

You’re a quivering mess, and he lets you drop into the sheets, pushing you onto your back so he can stand over you, one hand fisting his slick cock. 

“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?” 

Your hands cup your breasts automatically, and you arch up to offer yourself to him, “On me, baby, come all over me,” 

Yeosang groans sharply, his hips thrusting into his tight grip as ropes of silvery white cum paint your skin, covering your belly and breasts and dripping down your chest. He’s panting, his skin flushed pink and sweat covering every inch of his toned chest. 

It takes you both a moment to recover, both trembling in the same position as you try to regain your breath, but after a few moments he smiles a hazy, satisfied smile and finds your eyes, “You’re so beautiful,” 

Suddenly you feel a bit shy, even despite everything you’ve just done together. 

“So beautiful,” He sighs again, pushing his hair back out of his face, and then he drops to his knees. 

He hushes your soft protests and this time he tastes you slowly, but with intention. After such rough, intense sex, he follows it with the softest, slowest orgasm you’ve ever had. With slow sucks and gentle licks he brings you through a languid rolling wave that softens your limbs and leaves you sleepy and pliant in the sheets.  

You drift, falling into sleep too easily for a first date in a sort of stranger’s apartment. 

You wake a little later to a warm sensation on your skin, and you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang sitting next you, freshly showered and wearing black sweatpants and a familiar blank tank top. He draws the wet washcloth over your skin and then stops and smiles when he sees your eyes open. 

“Hey,” He murmurs. 

“Hi,” You reply softly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” 

He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry,” 

“I think you scrambled my brain a little,” You laugh, covering your face with your hands. 

“Hopefully in a good way,” He nudges you. 

“Beyond good,” You look up at him, “are you kidding?” 

He smiles a little wider, “Good,” he says, “I drew you a bath,” 

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise. 

“I thought you might be sore,” He explains, “I know I was a little rough, I hope you’re not feeling it too much,” 

You shake your head, “Just a little, but in a good way,” 

He nods, “Does the bath sound nice, or would you prefer a shower?” 

“Bath is perfect,” You can see that he’s suddenly a little nervous, back to the same man from your date, no trace of Ryu’s husky tones. 

“Here,” He offers you his hands to help you up, and guides you towards the connected bathroom suite. It’s large, crisp and clean, and in the corner stands a large spa-like tub filled high with warm water. 

“Thank you,” You murmur as he helps you slip into the cocoon of water, the subtle scent of lavender wafting up from the steam. 

“Mhm,” He nods, pulling a bamboo stool from the side of the sink and setting it down so he can sit at the edge of the tub and be at eye level with you. 

“This is nice,” You murmur, still finding yourself a little shy in the post-orgasm clarity of it all. 

He’s quiet for a moment, his fingertips dragging over the surface of the water and then he bites his lip. 

Your stomach sinks for a moment, nerves coming back tenfold at the idea that maybe he’d prefer you to go after this, maybe this is all you’d ever have. Maybe he reconsidered what you know about his online persona and maybe he wasn’t willing to take the leap. 

“y/n,” He sighs, “this might be forward,” 

You look up from the rippling water. 

“But what do you think about staying the night? We could order some dessert, maybe keep getting to know each other a little?” He asks. 

You can’t fight the smile that blooms over your face, “I thought you might have changed your mind,” 

“No,” He reaches into the water to find your hand, twining your fingers together, “not at all.” 

“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand. 

“I’d be crazy to let this be a one-time thing,” He lifts your hand from the bath and presses a kiss to the back, “I hope you feel the same.” 

“I really do,” You twist to the side, leaning over to find his mouth and lock your lips together. 

Yeosang cups your cheek, deepening the kiss tenderly, his tongue sweeping against yours, “What are you doing tomorrow night, then?” 

“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little. 

“Let me take you out again,” He kisses you again, softly this time, “I’m probably supposed to wait a few days, Wooyoung would tell me I seem too eager, but,” 

“Who cares about that?” You grin, leaning out of the bath far enough to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “It’s a date,” 

“And Sunday?” His hands slide down your back. 

You nuzzle his nose with yours, “I have a date,” 

“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly. 

“You might know him,” You tease, “he owns this lovely little cafe,” 

He laughs, his forehead leaning on yours, “You’re mean,” 

“You like me,” You peck his lips. 

“I do,” He nods, “I really, really do,” 

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. angst; smut (p in v unprotected sex; handjob - logan receiving; oral - reader & logan receiving). canonically bisexual reader. mentions of pregnancy attempts. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: in the Void, after leaving the other dead in your own timelines, you and Logan are reunited.

words: 8.5k.

notes: this was inspired by not your man by @studioghibelli and the worst logan by @coweye! please go and read both these fics and show their authors some love, they are both incredibly talented writers who deserve it! dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

The past couple of days have been a lot. 

To be honest, anything that isn’t sitting at a bar drinking the place dry is a lot to Logan nowadays. He’s used to low lights, rumbling conversation around him, the fuzzier end of consciousness. Even now he aches for a drink, knowing he’ll have to wake up sober next to the asshole in red he spent the night putting down in that fucking minivan. 

He hopes, at least, he has been met with all the surprises that this place can afford him. 

Ah. But that’d be too fucking easy, right?

That Cajun bastard’s liquor sits comfortably in the cradle of his palm and he chases away lucidity one swig at a time. Tries to block out the half-baked plan Wade is concocting with the other poor bastards who have been stuck here, even if it’s all probably pointless. He only chimes in to laugh at their hope. 

Then Elektra turns, withering pity in her eyes, and seems to properly assess him for the first time. 

“They’re gonna be so disappointed when they see you.”

“Who?” he snorts, past the point of caring that he’d disappoint anyone. It’s then that Elektra hits him like a fucking freight train with just one word spilling from her lips: your name. 

Logan feels a flood of memories come back to him. Ones he’s spent too long trying to drink away. The early morning when you’d hide under the blankets together, your hand cradling his face and letting the whole world consist of just the two of you. The stolen kisses in quiet corridors so the students at the mansion wouldn’t catch you and start silly little rumours. 

Him holding your lifeless body in his arms surrounded by the rubble of what used to be your bedroom, your powers unable to save you. 

He doesn’t have anything to say, merely spitting vitriol to anyone who tries to speak to him, even that damn kid who still prefers the other dead Logan to him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s a fucking mess, worth less than nothing, and that Logan was a hero. 

He retreats in the evening to lick his wounds or, hopefully, drown them. People keep trying to fucking talk to him and he does not want it. Yet they’re fucking relentless, like the Void is perfect at creating gut punch after gut punch for him. Laura walks away into the darkness after successfully making him feel like shit - not that it’s difficult these days - and when he hears more footsteps he assumes it’s Wade coming to harass him about tomorrow. 

“Oh, will you fuck off - ?” he snarls, but the sight of you there, half lit by a dying fire with orange dancing on your skin, oh, it just kills any venom he can muster dead in his throat. 

Logan is looking at a ghost and he has never been less prepared for anything in his long, long life. 

Your mouth has fallen open into a soft “o” as you look at him, brows knitted together as you take in every imperfect aspect of his being. 

“Lo?” you whisper. Your voice hasn’t changed. 

“Logan,” he replies, gruff, unsure if he’s confirming or correcting. But fuck does it sound good to hear his name out of your mouth again, even if it’s just a syllable. 

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and take a seat on one of the logs which has been pulled up as a makeshift bench. He tries not to watch the way the fire lights up your eyes. There’s an agonisingly long pause before you finally attempt conversation.  

“Long time no see, huh?” you ask with a weak grin. Fuck. It’s like a dagger. Your humour was always something which endeared you to him. Unlike Wade you never took it too far, cultivating your sincerity with your silliness in order to grow yourself into peoples’ hearts. 

His heart especially, and now it aches. 

He grunts, because he can’t bring himself to actually say anything. Can barely look at you. You keep talking, either not noticing or barrelling on regardless. 

“You know, when the gang said that you were here… I didn’t believe it. Thought there was no way a fucking Wolverine would fall into this place.”

“Let me guess,” he sneers, taking another long drag of bourbon, “I’m not what you expected.”

You laugh, an easy little thing, and part of him hates you for it. For reminding him of how it sounds. 

“I mean, you’re not. But not because of what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” It comes out as a snap, lip curling back over his teeth in disgust. You do not look bothered in the least, just crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. 

“Because I know you, Logan. Knew my Logan too. Bet you’re spiralling, making yourself out to be some kinda disappointment. Well you’re not. You could never be.”

He desperately wants to argue but he simply doesn’t have the gumption. Besides, it’s nice to hear someone say something kind about him after all these years. 

“So,” you say after another one of those painful pauses, “considering every time you look my way you wince, you have a me in your timeline?”

He laughs without any humour in it, stares into the flames for so long they start to hurt his eyes. 

“Yeah. I did.”

“Ahh. ‘Did’. I died, then?”

You say it so flippantly, he can’t fucking stand it. 

“Mmm.”

“Makes sense. Don’t think I’d leave you in any timeline, so the only way I could see us ending would be if I wasn’t there any more.” You sigh, stretching your legs out to warm them. “Can I ask how it happened? Call it morbid curiosity.”

He absolutely does not want to talk about this. But, also… it’s you. Maybe not the you that was his, exactly, but it is you. Perhaps you deserve to know. He tries to stay dispassionate, as if he is a doctor quietly recounting the facts of death to a family member. 

“Mansion was attacked. Everyone died, including you. I wasn’t there. We’d had a fight, I went out drinking. When I got back you were gone.” He flexes his fist around the neck of the bottle, trying to avoid shattering it, but desperately needing to hold onto something. 

“Oh.” The fire crackles loudly. “What did we fight about?”

This will kill him. He will die in this Void. 

“You wanted to do another round of IVF. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.”

The words settle like a cloud of choking ash over the two of you. He takes a long drink. What a fucking failure he is, couldn’t even knock you up properly. 

“Fuck, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it help if I tell you I probably wasn’t that mad? I’ve never been really angry with you, you know. My Logan… we used to bicker a lot, we both had short fuses, but it never meant anything in the long run.”

He doesn’t know if it does help or not. Is it better to know that you died hating him, making it easier? Or that you were snuffed out while loving him the whole time?

“Your turn,” he says, because he can’t bear to continue this particular line of conversation, but for some reason he wants to keep talking to you. Your voice is a comfort he thought he’d long since lost. 

“You wanna see a picture?” you ask, a grin pulling at the sides of your mouth. No, he doesn’t, but when you reach into your jacket to grab the photograph, he finds himself holding his hand out to take it. You slowly float it over, telekinesis absolutely unnecessary - but you always did use it to make the little things easier. 

It’s old. Frayed and disintegrating at the edges, a thing which has been held and looked at over and over again. Faded slightly despite the fact that you clearly try to take good care of it. 

“Oh,” he says, eyes widening. You chuckle. 

“I know.”

Because, despite the lack of facial hair and addition of a decent rack, the woman with her arm around you in the photo is him. 

The Logan in the picture is about as butch as they come, decked out in a Wolverine’s trademark flannel and leather. One of her arms is wrapped around you to keep you close against her, the other playfully flipping the camera off with a middle claw, and she’s laughing with a joy he hasn’t seen on his own face for years. You’re pressing a kiss into her cheek and hanging onto one of her thick biceps. The two of you exude happiness. 

“She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She could be a mean cunt sometimes, smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, but fuck we were the centres of each other’s world.” You let out a long sigh and hold your hand out - Logan goes to give you the photo but instead you gesture for the bourbon. He passes it and you and you drink deeply, gratefully. “I’d been in a string of bad relationships. Guys who took me for granted, women who were toxic but I didn’t realise until I was in too deep. Then she came along and well… she was a fucking angel in plaid.” 

Logan’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the photo. He’s pretty sure there’s a near-identical one back in his timeline. 

“Our mansion was attacked too. She died getting the kids out.”

Fuck. Fuck. No, he can’t do this. He can’t face the way he should have died. He really is the fucking worst Wolverine. He snatches the bottle back from you, you give no resistance, and he polishes it off. The photo flutters to the ground. 

“I think it’s time you fucked off,” he growls out. You roll your eyes, fucking roll your eyes at him, something his version of you did on pretty much a daily basis, and the knife in his heart twists further. 

“Well, Logan, I’m not gonna do that. Because this conversation is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t. He does. He wants you to disappear forever. He wants to hold you close and kiss you, beg you never to leave again. He hates you. He loves you so, so much. 

He’s such a ruined man that it is laughable. 

“So what, I come along and just replace your little girlfriend? First Wolverine that you manage to get your hands on; is that what you’re hoping for?”

You bark out a laugh. It echoes around the trees. There are tears in your eyes when he turns to look. 

“Girlfriend? Logan, you were my fucking wife!” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that the laughter engulfs you, peals of giggles that double you over. You hold your head in your hands and it soon turns to bitter sobs. He wants to reach out and hold you, apologise for ever making you sad. He tries to get any lingering drops from the bourbon instead. 

“We got married at the mansion. Charles officiated. The kids made us cards. We didn’t get a honeymoon because we didn’t have the fucking time. We had five years. Five really happy years and you know what? We wanted a baby too. We were getting a donor lined up! And then when the attack happened you were the one getting all the kids out I begged you to come with us but you were too fucking good, you had to stay behind and make sure nobody followed us. And it cost you your fucking life. They ripped you apart Logan. I know because all I found of you was your head and your wedding ring. I didn’t even get time to mourn because I had a dozen children to fucking take care of! And I did because I knew that’s what you’d want me to do. It’s what you died for. So I lived in the fucking woods with all of them for years, and they were my family, and I made sure they were as safe and happy as I could make them. And you know what happened then? When they were all grown? A fucking TVA agent appears out of nowhere and tells me, ‘oops! Sorry! Your Logan wasn’t supposed to die, it was meant to be you!’ So they fucking throw me in this hellhole to rot away into nothing and I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry that when I heard you were here I got my fucking hopes up that you might be happy to see me, because if there was one person who understood all of the shit I’m going through then it might be you.” You throw your head back up to stare him dead in the eyes. “And it’s pathetic because you know what? Even after all this? I’m still not angry with you. I’m still happy you’re here. Because seeing you makes me feel better, despite everything.”

It’s a long-ass rant, and your words hang in the air after you’re done. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He opens his mouth to apologise but the words just won’t come out. Because, yeah, if he really dissects himself and looks at the parts laid bare, he’s glad you’re here too. 

He reaches down to rescue the photo before an ember lands on it, gingerly extending into you. When you take it back his fingers brush yours. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves. 

“Who was the donor?” he asks eventually. That does a lot to alleviate the mood, and you smile through tear-streaked cheeks. 

“You might not like the answer.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was Scott.”

“The two of you got on okay! Butted heads a lot but he was always a good friend to us. Plus it was cheaper than going through an agency.”

He growls to himself and it makes you laugh, but properly this time. Things have started to soften and it’s… nice. To be like this with you again. You pause for a moment, stuck on whether to ask a question; hesitate over whether it’s a good idea, then barrel on regardless. 

“Can I ask a weird question?”

“You’re dangerously close to sounding like Wade,” he replies. You groan at that idea. 

“Ugh. Fucking Deadpools, man. We get one come along every now and then and trash the place before fucking off again. Apparently there’s like, a tribe of them out there somewhere.” You give a full-body shudder. “Imagine. No, it’s nothing like that, I guess. Can you… can you take off your glove? Left one.”

He has a horrible feeling about this but when you ask so nicely, that air of vulnerability around you, well it just seeps into his fractures and breaks him open. It takes a moment but he does, flexing his bare hand in the cool air. 

You reach around your neck and pull at a thin chain he’d barely noticed. The ring at the end slides up from where it’s been resting on your sternum under your shirt, glinting as you remove it. 

“Give me your hand.”

This is a bad idea. 

He does anyway. 

You slip the ring on his fourth finger, softly twisting it to fit over his knuckle as you go. It is the perfect size. 

“Will you look at that,” you mumble, not releasing your grip on him. “She… you always told me your hands were kinda big because of the claws. Like I cared. One of my favourite parts about you.”

Your fingers trace along his, finding the spaces between them and gently slotting your hands together. Logan isn’t sure if he’s the one who closes the grasp or if it’s you, but a beat passes and suddenly you’re holding hands. 

He’s not done this with you for so fucking long. An age of aching which is relieved at the feeling of your palm up against his. 

“So now what?” he eventually has to ask. You smile. 

“Well, I mean, your Deadpool is probably gonna get us all killed tomorrow…”

“Ugh. Don’t call him ‘my Deadpool’.”

“… so I’d quite like to just spend tonight holding your hand, if that’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice final night to me.”

When you hit him with those soft eyes, what other fucking choice does he have?

You don’t speak much for the rest of the night. Eventually the fire dies out. Laura comes to seek you out the next morning, and is surprised to find you lying side by side with this other Logan, the most deeply asleep she’s ever seen you, fingers laced together so tightly with his it looks like it might hurt. 

He comes to the fight, of course; dredging up what little courage he has left in him in order to prove he’s not totally pathetic. You catch his eye and smile so wide that he feels likes he’s done at least one good fucking thing in his life. He hears the sound of you ripping into people with an enthusiasm he hasn’t witnessed for years. The last glimpse of you he gets before he jumps through the portal is you using your telekinesis to tear a man’s head off and he does not want to examine himself too closely when it sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. 

They leave you all there to face the end, but everyone knew that’s what you were all getting into. There has been a net gain and loss of nil. He never had you again. Not really. Not for anything longer than a night, and maybe that will be enough. 

Yes. That’s enough. It has to be. 

When he tells Wade he’ll go into that room, when he volunteers to die, he does it with the knowledge he’ll be doing something good, finally. Something you’d be proud of him for doing. And with you waiting for him on the other end of oblivion it really doesn’t seem too bad a fate. 

But then Wade does what he always does and fucks up his perfectly meticulous plan, and they both make it through, so he has to keep going. 

When Wade asks the TVA agent to help the group of you they left behind, Logan is sure to add on that people should get the opportunity to go back to their timelines - surely it’s what you’d want (this oddly selfless request has Wade raising an eyebrow which he ignores). After all, why wouldn’t you want to go back? It’s where you belong. Where you’ll be happiest. Putting things nice and neatly back into their place after this whole fucked-up venture. 

He doesn’t have you, but he’s still alive and wants to be, and that’s something. A lot more than he’s had for a long time now to be honest. 

His life becomes this strange little thing that’s wrapped up with Wade’s. He sleeps on his pull-out sofa until he has somewhere proper to put down his roots. Tries to lay off the booze as much as he can even if each day is a fucking struggle. Makes steps towards finding a proper place for himself; even gets a job on the door at the bar across the street. It’s okay. One step at a time. He can put himself back together like that. 

Imagine his surprise, then, when a week later there’s a knock at the door. 

He assumes it’s Al who’s forgotten her keys, or is too drunk to fish them out of her purse after bingo, so opens it without really thinking. 

The second time you’ve nearly stopped his heart in seven days. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Oh,” is what he can manage. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your go-to. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, followed you back, I suppose. The TVA were gonna send me home but I asked where you were and when the answer was ‘here’, well… didn’t make sense for me to be any place else.”

He blinks at you. After a beat of silence he can tell you hate, no doubt wondering if your choice was the wrong one, he lifts his hand to cup your face. You stiffen for a second and then nestle into his palm. 

“You’re real,” he states. You press your hand to his. 

“I am.”

He pulls you into his chest and you are more than willing to come. He feels the way you bury yourself into him, nose first, remembering what he smells like. Your arms wrap around him so tight it’s like you’re scared he will disappear when it should be the other way round: if anyone is dreaming it’s him. You bothered coming here for him. You uprooted your whole life for it. 

He could hold you forever but the neighbours are nosy and the apartment is a mess. He presses his mouth close to your ear. 

“Wanna get a coffee?”

You pull back to meet his gaze. 

“I’d love that.” Your eyes drop and you pull a face. “Oh, uhh, you might wanna get changed first, though.”

He looks down and realises what shirt he’s wearing before letting out a groan, which gets you chuckling. 

“Wilson’s letting me borrow his shirts until my first paycheck comes in. Just to slum around the apartment.”

“Oh, so you’re not ‘employee of the month at the dick sucking factory’?” You ask, reading the slogan on his tee.

“No. Looks like Wilson won out over me.”

The fact he’s made a joke hangs in the air for a moment and you burst into laughter, real actual laughter, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever heard.

He grabs the only plain shirt Wade has left out, slices off the sleeves just because, and grabs twenty dollars from his roommate’s wallet. Soon enough you’re sitting in the little café near his building. The sky is grey and overcast, just threatening to rain but not quite bothering, and the two of you are tucked away in a corner table while Taylor Swift plays over the sound system. 

Logan does not like that he knows it’s Taylor Swift. This is what living with Wade has done to him. 

You watch him with affectionate eyes across the table, making sure nobody is paying close attention before using your telekinesis to stir the little metal spoon around in your latte. You nod at his mug. 

“You take coffee the same way as she did. Boring and black.”

Logan’s nostrils flare a little in a laugh. 

“Yeah, and you take yours the same way too. So fucking dense with syrup that it’s not coffee at all.”

“Oh you were always such a coffee snob! ‘Babe you gotta try it plain first so you can appreciate the aroma’,” you say, putting on a gruff affectation as a parody of his voice. 

“You do need to try it plain f—”

He’s interrupted when a sugar lump floats into the air from the pot in the middle of the table and launches itself at him, bouncing off of his pectoral. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Real mature, bub.”

“Grouch.”

“Contrarian.”

“I’m not a—” you pause, realising there’s no way to win against that accusation, and grin at him instead. 

“Where are you staying?” he asks after a long drink. It’s not booze. He kinda wishes it was booze. But also, he knows it’s best not to go down that path again, for everyone’s sake.

“The mansion. Turns out I died in this timeline too, so you and I are two for two here” - there’s a hint of a smile at your own macabre observation - “but they were using my room for storage so they just let me have it back.” You grimace a little. “It’s been weird. It’s my space but it’s not, y’know?”

“I get that.”

He probably gets it better than anybody. Nice to have someone to share this strange, singular feeling with. 

“You should come around. Laura’s there too, I know she’d be glad to see you too.”

“She settling in okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll take a while, but everyone has been really understanding and kind. I think she’ll thrive here.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You give him a smile that lets him know you believe it. Your eyes cast over him, taking in this new, slightly more settled Logan, falling still when you see what’s pressed against his fourth knuckle. 

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

“Oh,” he replies, surprised. Flexes his fingers as he looks at it. It’s been so comfortable there, so utterly unobtrusive and right, he hasn’t even noticed. “You want it back?”

A beat passes as you consider the question. Coffee is sipped. Another sugar added and stirred, perhaps just for show. 

“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I kinda like seeing you wear it but… if you were gonna have my ring, I’d want it to be one that was meant for you.”

He lets that idea settle between the two of you. Suddenly, slowly, you’re reaching forward, laying your smaller hand over his thick, rough one. 

“Logan. I want to be with you. In every way you’ll have me, all of it. I don’t know if it was fate or god or plain luck that threw us back together but I’m certain I don’t wanna waste this opportunity. I’d love you in every lifetime, in every timeline. I can’t be without you ever again, I think it would just kill me - and if I know you, you feel the same.”

He doesn’t even bother arguing because he does. When you turned up on his doorstep a scant couple of hours ago a part of his soul had been healed; your existence like kintsugi to piece him back together. A man made of adamantium and gold. 

“I’d like that,” he manages. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes glimmer with a hope which he’s not been privy to for a long time now. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay then,” you say with a smile, and drink your coffee. 

The two of you do not take it slow. How does one take it slow when your soulmate comes back into your life? You are not exactly the same person he once knew, but you understand each other in every way which matters. Your souls fit together like puzzle pieces. The two of you are whole again. 

Then again, perhaps he doesn’t need the version of you he used to have. Maybe, now, he needs this you - rougher around the edges, a little older and more wary, a fit which is better for him. Someone who can put up with his bullshit as Al once bluntly put it. 

You barely spend a night apart. You stay over with him on Wade’s pullout (inciting an input of, “something the two of you had better do, we can’t afford a kid on my income—!” before Logan had hurled a water bottle at him) meeting up with him after his shift is done in the small hours, getting something to eat at one of the greasy spoons which remain open. He devours full plates of fatty food; you stick to slices of pie which you feed him bites of from your fork. When you get back to the apartment you cuddle up on the uncomfortable mattress which folds from the sofa and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

He sleeps pretty well nowadays. 

The two of you only realise you haven’t kissed yet when you do it for the first time. You’re making a coffee run, tugging on his jacket because you like the smell of cigar smoke and it’s thicker than yours. A little act of intimacy which has become commonplace. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Boring,” you make an exaggeration of a sigh, before leaning over the back of the sofa to press your lips to his. He automatically leans into it, tilting his head up so that he can meet you; it’s a chaste little thing, a peck between two people who will only be parted for a moment, but you pull back in surprise when you realise what’s just happened. 

“Oh!” you say with delight, eyes sparkling.

Your hand slips around his neck to cradle him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You gently pull him back for another. Longer this time. Lips slip together, moving carefully in something a little deeper. When you break for a moment it’s Logan who pulls you back. This third kiss is on the brink of hungry. He slides his tongue to swipe against your mouth and you let out a happy little hum at the intrusion. 

His arm curls around your back. With a little tug he pulls you over the back of the sofa and into his lap, making you yelp with glee. His mouth returns to yours, crushing, greedy for any little noises you’re able to make. You relax into it and are happy to take whatever he gives you. 

Wade finds you making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, coffee forgotten. He does not let Logan live it down for a week. 

The apartment is fine, but not a long term solution. Wade and Al are constant presences that stops the two of you being fully at ease together. Logan knows that invitation to go to the mansion is always there, but it’s a while before he takes it - he really isn’t sure what he’ll feel, being back at a place he last saw burned to the ground because of his pigheadedness. Might just break him all over again. 

But ah, when you nock your fingers in the spaces between his, he can face anything. 

One night, exhausted and full of diner food, he agrees to go back to yours - the two of you have had a late night coffee meaning you’re still a tiny bit buzzed, a little too much to fall asleep on the pullout. Instead you get a taxi to yours, near enough, tipping the driver well when he drops you in the middle of a random street and choosing to walk the last minutes hand-in-hand.

The mansion is quiet. Everyone is mostly asleep. And Logan does feel strange being back here, but it isn’t a bad strange. Just another aspect of this new life he has to compartmentalise. 

You drag him through low-lit halls, confident in the steps which will lead you back to your room; he recalls a similar journey from his own timeline in the night you first hooked up, smuggling him to your bed down the corridors all wandering hands and breathless kisses and giddy giggles; but there’s no part about you that wants to hide this. 

You’d show your Logan off to the world. 

You’ve tried to make the room your own, he can tell. It’s pretty big and spacious. Good view. Has an ensuite which he plans on monopolising. He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in just his boxers, arms holding you to him so he can feel every part of your body against his. His chest hair bristles between your shoulder blades and you hum contentedly. 

He agrees to come to breakfast the next morning and, to their credit, people are good at not staring. The members of the team he recognises from his past keep their distance unless he seeks to close it. Hank gives him a smile. 

“Good to see you, Logan.”

“Mmm,” he manages. Laura comes down to grab something to eat and lights up when she sees him. She gives him a hug which skews on the side of awkward but he’s grateful to receive it, and he can see how pleased you are watching this development. 

He comes around more and more often. 

Less time spent at the apartment with Wade - who constantly complains about the fact and Logan cannot tell if he’s sincere or not - more living in the pocket of you. He helps you sort out the furniture in the room so that there’s more space; you’re moving a chest of drawers to another corner together when a photo falls out from behind them. Trapped against the wall for years. Long forgotten. 

“Oh,” you say, lifting it up and bringing it to your hand with a wave. Your face twists into something strange and bittersweet, a mask Logan isn’t quite sure how to comprehend, but he quickly understands why when he joins you. 

It’s a picture of the two of you. 

Not exactly the two of you, of course; the ones of you who lived in this timeline. Logan is posing on the back of his Harley, you’re propped up on the seat next to him with your head thrown back in laughter. The two of you look… young. This must have been taken when you first started going out. 

Your thumb caresses the photo in a movement he’s familiar with. 

“Huh. Looks like we were together here, too. Who’da thunk it,” you mutter.

He slips an arm around you then because he’s feeling oddly sentimental. It’s reassuring. No matter what timeline it is, there’s a you who loves him and a him who loves you. A simple and irrefutable truth, like the fact that the sun rises every day or the moon moves the tides. 

“Apparently Magneto got me in the late noughties. Feels like a bit of a pathetic way to go, but diverging timelines, I guess.”

Logan knows that in this timeline, he stuck around for a while after. Poor bastard, he thinks. Having to live those years without you. That’s a misery he understands all too fucking well. 

But not any more. 

You leave the photo on your dresser, loathe to throw it away, and continue moving furniture to make room for the TV you just bought. Logan hates sharing the one in the living room, especially when the hockey’s on.

Eventually Logan is spending so much time with you he’s barely living at Wade’s any more. You’ve suggested they’d be happy to have him back in the mansion for a “teaching job” like you have, though he knows there’s never much teaching involved, more helping kids learn to defend themselves without too much collateral damage. Still it’s a fair chunk of change better than his current miserable doorman’s salary and it means he’d be living at more sociable hours.

Plus he’d get to move in with you, an idea you’re both secretly happy about. 

So he hands in his notice at the bar and packs the scant few belongings he has at Wilson’s into a cardboard box from Bad Dragon, which is strangely the only one Wade could find him (“god Peanut that’s so weird, oh well!”). Looks around the apartment he’s called home for some time, feels not entirely pleased to be leaving it. 

“And remember sweetie, if it all goes incredibly wrong and you realise the place you’ve belonged the whole time is on my undoubtedly piss-soaked pull out sofa bed, Al and I will be happy to have you back with minimal taunting.”

Logan fixes him with a look. 

“Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word is odd coming from his mouth but not insincere. Wade goes to say something that’s no doubt stupid and inappropriate, however he softens at the last moment. 

“Any time. Go get ‘em, tiger, I’m rooting for you.”

You’ve moved your stuff so he can have a side of the closet, and drawers in the dresser, and he resumes his life with you. 

It takes only a couple of days for him to settle and realise how much he prefers this. Living with you properly. How, really, he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. How he wants to be there for every second, hear every laugh which drips from you, comfort you whenever something threatens to ruin your happiness. 

He falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms every night. Wakes up with you there. Pretty fucking perfect if you ask him. 

There’s nothing special about the morning when you first make love except for the fact it’s the morning when you first make love. It’s a border the two of you haven’t quite crossed yet. Almost as if you’re both afraid to make the commitment, like it may break you apart; there’s perhaps an underlying fear that you’re being unfaithful to your partners from your own timelines. That being together like that dishonours their memory. 

It’s a salve, then, that the longer you’ve been together the more you realise that you don’t love each other as a stand-in for the ones who died, but entirely on each other’s own merits. He doesn’t look at you and see the body he held in the manor. He sees someone who he’d protect, give his life to, become a dog for because he’s utterly in love with this you, the one who was so happy to find him in the Void, the one who patched him back together when he was at his most broken. 

There’s nothing to second guess in this relationship. It is the most solid foundation he’s ever had, and from the way you look at him every morning as if he’s hung the stars, you feel the same. 

That morning he’s holding you particularly tight. It’s a Sunday, the quietest day at the mansion, and the two of you are in bed later than you’d usually be. You’re both awake because you’re pressing more and more into each other’s bodies, nestling together like nesting dolls. His arm slung around your waist, hips against the swell of your ass. 

You shift slightly and he feels his cock harden in interest. Why wouldn’t it? Most beautiful person in the whole world right here in his bed. He might be old but he’s not a fool. 

He’s aware your hips are moving again, pressing yourself into him harder. He lets out a quiet, gruff laugh. 

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Mmm, maybe I am, Howlett. What are you gonna do about it?”

You squeak with laughter as he surges upwards, pinning your hands to the mattress either side of your head so that he can look down at you. Such a pretty picture beneath him. Hair all fanned out, eyes sleepy and sexy, ready to take in the syrupy-slow pace of the morning. 

His lips press into yours softly but firm. You hum into the kiss, slipping your wrists from his grasp so that you can wrap your arms around his broad neck and tug him closer. Your legs slowly match pace, looping at his waist. His cock is free to press against your clothed core now and he doesn’t waste a second of the opportunity; he grinds down, never letting it distract from the kiss for a second, even smiling into it when he can feel the blunt head of his dick catch your clit. You gasp. 

“Logan…”

Oh yes, that’s it. That’s the voice. He could listen to you say his name a million times and it would still be the sweetest sound in the whole fucking universe. 

He kisses you again and again, getting more fierce now. Tongues slide together and you moan into his mouth. Teeth clack with the force of it. He wants every sense to be drowned in you. Your smell, your taste, your touch. You’re holding him so tightly it’s like you’re worried you’ll just float away from the bliss of it all.

He’d never let that happen. He’ll keep you right here in this bed, forever, if you’d let him. 

With a display of telekinesis he’s not expecting, Logan finds himself on his back. You stare down at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he’s never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask breathlessly, and he finds himself huffing out a laugh because fuck, as if you’d ever have to ask. You take his meaning and giggle before you start to make your way down the plain of his chest. A kiss dropped on the top of his pectoral, followed by you moving that sweet mouth around one of his nipples to play with it. Logan huffs and arches into your touch like a schoolgirl. You use your teeth to continue the trail, tracing around his abs - which have become less pronounced ever since he started eating right, and you’ve often expressed your pleasure at this fact - mouthing at where his muscles shape his Apollo’s belt. 

Your hand goes to palm his cock through his boxers and he has to make a concentrated effort not to come. It’s been a while since he was touched properly like this, and though he used to be able to go all night when he was a younger man, he truly doesn’t know if he has it in him today.

You seem delighted by this development though. Holding his gaze you slowly drag his waistband down to his thighs, watching in delight as his cock bobs up, half-hard. You take him in hand and pump him lazily, languidly, enjoying every stroke which makes him firmer. You prop yourself up on your free arm, elbow on the mattress and palm cradling your jaw, eyes on him like he’s the show of the century.  

“Handsome, handsome, handsome man,” you sigh, dreamily. 

“Old man,” he chuckles. 

“Not mutually exclusive.”

He has to concede that with the way you’re looking at him like you might eat him alive.  

When he feels your mouth around his cock his brain almost short-circuits. It’s warm and wet and willing, your tongue gliding along the thick vein you find there before caressing his head. Logan grunts, fisting the blankets, and a familiar snik has you looking up. You grin around his shaft when you see his claws have popped out from the intensity of his gripping hands. 

Pleased, you continue with your work. You bob up and down as the fire builds in his belly, a low heat which is soon bubbling over when he feels you press the tip of your tongue into his slit, humming with pleasure as the taste of his pre floods you. Logan is aware he’s beginning to tighten in a way which suggests that if you don’t stop now things will be over entirely too soon.

Claws retracting, his hand comes to grab your hair. His cock is enveloped in the sweet velvet of your throat, in fact he can feel himself brush against your uvula, and when you look up at him like that he almost gives up completely. He powers through though, carefully guiding you up and off. You wipe your spit-soaked mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Oh… was it not…?” you don’t voice the word ‘good’ but it hangs there anyway. Logan rumbles with a laugh.

“Fuck, it was the best thing I’ve felt in years. Wanna fuck you properly, though. Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Need to taste you.”

Your eyes go wide. Like he’s come up with the idea of the century.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

There is nothing elegant about the way you pull yourself up the length of his body, but it is filled with a primal need which is far more sexy. You pause at his abdomen in order to rub your soaked cunt across his abs a couple of times. Fucking the muscles there. You throw your head back in gratification and continue up along his chest before a strong thigh is planted either side of his face.

Looking up at you from his back is his favourite view. Logan wastes no time in clamping an arm around either one of your legs and pulling you cunt-first onto his tongue, you gasp and writhe in delight.

“Oh fuck, Logan!” you hiss. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the voice he wants to hear. All strung out with sex and pleasure because of him. He fucking buries himself in you. Kisses your pussy sloppily, changing his attention from between your clit and your folds, no rhythm to his need. When your fingers scratch his scalp in your need to grab a fistful of hair he thinks he might be in heaven. His hips buck into the air, imagining the action of taking you before he’s even properly started. You start to fuck yourself on his face. Hips grinding down onto his beard, groaning at the stubble there which prickles and pleases.

“I’m gonna--”

“Fuckin’ do it,” he mumbles from between your legs. You cum in his hot, wanting mouth; all the furniture in the room rattles as you let out a little involuntary telekinetic jolt.

You are not done. This was the appetiser. Eyes still ravenous you peel your pussy off of his face, sweeping down to kiss him so you can taste yourself there. Moaning in delight at the musk.

“Wanna ride you…”

“Anything,” he breathes because, yeah. He will do anything you ask, anything you want. He’s a loyal hound at your heel. 

When you take his cock it’s with less teasing this time, more intent. Spreading your legs wide you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down. He wants to grab. Your flesh, the blankets, anything. Sensing his desperation you hold out your hands when he’s far enough inside you and he meets them in midair, pressing his fingers between yours, knuckles white from the effort.

Hips nestle against his. You begin to move.

“Logan…” 

Your name leaves his lips in a similar whisper, dragged out through his throat from his very heart. You look down at him, eyes clear and wide and lucid despite the heady pleasure.

“Logan. I love you. I love you.”

Yes, you love this him. Not as a stand in for the Logan you lost, not as some sort of idol on a pedestal, but because you’ve fallen for him just like he’s fallen for you. He is worth loving. He is. He is worthy of you. It is a realisation which hits him with the force of a bomb. He grips you tighter.

“I love you too,” he confesses. He feels his pulse sync with yours from where he’s sheathed inside you, grips your hands tighter because he knows you can take it; you hold him back just as hard. Your hips rock in a wild rhythm as he brings his own up to meet them. It’s hard to know who’s fucking who, it’s wild and desperate and raw, but you keep chanting those words as a manta.

Logan. I love you. Logan. I love you.

He only lets go of one of your hands when he can feel he’s about to finish, dropping it to your clit in order to press rough circles there. You come messily over his cock and he spills inside you, pumping you full of him. Marking you as his.

You collapse into his arms, sweaty and spent. He holds you with arms like iron. Cock still inside, softening now, but he doesn’t want to to break the contact.

You pull back after a moment of breathing together, propping your elbow on his chest.

“Hey.”

He smiles back, a real smile, something he’s not been truly able to produce for years.

“Hey.”

“I meant it, you know. I love you,” you trace a pattern on his collarbone, silly and intimate. 

“I know. So did I.”

“Mmm, okay, good.” You kiss him and hum into it. “We should get up.”

“Probably.”

“But let’s not.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”

You laugh, and oh you are the sunlight. 

The summer heat is cloying but Wade has set up some parasols on the top of his building to hide under, he did not specify where he got them but a few local restaurants seemed to be without on the journey back to the apartment. The group of you are definitely not meant to be up here, but with the weather so hot, nobody cares enough to cause a fuss. 

It’s a small gathering. Logan stands at the grill because it’s where he’s most comfortable, supervising the chaos. That awful mutt of Wade’s is looking up at him with expectant eyes and, when he’s sure nobody is watching, he throws her a hamburger which she goes crazy for. 

And it’s… nice. He didn’t even complain when Wade put on the 1989 album. A few of his old roommate’s friends, a couple of them now mutual - Piotr is a pretty relaxed guy to be in the mansion with, and the two teens who Wade somehow befriended get along with Laura. You’re talking with Peter who for some reason is always at these gatherings but he’s probably the least offensive person here. 

He says something which makes you laugh, and you look over to Logan as you both settle. You gesture at the bottle of soda in your hand, an invitation; he nods. 

You stand, rummage in the cooler, and close the gap. He eyes the glass bottle of Dr Pepper with disapproval; you give him a playful shove. 

“C’mon, be good. You just got your one month chip. Keep it up, we’re proud of you.”

He grumbles his acceptance and takes it. It is pretty refreshing to be fair. He settled the hand he’s not using on the grill around your waist, pulling you so that you settle nice and snug against his flank. You grin up at him, pleased with the show of affection.

“Hey handsome,” you chuckle. 

“Hey gorgeous.”

“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, you know that?”

Day by day he’s letting himself believe it. That he’s the kind of man who could make someone as amazing as you happy, as over-the-moon with joy as you make him. 

Before he can answer Yukio appears by the grill, pointing a Polaroid camera in your faces. 

“Smile!” she says, and the two of you do, because she’s a nice kid and you don’t wanna let her down. She snaps a photo and watches it quickly develop, shaking it loudly in the air before admiring her work. 

“Awww, cute! I hope me and Ellie are like you guys when we’re your age. Here ya go!”

She passes over the photo before skipping away to find her next victim. Logan has to try and hide a laugh at the indignant splutters that are escaping you. 

“Our age…?!” you mutter, but soften when you look down at the picture. It’s nice. The two of you make a good-looking pair that’s for damn sure, he can almost understand Wade’s insistence of “letting him watch one night”. But most importantly, the two of you look… happy. With each other. With this slice of life. 

“This is a great one,” you declare. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

When you get home tonight, late by the time you pull up to the mansion, you’ll toe off your shoes as you walk in through the door like you always do, but this time you’ll pause to put this photo in front of the one you found behind the chest of drawers, and Logan will feel content that he never has to be without you again. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[nereidprinc3ss]

hourglass

in which spencer disappears from fem!reader's life entirely for three months, right as it seems they were finally about to make things official. when he comes back they reunite, all the while knowing things can't be the same as they were.

18+ (smut, angst) warnings/tags: oh god so many. NOT canon compliant in the slightest, i make shit up, softdom!spence, nipple stuff prob, fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex, pet names, tara mentioned, depression, mentions of trauma cause its the prison arc duh, passing mentions of alcohol, mentions of spencer losing weight, reader mistakenly thinks spencer tried to kill himself BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND, where is diana reid, nobody knows or cares, probably filming glee, optimistic ending a/n: haven't posted smut in forever but this wip required it and the angst was so angsty i just had to finish it. it was started in jan or feb and subsequently added to and changed months apart and then edited so the writing quality varies from section to section which i apologize for. originally based on good guy by julia jacklin... also the odyssey by homer? can't really explain that one you'll just have to see for yourself anyway byeeee ilysm!!! PLS tell me if you liked it! or if you hated it! but preferably if you liked it! MWAH! wc <12k

It’s been about three months since you last saw Spencer Reid.

About three months since you had an early Valentine’s Day celebration (even though you weren’t a couple) complete with champagne (even though he doesn’t usually drink) and slow dancing (even though you swore you’d be terrible and he spent the first ten minutes laughing at you as you stepped on his toes.)

About three months since you finally settled your head on his shoulder and let the warbling vinyl carry you somewhere distant as the two of you danced slow circles on the parquet floor for what felt like hours.

You’d have liked him to stay later that night. You’d have liked him to stay all night if you were being honest with yourself, but at 11:45 he gently pulled away and told you he had to go.

“Curfew?” you joked, the corner of your mouth lifting a little and you hoped you were hiding your disappointment well.

“Actually, I’m going down to Texas for a few days to speak with one of the leading doctors in experimental Alzheimer's and dementia treatment. I’m going to see if he can get my mom into a clinical trial. I leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing, Spencer! What are you doing still here? You should be at home getting ready to go!”

A rosy blush stains his cheeks and he looks down at the ground, laughing that little self-deprecating laugh of his. It makes your heart dance to see him so happy, makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go so that he knows how much you absolutely adore him—but you settle for an affectionate squeeze where your hands have come to rest on his biceps.

“I wanted to see you tonight because I won’t be here for Valentine’s Day... but I still really wanted to spend it with you,” he admits meekly.

If before your heart was dancing, it is now melting.

The dreaded ‘what are we’ talk has been lurking in the dark corners of every conversation you have with each other lately—at least, in your mind it has. What you have with Spencer is not easily defined, and near impossible to explain to your friends—you act like a couple, you go out on dates, he introduces you to his team like you’re his girlfriend without ever putting it into so many words—but this validation that your pseudo-relationship might be evolving is better than any flowers he could have gotten you (although the peonies he brought will look very nice on your bedside table.)

“Four whole days... what will I do without you?” you whisper, brushing a hand along his face, and your chest aches with the heavy truth of it—despite the fact that he often is gone for stretches about that length. They don’t ever start to feel shorter.

“Well, you can start by reading that copy of The Odyssey I annotated for you.”

“Depressing,” you admit. “And a little ominous, considering you’re about to embark on a hero’s journey.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he smiles.

You chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him as you think.

“Give me something to look forward to,” you say, earnestly.

“I—well, honestly, I just really want to kiss you and I’ve wanted to for a long time now and, you know, if that’s something you’re maybe also interested in then we could, uh, figure out a time to—”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Wh—you couldn’t tell?” Spencer says, like he can’t believe it.

As if on reflex, you lunge up and capture his lips with your own. It obviously catches him by surprise, but when you lower from your tiptoes he follows you, pulling you in closer and holding your face in his hands.

It’s too natural, too right, to be exhilarating. There’s no rush of adrenaline—it's more like stepping into a hot bath or warming your freezing hands at a fire. Like pieces clicking into place. It’s a relief.

You breathe into it, letting more and more of yourself melt against him. He keeps coming back to you deeper and deeper like a rising tide, and you want more than anything to keep getting closer to him—but then he stops. He stays close enough for you to breathe his air, but dodges your kiss gently before supplanting it with a gentle one to the corner of your mouth.

“I really have to go,” he breathes, before moving away from your mouth to kiss your forehead and speak softly against your skin. “If I don’t leave now I’ll be here all night.”

Which is exactly what you want, and the implication does little to make you want him less. But you care about him too much to be so selfish.

At some point, his hands found their way into your hair, and you gently grab his wrists.

“Incentive for you to come home.”

Nearly three months since that night.

At first when he stopped answering texts, you’d assumed he just had too much going on down in Texas. Which you could understand—you knew how stressful this situation with his mother was.

Even when four days came and went without even an alert from him that he was back in town, you thought, okay, maybe he’s been called away on a case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared because of his work. But even then, he’d at least text you enough information so that you would know he was alive. Now, radio silence.

So you tried not to be clingy. You tried to act like an adult, to focus on school and your life outside of Spencer, but when Tara Lewis cancelled your weekly meeting due to an “unforeseen work-related emergency”you called her immediately. Tara was something of a mentor, and it was she who had connected you and Spencer to begin with. You had met the other members of his team by that point, yes, but none who you knew as well as Tara.

When she had informed you that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico and was now facing prison time for murder, you laughed.

Laughed until you realized her end of the line was silent.

Realized it was not at all a joke.

In a catatonic state of tranquility, you asked her for more details. Beyond assuring you of his innocence, she couldn’t (or more likely, wouldn’t) provide them. Asked where he was now. Asked all the right things that made sense to ask.

Then you hung up and had a panic attack because Tara said something about 25 years and you saw Spencer evaporate from your future like an apparition.

Slowly, you felt him evaporating from your past, too. Those memories from the night he left, became visions of you swaying with a ghost. Holding nothing but light between your hands as you kissed the peony air of your apartment.

He doesn’t want to see you, she had said into the phone one night, her tinny voice cutting in and out. You’re not on his list of approved visitors.

“You asked him about me?” you had whispered, curled up on top of your made bed in the dark.

I tried. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I know more.

All your days melded together like a muddied smear of paint. Suddenly you felt you had nothing to look forward to. No anchor, no goal. Yes, a PhD... and then what?

The only thing that punctuated one 24 hour period from the next was the time you spent crying because Spencer was in prison and he didn’t want to see you and by the looks of things you may never see him again. When you weren’t crying, you were thinking about how your life was a big cosmic joke. An unfortunate statistical anomaly that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, and that you couldn’t do anything about.

That copy of The Odyssey, which wasn’t even bound and instead was a thick stack of printer paper organized by a single black clip, became something of a manifesto for you—a tome that your poured over, reading and re-reading each note in the margins, each word beautiful and imbued with meaning because you knew Spencer had selected every single one specifically for you. You traced the letters reverently, because in a way this was the last thing he had said to you—about Lattimore’s faith to the original text, Merrill’s strict use of dactylic hexameter, the stylings of Wilson and Lombardo, and how he thought you would enjoy Hammond’s prose just as much as he did.

Day by day it was becoming more prophetic than fictional, and you allowed yourself to sink into madness. You would rather be a deluded zealot than be nothing at all.

He didn’t want to see you.

He might as well have been dead, for all that you were grieving him. And you started to hate him, because he wasn’t dead, but wouldn’t do you the kindness of proving it. Like a festering wound, scratched open day after day so as not to ever heal, you had to live knowing he was less than an hour away. So no, you weren’t exactly over it. You lived day by day, waiting for the occasional call from Tara to keep you updated on Spencer, but either she didn’t want to share much about how he was doing, or he had specifically barred her from doing so, because she was always sparse on the personal side of things. That thought actually lifted your spirits, because it meant he was at least acknowledging your existence in some tiny way.

But your routine was becoming more regular, and so you staid on top of your classes and your non-Reid related meetings with Tara once a week, and you learned to dip your toes into existential dread and the oily black pool of depression every night without ever fully submerging yourself. You learned hope, because it was pretty much all you had, and the BAU had confidence that they would get Spencer out one way or another so you did too.

So you didn’t really think about it when you missed a couple of calls from Tara some evening in May. You were preparing for finals and had way too much on your plate academically to think about anything else which was a welcome relief so you fully embraced it. I’ll call her back tomorrow, you think, as you clean up from dinner before going back to the living room where your textbooks and papers are completely covering every available surface. Maybe I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life after school, but I’ll be damned if I don’t even make it that far.

Hours later, well into the night, you’d all but forgotten about the calls. A knock at the door takes you a bit by surprise, and you frown as you stand again, tugging your Georgetown sweatshirt down over your shorts as you shuffle to the entrance of your apartment. You’re not expecting anyone, so you crack the door, peering around the edge of it.

And you couldn’t even consider trying to hide that shaky inhalation of dead air when you see Spencer standing on the other side.

Surely you’re hallucinating.

Surely this man in front of you who looks like he just got back from a day of work didn’t spend three months in prison pretending you didn’t exist.

He looks the same. Hair a bit longer, maybe—and gaunter even more than is normal for him. 

But it's him.

You can’t think about the apprehensive look on his face—you can’t think about the impossibility of him being here. You can’t think at all. Without your explicit permission, your body surges forward into his, and he’s real, and alive, and warm, and he is an anachronism in the hallway as he accepts everything you pour into the embrace, doesn’t flinch when you move your arms from around his waist to loop around his neck and back to his waist again with crushing force because you just can’t get him close enough.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters into your hair, I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry, he keeps saying, rubbing your back as you try to find a solid grip on the sleek material of his suit—try to gather all the pieces of him, already afraid he might fall apart and float away again.

“You—dis—disappeared,” you hiccup after an eternity, pulling away enough to look up at his pretty face. Tears blur your vision and darken the front of his jacket, bending the florescent lights so they form a kind of halo above his head.

Through the surreal haze you can see his throat bob.

“I know.”

He knows?

He knows?

You scoff.

“You have no fucking idea, Spencer. What the fuck is wrong with you? I—I'm—”

The hot anger is such a relief for a second, boiling the oceans of your despair into a wrathful, scorching fog, but as soon as you try to tell him how you feel, the barbed wire cuts into your throat again. You shove him away, skin burning where his hands had been.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, hands hanging uselessly at his side. There’s that kicked puppy look about him—and it’s familiar, but now there’s more damage. You don’t know anything about his time in prison, you haven’t heard a damn thing, but beneath the glassy desperation in his eyes there is an unfathomable void that seems to be preventing him from being fully present—and you realize for the first time that he is different.

It chills you.

Before, you and Spencer shared everything. There wasn’t one part of his internal machinations that you didn’t understand, nothing you kept from each other. But as you study him now from a few feet away, you realize there might as well be a yawning chasm between the two of you.

He is so different.

Those eyes look deeper. No gears turning just behind the slashes of gold and brown anymore—only an endless dark corridor that goes places you will never go.

Gone is the perpetual boyish up-turn at the corner of his lips that always made him look slightly vacant in a way that you found incredibly amusing. Something you had been so fond of, even if you teased him.

He seems to have aged ten years—if not physically, then in demeanor. And now you feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

You cross your arms, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

You’re embarrassed. And pissed. And relieved. Everything is worse and better. You want to fall back into his arms, but you have been jarred by the revelation that this might not be the same Spencer. It might not be the same relationship. You have no idea where you stand.

He says your name gently, with so much familiarity you’re briefly jerked into the past. It makes you wish you could look up to find him as he was three months ago. Wish this was just a bad dream. But that’s not fair to him.

“Sorry,” you mutter, studying the grey carpet fibers instead of looking at him.

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says immediately, “you’re right. I don’t—” he clears his throat— “I’m being incredibly selfish. I shouldn’t have just shown up, I’ll just—I'll leave. I’m sorry.”

A silent moment passes.

You don’t look up as he turns and swiftly begins to move down the hall toward the stairway, leaving as quickly and silently as he had come, like a few bars of a song sighed in and away on a fleeting breeze.

Your bare feet are concretely planted, imagining him jogging down the steps and speed-walking away from your building—

And suddenly you’re sprinting after him, feeling like you might puke because Spencer was just here and you let him go again—and even though you’re still so mad and confused and hurt, the realization that he is leaving again makes the entire building spin and lurch.

“Wait!” You yell, almost wiping out as you run down the stairs and whip around corners in your slippery fucking socks. “Please, wait!”

The lobby is already empty as you spill out into it, and cold dread tightens around your neck like a fist as you shoulder your way through the double doors and right into Spencer.

“Please don’t leave again, you just—I'm sorry, I really need you to not go—” you blabber, lachrymose once more, gripping onto his forearms for dear life.

“I’m not going,” he breathes shakily. “I tried to leave because I think you were right and maybe I should and maybe it would be better for you but I can’t.”

“You can’t,” you agree, more sob than spoken word. He cups your jaw, then your cheeks, wiping tears and brushing away hair like he can’t figure out how to hold enough of you between his hands. The wild kaleidoscope of his eyes, bright and alive and real as he scans you desperately captures your attention enough to slow the tears to a trickle. He notices this and stares back, entranced.

A silent agreement is made, or maybe an inevitable fate is accepted—either way, something was set in motion three months ago and it matters to see it through. Spencer kisses you and you’re ready for it. You don’t need slow or tender. You need to feel how he feels. You need to know what he knows.

You sling your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer until you almost tip backward, chasing the bruising kiss even as you regain your footing. You want to drink him in and you do your best, breathing deeply as he kisses you deeper, backing you inside and toward the elevator.

“Is this okay?” he manages, only after blindly reaching for and mashing the up button on the wall panel.

Ideally it wouldn’t happen like this, but the world you live in obviously isn’t ideal and your personal situations as they coincide are far from ideal, so this is how it has to happen. But it’s hard to explain, and you’d rather not admit that this is so far from what you wanted for both of you and follow up with the fact that despite that you need him like you need water. So you don’t say a word as the metal doors slide open promptly. Instead you pull him in and let him press you to the chrome wall as he hits your floor button, and that very hand comes back to grab your ass like you didn’t think Spencer Reid capable of. It almost aches as his fingers dig into the flesh, but it’s a good ache because it means he’s real and he’s there.

You gasp as he hitches your leg up, arching into him. The shorts that you’re wearing leave very little to the imagination to begin with, but they become downright indecent like this.

Quickly the elevator stops and the doors hiss open. You don’t hesitate to pull Spencer by the hand down the hall. When you notice you left your door wide open, you don’t even care. Neither does he, apparently—once you’re inside he slams it shut, flipping the deadbolt while his eyes are glued to you like you’re already naked. Now Spencer is shameless in the way he drags his eyes over every curve, every place your clothes and hair are disheveled from his touch and eye-fucks you so obviously it makes your face warm. Three months ago Spencer would have at least been bashful about it when he met your eyes again, but this Spencer is far from apologetic as he pins you with his burning gaze once more. His hand stays stuck to the door like he’s holding himself back.

“Is this what you want?”

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow below the gravely arousal, like this isn’t what he wanted for the two of you either. But you’re both at the mercy of fate. This is all you have, and it might be all you can do for each other anymore. So you don’t need to say that, because he understands.

“Yeah. Yes, this is what I want.”

For just a second more he watches you from his place by the door, and there’s an unexpected softness to it. He looks at you the way he would have looked at you before. Like as long as he stays there he can entertain the idea of being that person again.

Need wins out quickly, though, and he surges forward. Immediately you’re caught in the riptide of him, helpless as he kisses you all the way to your bedroom.

He’s never been in here before. You find yourself glad it’s relatively clean—one of the pastimes you’d picked up in his absence was keeping everything tidy. It was something you could control.

A lamp glows at your bedside. You lean against the footboard of your bed, hands timidly behind your back and suddenly shy to have in him in your intimate space. Both of you set aside the heaving desperation long enough to catch your breaths, and for him to scan the room like he too is being forced to reconcile with the innate and unexpected intimacy of the moment. He cuts a harsh, dark gash in your sweetly decorated bedroom, radiating something wild and powerful and unsure of himself like a chained bull as he takes in the soft, pale bedding, the paintings and photos taped to the walls, the woven rug and the sheer drapery. His breathing slows as he studies it all—eyes eventually catching on something behind you. Looking is unnecessary. You’re sure he’s spotted the dried peonies in their ceramic vase. Or maybe the now worn stack of papers that is his Odyssey, marked up and soft around the edges from constant flipping-through.

Then Spencer looks at you, and that softness seeps in again. Along with something like... fear? Grief?

In some other universe your first time with Spencer is sweet and giggly and kind and he smiles at the decor in your room and looks around with wonder because it’s another way he gets to know you. It’s a different way to learn you from the inside.

You sense that he’s caught in between universes right now as well, painfully aware of what he would have given you that he can’t anymore.

He breathes your name like an apology, and foolishly you let a second go by in which you think he might offer you one. But he doesn’t. Not with his words, anyway. His eyes tell a different story.

“It’s fine,” you say unprompted on a whispered exhale, then a little louder as you push off the footboard, crossing the space until your hands are on his chest. You focus on his tie, not making eye contact as you rush to undo it. “It’s fine.”

He lets you do this for a few seconds before finally covering your trembling hands with his own. You still can’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do—”

“No! No, please. I want to. I need—I need us to be okay.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “We are okay. Me and you are fine.”

It’s a pretty thought, but it’s not true. In fact, it’s a hideous and abject affront to the truth. Sure, maybe you’re fine in comparison to last week. Maybe anything feels fine compared to an eight by six cell. But it would be impossible for you and Spencer, for your relationship, whatever that relationship may be, to be fine. It’s especially impossible for him to make that claim, after all he did or rather didn’t do while he was gone. What you need is for him to stay anyway. What you need is to find a way to be with him, to exist with him, even when you are so clearly not fine.

“I just need you to stay,” you whisper, and he’s already nodding, wide-eyed like he’d do anything for you. You ignore all the bitter venom rising in your throat. You pretend this isn’t all happening after he cut you out of his life with a dirty switchblade. Instead you focus on his hands on yours, the familiar smell of him, which invites you to let go of each and every thought and worry. He must’ve showered before coming here, you realize. How long has he been out? What happened? 

“Okay. Okay, I can stay. What else can I do? How do I make it better?”

You sniffle and look back down.

“You can untie that for me.”

He hesitates, then nods some more, fingers working under yours to undo the tie around his neck.

“Okay.”

A moment goes by and after that final whispered word, the tension begins to build again. Spencer senses it in the way your fingertips linger on his chest and you step even closer, dragging them down to his belt. The metallic sound of it unbuckling, despite being your own doing, still manages to flip your stomach. How many times have you pictured this? When was the first time you realized you wanted it? You’re sure you haven’t stopped wanting it even once since then.

Spencer tosses the tie away and is shrugging off his jacket now, then before you see it coming he’s kissing you again, ducking down to do it. He feels taller this close up, and especially in your bedroom, where he just seems rather out of place. But you want him here. God, you want him here.

You break the kiss, forced to look down as you fumble with his belt.

“Sorry,” you gasp, embarrassed by your lack of dexterity. The light is barely sufficient to see what you’re doing, especially when he’s wearing black on black and your eyes are still bleary.

“You’re okay,” he assures you, and it’s so Spencer a fresh round of nerves electrifies the tips of your fingers. That thing is happening—the thing you’d hoped to avoid if you hadn’t lost momentum partway through, where you’re allowing your actual feelings for him to get in the way rather than getting swept up in the pathos of the moment and letting everything be easy and mindless. “Here, can I help you?”

But he doesn’t actually wait for an answer before he’s finishing off the belt for you, tugging it loose from his hips till it’s a leather coil in his hands. Your fingers brush the material and he lets you take it as if it were your prize. It’s heavier than you thought it’d be, and you just feel the weight of it in your hands for a moment, your dropped head brushing his chest.

You have a terrible feeling that if you do this now, it doesn’t mean everything will be alright. Because it can’t just go back to normal. Spencer has told you nothing of what must be an enormous trauma, and you haven’t spoken about it at all, but you sincerely doubt that after this he’s going to be ready to just jump into that committed relationship the two of you had been toying with for months before his absence. You’re almost... scared of him, now. Scared of where he’s been and what he’s endured—things you’re sure you couldn’t have taken. What that does to a person, you can’t imagine. He seems so solid and real in front of you now—but you know that’s not always enough. Maybe you’re just scared that somehow whatever he’s been through will have made him care for you less. That you were too far removed from the whole ordeal, and now you’ll never understand. If you could understand, maybe you could fix it for him. Maybe he’d stick around.

Still—even if you do end up pushing him further away in the long run—won't it have been worth it to have had him so completely, even just once?

You toss the belt to the ground, compressing all of these very complicated thoughts and feelings into a few seconds so short he can’t ask you any questions about them. Instead you find his top button, and just as you manage to undo it with relative ease he’s gently grabbing your wrists. You look up at him, immediately surrendering.

“If we’re going to do this I need you to relax a little bit.”

Gears grind in your chest. You feel need and anxiety comingling in every square inch of your body. It’s a sick buzz—a high on an empty stomach.

“I can’t,” you admit.

“Yeah, you can,” Spencer gently disagrees, slowly lowering your hands. When he’s sure you’re not going to try ripping his clothes off again, he releases, and his eyes lower to the zipper of your hoodie. His fingers follow, warm against the soft triangle of revealed skin at your chest as he grips the small piece of metal between barely shaking fingers. “You can.”

You match his eyeline, breathing shallowly and watching as he slowly drags the zipper down. You wonder if that sound has haunted his fantasies the way the sound of his belt has haunted yours. If he’s seen this hoodie on you and wondered what’s underneath, staring at you and daydreaming during movie night with you none the wiser.

Both of you have your eyes glued to the span of skin as the zipper parts. Spencer stalls with the zipper at your sternum, just below the band of your bra.

Right. No shirt.

You look up and find his eyes already on you, tinged with a curious kind of humor.

“I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The words come out shy. Spencer’s chuckle has its own nervous airy quality as he resumes tugging on your zipper, leaning down until your noses bump.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Then he kisses you again, a little sweeter now. Sweet enough to give you butterflies and for them to flutter right out of your stomach and spill from your lips in a little whimper against his.

It comes as a surprise when he pushes the fabric from your shoulders without looking or asking. Not that you’d have said no—you're just underprepared for how assertive he is in this foreign context.

Left just in your flimsy shorts and your thin bra, you feel quite exposed—but Spencer’s hands are as demanding and hungry as his mouth. They skim up your sensitive sides and sweep lower, suggesting less proper placement over your ass and pulling at your bottoms until you gently put a stop to their wandering.

“Wait. We’re... we’re uneven.”

It’s a struggle to get any words out at all when he keeps chasing your lips, nipping at you like he physically can’t stand not kissing you, but they catch his attention and he laughs airily, pulling back to let his gaze pour over your less clothed form. It lingers and catches and lights you up everywhere it touches, drops of heat soaking into your skin and making you feel all fuzzy and needy.

“We are,” he acknowledges, tone low and colored with the faintest smile. “You’re a lot prettier without your clothes on than I am.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The challenge comes immediately and thoughtlessly. Spencer’s golden eyes flash up to yours. He’s breathing a little harder than usual.

“You want me to show you what I mean?”

If that means getting him naked, then yes, absolutely.

You nod, but rather than immediately stripping, he takes your hand and holds his own open next to it. A thick pink scar bisects some pretty significant palmistry lines, but you don’t mention that. Instead you swallow—your thoughts, your words, your nausea.

“That’s new.”

You wonder how you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

He nods.

“A lot is new.”

It sounds almost like he’s challenging you—there's a kind of tremulous force in his voice, despite the perpetual softness there, like he’s inviting you to say it’s ugly. And you realize he’s referring to more than just the glowing scar cutting an asteroid trail against the flesh of him palm. The scars he obtained in prison must form a constellation over his body.

“I don’t care. I wanna see you.”

Spencer swallows, cupping your face with the scarred hand once more. You can’t feel it against your cheek but you know it hasn’t gone away.

“I’m sure you think you do,” he permits, and that’s where the conversation ends for the moment—with his hand on your face and his lips back on yours. “For now why don’t you let me worry about you?”

Obediently, you breathe, “okay.”

This is, for whatever reason, amusing to him. The brief levity dies as quick as it comes like a snuffed-out brush fire as soon as he lets his hands fall back down to your hips.

“I want... I want to give you slow. But...”

But slow is for people who didn’t lose three months of their life. Slow is for people who don’t know what it’s like to be starving. Slow is not for the desperate.

You understand the feeling.

“I don’t need slow.”

You’ll let him use you up like quick-burning fuel if that’s what he needs. You’ll go as fast and as bright and as hot as he tells you.

“But you want slow,” he murmurs, a secret acknowledged into your own waiting mouth. You’d keep it there forever. You could be the object he hides his soul in. “I know you do. You deserve to get what you want.”

“I can go fast. I want whatever you can give me.”

Spencer’s shuddering exhale is like a drug, dizzying as you inhale it and your eyes flutter at the high, pressed head-to-head with him. For so long you’ve needed him so badly. It’s overwhelming to have him now, all over you. If only your walls could breathe him in the way you are, if this room could remember what it feels like to hold him the way you will, if any inanimate object could bear witness to how you’ll give yourself, any part of yourself, over to him, so willingly.

“I’m going to try.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as he walks backward to the bed, taking you by the hips as he goes. “I want to do it right. I want to do this the way I... the way I imagined it, before...”

Now he’s sitting, and you’re standing between his legs as he finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, his fingers a comforting pressure where they ghost down the slope of your back. Your heart is pounding at the confession, at the way his tongue darts over his bottom lip and his fingertips journey back up to your straps, looking up at you with haloed irises as if he’d find anything other than the most dangerous kind of smoldering devotion in your eyes—the kind cult-leaders seek and spend years nurturing, and he’d earned with a mere brush over your bare skin.

The fabric slides down your arms, and as it falls to the floor, you watch something like despair flash-flood his eyes. It is a deep, distinctly human grief. The ineffable kind where something is almost too beautiful; so perfect it offends the mortal senses because it should be permanent, but nothing is, and the clash of divine beauty with unstoppable time which oxidizes copper and covers marble with vine is almost as grotesque as metal rending delicate flesh. It is the grief that drove the first poet to write and the first parents to press their baby’s painted hands to the walls of a cave. It is the desire to do the impossible—to capture ephemeral perfection and make it eternal, and the knowledge that it is hopeless. You recognize it because you’ve felt it for him.

“I thought about you all the time,” he whispers, doesn’t bother calling you beautiful but you don’t mind because he’s telling you with his hands and his eyes and the waver of his voice. “When I was gone, I thought about you—”

You’re just as quiet, just as soft.

“Don’t, Spencer.”

He doesn’t get to tell you about when he was gone. Not now. Not after he acted like you didn’t exist.

“Okay.” He swallows the things he’d wanted to tell you like you choked on the things you needed to tell him for three months. “I’m sorry.”

But his hands—his hands are perfect over your waist and his lips are perfect where they kiss your ribs like they’re his homeland. You could forgive a thousand wrongs for each kiss he puts to your skin. Light from the full moon stretches over the room like a blessing from the cosmos, and you have every intention of making the most of that gift, how the silver gilds the planes of his face and highlights curls like they were carved, and invites you to search for something in each shadow.

Some of his kisses land over the sensitive skin of your breasts though you doubt he has much intention or that there is any sort of end-goal with the trail he blazes—in fact, you have to root your hand in his hair and pull gently back when he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s making you wait again. His eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly pinkened—you weren’t expecting this wave of fondness to knock you on your ass but here you are, falling all over again.

“You don’t have to go that slow.”

A slow smile splits the heart of his mouth at your bashful tone and he’s emboldened to bring his hands higher for a moment, thumbs brushing particularly delicate though not downright indecent spots. Nonetheless, your breath catches.

“Impatient girl,” he scolds, and though it’s lighthearted it still inspires heat to dance across your face. Oh, I think I’ve been plenty patient, you itch to say, but you bite it back because it’s only sad and true and unkind.

Still, he gives you the beginning of what you want, really only the tip of the enormous iceberg that is your desire for him, by slipping his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down. His hands slide up the fronts of your thighs, tracing the trim of your underwear, and you’d swear he’s not even breathing. The moment one of his hand loops behind your knee and pulls forward until it’s pressed to the mattress and you’re half-kneeling, half standing, desire begins to truly cloud your mind. Manhandling never seemed like Spencer’s style, but when paired with how softly he reveals your hip, pulling gently down on the fabric of your underwear just to admire you up close, you don’t mind it.

More kisses are littered over your stomach, and he takes you by surprise a second time with a quick maneuver landing you on your back and him on top of you.

“I wasn’t doing you justice with my imagination,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t have known what?” you pant as he shamelessly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass. You almost hope it bruises.

“How pretty you would be,” he coos like he means it, and you dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. “You were holding out on me.”

It’s a tease, not at all serious, but you manage to hit him with a, “Was not, asshole,” and he chuckles, placating your little hurt with another sticky kiss, and you get another disorienting glimpse of some other timeline where you’re both a little less damaged. Where it’s a little easier.

But in this timeline, his touch becomes starving and ragged and urgent, and you accept the drag of his thumb up your thigh and between your legs, gasping when he runs his knuckles up the center of you. This touch is metal on screeching metal. It does not pretend to be anything more than what it is—brute, powerful, executed to elicit sensation. You get the sense that Spencer’s never touched anyone this honestly, and while you do envy the girls who got to have him gentler, you’ll take this as the compliment that it is. A kind of vulnerability that is nearing primal.

His lips, though—always his lips—are kind when they brush and land on your skin guided by some invisible map. A dip down your neck and chest and then a plunge, his tongue dragging over your hips, chasing the fabric of your underwear as he almost pulls it off and then reroutes, making room for himself between your legs and pushing lace aside to mark the hinge of your inner and upper-most thigh. Your chest heaves and you don’t dare move for fear he’ll stop leaving signs of himself on your body and you won’t be able to reassure yourself that it was real and he was here and it was not another dream.

Because something in you knows, if only consciously recognizing it for the first time now, that he will disappear again. That this may be your only chance.

The desire to make the ephemeral eternal. An impossibility.

He’s clearly losing himself to something, eyes shutting blissfully. You wonder when the last time he let his guard down even a  little was. You’re okay with being the thing he gets lost in, even if you’re not exactly okay with him—something you are becoming more acutely aware of as each touch makes a part of you want to cry. Maybe you still have some things in common. A strange pain that doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you, for one thing.

You slam back into your body as his nose nudges against you through fabric, and his lips catch on cotton as he drags himself up, eventually settling a kiss against the little bow at the waist of your underwear. There he stays, eyes closed, mouth pressed to you.

“Is this okay?”

You swallow, buzzing. Is this really what he wants? After everything?

“You don’t have to...”

“But is it okay with you?”

Nothing more than an airy whisper, you reply, “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

Being emotional at this point seems wrong, but it’s difficult to ignore the fact that you have thought about this before and it’s finally happening but it’s not exactly as you’d imagined it. There is an indelible sadness to it, to the way he’s so hungry for you because he’s been deprived, to the desperation with which he touches you because he’s had everything taken from him.

For a moment, before he tugs your underwear down, he pauses, and you wonder if he’s freezing one moment in time, this moment, and grieving all the other ways it could’ve been, and accepting that this is the way it is going to be. You are.

These higher realms of thought abandon you as he finally pulls the last barrier down your legs and encourages you to spread them further. You don’t have time or energy to be embarrassed, not even by his staring, or the way his eyes dart up to yours and back down again, wide and shining, as if to say, have you seen yourself? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

All you feel is the lack of him on you, the pull to have him closer so strong it’s almost sickening because he could be gone at any second. Maybe he understands that because he doesn’t waste anymore time before he’s kissing the most sensitive part of you. The drag of his tongue has you loosing a shuddering cry.

His mouth wanders, making connections you wouldn’t have realized the value of until you feel them on your skin. Your hips buck as he traces you and you’re unable to stop yourself from tangling your hands in his hair. Speech fails you—hell, you can hardly breathe as you watch his with a furrowed brow and parted lips, only expelling air from your lungs in the form of little cries and gasps and failing to hold your hips down to the bed.

The tip of his tongue teases around your entrance and he catches your leg as your foot rises off the bed, slinging it over his shoulder and consuming you more fervently until you have no choice but to moan though you’ve never been one for theatrics. Nobody has done this for you like he’s doing it for you. Locks of hair fall in front of his face and you hold them back for him, shuddering as he shifts his weight and presses the tip of his finger to your cunt.

“Ah—please,” you manage, your first words since he started. Spencer groans against you and the sound is so wonderfully unexpected, so much better than in your dreams. You cant your hips up in further invitation, chirping as he takes it, pushing two fingers into you at once. Your eyes screw shut and you bite back a whine at the slight stretch, unconsciously writhing your hips either to get further away or take him deeper, you’re not sure.

Spencer pulls back, kissing your hips and thighs and pumping his fingers very slowly as you adjust.

“’M sorry,” you pant, “it’s been awhile, I...”

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says like it’s simple, his own breath coming quicker. “How’re you feeling? Need me to stop?”

“No! No, it feels really good, I feel good.”

He holds your burning gaze, matching it with his own, and his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed as he continues to move his hand.

“Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

This little show of obedience, of call and response, has him smiling before he occupies his mouth with something else once more. It’s a different smile than you’re used to from him, but you decide you don’t at all mind it.

Like that, with his tongue and fingers working tirelessly, your orgasm comes on quickly. The feeling is rare but not entirely foreign, and in that brief moment of utter disconnect between your brain and reality, of sheer white-hot pleasure, you don’t feel you’re missing out on anything at all. How could you be, when you are here and Spencer is here and for a moment all your neurons are lighting up and flashing neon? How could there be anything more to life than the searing feeling of him slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, than your hips between his hands like he’s cradling the world, and his lips, indiscriminate with where they kiss because every part of you is worthy of attention?

You’re reeling, and your legs are gelatinous as he so affectionately sucks the darkest mark yet onto your inner thigh like a parting gift, like he’s signing his trembling work. If you could clamp your legs shut around the almost painful aftershocks you would, but he’s climbing back up your body, so all you can do is wriggle against him and release delayed, stunted little moans. He stops to kiss your neck before he makes it to your mouth and drinks down all your sounds until you’re gentle and pliant for him like you haven’t been yet.

His voice is soft and sympathetic when he speaks. “Better?”

Wordlessly you nod, both comforted and unsettled by how well he knows you. What, exactly, has been made better, you’re not sure. Not trust. You don’t trust him anymore. Something cheaper, but temporarily effective. A sense of permanence, maybe, however fleeting it may be. You’ve completed something with him now, and he’s still here, still sweet.

He looks into your eyes, then, for a moment—and there is just enough light in the room for you to tell yourself that the shadows dancing there as he looks at you are love.

They morph as you watch into haunting, wild hunger. Pained even now.

He sits up abruptly and so do you, scooting back against your headboard and pulling your knees to your chest to protect your pounding heart as Spencer takes you in with darting eyes and quick breaths. His fingers find the collar of his shirt and he begins to unbutton.

“I need you to remember it’s all going to heal.”

He swallows, and you hardly have the wherewithal to study the way he unbuttons his shirt, a way he exists in the world that you had previously not been privy to. The words are too distracting.

“What?”

Sometimes he reminds you of a deer, with those big brown eyes that can’t help betraying anxiety. Moreso in those old pictures he’d shown you from his early days at the BAU—but it shines through occasionally even now. It’s reassuring to know that something inside of his has remained soft.

“Just...” his fingers don’t stop at their task, and you come to the disturbing realization that his knuckles are bruised. “Please don’t freak out, alright?”

Your mouth goes dry, eyes glued to the lengthening span of revealed skin.

And before he even has his shirt fully undone, something isn’t right.

He’s like a Pollack of bruises—starbursts and watercolor blots of discoloration blooming over his side and stomach.

You’re glad the light is off for two reasons: one, being that you don’t think you could handle the bruising in all its glory, and two, you hope the look of horror painted on your face is at least partially obscured from Spencer.

But you can’t. You simply don’t have the gas in the tank to freak out, as he’d said—at least not externally. Those bruises shouldn’t be there, but 96 days is a long time to be gone.

You drag your eyes back to his—nervous, deeply insecure and mistrustful. A deer. Just like those pictures of a 24 year old Spencer in an FBI jacket that was too big for him.

It’s enough to have you scooting on your knees across the mattress to him. Those big eyes stay glued to you as you draw near, falling as you carefully push open his shirt, cautious not to bump any tender spots as it falls to the bed. A flash of white gauze wrapped around his forearm that makes your stomach flip. How? You want to ask. Why?

He doesn’t seem to know what you’re going to do, and neither do you, until you’re grabbing his hands, bruised knuckles and all, and just... holding them for a minute.

“I lost weight,” he says quietly, as if that’s the most shocking thing about his current appearance, though it is noticeable.

“You’re still pretty.”

He smiles at this—a true Spencer Reid smile. Flattened lips, eyes tinged silver with sadness, voice quiet and anxious and wavering.

“I didn’t have a lot to spare.”

A moment goes by.

“I’m not going to ask you about them,” you promise, though you care so much and you want to know but you already understand that he won’t want to tell you.

Another moment. It doesn't surprise you to watch the shiny vulnerability in his eyes to freeze over completely. But he squeezes your hands once in thanks, and you know it’s still the same Spencer.

“Lie down.”

Oh. Right.

This.

You do as he says, taking a deep breath to try and exhale the concern twisting your stomach like a poison. Somehow your room feels so unfamiliar, so new with him in it. Even the whorls on your ceiling look different as you study them, trying to time the pattern of your breathing with the pattern of the paint and plaster and not let the sound of Spencer further undressing quicken your heartrate too much.

Soon he’s coaxing your legs apart again, reverently, and kneeling between them, studying every part of you—lingering not on the parts you’d expect. He traces the scar on your knee with his thumb, follows a line down your thigh to the freckle on your hip. The scrutiny is unnerving and warms you everywhere. Perhaps he senses the microscopic clench of your thighs as you imagine pushing them together, if he weren’t in the way.

“You alright?” He asks, still stroking your hip. Tender again. It’s so hard to keep up.

“I...”

Suddenly your heart beat is a deafening echo in your own ears. The tide of your breathing is too powerful, too in and out and whooshing, leaving you always too empty or too full but never comfortable.

Maybe he’s changed, and he’s harder to know now, but he is the same Spencer. He is the Spencer you’d fallen in love with. The hard part is knowing that now you may never get a chance to tell him that. You don’t know if he’d be able to hear it.

There are things you can’t have with him anymore. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. But you can have this. It will be different, but you’d rather him be different and here than the same and only in your memory.

You swallow.

“I’m good.”

Tangling your hand in his hair once more, you pull him down into a kiss. It’s hesitant, at first—maybe he can taste your thoughts, where they’d been balancing just on the tip of your tongue. But the uncertainty fades and he kisses you deeper, harder, in a way that is hard to keep up with. You like the messy overwhelm of his lips, teeth, tongue. That’s the only way he knows how to want you.

When you go to wrap your leg around his waist he catches it, running his hands over the soft plush of your thigh. The hard line of him presses against you like memory foam and you gasp and he breathes it in deeply as your brain short-circuits, as you realize this is really going to happen, that you’re going to have him like you’ve never had him before and in ways you’ve only imagined and immediately felt ashamed for.

“Spencer,” you whisper. He ducks to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck and your eyes flutter shut, craning your neck but not losing sight of your objective as you reach down blindly. When you find what you’re looking for he freezes, groans against your neck at the same time as you breathe the tiniest whimper. Just in your hand he feels impossible, hot and imposing and hard. Your heart palpitates.

Without thinking, you angle your hips up and encourage him closer, until the tip of him is smearing through your folds, and you both go utterly silent like the breath had been stolen right from your lungs. The moment crystallizes, time around you hardening like preserved amber to keep you frozen there forever.

And then he rolls his hips, catching the underside of his cock on the crux of you, and then he does it again, and you choke out a moan and so does he, and it’s beyond perfect—it's nirvana, more than you could ever have conceived of, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in, his heavy breaths hot against your neck and vice versa as you twine together like serpents on a rod, your foot floating in the air as you widen your legs to make more room for him.

And you’re not even fucking yet.

“Oh my god,” you whine, just for him, barely audible under the heavy cloak of night, the thickened air in your bedroom and the sound of panting and fabric shifting. It’s like your heart is trying to reach through your chest to his own where they’re pressed together—that is how hard it’s beating.

Spencer only breathes a long, low curse and shifts so he can grasp himself. Your fingers drift down the shaft of him as he slots himself at your entrance, notching half an inch in and you hold your breath, and you brace yourself—and then he’s kissing you again, but gentler this time. Reassuring. You soften, you can’t not, releasing all your air in a soft gust through your nose, and then he’s pushing in.

Your lips part at the stretch as it fuzzes your mind, but he stays right there, nose pressed to your nose, lips ghosting over your own. He’s not going anywhere, you think, and you’re glad for it, when it burns ever so slightly, and the tiniest whine escapes your open mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes immediately, low and soft, only fractionally louder than you had been. “You’re okay.”

Spencer. Your Spencer.

For a moment, you’re living in that alternate universe. The kinder one. The flash of pain you feel then has nothing to do with the way he’s opening you up.

This is the closest you have ever been, and in some strange way, the furthest apart.

Together, fingers brushing, you guide him until he settles at not quite your deepest point. You can feel that he’s not giving you everything yet, but you’re okay with that, as you adjust to the full feeling. Spencer again senses your desire to close your legs against the deep intrusion, and gives you the best he can by encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

“Good girl,” he whispers tenderly, nudging at your jaw with his nose and dragging kisses along the ridge of it. Your stomach flips at the moniker and your brain turns to warm sludge as your eyes flutter shut. It makes you feel all light-headed and you flutter around him. Spencer chuckles into the junction of your neck and shoulder and the vibrations send a chill down your arching spine. “I thought you might like that one.”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm. How are you? You okay?”

“’M ready.”

“You’re ready?” His tone is dripping sarcasm and faux-disbelief as he pulls back the slightest bit only to push right back in deeper, this time. Your toes curl, one thigh sliding higher up his waist as you cling to him.

“Fuck,” you manage, a pitiful, high pitched curse tossed to the wind. He echoes the sentiment.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, continuing with that slow pace, “you feel so good, angel.”

You grapple at his back, searching for purchase as your brow knits. “Faster.”

This inspires another breathy chuckle, but he obliges, and you cry out softly. It’s almost unreal, your head buried against his neck, drunk on his scent and the drag of him like a shock felt in the far reaches of your body, again and again.

There’s nothing you can say that will accurately demonstrate what you’re feeling, so you elect not to speak, to remain silent and try to get a grip on this cacophony of sensation and emotion. But it’s too much to be alone with. You feel you have to get it out, to seek understanding. You can’t do it alone.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know...” the sentence trails off into a gentle keen. He moves to kiss you, speaking against your lips.

“You don’t know?”

Shyly you shake your head. Spencer sighs wistfully.

“Do you know how much I missed you?”

It’s like he can sense your need for comfort. For something grounding.

And while this topic was off-limits earlier—you're softer now. The stone walls that form your boundaries have been chipped away and lowered.

Spencer continues unprompted.

“I thought about you every day. Every night while I was falling asleep. You were always on my mind, angel girl.”

You whine. Whether it’s pleasure or distress is anyone’s guess—including your own.

“You were gone so long,” you whisper, eyes shut.

At this, Spencer slows again, and the tension that was building settles back to a simmer.

“I know. I wish I could—I wish I could change that. But I’m here, okay? I’m right here with you.”

Then he makes sure you feel every last inch, and it takes your breath away. If your thoughts were any more coherent, they’d be something along the lines of: but for how long? How long until you leave again?

“You’re here.”

You say it like a mantra, once out loud, and then again and again in your head, timed with every clash of your hips. With each repetition he becomes more real. Every little ache, every tingling, head-emptying brush against that most sensitive spot inside proves to you that he could not be any closer. This can’t be faked. It can’t be another dream to wake up in tears from.

“You’re here,” you gasp as it hits you, as it truly sinks in.

“I’m here,” he breathes.

There’s so much you want to say—three months of words you need him to hear, of things you need to talk to him about, things you need to yell at him for and things you can only say crying in his arms and things you can only say laughing or whispering or drunk or half-asleep—and in this moment you can’t manage any of it. Every word condenses into one drop of salt water, drifting away from your eye and down your cheek. Spencer doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He only kisses the tear away, and murmurs I’m here I’m here I’m here over and over again against your skin until he’s not even speaking it out loud anymore. But you feel it. With every brush of his lips, every breath, every movement, you feel it.

Soon he’s adjusting his angle, gradually picking up the pace but retaining that unforgiving depth, and your nails bite into the skin of his back as your jaw drops. Spencer hisses, pressing impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak.

“Do it again.”

“Wh—what?”

“Please,” he begs, low and hot against your jaw, just beneath your ear. “Do it again, honey.”

Honey.

You’d do anything for him if it meant he calls you that again.

When he shifts his weight to one arm and reaches down between your bodies to play with your aching clit in exactly the right way, you don’t really have a choice. You arch and moan wantonly enough to feel embarrassed as your nails scratch down his back. At the same time he’s making noises of his own, and you almost feel guilty for marking him up like this only you think he likes it. The most perfect and troubling tension is building in your core, so taut you almost fear the inevitable rebound when it snaps. But you’re driven to be exactly what Spencer needs right now, and to let him try and be what you need. Even if it scares you. Even if you’re not sure how.

Spencer groans, head tucked to the bend of your shoulder. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any response you might’ve been about to muster is annihilated by a sudden, deep bolt of pleasure.

“’M gonna cum,” you mewl like it’s a secret.

“Are you?” he asks, coming up breathless. If your eyes were open, you’re sure you’d see him above you.

“Mhm.”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

It is unmistakably a command—one you fight to follow.

You cry out as you meet the intensity of his gaze, those shadowy corridors suddenly ablaze and alive. They are not unending, like you’d thought. They are a door thrown open to let the light in, or maybe to let the fire out. They’re open in this moment for you.

No more words are spoken after that—you cum hard, gasping as you fall and spin. Spencer follows very shortly after, like he was holding it together just for you, and your eyes are still locked though everything is a bit bleary.

“Fuck,” you whine as he continues to fuck you for as long as he can, despite your writhing hips, but you’re entranced by him, unable to look away now that you’re hooked. Until he slows to a halt, glances down at your mouth, and you just have time to pray that he’ll kiss you before he does. You whimper against his lips—a plea for understanding. A plea for him to stay, even though this is over. He kisses back so soft and sweet it’s like he can read your mind. Echoes of I’m here I’m here I’m here still buzz across your skin. His eyelashes tickle your cheek. Your heart stops beating quite so quickly, melting and warm like the rest of your body.

Soon the kissing ceases and you’re just breathing together, trapped and faced with the knowledge that it must end just the same as you had waited for it to start.

Eventually the air between you becomes mostly carbon dioxide and you let your head fall to the side, dizzy and giggling breathlessly as you nearly avoid asphyxiation. Spencer laughs too, letting his head fall to your shoulder once more, and you finally let your eyes flutter closed. To do something as simple as laugh with him again is its own small euphoria. It’s unexpected, and a soft landing once all that tension breaks underneath your combined weight.

It can’t last forever, you know that well. But the slow fade of it makes the next parts a little easier.

Spencer presses a kiss to your neck. “Is your bathroom through that door?”

You hum a confirmation and are only slightly disheartened when he pulls out and rolls off of you. You’re further disturbed when you see there’s gauze around his thigh, matching what’s around his arm, and you wonder how you missed that. Spencer scoops up his clothing and disappears into the adjoining restroom, assuring you he’ll be right back and leaving you alone with your thoughts and the whorls on the ceiling which have seemingly shifted into entirely new constellations.

He leaves the door cracked which is oddly reassuring—the sliver of warm light and the sound of the sink running. Only a few moments pass before he’s returning clad in boxers once more to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing away the sheet you’d just pulled over your chest and pulling one of your legs over his lap. Your face warms as he brings a washcloth between your thighs. As soon as he glances up at you and catches your eye you’re looking back to the ceiling.

“I should’ve asked first,” he says quietly as he cleans up the mess he’d made of you.

You speak just as softly, like you’re both afraid of disturbing some peace, of waking some sleeping giant. “It’s okay. I would’ve told you if I didn’t want it.”

His reticence, his unreadable face, make you nervous.

When he’s done, he rises to toss the dirtied cloth in the laundry bin, and with his back to you (as scratched up as it might be) you feel braver.

“Are you gonna, like... hate me now?”

It was a mistake. That’s clear by the way he turns around, brow knit deeply and grimacing slightly like even the suggestion offends him.

“Am I going to hate you?”

Again you pull the sheet up, and again you look away, studying the pattern of moonlight stretching out over the floor and scooting to make room for him when he steps in it.

“Not hate, I just...” the bed dips beside you and you are indescribably glad he’s not immediately running out the door. “I’m not dumb. I know what this was.”

He pulls you into him and you settle against his chest. It feels good. “I never thought you were dumb.”

This is your first real conversation since he’s gotten back, you realize. And how quickly you’re falling into familiar patterns, familiar syntactical beats. You know when to speak. You know when to bite your tongue and keep him talking.

The silence goes on longer than you’re used to. Maybe he got good at not speaking while he was away.

Eventually your eyes wander, falling to the white strip over his thigh where it is parallel to yours on the bed, only over the sheets.

“What happened?”

You said you wouldn’t ask, but that was then, and you’re upset again. You almost want to hurt him. To piss him off. You don’t know.

But it doesn’t work.

“Do you really want to know?” There’s a note of something heavy in his voice, and you look up at him. It’s a privilege to have him this close—his beauty is a constant surprise that you’d become unaccustomed to over the months. You say nothing, and he takes that as the yes that it is. “I... I did it to myself.”

He may as well have reached down your throat and grabbed for fucking heart for all its clenching. Tears well almost immediately, though they’ve been waiting in the wings all night.

“What? Did you—were you trying to—”

His eyes widen.

“No! No, honey, no.” You wilt as he gathers you closer, a deeply confused frown still contorting your features, too heartbroken even to cling to him, or to appreciate the ease with which honey slips past his lips again. “No. I was—it's complicated. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, but I had to—I had to do it before someone else did something worse.”

The bruises covering his abdomen.

You sniffle and pull back enough to look up at him tearfully. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

Mist fills his eyes even as he’s looking down at you, a layer of separation, as if he’s two places at once. Even as he goes to brush your hair behind your ear, to stroke your cheek.

“I’m... not... the same, as I was.” It’s not an answer to your question—but it’s the beginning of the answer to a question you’d been too afraid to put into words.

“Don’t say that,” you beg, because you know where this is going. He keeps smoothing your hair like it’ll make this easier.

“But it’s true,” Spencer says gently, the slightest waver betraying his own emotion.

“You’re just going to leave again.”

And you’re losing to the tears.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will,” you insist, like a child crying to a parent come to comfort them after a bad dream.

“Not right now. Right now I’m here.”

I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.

For now, maybe that has to be enough. 

You cry on his shoulder. He kisses your head and doesn’t tell you to stop. 

Eventually, you sniff and wipe your eyes. 

“We were so close. Before you… we were almost there.”

You’re sure of it. You’re sure that if he hadn’t gone when he did you would’ve been a real couple. You would’ve told him you loved him. 

“We’ll get there again,” he promises, rubbing your arm. “I just… I need a little bit of time. I think you do too. But we’re going to get there again.”

Maybe it will never be like it was. 

But as so often is the case—Spencer is right. Difference doesn’t mean it won’t ever be good again. 

You have to believe that, just as you had to believe you’d see him again. 

You look to The Odyssey on your bedside table. 

The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world. 

But the sun has a habit of rising, time and time again, after the longest nights, after the darkest storms. 

You feel the beginnings of its rise, see the golden tips of it lighting the room as he holds you. Even now.