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sh1-n0bu · 8 months ago

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♡︎ 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘 ♡︎

characters: sub!gallagher x nb!dom!reader

warnings: usage of aphrodisiacs, exhibitionism, slight dumbification, thigh riding, dry humping, begging, cumming untouched, gallagher being an old man loser, just a mini drabble guys. nothing big (i say as i write down 1,7K words)

notes: @lufenianwol you knew exactly what you were doing when you sent me gallagher’s leaked idle animation didn’t you, you gayyyy🫵🏳️‍🌈 (im gay too😔)

sigh…

another day, another long work of hunting down criminals or outlaws who came to penacony uninvited and detaining them. the most time gallagher could ever get to de-stress were behind the bars, mixing up a drink his customers asked for or when with you. you were a fellow bloodhound, a high ranking one too, so never had enough time to spend some quality time with your tired lover.

but today, you wanted to be a little mischievous. and what was that on your mind? you slipped just a teeny weeny bit of aphrodisiacs into his usual alcohol in his personal flask of course! just a little. maybe a pinch or two. a bit of a sprinkle of magic as a gift.

or maybe even a whole mini bottle. but you won’t say it until your tired lover comes crawling over to you, huffing and puffing, whining whimpering as he begs for your help at “restocking” some of the alcohol at the backrooms.

at the other end of the bar, you watch with a barely hidden smirk whenever your lover takes a sip from his personal flask during his break times. each time he does, getting more and more intoxicated in the taste. you purposely chose one that tasted delicious and soft on the tongue, a way to reward him for his hard work of running after criminals and preparing him for what was about to happen.

he started out strong, as expected of a bloodhound officer. barely felt it, focusing on work, wiping a glass or two, mixing up a drink. but the more he drank from his flask, the more you noticed it. the little stuttering over his words, the slight flush in his cheeks, the jumpy way he reacted whenever you passed by him with a hand on his waist or lower back. that bulge in his pants. that damn delicious bulge that you love to bully.

shaking your head, snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you focus back on work to wipe the bar clean and serve the customers drinks and desserts of their liking. you and gallaher were a good pair to serve amazing cocktails after all.

finally, the rush hour had ended, meaning fewer customers. the fewer there are, the more noticeable gallagher’s show of being affected by the little sprinkle of magic became. at first, he tried to play things off as signs of cold, or just the warm and low lighting of the bar being the reason his cheeks are pink. hell, he even coughed a few times to make his act believable. believable to the nosy customers but never to you.

“[n-name]…” the man barely manages to muffle his whimper when calling out your name, low lidded eyes, hazy vision and slightly shaky hand tugging on your necktie. you hum, turning to him with a raised brow as if you weren’t the reason behind this panting mess in front of you.

“yeah? what’s up?” you ask, putting down the bottle on where it’s supposed to be as your hands come to rest on his waist. the rush hour just ended, the bar still had a few customers but they were either too drunk to care nor engrossed in their own sob life stories to share you two a glance. and gallagher was damn glad for it too.

“w-we, ahem, need to head to the backrooms. we’re running out of some beers and fizzy drinks in the fridge” he quickly clears his throat, hoping that no one had caught onto his little stuttering. you did, of course. you would catch onto anything your lover says or does. even the tiniest things. such as how he was trying to make it seem like an innocent half-hug when you could feel his cock twitch in his pants as he pushes his crotch against yours, hoping to conceal it while also giving you a little heads-up.

as if you needed the heads-up.

“alright. you can go first, i’ll come after you once i wipe my hands” you nod your head, watching as your lover disappears behind the door with a sign that read “staff only”. it was cute how gallagher was so trusting of you, never even thought for a moment how you could have been the one to drug his flask of alcohol. though, judging from his cloudy eyes and stuttering, you could guess that he could barely even think to begin with. how adorable of him.

soon enough, you follow after the steps of your lover, walking into the “staff only” part of the bar and later onto the door with the sign “backrooms”. the pretty decent sized dark room where the bar keeps their ingredients and drinks. the same exact room where your lover pushes you against the wall the moment you entered, shaky hands fumbling with the buttons of your button down shirt as he humps his hardened cock against your crotch.

“woah woah, puppy. easy now. what’s going on? i thought we needed to restock on our drinks?” you ask, feigning innocence as your hands rest over gallagher’s shaky ones, stopping his fumbling and managing to catch his attention for a minute. he looked so dumbfounded. bottom lip on the brink of bleeding due to his chewing, panting, cheeks flushed a pretty red as his dilated eyes try to focus on you. you swore he looked like he was almost on the brink of crying with how damn pathetic he looked.

“c-can’t… [name], please, help me… ‘s so hot, tight. stupid pants mmngh!” gallagher only moans, tripping over his own words in a jumbled mess as he tries to find some sort of relief for his poor aching cock. looking down, you could briefly make out a dark small patch at the front of his pants. he was so drugged that he couldn’t even tell that he was staining his own clothes with his precum. so cute.

you only hum in response, not bothering to do as he pleads as your hands rest on the fat of his ass, massaging them gently. he only whines, slurred words of how he wanted your hands on his cock falling out as he squirms in your hold. lowering yourselves down to the floor of the room, you shift gallagher on top of you to ride your thigh instead. flexing the muscles in them to make it easier for him as he whimpers at the feeling.

immediately, the man started to hump your thigh. salacious mewls falling out of his lips as he doesn’t even try to silence his loud noises, only dumbly trying to relieve himself as he rubs his clothed cock on your thigh. you could see the dark patch in his pants getting bigger, darker the more he rides your thigh. if he had his dick out, he would probably leave a mess all over your clothes.

“shh shh, puppy. the door isn’t locked, remember?” you chuckle, reminding him of where the two of you were getting naughty at. it was so cute to see his eyes perk up at the sound of your voice. more specifically, whenever you called him puppy. he really did lived up to that nickname, looking like a cute pup as he bites down on his lip.

one of your hands travel up to his chest, opting to play with his perky nipple as he let out a loud squeal at that. his chest was always so sensitive, making him let out the most delicious whimpers each time you roll, pinch or tug at the hardened nub. being so mean to not slip your hands under the opening of his button down shirt at the front, playing with his nipples over the harsh fabrics of his clothes instead. he just wanted your touch on him to relieve the ache pooling in his belly, would you be so mean to deny him of his wishes?

apparently, you would. the hand on the soft fat of his ass moving to rest over his hip, helping him hump his cock on your thigh as your other hand continue their brutal assaults on his chest. poor gallagher, can't even form a single word as his pleads fall out of his swollen lips in a jumbled heap of mess. you could barely make out your own name from it. the words sounding so muddled up as if the bloodhound officer couldn't tell the difference between reality and his drug induced feelings.

"[n-naaammmeee]... sniff pleasheee fuunnghh fucck!! p-pleashh pleaash pleeaasshee♡︎!! ungh!! guuunnhg♥︎♥︎! p-pretty pleaaseee♡︎?" gallagher whines helplessly, stuffing his flushed face into the crook of your neck as his movements become more sloppy and frantic. he was so close to cumming already, it was just so cute to see how easily someone who is apparently always in control to crumble over with just a little bit of thigh riding. and some sprinkle of magic added to the mix.

in an attempt to muffle his loud moans and stuttering of his breath, he hastily lowers the collar of your own button down shirt just a little bit more. just enough so he could bite down over the old, healing bite mark of his so he could attempt to muffle his pathetic noises. you only coo out in a mocking tone, calling him by that nickname again as you tug on his nipple through his shirt as debouched cries of your name falls from his lips over and over like a mantra. gallagher sounded like one of those old, broken down radios that only replay a single song that sometimes is in the bar.

with a final thrust and a meek little bounce on your thigh, gallagher releases into his clothes. the magenta red hue of his pants turning a darker shade as his cum pools into the materials of his pants, staining it as some of the translucent liquid drips down onto your pants. you could just wash them out later.

"done with your little show, puppy?" you ask, the hand on his hip squeezing a bit to snap him out of his hazy mind. instead, you got a shake of his head, his stubble lightly tickling the skin of your neck in the process.

"wan' more... wan' you♥︎" he mumbles, delirious and drooling, as he humps his still hard cock against your crotch, indicating what he craved so desperately. maybe next time you should check the dosage you put into his drink if he's gonna be drugged this heavily by such a small amount.

#nobu.writes #sub hsr #sub honkai star rail #sub!hsr #sub!honkai star rail #sub character #sub!character #hsr smut #hsr x reader #hsr x reader smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #sub gallagher #hsr gallagher #gallagher x reader #gallagher smut #x dom reader #dom reader #dom!reader

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year ago

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Any chance you could do a famous single mum reader x Harry fic

since he’s a certified MILF lover

CRUSH

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

SUMMARY: Harry has been into you for way too long, but you haven't given him a chance. You run into each other at the Grammy's afterparty and you finally tell him why you're so adamant about keeping your distance.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry will forever remember tonight.

It’s his second time going home as a Grammy winner and nothing can ruin this experience for him, not even how his performance was ruined. He did it again and nothing else matters for now.

Or at least that’s how he should be feeling as he is celebrating with his friends and other winners and artists at the after party, but something keeps bugging him.

Just hours earlier he ran into you again and he hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind since then. It’s no surprise you were at the award show, even though you’re not a singer he could have expected to run into you at one of the most important nights of the year. Yet, he was still surprised to see you walk down the red carpet, but it might have been because you always have that effect on him no matter what.

If someone asked Harry who his celebrity crush was he would say you with no hesitation or remorse. He’s been enamored with you since the first time he met you at some other after party a few years ago. The two of you were introduced by a mutual friend and he stuck to your side for as long as possible, drinking up every word, every laughter and every look you gifted him with. He thought you were way out of his league, he still does, but that doesn’t stop him from yearning after you like a lovesick puppy every time your paths cross. Harry can’t tell how many times he tried to flirt with you before, but his flirty comments were met with soft rejection every time, you never seemed to be returning the gentle feelings and though it was devastating, he knew he could do nothing.

He could at least call you his friend, more or less. He definitely has a tither connection with you than with most people in this room, there’s a bigger circle of friends you both share so you end up meeting every few months without planning it and there are periods when you’re even texting.

He hasn’t talked to you for a while now, so seeing you brought his feelings back he’s been harboring for so long.

Now as he’s sipping on his drink he can’t help but keep looking around, trying to spot you in the crowd to no avail for now. He pulls out his phone and opens the message thread with you, rereading the last few texts he exchanged with you a while back. His thumb hovers over the screen, fighting the urge to hit you up with a message when an elbow meets his side. Looking up he sees Mitch beside him.

“Your crush is here,” he informs Harry with a knowing smirk, nodding towards the bar.

He follows his friend’s gaze and spots you only seconds later. You’ve changed out of your burgundy gown he saw you wearing earlier, sporting a chic pant suit this time, but you’re just as breathtaking as ever.

Mitch just chuckles when Harry gets up without a word and heads over to you. Pushing between guests he ignores everyone who might try to strike a conversation up with him until he finally reaches you.

“Y/N, hi!” he smiles at you warmly. You turn to face him with a cocktail in your hands, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Harry! What a nice surprise!” you chuckle. “Congrats on your wins!” You don’t hesitate to put an arm around his neck and pull him into a hug that he returns gladly.

“Thank you.”

“Though it was no surprise you won, the album is amazing.”

“You listened to it?”

“Of course,” you chuckle. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Do you have a favorite?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“Hmm, probably… Satellite.”

“Great choice.”

The conversation keeps flowing and suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you even though it’s a crowded party that’s happening around you. Harry realizes that no matter how much time passes between each time he sees you, he will always catch himself falling for you over and over again. He tries to flirt with you this time as well and this is the first time he can feel like his rizz is not going straight over your head.

“Y/N, I need you to be very honest with me,” he starts, when you both had a few drinks. Neither of you is drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“About what?” you chuckle.

“Do I have a chance with you? For real, I’m not playing here,” he smirks, placing one hand to his chest, while holding up the other one, his half empty glass rising into the air.

You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you busy yourself with your own drink.

“Ah, it hurts!” he acts as if he was shot in the chest. “Am I that ugly and boring?”

“Of course, you’re not!” you roll your eyes.

“Okay, do you like me?”

“I do,” you admit, avoiding to look him in the eyes.

“Alright, then let’s take this conversation over to my place.”

“I can’t,” you shake your head.

“We can go to yours as well, I’m fine with that too,” Harry half jokes, but he notices that you’re not laughing. “Y/N, what is it then?”

“I need to get some air.” Jumping to your feet you leave your drink behind and head out to the back of the place that’s the smoking area, hoping to be alone for a bit, but Harry rushes after you, determined to get answers this time.

He finds you in a dark corner, your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out into the void.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if I went too far, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s… fine.”

“I just… fuck, I really like you. A lot. I can’t stop thinking about you and… I couldn’t just not shoot my shot.”

“You’ve been shooting your shot for a long time.” He finally sees a tiny smile on your lips.

“So you did notice my attempts?” he grins. “Just chose to ignore them, I guess?”

“Harry, I can’t.”

“Can’t ignore them anymore?”

“No. I can’t date you.”

“Can’t as in…?”

Sighing, your head falls back, against the wall as you close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them and finally looking at him.

“I don’t date.”

“Why?”

“Because of Arian.”

The picture is finally crystal clear in Harry’s head. You’re depriving yourself from dating because of your son.

It’s no news to Harry that you’re a mother, he has even met your five year-old son, but he never thought of him as the reason why you keep rejecting him. You keep your private life pretty hush hush, especially since you split from your ex, Arian’s father three years ago. No one knows why you called it quits and there’s actually no photo of the little boy online either, that’s how dedicated you are to protect him from the public. Harry completely understands it, but he doesn’t see why you can’t date because of Arian.

“The little guy doesn’t want to share you with anyone else?” he tries to joke.

“I’m a single mother who is also an actress. My life is complicated enough without dates and boyfriends.”

“Woah, we’re only talking about one boyfriend,” Harry puts his hands to his chest. You crack a smile, but it’s not as genuine as he would want it to be.

“It’s just not the right time for me to start dating again. I’m sorry.”

“I’m a little hurt you’re not even giving me a chance.”

“I’m sure dating a single mother is not exactly your dream either.”

“Y/N, I haven’t even thought about it until you brought it up. Arian is a cool little guy and I have no problem with you being a mother.”

“You will at one point, trust me,” you scoff and Harry tries not to take it personal. You’re just trying to protect yourself and your son, it’s not against him.

“What if I prove that it’s fine? That I’m not just some random guy who will come and go?”

Staring back at him you chew on his words as you tilt your head to the side.

“We’ll see.”

At first the peace and quiet takes over your waking mind. You feel a gentle breeze from the window you left open for the night and you stretch long underneath the silky covers when it finally dawns on you.

It’s peaceful. And quiet. You haven’t had a morning like this in about… well, five years. Arian loves to wake you up whenever you’re home, jumping on the mattress, or just cuddling to you, either way, he never misses a chance to spend a morning with you.

So where is he now?

Slight panic rushes through your veins as you quickly wrap yourself in your silky robe and head out to find your baby. All the worst case scenarios flash through your mind, but they dissolve the moment you reach the stairs and hear his laughter coming from the kitchen. With careful steps you approach the source of his voice that’s mixed with another one, a more mature male voice that you don’t recognize at first but when you round the corner and see what’s happening in your kitchen, recognition washes over you.

Harry Styles is making pancakes in your kitchen with your son. And they are making a big mess, but Arian seems to be enjoying it. Music is playing in the background and there’s a ginormous bouquet of flowers on the kitchen island. Your heart flutters in your chest as you walk closer.

“Mommy!” Arian notices you and climbing off his stool he runs over to you and you gladly pick him up into your arms.

“Hey baby, what’s… what’s happening here?”

“Harry is making us pancakes!” He throws his hands up into the air in excitement as you walk over to the kitchen island and sit him down on top of it.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he smiles at you so charmingly, it’s hard to focus on the fact that he is in your house on a Saturday morning.

“Hi, what do you… Um, what are you doing here?”

“Mommy, I told you, he is making us pancakes!” Arian giggles.

“I know, baby. Hey, you’re still in your pajamas, why don’t you go up and change?” You help him off the counter and gently push him towards the stairs. He runs off singing to himself.

“Before you throw me out,” Harry starts, holding the spatula up, “You told me to prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That it’s fine that you’re a mom. So, this is our first date, in your house, with your son, so you don’t have to worry about him or get a babysitter.”

“How did you even get into my house?” you chuckle in disbelief. You’re definitely touched by the gesture, you don’t like to spend time away from Arian when you’re not working.

Grinning, he starts flipping the pancakes in the pan.

“Well, I might or might not have contacted your agent who hooked me up with your housekeeper who let me in this morning.”

“Wow, my own staff betrayed me,” you chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say betrayed. They both were happy to help me, because they want what’s best for you.”

“And that would be you?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at his cockiness. He shrugs, but his smirk tells it all.

“Look,” he sighs, turning the stove off. “I really did mean it. I don’t care that you’re a mom. It’s all good, it’s part of you. I don’t want to just come and go in your and Arian’s life. Just give me a chance to prove that it could work.”

He must have some kind of magic power over you, because he really just waltzed in here, made some pancakes and convinced you to change your mind.

“Arian will always come first for me, Harry.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he nods.

“That means that even in my limited free time, you’ll most likely have to share me with him. I’m not the type to let nannies and babysitters raise my child.”

“And I love that about you. Arian is lucky to have you as his mother.”

Staring back at him you want to say no, but you simply can’t. It’s impossible.

“Okay,” is all you say.

“Okay as in… You’ll give me a chance?”

“Yes, but don’t fuck it up,” you chuckle as Harry walks closer and his hands find your waist, pulling you closer. It’s the first time he is physically this close to you, but it feels like he’s been doing it since forever, like you belong in his arms.

“Never,” he smirks and as he leans closer you hear a pair of tiny feet running down the stairs, so you step back just in time for Arian’s return.

“Give me the pancakes!” he giggles, climbing up to a stool and you smile at Harry.

“See, he is already cockblocking you,” you whisper to him chuckling.

“Touché,” he sighs with a smirk. “But he is cute, so it’s alright.” Shaking it all off he turns to Arian as he places the pancakes on a plate. “So, what do you want on top?”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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eatmangoesnekkid · 3 months ago

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No matter what I always choose beauty. What comes with choosing beauty is more intention and alignment. Intentional living.

Thinking about how there is nothing more beautiful than cooking with a lover while dancing and kissing and sipping on a cocktail. If you are like me and don’t really drink, you sip when the mood feels rightfully beautiful.

No matter what I always choose beauty. Like Saidiya Hartman wrote, "beauty is not a luxury."

Beauty is nutrition.But beauty requires something more from us in exchange for its nutrients.

Beauty is not something this world gives to us and there is no guarantee that we will be ready, available, or present enough to really receive it.

Beauty is something that we have to be willing to claim, to pause and take notice of, to shut the fuck up and listen to, or to put in time and effort into feeling.

A beautiful sunset will just pass on by if you don't look up from your phone at the right time.

The effort it takes to put on a nice-fitting dress while home for no reason at all other than it feels beautiful on your skin or to take time to plate your home-cooked food in an artful way is something only you can give to yourself.

A beautiful bouquet of wildflowers brought home will be meaningless if you don't take time to contemplate and notice them.

I always choose beauty in the mess, in the ugly, in art, in meal prep, in lighting a candle, and in the shapes my female body makes.

I am on a partial road trip and packed two small ghee lamps. Even with a packed suitcase, I managed to squeeze in two brass ghee lamps, these little works of art and spirit. Ghee lighting symbolizes purity, peace and love and I light one every night in the kitchen and bedroom in lieu of artificial light and witness how the shadows dance prettily along the walls as I deepen into my night stretch.

I always choose beauty, glass jars tinctures I make by hand and take with me to spa. I could simply pack them into plastic bottles but then chemicals from the plastic would leech into the concoctions and change the molecular structure of the contents. I could just go to the store and buy whatever is available in plastic but it would lack quality. It would be easier to put the concoctions in plastic or just buy something similar instead of making them. I wouldn’t have to be extra careful to not break any bottles or have to take so much time getting ready for the spa, but I choose beauty.

Beauty is less about possession of it as conditioned and more about contemplation, awe, and wonder, witnessing natural light shine prisms through large bay windows.

One personal secret of the universe about me is that I quietly wear pink fuzzy kitten mule house shoes with a 1/2 inch maximum heel height indoors because they feel beautiful and sexy and work cutely with the shape of my body.

Beauty gives us feeling. It gives us height and it gifts us fire. It can turn us on and make us come fully alive.

Beauty can also set us free.

Because when we choose beauty, beauty naturally chooses us back.

--India Ame'ye, Author, From The Melody of Love, Opening Pages to Natural Beauty Chapter (unedited)

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silentium-symphony · 6 months ago

Text

A Lamb in Wolf's Clothing (Link x Reader) SMUT

(a/n) hey ya'll! i'm so sorry for going MIA for a few months--as some of you may know, I have just recently graduated from college, so there are a lot of big changes happening in my life right now! i appreciate your continued patience with me :) this fic was commissioned by the lovely @mistressofdeathsblog! thank you for giving me such a fun prompt, I had a lot of fun trying smth new and I hope you enjoy it too!

before you start reading, please take special note of the cw below. also, please remember that this is not a healthy relationship you want to emulate and is written for the sole purpose of entertainment. if you are in a relationship that strips your autonomy and you feel unsafe bringing this issue up to the offending party/parties, please reach out to someone you trust. there is no power in staying if there is no freedom to leave. stay safe out there.

and ofc, since this is smut, minors do not interact with this piece.

cw: dubcon, afab!reader, ooc!link since i highly doubt Hylia's Hero would be so life-alteringly possessive of their lover, tp!link, reader being chased, reader being held against their will, blood, tight spaces, swearing, name-calling, dumbification kinda??, cunnilingus, doggy, mirror/standing sex

wc: 5k

♤♢ ~~ ♡��

Sweat and blood dribbled down your forehead, stinging your eyes with a salty, metallic bite. Thorn-kissed hands grasped and blindly waded through thick patches of bramble. The dark, bristling whips that surrounded you worked every exposed piece of skin into a raw, bloody mess quivering from the forest's cruelty.

You couldn't care less.

The birds overhead guffawed at your efforts as splotches of pale moon danced mockingly, titillatingly along the cold earth. You chased every moon patch with the frenzy of an escaped convict a morning away from freedom.

Because that's what you were, really.

The beginnings and ends of thoughts knotted and frayed into each other, flurrying your head into a cohesive garble. Just how big was this forest? It looked like a sprawling mess from the fortress you were locked up in, but it was absolutely impenetrable now that you were in the thick of it. It was as if the very woods were enchanted to keep you from ever escaping.

A ring of pain hooked the topside of your foot, propelling all of your momentum downwards and towards the forest floor. You couldn't even scream before you bashed your cheek through a thin layer of crusted mud. The cold soil caked your flushed cheeks--the only shred of relief you've felt since your mad sprint to freedom.

Your spine slinked up into a curl--a pathetic attempt to get up, to begin your chase again, but your battered body refused to endure further abuse. (E/C) eyes flitted about you, trying to interpret the shadows that danced and weaved through the trees.

Running in this state would be pointless. You dug your forearms and elbows to crawl towards an ivy overhang that promised hidden refuge and curled into as tight of a ball you could muster. The silky white dress he gifted you had been ripped past recognition. The airy fabric that once brushed your ankles now clung tightly to your blood-laced thighs, soiled from the toils of flight. You pulled your legs closer; your lungs fought for precious breath against your pounding heart.

What a shame. If only it weren't beating so fast, you might have heard the crack of a single twig located too close for comfort.

From several paces into the unseen was a pair of blue eyes misted over with sinful hunger; your quivering, shorn form was scintillating to watch and feasted his mind with imaginations more heart-racing than the last. Your blood, sweat, and tears mixing with your natural scent proved to be the most tantalizing olfactory cocktail, scattering his thoughts into overdrive.

He hated the rush he got from seeing you like this--lost and confused without his guidance through these nested thorns, yearning for warmth and safety he knew he could provide (and had been providing since you stumbled into his castle that fateful day).

Why did you leave him? Was he not enough for you? But he'd given you everything! Everything! Freshly made home-cooked meals, tailored clothes that hugged your form, a bed warmed by him, his body...

He could still feel the soft plush of your flesh sinking and dimpling in his hands as he thrust into you with the faux tenderness of a starved man. Your beautiful eyes locked with his own, only leaving to disappear into the back of your head. Your mouth agape to let the cutest sounds escape...

If you were happy with him, why were you leaving him?

Not waking up to your face smooshed into his pillows, not beholding you in all the pretty silk and ribbons he had lying around, not fucking you in every position you could possibly think of, not spending every waking moment with you...

Why, he'd rather die.

If it made you happy, he'd allow the ambrosial drippings of freedom to bead your lips.

If it made you happy, he'd let you delude yourself into thinking you were far enough from the castle to be away from him.

But only for now. Link prided himself on his chivalry and patience, but even that was growing thin from your incessant attempts of escape. He was going to have to show you why it was such a good idea to stay here with him, forever and ever and ever.

You were nodding off now, it seemed. The way your head kept dipping and rising in a futile attempt to stay wary was so adorable, he just had to ravish you right then and there! He had barely managed to stave off his intrusive thoughts as he stalked closer to you, still clinging closely to the dark cloak that hung off twisted branches.

You saw something shift from the corner of your eye; your neck snapped up and a croak clawed out of you.

"Who's there?!"

Silence.

Why was it so quiet?

Had it always been so quiet?

Where have the birds gone?

A familiar silhouette emerged from the trees.

"L-... Link..." Your throat, parched and scratched from heaving the cold night air, rang a voice unfamiliar to you.

Azure eyes that once beheld you with all the love in the world now stare back with deadpan coldness. Words need not be exchanged here; his presence alone blew any hope of escape in the next breeze that ruffled his fur.

A calculated step towards you retreated you further into your little alcove, a prayer that the ivy could take you in as one of its own on your lips. There was no telling what he was thinking, or how close to the edge he was. But that look, that hunger.

That familiar, craved look your body knew too well pulsed anxious tingles through your fingertips.

Another step.

Then another.

Another.

Finally,

He was here.

You could feel him, all of him--his hot breath against your arms, his fur bristling against your thigh, his warmth freezing your blood where it ran. You hadn't realized how much you were shaking until you heard the rhythmic shifting of ivy buzzing into your ear.

He pressed his head into your lap, prying you open to make way for him. And you sat there, obeying him like the perfect little doe you were. As he lazily dragged a tongue across your thigh, lapping at the dried blood that crusted your flesh, he looked up. Relief, adoration, love. That stifling comforting, possessive protective obsession love that he had so readily wrapped you in the moment he met you. For a moment, he looked like a lamb in wolf's clothing.

So many thoughts swirled inside you, your brain numbing to prevent overstimulation. But amongst the chaos, a single thought backdropped every complicated emotion you were feeling.

He had found you.

Had it not been for the blood drumming through your ears and temples, you would have thought time had frozen in this purgative state. He was splayed atop you now, seeming to rest from his hours-long stalking; he wasn't crushing you, but it was clear he had all the control in this dynamic. Any undesirable shift away from him, to preserve your own personhood, would most certainly have led to a 'gentle' nudge toward him.

A single cobalt eye lazily cracked open after a million years ticked by. His piercing gaze, though fringed with some life, made it abundantly clear that your race to freedom was placed at an indefinite standstill. He had never once snapped at you, but the fear lodged in your chest informed you not to test him further.

He hauled himself up, joints locked from inactivity popping to life as he arched into a long stretch. His carefree pose hinted at obliviousness--borderline forgiveness--to your impertinence, but you knew better.

Link never forgets.

He eyed you again with a sort of child-like excitement that twisted your gut into a sickening pattern. His tail arced to and fro, painting his excitement in broad strokes. He wedged his snout between the small of your back and the wall and firmly pushed you forward, scooting you a couple inches toward your prison home.

You knew better than to anger him.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Link's skillful navigation through the thorns was unimpeded by your clinging onto him. It had taken hours to get to where you once were, but a quarter of that time for the wolf. The gloomy castle you had called your home for months (years?) broadened into view until you could clearly see its spires puncture through occasional clouds. The moon, basking in its celestial sovereignty, jeered at your return.

Link slipped through a tiny crack in the iron-clad door, made by the wolf confident in its tracking and retrieving abilities. You slugged off him with practiced movements; a sound akin to obscene magic asundering flesh preluded your captor's transformation. Grisly black fur gave way to sand-blonde hair; the worn, patchwork shirt which heralded his humble beginnings as a rancher ran taut against the back you had spent several minutes clambering onto.

He continued looking ahead unblinkingly as you idled a few paces behind him, your chest constricting and mind frenzying with murky anticipation. Your nerves, frayed from adrenaline and brain-altering fear, now swam in the heavy nothingness of silence; you were a breath away from weeping before a tenor tone disturbed the still.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Silently, you both moved through the halls, paying the torchlit shadows the special type of attention one gave to the mundane in moments choked with awkwardness. Worn, freshly torn hands bunched the hem of your dress until your knuckles whitened. A part of you wished to never reach your destination, preferring thickened stillness over the unpredictable inevitable. You rounded a familiar corner and gathered the shreds of your sanity to brace yourself for whatever may come.

The sullen wooden door gave way to the man's heave and you followed him in. A large bathroom decorated only with the essentials filled your view. As Link ran the faucet, your eyes absently glazed over the rickety plumbing he had installed to transport hot spring water to the tub. For the first time since his transformation, he turned to you.

"Strip."

His clear, authoritative tone cut sharper than any thorn that had shredded you. Eyes downcast, your fingers wrought the straps of your dress further, further down your shoulders. Your skin burned from your clammy fingers; you blamed it on the steam that had begun filling the corners of the room and ignored the heavy, heated stare placed on you by the male.

Link followed your dawdling, hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt and lifting it to reveal a stomach sculpted by years of farm work and adventuring. The straps of your dress coiled close to your elbows before settling by your ankles. Your hands immediately scattered to cover your exposed parts as Link finished undressing himself, his fully erect length blurred by warm mists and (eventually) a deftly wrapped towel.

He reached over to squeak the faucet shut; the comforting, monotonous lull of running water now halted to scant droplets. After pulling out the small basket of rags and soap, he sat on a bar stool and beckoned you with a lone finger.

"Come here. You're filthy."

You shuffled out of the shredded dress and forward, keeping your eyes trained on the end of the tub where he sat. The wanton desire for a hot bath waived your concerns over the situation, dulling your fears enough to throw a leg over the edge and sink everything but the top half of your face below the water.

The warm panacea cloaked you in an elixir of ease, and a satisfied groan unintentionally lapsed your lips; your hand figuratively slapped over your mouth when the air honeyed into something...

Sinful.

Link dipped a small bucket into the bathwater and slowly poured it over your head, calloused fingers expertly combing through knotted, crusted strands. The hardened skin tenderly brushing the back of your neck jolted heated memories to the forefront of your mind.

You could still feel the harsh, almost desperate grip laced in your hair as he pounded you from behind, panting sweet promises to give you more for the rest of your lives. Your face, buried in his pillows, blindly nodded along to the specifics of what he had said, your mind too blurred to focus on much else aside from your umpteenth high of the night.

The warm water felt like a cold deluge and a noticeable shiver ran through you. Soapy hands stopped caressing your scalp.

"(F/N)?"

"H-Huh?"

"How about we play a little game?" Link murmured suddenly, absently twirling your locks in his fingertips. Had it not been for the taut fingers interweaved through your hair, your surprise would have been more apparent.

"What... What game?"

"A little game similar to hide-n-seek." He started languidly, as if savoring every vowel that lisped his tongue. "If you can evade my capture until dawn, I will guide you to the forest's edge so you may leave. However..."

Rough fingerpads traced up the side of your bicep as darkened ears caught your quiet, involuntary gasp.

"If I catch you... You're mine. Deal?"

Throat tightening and heart palpitating, your mind fought to keep its last ounce of calm as your captor's hand circled to your front to cusp and knead your--

"What's the catch?" You breathed, somehow managing to divert your attention away from Link's sinful reaches.

"There is no catch, but there are rules." He pecked your cheek, his lips curving into a soft smile that thinly veiled iller intents.

"You are allowed to hide anywhere in the castle grounds and use whatever means necessary to hide from me, so long as neither of us gets seriously injured... The moment you step foot in that forest, I will claim you where you stand. Is that fair?"

Was this a trick?

A sick joke meant to dangle tonight's failure in your face?

Surely it was... But what if it wasn't?

His steady stare that peered shamelessly through your soul conveyed a degree of seriousness and sincerity required to make a truthful statement.

"How do I know that you won't go back on your word?"

"I have never lied to you." He gritted his teeth. "Can you say the same?"

The genuine hurt masking his eyes ached your chest, but the tiniest shred of dignity you had left netted the apology that almost escaped your mouth.

"Is there anything else I should know before I make my decision?"

"No. I have told you everything you need to know and will uphold my end of the deal. The final decision is yours."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Moonlight masqueraded through the gaping windows, streaking drab grey pillars with hints of alabaster. The halls which you have called home for what felt like time immemorial now crowded your vision with a foreign bite, sinking into your flesh an unnerving uncertainty around every corner.

Your neck swiveled on all axes, one eye trained in front of you and the other separating the benign from foe that hid in every dancing shadow. Bare feet pattering against olden stone filled the gaps in between each racing heart beat, drumming your ears in a never-ending symphony of chase.

Legs aching, quaking, begging for proper rest are promptly ignored, outcompeted by the more urgent matter at hand.

Your final gambit for freedom.

You cursed under your breath as you ascended a spiraling staircase, your lungs burning with the rage of a thousand suns from heaving in the cold, arid air. The stone floor kissed knicks into the soles of your feet as you skidded around a corner and madly dashed down the hall, shifting down a narrow crawlspace that branched off from the main hall.

Whispered hisses and curses bounced off the tightening walls as rough-hewn stone jagged into your skin, reopening recently closed wounds from the brambles. You could only pray that Link was far enough away to not pick up on freshly streaked blood.

A familiar carpet--the one from the main hall--filled your view and you slowed your shimmying into a momentary pause. You fought to see through your grimace to peer around the corner and hoped that your heart wasn't beating loud enough to mask the signs of your stalker.

All good...?

You scooted out of that uncomfortable position and ducked towards the exit.

The private gardens opened up to you. Trails of ivy found residence in the cracked grey of decayed walls and the fountain was spewing the most delicious water your parched throat had ever seen. You circled the mini courtyard, your frenzied mind shunting the garden's haunting aesthetics in search of a practical hiding place. To your right was the more open space of the main courtyard, and to your left were the untrimmed topiaries of Hyrulian heroes commemorated only in flora.

Streaks of morning were just beginning to tip the horizon.

Your feet teetered toward the right, but a certain non-human shadow slinked past the threshold. All color drained from your pallor as you scurried around the topiary's wide base and hid behind the cloister's stone pillar. The sounds of flesh ripping and reanimating shot through the air; tears began to freely flow as a carefree whistle ambled closer to you.

"My, my... It's almost daybreak. I must find my beloved soon, or else I'll lose her forever."

The sky was just beginning to tinge a magenta-red.

"Is she... Hiding by the door?"

Boots clicking against stone rang like a departed's dirges. Your clammy fingers dug into the side of your face--a feeble attempt to muffle your whimpering.

"Is she... Behind these topiaries? No? Hm... But I'm getting close, aren't I, (F/N)?"

All strength, all hope, had been sapped from your body; your knees locked and buckled.

"Oh? Have we always had a little walkway back here? What a wonderful surprise! I know my darling would love it here."

Your vision darkened.

Leather nestled softly into your face as the heat of another poured and mingled with the cold stone pressed to your back.

"Guess who?" He sang.

You felt all your muscles simultaneously release their tension; your legs folded in on themselves, but secure arms hooked them under and hoisted you bridal style.

As you were carted inside the dark fortress, the morning sun greeted you in its soft-rayed glory.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The stale castle air flooded your lungs as your body was unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. A hand tightened around your wrists and hot, agitated lips locked with yours before your brain could register the cotton plush of your sheets. His other hand feathered up your thigh, learned fingers grazing all your tender spots and teasing your thoughts into a foggy mix of want.

Your figure writhed uselessly under him as he flattened you further into the bed, using his full weight to keep you pinned where he wanted. The hand that carried out its sinful ministrations below shot up to seize your cheeks. Rough fingerpads bruised the softer flesh as he craned your neck to make way for his lips, flushed with a feral red and coated with soft proclamations of domination.

"You're mine... All mine..."

Hot breaths ghosted the surface of your neck, tickling a heated whine out of you. Your needy noises hitched into a gasp when you felt moistened lips lock onto your skin, suckling and teething the flesh into discolored patches. Rich vermilion fringed with a sinful violet bloomed below your jawline, trailing down and darkening with each claim closer to your chest.

He yanked the noisome dress down, exposing all of your chest to him. The snaps of cloth ripping from its handles and the sudden whip of cold air across your most sensitive parts pierced a jolt through your body. He pulled away to admire the shades of purple and red marring your fair complexion, a visual reminder to the dust haunting old halls and courtyards lost to time that you were his, and his alone. A lone tongue swirled around an irritated bud.

Trembles quaked through you--from heated anticipation or disgust, you were unsure. He hooked his fingers back into your cheeks and pried your face to look into his own. Sky-blue eyes, which once beheld you in crinkled happiness, had dimmed into a hazy navy clouded with lust.

"So pretty... My gorgeous, gorgeous girl."

Soft lips brushed your forehead, ambled down to your nose, and finally settled on your lips.

"My good girl."

Lips warmed with depraved whispers silenced around your bud. Starved suckling backdropped the more apparent whimpers scratching your throat, dredged in pleasure with a dulling edge of resistance. Scarred skin delicately cusped your mounds, tweaking and flicking your perkiness until it was a rosy red.

Your growing sensitivity stung tears into your eyes. Achy hands, now free from his grasp, grappled onto sinewy shoulders but did little to convey genuine discomfort. A deep groan purred from his chest as Link balanced your sore bud in a soft knead between his teeth. A pop filled the room.

"Let me see those eyes."

Your eyes wedged open to see blown-out blues taking all of you in. Your heart pounded a flush into your cheeks and christened an unholy flame to spread through your core.

"That's it... Now watch me..."

He dragged his body lower and lower, his eyes unwavering from yours for even a second. Steady hands balled into the collar of your dress and tore through the silk, the symphony of rips bouncing off the walls and knocking coherence out of your head. His lips matched the pace of the ragged unveiling and chased progressively exposed flesh with soft kisses, down, down, and farther down. Feverish breaths along your inner thighs sent chills up your spine.

"Watch me as I make you cum for me."

Hands gnarled from knighthood knotted into the delicate lace separating him from his prize, tearing it apart with ease.

"Link, hold--ah!"

Your eyes shot to the back of your head as your mouth gaped into a silent 'O.' An orchestra of colors, conducted by a madly indulgent maestro, symphonized into a crazed, otherworldly experience. His tongue coiled and stretched into you with the practiced precision of many amorous nights while his thumb circled the space around your clit, teasing the nub until agony. It was only a matter of time before your impassioned gasps and pleas competed with the downright sinful wetness Link lapped below.

"Tell me you love this--that you love me."

"Link, please! Just give it to me please, please, please...!" The top of your head rolled further into your pillow when the painful prick of a pinch shot too much for too short a time.

"Don't look away. Don't you dare look away, you filthy slut." Deft fingers plunged into you until pleasure fried your brain. "You'll cum when I tell you to."

Your whines and whimpers hiccuped into full sobs for release, whistled with pleas and promises you both knew you wouldn't keep.

"You'll love me forever, right? You'll be my good lil' cock slut forever, right?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise! Please Link, just let me cum already, please!"

You damn liar.

He pulled away, coldly gazing at the weeping, quivering, gasping mess of his beloved.

"Link...? W-why did you--"

"Your heart may have forgotten, but your body remembers..."

His sweet lips, tinted with a hint of bitter longing, moved with yours in a desperate, crazed dance. Every lust-filled, haggard groan ripped from his lungs masked the quieter crack running up his heart.

The bed creaked from the sudden redistribution of your weight as he spread you on all fours. He aligned himself to your entrance and, in a single motion that he had done hundreds of times, completed you. A wail, colored in pleasure and streaked with pain, contrasted Link's blissed-out groan. Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes; each droplet slipped down your cheek in time with his frenetic pounding until it had thickened into a steady stream.

He wasted no time in his pursuit for pleasure, hitching his pelvis to your ass, pulling away, and slamming back in with the gentleness of a starved wolf ripping into a lamb. His fingers dug crescents into your hips as he adjusted himself, propping one of his legs up to angle himself deeper and faster into you.

He was stretching you past your limits, and every thrust was accompanied by a heated flash of pain. Your upper half sunk towards the bed as he moved your hips higher, closer to him. Helpless (E/C)s stared at the creaking bedpost while your whitening knuckles dug through the sheets clumped in your hands. A salty mixture of tears and saliva pooled on your pillow as honeyed cries haunted your walls.

"What, is my princess not having a good time?" He jeered, reaching over to give your engorged clit a cruel flick and your ass an even crueler slap. "What does my baby want me to do to her? Huh? What do you want me to do to your tight pussy?"

"L-Link, It hurts! It's too--!"

The side of your quivering hips slammed into the mattress and forced you on your back. Your face snapped into the pillow when his writhing tongue replaced his thick cock, tonguing and lapping at your dripping pussy as if your ambrosia would be the last thing he was to taste. He pulled out and spat on your entrance, pressing his tongue flat against your pussy and swiping up towards the clit that he coiled.

"Mmph... Fuck, I love you... Give me more... Gods, give me more."

A bruising ache pressed into your hips as his frenzied circling spurred faster, faster, faster. Pleasure dizzied your senses towards a dark void; the familiar knot in your stomach that ached to unravel popped with the abrupt re-emergence of Link.

"Mm, tight as ever... How're you feeling, my dove?" He husked, ragged breaths encapsulating the shell of your ear.

"Too b-bi--Link, you're too big!"

"Shhh... You can take it. You've taken it hundreds of times. C'mon, squeeze my cock like a good girl."

"It's so--Link, you're stretching me out, I need to--"

"Not yet. I'm not done fucking you yet." He swiveled you back on all fours and pounded you into the mattress, your cries and pleas be damned. Slender fingers snarled through your tresses and strained you away from the pillows that held your screams.

"When I'm ready, I want to watch you cum all over my cock." His erratic pounding slowed for a split second, enough time for a certain thought to come and go. "I want you to see it too."

Your abused cunt finally had a moment to breathe and process; if only your brain had that same luxury.

The bed sighed a relieved groan as Link crawled out and wrapped his arms about your lower abdomen to hoist you up. When it was evident that this pathetically limp curl was the best you could do, toned forearms hooked under your knees and spread your legs in the most vulnerable position you've ever been in. With a huff, Link brought you front and center to the mirror. You both watched breathlessly as he lowered you onto his slicked cock, sinking every inch into your gummy walls.

"Fuck, you're so tight... I need you, (F/N)..."

His crazed pistoning began once more; the sensations that ransacked your body were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. The tip of his cock so easily, so effortlessly rammed into your sweetest spots; every thrust he slammed into you turned you into a shamelessly shaking, overstimulated mess.

"Look at you," he hummed darkly, "look at all the sin running down your legs."

Link's voice was so far away now. The way he kept disappearing into your sopping cunt and your juices dribbling over your thighs consumed your every thought. The only tangible you could feel was the building pressure coiling in your gut, tightening with each passing second.

"So beautiful... So tight... Don't you want to do this forever? Hm? Don't you want to be ruined by me forever and ever?"

His teeth sunk into your neck, adding to the carnal collection and ripping a hoarse cry out of you.

"You're my good girl, aren't you? My good girl... You're all mine--all fucking mine."

Veins marbled his arms and forehead as he nuzzled into your neck, tongue tracing the edge of every bite. The labored grunts that occasionally wheezed out of him, along with his stuttering hips, signaled that he was teetering closer and closer to the edge. Hooded blues stared piercingly into your own, weighed down by mindless intoxication. His lips brushed a flame through the curve of your ear.

"Look at me..." He purred. "Look at me and confess your lust to me."

A shattered cry, followed by a wave of profane heat, collided with your system. Winced eyes lolled to the back of your head while you spasmed and twitched in still arms. Your violent clenching and knowledge of your release strained a guttural growl through Link's chest as he spurted his cum as deep as it could go. Thin, white threads coated your walls and trailed out your still-plugged hole until drips of sin stained the stone below.

Link tripped to the foot of the bed, his body folding into the sheets the second his foot made contact with the wooden post. With arms wrapped comfortably around you and the familiar presence of your spent lover, you passed out the moment your body recognized blissed finality.

As you commenced your near-immediate foray into the realm of dreams, a familiar voice--soft yet broken--rang through your last layer of consciousness.

"Sleep well, my dove. If eternally precarious possession is the closest thing we will ever have to love, I will gorge myself on it."

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noisycowboyglitter · 3 months ago

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artyandink · 5 months ago

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tête-à-tête | cj braxton

Summary: Not everyone at ESU got the gift of maturity. So when you hear a couple of comments about your appearance and weight in a conversation between some girls, you can’t help but think that you need to make yourself worthy of CJ. However, your knight in shining armour is always ready to rescue you from that deep end.

TW: Immature and jealous girls, body sensitivity, body image issues, starving oneself, implied smut, making out, smut (my first smut fic, don’t kill me please)

SMUT TW: Kissing (duh), touching, fingering, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), body worship (I think), oral (f. receiving), thigh riding, riding, CJ is one whipped man

A/N - This is part two to ‘i like me better’ (it could work as a stand-alone but I strongly advise you read the first) and the second one shot of the Day Old Frosties Club (it’s the universe for these two and you’ll know why soon)

A/N 2 - Second entry for the Jensen-A-Thon! And wth, this is the LONGEST THING I’VE WRITTEN??! Lmk if you want a word count!

Song inspo: Lover - Taylor Swift and Golden Hour - JVKE

You groaned, the back of your hand reaching up to rub the sleepiness out of your eyes from the wear and warmth that came from last night.

Mm, last night.

CJ’s lips trailing down your body, open mouthed, sweet yet hot on your needy skin. Eliciting whines from your mouth with each skilled brush of his fingers. His groans in your ear and his breathless, wanting voice telling you how good you were, how beautiful you looked, how perfect you were for him. The way he kissed your nose and gazed at you with those gorgeous green eyes as if you were God’s gift to the Earth in that dimly lit room complete with a view of the New York skyline. The setting sun casting a red spotlight over the both of you to the soundtrack of your soft sighs, his low groans and the headboard banging against the wall at a steady rhythm.

Aka - your personal heaven.

You didn’t know why it took you so long to figure out that the man who was joined to you literally since birth was the love of your life.

You weren’t kidding. Your moms managed to time their pregnancies at the same time, and by some miracle went into labour on the same day and had birth in the same hospital an hour apart.

CJ was older. Regrettably, but it was understandable. He was the more mature of you both.

Anyway, back to the narrative.

You saw him sleeping beside you, the effortlessly handsome man who was in his boxers from your cleaning up last night (practice the horizontal tango correctly, everyone- during, before and after), arm around your waist and holding you snuggly to his side, his face scrunched up and pouty, plump lips parted. Anyone uneducated in the world of CJ Braxton wouldn’t know what was really going on.

You read the textbook back to front. He was awake, and you’d prove it.

You leaned forward, kissing those relaxed lips, and the second you let your fingers card through his floppy hair and find a home there, you felt him hum against your mouth, hand on your waist bringing you closer so he could slide his hand over your panties to grip your knee gently and hook your leg over his hip. Bad breath be damned, you could still taste yourself on his tongue from the previous night and it sent shivers down your spine to know that you were the one that he was with almost every night (often he felt like being on the bottom, which you weren’t opposed to in the slightest), mouthing at your neck, chest, stomach and everywhere else he could get to.

You still couldn’t get used to the idea.

The softly-lit bedroom (which you both now slept in together) was warmed with the sound of your lips moving lazily together, your hands rustling the sheets and the duvet up as you pulled each other impossibly closer and sweet sighs like honey, gripping of thighs and the fluttering of eyelashes. All mixed into a delicious routine cocktail.

You hummed against CJ’s lips, attempting to pull away, but he chased your lips with a small ‘no’ and fought back to quash any rebellion. It was clear how eager he was to reenact the previous night, but you managed to breathe air through your mouth again, your eyes scanning his pouty, grumpy face with an exhilarated, knowing grin. “How did I know, hm?”

“In my defence,” He raised a finger with the most endearing smile, “you look beautiful when you’re sleeping.”

“You think I look beautiful all the time.” You giggled as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, pulling your shirt over your head and proceeding to try and tame the rat’s nest that was an excuse for hair with only your fingers. A battle hard lost.

CJ, however, rubbed his eye with the back of his wrist, scanning you over from head to toe. Bed head, flushed cheeks from the morning, lips slightly swollen from the wake up call, only wearing a grey sweatshirt and cotton panties. Yep. Stunning. “Yeah. That I do.”

You nodded, humming as you leaned forward, letting your lips linger on his in a chaste kiss which, when you pulled away, had his eyes still closed as he tried to register how in the hell did he score his best friend. Not that you were an object, he just…

… adored you.

He reached out, entwining his pinky finger with yours and bringing them up to his lips, kissing them before he also swung his legs and got out of bed, standing in the glory of the light streaming through of the window in purely his boxers. You took a look at him and smirked, cocking an eyebrow at the heavenly view you got to have in the moment. Your view. The thought was unbelievable, wasn’t it? “Ooh, lá lá.”

“Shut up.” He snorted, and smiled affectionately when he saw you close the blinds to that very window, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Good idea.”

“I know.” You giggled, kissing his cheek as you yanked your sweatpants on. The very same ones he had first kissed you in, making out like you had a million times before in one of Uncle Bill’s spare bedrooms.

Damn, that memory was still paradise.

“So, sweet girl, what are you thinking for breakfast?” CJ hummed, drawing you closer and wrapping his arms around you, pressing kisses to your hairline, tracing it while smoothing back the soft strands of your hair. He’d been doing things like these a lot more often now that you two were dating, probably his way of solidifying that you two aren’t just childhood best friends who kiss and hug each other far too much for it to be platonic, but also because having you in his arms and under his lips (every meaning intended) just felt right.

You pouted in mock thought, drawing his eyes momentarily to your lips. “Day old Frosties?” The grin you gave had him chuckling as well as he moved to the mirror so he could run a thin-toothed comb through his hair.

“Day old Frosties.” He repeated slowly, shaking his head slightly as he added a quip, glancing at your form retreating to the bathroom. “Classy.”

The smartass remark had you raising an eyebrow as you put toothpaste on your wet toothbrush and started diligently scrubbing at your teeth. Well, not hard scrubbing. Just the right amount. “I will stand by day old Frosties until the day that I die.”

“I still don’t get what’s so good about them, that’s all I’m saying.”

“They’re like, the perfect cereal if you have no milk.” Your words were jumbled and muffled by the hanging toothbrush in your mouth, but CJ picked up every word. “Like, they’re not too stale, not too crispy fresh cause you picked them up, like, that day. Just one day old. Not two, not three, one.” You bent over to quickly spit the contents of your mouth in the sink. “Perfection.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it.” CJ rolled his eyes, regretting his choice already, but to see the squeal and giggle of excitement paired with your smile made it worth every bit of damage to his taste buds. “Let me take a hot one, then I’ll be out with you, ok?”

You whipped off your shirt, a cheeky grin plastered on your flushed cheeks and framed by your dimples. You quickly grabbed your towel, stepping back towards the shower. “Not alone, you’re not.”

CJ shrugged, looking after you with a dazed smile and a rising blush, licking his lips to savour your morning taste. “Yeah, I can get behind that.”

After a long shower, which consisted of a soap suds war, giggles, little kisses and your inability to not cuddle all the damn time, both you and CJ made it out and into the kitchen, padding in with your matching fuzzy socks, you clad in one of CJ’s hoodies, and he was wearing a different one as he’d sacrificed his favourite for you. You went to take out the bowls, and CJ your favourite stash of day old cereal that he slid across the island.

He loved this island. He made out with you on it, very soon after you two got together. He even, well, got to his knees. If you know, you know.

“Alright, let’s see the hype on day old Frosties.” You shot him a look due to his sarcastic drawl, but as you poured the bowl of Frosties and passed him it along with the spoon, the first bite actually had his taste buds happy. Not too stale, not too crispy fresh…

Holy moly, you were right.

“Alright, I take everything back.” He shovelled another spoonful into his mouth, practically moaning at the taste as he turned to you with an incredulously impressed expression. “I take it all back- how the hell is this good?”

“See?” You pumped your eyebrows, starting to scoff down your own and eventually making your cheeks puff out like a chipmunk as you chewed. “Day old Frosties. Number one cereal.”

“Damn. Damn.” CJ chuckled, shaking his head. “I might have to join the Day Old Frosties Club. You’re incredible, you know that?”

“You flatter me.” You grinned, words muffled by the onslaught of cereal in your mouth.

CJ leaned over, pressing a kiss to your chin. “Well, I take pride in the ability to make my girlfriend blush.”

“Course you do.” You snorted, setting the coffee machine to make and studying him for a moment with a small smile on your face. Green eyes, floppy hair, pink lips relaxed in a sweet smile that you couldn’t believe was reserved for you.

Six feet, one inch of pure, maddening perfection.

Of course, it could just be you being biased since you’d been best friends with him since you were born and dating for a few months now. It was always so easy, since he knew you to the last inch (literally) and you knew him to the last inch (also very literally). But you couldn’t help but feel that now, when Jen was no longer a problem and neither was his sobriety, smooth sailing was perfect for the both of you.

“What?” He bore a slightly confused an expectant smile, until you leaned forward and kissed him softly. He puckered up, his eyebrows raising and his expression staying like that a few moments after you pulled away, that is until his eyelashes fluttered and his emerald eyes glinted in the light again, shining with his love for you. “And what was that for?”

“Just cause.” You shrugged, tilting your head with that adoring look that never failed to make his whole body do the tingly thing that he so very much loved to feel.

“Just cause needs to happen more.” He muttered, pinching your chin lovingly. “Now, we’ve gotta finish this cereal fast before we’re late for our morning’s lecture, as much as I’m not a big fan of Professor Kelsey and his endless tangents of his dog’s habits. Which has nothing to do with Sigmund Freud’s discovery of psychoanalysis.”

You pouted in frustration, the action cute to CJ as you moped over the thought of hearing more about your lecturer, James Kelsey, and his adventures with his cocker spaniel and how it liked to chew food then throw it up. “Do we have to?”

“I’m no happier about it than you are, but…” He gestured to you with a grin, “humour me, here. S’not like we have to go climb the Empire State Building, and I know that, and I quote-”

“- heights is where I draw a line that is goddamn higher than the Burj Khalifa.” You two said in unison, your hand reaching out to swat CJ’s shoulder as he chuckled, proud of his exact quotation.

“See?” He took the hand that hit him and brushed his lips over every knuckle, tilting his head and letting his thumb rub circles over the back of it. “I know you. And I know you hate Professor Kelsey, so we can just copy what he wrote down on the board, while listening to Radiohead on our earphones. That’s my starting bid.”

“I bid copy what he wrote down on the board, listen to Radiohead on our earphones, and go for a cheese melt and tomato toastie after.” You two had a favourite sandwich place which had the best cheese pulls you’d ever seen. And the best tasting sandwiches, of course. It totally was wasn’t about the way the strings of traumatised milk cling to each side of the bread in cheddary heaven. Totally not.

“Can I throw a trip to Haute Couture Shakes in as well?” CJ grinned, biting his bottom lip as he did so. You were incredibly tempted, since Haute Couture Shakes was a milkshake and smoothie shop that had quickly become a tradition for you and CJ to go to whenever you fancied. You both visited so often that the people working the shifts knew you two by first name terms, lighting up whenever they saw your smiling faces. “I’ve heard they have a Sour Patch Kid themed milkshake that’s so sour, if you finish it all, they give you five free milkshake coupons, throw in their teddy bear mascot plushie.”

“I’m listening.”

“Thought we could both tackle that, save our wallets some pain.” He shrugged, casually putting across a very tempting idea. “Nothing big.”

“You have a deal.” You grinned, and then he mirrored it, leaning forward so his nose bumped against yours, taking a second before it slotted perfectly, like it was meant to.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, his hair tickling your forehead as his thumb and index finger took your chin. “People say that… deals are sealed with a kiss.”

You giggled. “Nobody says that, Cee.”

That made him smirk slightly in embarrassment. “Well, they will. Maybe in two or three years time, in some random TV show on some streaming service. For now, c’mere.” He guided your lips to his, letting the taste of your toothpaste, your cherry chapstick and the Frosties flood his tongue for far too short a time before he pulled back with a small smile. “Going once, going twice, gone.”

You’d told CJ to go in the lecture without you because you needed to go to the bathroom, and when you were in a stall, about to come out, you heard the smacking of lips from putting on gloss and scoffs from who you recognised as Sarah, Louise and Maya from your Psych class. They were the type to be gorgeous but you’d have no idea how they got where they did.

“I don’t know what CJ sees in her.” You heard Sarah sniff as there was the familiar click of a powder foundation tub opening. “He’s CJ, and she’s just… ugh.” There was a hum of agreement from the other girls, and you just knew they were rolling their eyes.

“You’re way better for him, Sarah, girl.” Louise cooed, and you swallowed, doubts threatening to enter, but you valiantly fought them off. You were CJ’s best friend since childhood and now girlfriend, there’s no way- “I swear, she looks like she’s scoffing down fifty pies and pizzas each a day.”

You… what?

Your eyes drifted down to your body, to where you were donning CJ’s hoodie, which was oversized on you. Sure, it could make it seem that you’ve got more meat on your bones than average, but you loved dressing up in his clothes, because you got to have his scent on you all the time. And he loved seeing you in them, because it reminded him that he’d managed to grow a pair and finally let you know how he felt. Just his luck that you felt the same way.

“And the way she clings to his arm like he’s God’s gift to women?” Maya added with a small, undignified snort. “I mean, he is, but you don’t have to sew yourself to him.”

Sarah cackled in agreement. “Seems so desperate, doesn’t she?”

“It’s actually pathetic.”

“I bet he’d leave her the moment he sees that you’re worth a million times more.” Maya purred in the middle of her mascara application. “Like, come on, it has to be charity. He’s cute and handsome, and she’s practically a hermit.”

“Maya!” Sarah chastised, and for a moment you felt hopeful. As if you weren’t being ripped apart even though you weren’t even meant to be there. “You’ve got it wrong. I don’t think she’s worth anything.”

Yeah, who were you kidding?

They strutted out soon after, and you got the go sign to step out, wash your shaky hands and head inside the lecture. CJ’s face brightened when he looked at you, the sparkle in those mossy eyes exorcising all thoughts of you not being good enough for him. It was like he had a special superpower.

“I saved you a seat.” He grinned. There was no one in the row.

“Not that hard to do, Cee.” You giggled, but he pouted cutely, crossing his arms like a grumpy toddler.

“C’mon, do you have to be a downer on the party?” He snickered. “Just give me this one, appreciate the sentiment and then we can apply cold, hard common sense.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” You echoed with a kiss to his hair, which made his cheeks flush.

“Ok, good. Now c’mere.”

You sat down next to him at the back of the lecture theatre, where he offered you the other earphone, and you were hit with the glory of Radiohead coming from the small speaker inside once you’d slotted it in your ear. Your book was already opened, courtesy of the gentleman, the margins scrawled with multiple doodles of yours and blank spaces blessed with Hangman, one page sporting an outline of two hands, one smaller than the other when you and CJ had compared hand sizes. His was bigger. Obviously.

You would’ve still been thinking somewhat of the comments until he pressed a kiss to your hair, drew you in by the waist and plopped your hand in his hair while nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You being you, there wasn’t any chance of resisting, so you got to hair playing. He yawned, eyelashes fluttering, and it took you back. To the days where, well, you’d pine for your childhood best friend. When all you wanted was for him to get better, and he did. You didn’t know you’d ever find yourself in this position, where you didn’t know really how to feel about what you’d overheard.

You pushed it away for now, unaware of Sarah’s glowering from across the room. Right now, your sweet boy’s head was on your shoulder, and that’s all you’d feel. And you’d savour it.

The class was filled with little giggles, shared joked and kisses and whatever little ways you and CJ could mess with each other while you took notes, to the soundtrack of ‘You and Whose Army?’, ‘Paranoid Android’ and many more. When you got out, CJ stayed behind to ask Professor Kelsey some questions while you waited outside the lecture theatre, where you saw Sarah, Louise and Maya, all giving you a side eye that reeked of rotten eggs, chewing on their gum and making you feel like you were in a frickin’ off brand Disney Channel TV show where you stole the ‘popular girl’s man’ when he wasn’t even her boyfriend in the first place.

Even so, when CJ came out with a happy smile, you stood up on your tiptoes, cupped his cheek and kissed him, going flat-footed when he leaned down to make it more comfortable for you- damn him for being a giraffe, one hand entwining with yours and the other holding your waist over his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in his fist. He’d be happy to continue that little session until the end of time, but you two had an itinerary of some sorts. He pulled back, taking your hand on his cheek and kissing the inside of your wrist with a hum. “You’re gonna get it later, you know that?”

“I do.” You giggled cheekily, forgetting that those idiots were even watching, your eyelashes fluttering as CJ pecked your nose and offered his arm.

“Shall we, pretty girl?” You happily linked your arm with his, your hands meeting and instantly entwining fingers.

“We shall, sweet boy.” Your lips landed on his cheek, just the lightest of kisses, but it made him flush like it was your first and grin goofily, shivering a little at the way his heart was palpitating and his stomach doing an Olympic gold gymnastics routine. Just like it happened, but more intense, when he was twelve and discovering what love was when you were nerding over Jane Austen.

Yeah, you could still do that. Every damn time he looked at your gorgeous face, and he’ll be damned if he stopped feeling it.

You and CJ strolled into Haute Couture Shakes, the red-headed, red-lipped lady at the counter wearing a snowy white and teal apron breaking out into a grin as she happily let the other workers know you two had arrived. “Hey, you two! Been waiting for the moment you show up.” The place was known for having the most unique milkshake and smoothie flavours ever, that you couldn’t find in any other shake shop in New York. Hence the Sour Patch Kids milkshake.

Some examples were the Bubble Frutti, where they’d combined bubblegum with Tutti Frutti; the Cookies and Dirty Cream (you and CJ drank that on wild nights cause it had vodka in it, and it was safe since CJ didn’t get buzzed and neither did you) and Mount Olympus, which had Skittles (apparently the ambrosia of our earth) as a main ingredient and almost every other candy mixed in small quantities and therefore making it the most heavenly, cavity-inducing drink in New York City.

“Hey, Bella.” You giggled as you reached the counter with CJ, his hand slapping yours down, which was carrying your wallet. He took out his, giving you a look which said ‘let me’. “Uh, we’ll try Death by Sour Patch today.”

“You’re gunning for those free shakes too, huh?” She joked, putting it on the bill. “And I’ll put in those chocolate-cinnamon sprinkled donuts you two like, on the house.”

“We wouldn’t want you to jeopardise your job for us, Bels, we can go without some doughnuts.” CJ scoffed lightly, then leaned in, speaking in a low voice. “But if you can add in a bag of flying saucers, we have a deal.”

The comment made Bella laugh, shaking my head as she got that up too. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for your girlfriend. Lookin’ gorgeous, by the way, hon.” She shot you a quick wink and a wiggle of her manicured and teal-painted fingers, and your heart soared at the compliment. You were just dressed in CJ’s hoodie, some knee-highs and sneakers, but Bella had a way of always lifting your spirits. She was always a true girl’s girl.

“Don’t go stealing her from me, I did hard work to get this far.” He joked back as he put his card in the reader, quickly typing in his pin. He kissed your head briefly, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“Aw, look at you!” Bella giggled, not a hint of malice in her tone as she gestured between the two of you. “I have a true love-dar, and if I’d seen you two lovelies and you hadn’t been together? I’d have done everything in my damn power to make sure that it would happen.” When CJ looked away to scan the surroundings - the teal and white wallpaper with teal fairy lights, matching tables and posters and all sorts of activities to do around the place - Bella mouthed ‘we need to talk’ very obviously at you.

When Bella needed to talk? She needed to talk.

So you turned to CJ, trying not to let the confusion seep into your tone as you spoke. “Could you find a table, Cee? I’ll wait for the shake.”

“Sure, baby.” He pecked your lips before going to find a seat, leaving you and Bella alone. Her expression changed the moment CJ was out of eyeshot and earshot, which had you worried.

She leaned closer, flicking her bouncy red hair out of her eyes as she took a rather irritated breath in. “Ok, so I had to serve these three skanks, like, five minutes before you came in, and I really didn’t want to because they were absolutely tarnishing your beautiful name, girl, and I had half a mind to smack some sense in her. Even if it gets me a chipped nail.”

Then she saw the dropping condition of your mood, and it instantly clocked in her head, but she needed to know for herself. “Honey,” She covered your hand with her own, sporting furrowed, meticulously threaded and arched eyebrows, “has this happened before?”

Bella was smart, incredibly smart (once you got past the intense self-care) and could tell a white lie when she saw it, so you couldn’t lie. After summing up the courage, you got something out in a meek voice. “Once.”

“One time too many.” She glanced to where Sarah, Louise and Maya were sitting with venom in her eyes. “They were saying all kinds of things that aren’t true in the slightest. I don’t know what you heard, but I have heard enough. Baby girl, you are that boy’s everything. I see it in his eyes; he can’t even begin to fathom that you two are in a relationship, he’s that whipped. And you? You’ve got a heart of gold. Never let it stain for those vultures.” She looked over at them, her eyes doing a 180 the moment they locked on the three paired with a gag (that you weren’t sure was real or fake). “See? Nausea. I hate nausea. You are a damn smart Psych student. They’re just boring history.” She pinched your chin with an affectionate smile before passing you the ready shake. “Don’t waste your time on ‘em.”

Bella never failed to boost you up on a pedestal, a wide grin on your face as you took the cold concoction, complete with two straws. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“You will.” She corrected, but she winked anyway. “Attagirl. Now, go get your man.”

You obliged, finding your table with CJ and putting down the drink, which looked innocent enough with clumps of vanilla ice cream and splotches of pink, green, orange and blue around the clear glass.

“Ready?” CJ asked as he scooted his chair closer, poising those pink lips by the straw, holding it in place.

You grinned, getting in the same position. “Born ready.” You both took a sip, and were instantly hit with… vanilla sweetness?

“Not sour at all.” CJ shrugged, gazing at the drink in confusion as he smacked his lips, his cheeks flushed from the coldness of it. You did the same with yours, getting all the vanilla off your teeth and lips with your tongue as you tried to find the sourness of it all. But… nothing.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be-” You almost gagged and doubled over, your eye closing on instinct.

SOUR.

Oh, that’s-that’s stinging your taste buds. It tastes good, but it’s stinging. CJ was having the same reaction, fanning his mouth as if it would do anything, his left eye blinking over and over again. “Sour.” He gasped, keeping his mouth open. Not even air was on your side. “God, that’s strong stuff. Whoo, damn. Oh, I’m gonna die. Right here, at this table.”

“I’m gonna go with you.” You bent so your forehead was touching the cool surface of the table, panting until you braved the first wave. You exchanged a look with CJ, licking your lips, until you both dove for another long sip.

YOLO, right?

After you two got home, you’d been changing while CJ was stashing the coupons, your stretch marks catching your eye in the mirror. You were tempted to turn it around, but CJ would notice immediately. But for now, you were fixated on the image of you in a simple cotton bra, stretch marks like tiger stripes on your skin as your fingers teased at them.

Trying to see if they’d go away.

“Alley-cat, I’ve set the table.” His low voice rumbled through the door, and you instantly opened it, feeling warm at the nickname. He hadn’t called you that in a good year, not since Jen, and it arose in tenth grade, when you beat up a boy for hurting CJ, landed the douche in the sick bay covered in scratches and gotten suspended with a Cheshire grin on your face.

‘A claw-wielding badass’, he’d told you after laughing until your voices were hoarse when he got home. Your mom had taken the mickey out of you, but you were still smiling. Just cause you helped him.

Pulled back to the present, CJ’s eyes scanned your body as he stopped in his tracks with a soft smirk. You in your bra and sweatpants? Was he in heaven? “Ooh, lá lá.”

You took a quick look at yourself then rolled your eyes, his words doing a bit to thaw the icy chill that set over you by examining the stretch marks and pinching to see what extra fat was where. “Shuddup.” Your arms went to fold over your stomach consciously, but CJ clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he approached you with slow, reverent steps.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Don’t hide all that gorgeousness from me.” His hands found yours, peeling your arms off your stomach to take a look. “Mm, we… might have to skip dinner. And I love pizza, so consider yourself lucky.” He reached you, drawing you into his form by your hips as he began pressing hot kisses to the line of your neck, his finger reaching up to trace the pretty arch of your back. “Yeah, we have to.”

Within seconds, you were on flat on the bed, his skilled mouth on yours with an almost bruising force.

Kissing away the thought that skipping a meal was an eerily good idea.

CJ padded into the kitchen for a midnight snack in his fluffy red and blue checkered pyjama pants, and instantly went for the pizza box. When he opened it, he found it exactly how he left it, which was strange. Four slices, gobbled up quick and easy. He’d told you to eat some as well, since doing the dirty can tax you and they’d literally gone straight to dessert (where each other were concerned) so you needed some food in your system.

Maybe you were just hungry. Maybe… he was reading into things.

That is until the next day, and the day after that, he found you leaving food, disguising it as leftovers. You thought CJ didn’t notice.

He did.

He kept track of this kind of stuff, and it was the most outlandish thing you’d done since you both were little kids. Never once had you starved yourself.

Why would you need to? You were perfect. No need for improvement. Yet he’d seen you with sunken cheeks, staring at food like it was behind a glass pane at a zoo. He’d seen you permanently wearing the loosest clothes in your wardrobe. Casting scared glances at those three makeup-obsessed, snarky girls in their Psych lectures. What were their names? Maya, Louise and Sarah-

Sarah.

Of course. She’d approached CJ just before he started dating you, all hair-twirling, lip biting, blonde galore, laughing in an obviously fake, high-pitched noise at everything he said before finally asking him out. He politely declined, not wanting to bruise her ego and said that he was interested in someone else. She figured who that was when he started dating you. Before that she thought he was gay.

He didn’t know what it was with blondes and thinking he was gay.

He knew you were a damn sight better than Sarah. Even if she was your identical twin, he’d take you. She was into expensive manicures, trips to the salon every other night and trying to make ‘fetch’ happen like Gretchen Wieners.

Though he clocked her as more of a Regina. Trying to be sexy and evil at the same time, but at least Regina did it right (he’d agreed with you on that opinion).

He wasn’t into girls who did obnoxious self care and skimpy clothes. He was into the little things. Like how you’d be playing with his hands every movie night, comparing hand sizes and tracing his fingers with the tips of yours. How you’d wear his hoodies every chance you’d got and he’d let you, just to see you swallowed up in it and to know that you felt special. How you knew him like you knew Harry Potter (word for word) and you were so sweet to him he’d get a cavity.

Most of all your habit of hooking your pinky on his. He took it as a promise that he’d always be yours.

But now he was scared you were starving yourself. Time to put his deerstalker cap on.

Metaphorically.

The one stop he needed to find out if Sarah and her cronies were the root of your problems was none other than their vibrant, fashion forward, milkshake-server Bella. She also went to ESU, and even though you’d take her as a shallow person from the outside, she was sweet, outgoing, protective… and hella smart. She was taking a fashion design course, and that was not for the faint hearted.

“If it isn’t my second favourite Braxton.” She cooed as he approached the counter, looking wonderfully out of place with her dangly hoop earrings.

“I’m the only Braxton you know.” He chuckled, but then she clicked her tongue.

“Bill. He’s a charmer. Now, let’s get down to business.” She fixed the shades atop her red hair. “You’re here about our girl, right?”

“I’m worried, Bels.” CJ swallowed thickly. “I keep on finding leftovers. It’s not normal. And she’s less inclined to show me her body, which, I note, is absolutely gorgeous. I reckon I know who it is.”

“The three Satanic bimbos who were in here talking smack about the love of your life?” Bella raised her eyebrow, nodding. “Yep. I know. One of which who looks like an off-brand, fake Prada Regina George.”

“That’s the one.”

“Rachel McAdams did it miles better.” She snorted, shaking her head disapprovingly. “She’s tarnishing my wife’s name.”

“Well, the off brand version of your wife is ruining my sweet girl.” He sighed, biting his lip. He was lost, confused, and Bella always seemed to lend a helping hand. She could offer a hanky, a sympathetic word or a devastating roast when needed and directed correctly, a complimentary milkshake or, most importantly in this situation, advice. “Help me, Bella. You’re fluent in any girl language. This? I’ve never touched this type of thing with her. She’s always been so confident, and perfect, and sweet. So help me, Bels, or I’ll become trigger-happy.”

“Well, just use what the good lord gave you.” Bella winked, and when CJ flushed in embarrassment, about to stammer out a sheepish reply, she tapped his chest with a giggle. “Your heart of gold, silly. What did you think I was talking about? Now go, return your future wife to her former glory.”

CJ’s face contorted in bewilderment, though the corner of his lip twitched. Bella noticed. “Future- I’m not even gonna argue. Thanks, Bella.”

“Better repay me somehow, young man!” She called as he walked out.

“We’re the same age!”

CJ came home with a reeling mind, and he stopped when he saw you staring into the snack cupboard with a puppy-dog expression… until he came in. Then he raised his eyebrows, gesturing to the cupboard. Just one last hope that you weren’t too badly hurt by those girls. “Don’t stop on my account. I got those for you, baby.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You shook your head, and it confirmed his suspicions. “Just… looking.” His heart broke, and he instantly led you inside your bedroom, his hands in yours and coaxing you to sit, which you did. Not fighting him, knowing the game was up.

He took a deep breath, trying not to let anger well up in him because of what Sarah had said. Out of pure jealousy, all because she couldn’t have him. He felt like the root cause, and he had to fix it. “C’mere, pretty girl.” He drew you onto his lap, resting his forehead on yours, holding you tightly to him. Thumbs rubbing circles into your hip bone, which he felt was starting to poke out. No, no, no, no, no. Not his darling. “Can you tell me why? Please?”

Your bottom lip quivered, but you swallowed the shivers down and got out a choked sentence in a meek voice. You felt like a stranded cat in need of comfort. “Just wanted to be good for you.”

“Shh, no, baby.” He murmured, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. “You’re perfect for me, y’hear? You.” A small peck. “Are.” Another. “Incredible.” One lingering press of his lips to yours. “You’re not eating. I can’t have that. It’s hurting you, and that’s unacceptable to me, ok? I love everything on you just the way it is.” He felt you open your mouth to argue, but he silenced you with a finger on your lips. “We can talk about this when you feel comfortable. However long it takes. But can I just… show you how much I adore you, sweet girl? Let me show you, please.”

His thumb tracing your cheekbone had you leaning into his hand and nodding, so he let out the breath he was painfully somehow holding in the wait for you to agree, mentally preparing himself. He didn’t want this to be anything less than about you. His lips met yours, soft, slow and sensual, the way he was holding you almost reverent. You’d been partaking in gentle love with CJ since you could remember, but this time was different. It had an intensity to it you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t rough, but was fiery. It burned you and soothed you at the same time. A delicious burn but an addicting cool that only left you whining into his mouth.

With that victory notched on his belt, he swiped his tongue on your lower lip, tasting your strawberry chapstick before veering off course to firmly press kisses to your jaw, making his way to a spot behind your ear that had your jaw going slack, his hair tickling it as he sucked gently, massaging your scalp with his fingers. Those lips you loved so much nipped over the curve of your neck, his hand coaxing - not forcing - your head to give him more access until you both found that he no longer needed to give you guidance, you tilting your head on your own to encourage him.

“That’s it, sweet girl.” He murmured, gently rubbing his hand over your chest, down to your stomach and feeling the softness over your hoodie. Then he caressed your thighs, breathing in the mixed scent of you and him which had his head spinning and lips part in a silent gasp, hooked without the need of the line and sinker every time. Effortlessly. That’s how you drew him in.

So. Damn. Effortlessly.

“Cee…” Was all you could get out as his fingers played with the hem of the hoodie, your thighs rubbing together on his lap, his other hand smoothing over those goddamned knee highs, gripping the underside of your knee with a hum.

You couldn’t think. Not even if you wanted to. Especially not with CJ’s hands tracing you like a Greek sculptor would his statue, fingers running over every crevice, imperfection and making them perfect. Except this time, he wasn’t changing a thing about your body, just your view of it. Making it his view.

“As much as I love you wearing my clothes, pretty girl, I think we both want them off.” His lips ghosted over your jugular, making you shiver and nod frantically, at a loss for words because of CJ frickin’ Braxton. Your affirmation prompted him to slide both firm hands under the hoodie, feeling up your body in one smooth motion. The fabric bunched on his forearms, but it served as an effective removal as you lifted your arms, the softness leaving your body - an unfamiliar feeling as it was like a second skin - but replaced with the warm and electrifying feeling of his lips burning a trail from your collarbone to between your chest, quickly undoing the clasp of your cotton bra. Nothing special, just plain.

“So gorgeous.” He murmured in spite of that, nipping at the sensitive skin before rolling one nipple between his fingers, mouth closing around the other. Sucking, laving it with attention, distracting you from noting the exact moment you were manoeuvred, his back against the headboard and you straddling his thigh as needy moans, whines, whimpers - the whole trifecta - spilled from your mouth amid desperate cries of his name.

More like his nickname, but now wasn’t the time to get into specifics.

You were so lost, lost in how he’d switch his focus from one to another, reducing you to putty in his hands, that you were given a hard snap back into reality and then back into cloud nine when he gripped your hips, rocking you against the fabric of his jeans. Friction on your clothed clit. Your mouth falling open. Your eyelashes fluttering as your hands desperately gripped his shoulders, the material of your panties getting more soaked by the second.

The sunset of New York washing over you both. Setting the scene in the oh-so-familiar spotlight that was oh-so more… dizzying. “Feels s’good, Cee.” You breathed, pressing thank-you kisses to his neck, but he shook his head, pulling you back up gently as he kept rocking you, over and over, increasing the delicious pressure each and every time. Ensuring that you were a mess. Ensuring that your pussy throbbed for him.

“S’all for you, baby.” He whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Take what you want, m’all yours. That’s a beautiful girl. That’s my pretty girl.” He took a moment to huff out a breath. His jeans were tight as hell right now, but this was your moment, and he’d fight like hell to keep it that way.

Damn Sarah to hell. That was an un-sexy thought. Back to the gorgeous girl above him.

He gently rolled the two of you over so he was on top, his hand reaching down to tug down your panties at a slow pace, kissing down the length of your legs until his eyes locked on your glistening cunt. The sight had a groan tumbling from deep in his chest, his directory changing as he rid himself of his jacket, shirt, belt and jeans, kicking off his socks as he inched forward. Next thing you knew, your legs were on his shoulders, his mouth sucking at your clit and two of his fingers easing inside you, the one grounding force his hand rubbing your thigh soothingly, as an assurance that you were doing so well for him.

“So gorgeous.” He hummed, sending vibrations through you that had you throwing your head back against the pillows, one hand in his hair and the other gripping the sheets like a lifeline. You were half scared that you’d tear right through them, he was that good at working you, playing you like a damn fiddle.

His fingers crooked just right, hitting your g-spot like he had an in-built homing device to it, continuing to in a ‘come here’ motion, beckoning your climax while your head spun with the amount of sensations hitting you at once. His mouth sucking again and again at your clit until he dipped down to lap at your soaked pussy before returning his attention to where it was before. Irregular intervals, just to keep your toes curling, breath hitching and eyes rolling back.

And with one more stroke, one more flick, he had you tipping over the edge, coming on his fingers, and he left your clit to drink it all up as you shook, cried out his name, writhed above him and made him feel that much more powerful. He made sure none of your sweetness went to waste, so he could feel it all on his tongue while he scissored you open, slow movements so he wouldn’t overwhelm you. His other hand gently setting down your legs and rubbing a soothing circle on your stomach before he looked up at you, mouth and chin glistening before he licked his lips, collecting the mess on his chin with his thumb and sucking it all off.

The sight almost had you coming again.

He moved back up your body, leaving soft presses of his mouth - his stamp of approval - wherever he went until he reached your mouth, withdrawing his fingers from your soaked pussy and licking them clean, keeping eye contact before he cupped your cheek with his hand and firmly kissed you, grinding his clothed need against you slowly. Making sure you felt it.

“Only you.” He murmured, kissing your nose before rolling you so you were on top of him, straddling him, and he was propping himself against the headboard again. “Only you do this to me, sweet girl. Nobody else. Just you.” Next thing you knew, he was once again taking your breath away by getting his boxers off, ripping a silver packet open with his teeth. Rolling the condom on and taking your hips, lowering you down onto his waiting cock.

Groaning as he felt you, letting your forehead fall against his shoulder, taking in your whines of his name from those pretty lips and letting them send him to cloud ten as he moaned out yours. Your hips already rocking as you fit him like a glove, your bodies slotting together perfectly as your face remained close to his. Him watching every minuscule twitch of those gorgeous features, with his flushed cheeks, hazy emerald eyes and swollen, reddened, parted lips.

“So good, sweet boy.” You moaned out as your lips connected with his, lifting and lowering yourself back down so you could take him deep. A twitch from his hips jolting you slightly and having your noses knock together, which elicited matching giggles from both of you. “Easy there, cowboy.”

“Easier said than done when the girl of my wildest dreams is riding me, lookin’ all pretty. Taking me so goddamn well.” CJ’s voice came out strained, his core tight as he desperately tried to hold on for you, when you were squeezing him in a way which had his eyes rolling back and him wondering whether he was in heaven. He let you set the pace, loosely holding your hips and watching for any sign of fatigue as you took what you needed. What you deserved. All amid hot, slow kisses, gentle nips at exposed skin and whispered, shaky words of love and affection.

Your pinky entwining with his.

Your stuttering hips were your sign that you needed him to take over, so he rolled you over onto your back, keeping his strokes long and deep so you could feel every inch of him. Your hand pinned above your head, but it was being held by his as he nipped your earlobe, kissed down your jaw and reached your neck, brushing his lips feather-light in a way that had your mouth falling open.

“Cee, baby, o-oh, don’t stop,” You begged, the free hand of yours alternating between threading in his hair and resting between his shoulder blades. Your nails dug into his back, but he didn’t mind in the slightest, knowing it was an outlet along with the cries and pleas spilling from your lips like a prayer to go faster and don’t stop. He picked up his pace, going slightly faster and brushing up against your g-spot, your toes curling, eyes rolling and legs locking around his waist.

The way CJ was looking at you topped it off. With adoration in his eyes, paired with his praises that he whispered against your skin and your lips, kissing them sweetly every now and then. The hand that wasn’t holding yours was cradling your face. “Taking me so well, sweet girl.” He’d murmur before kissing your nose. “You look so gorgeous right now. So damn gorgeous.” Another kiss on the nose, and then a drawn-out thrust. Your hand would grip his tighter, you’d cry out his name and you’d be that much closer to tipping over the edge.

He got you there faster, not switching pace but thrusting harder as he then reached between the two of you, stroking your clit in time with his movements, keeping an eye on you in case you felt any discomfort.

None at all. You were in heaven. Sparks instantly shot through your body and had your legs not been around CJ’s waist, you’d be bucking your hips. Your whines and moans got that much louder, and CJ was almost shaking in the attempt to hold out and let you come first. His teeth gritted as he thrust into you, moaning low in his throat as your walls squeezed and fluttered around him, a sign you were close.

The headboard acted as a steady pulse, the thumb on your clit insistent and you fought to keep your eyes from rolling back but failing miserably. You felt like you were on fire, getting hotter and hotter, and like you were the brightest star in the sky with how CJ was looking at you with the awe that one would have when they visit one of the wonders of the world. To CJ, you were the eighth. The irony that stars were beginning to appear in front of your eyes. “Come for me, sweet girl.” CJ choked out, almost begging as he gasped shakily, his thrusts growing more erratic and sloppy. Still absolutely amazing, though. Just to make that clear on your part. “Please? N-Need to feel you, baby. Doing so well, pretty girl, please, just c-come for me.”

Your vision almost went black as you came hard, your head falling back, which gave CJ the opportunity to press his lips to the curve of your neck, soft and barely there as he thrust once, twice before he spilled into the condom, hips stuttering and a gasp being torn from his throat as he choked out your name over and over like a prayer.

You looked down to see him, and you instantly felt a rising warmth in your heart upon seeing CJ like this, just for you. Eyes screwed shut, hair messed up, lips parted and letting out moans just for you. You’d forgotten anything was even said about you by the time you both came down from your highs, marvelling at how his lean shoulders heaved from the exertion.

He looked up at you with a loving smile, kissing your forehead before pulling out of you, disposing of the condom before immediately going back to you and smoothing your hair back with kisses all over your face. “Incredible.” Was all he could murmur, in the aftershocks of the aftershocks. “You were absolutely incredible, pretty girl.”

“So were you. You had me at a loss for words the entire time.” You giggled, giving him a sweet kiss back. “Sweet boy. Pretty boy.”

“Shuddup.” He grinned, nuzzling your nose with a low chuckle. “Let’s get in the shower, hm? And I’ll change the sheets when we get back. No crusty fluids.” Then he paused, both of you snickering. “That was an un-sexy thing to say. Sorry, I think I just ruined the mood.”

“Nah.” You kissed the tip of his nose. “You made it.”

Three days later, you were meeting CJ after a meeting with your lecturer on your latest Psych essay on how well you’d done, and CJ was shuffling in his bag for some notes that he had to give Sarah, who was sauntering over as we speak.

“Oh, CJ!” She trilled, pouting unnecessarily. Probably to draw attention to those obnoxiously glossy lips. “Got those notes for me? I hate to miss lectures.” Everyone knew she skipped it to buy new makeup, but he played along, wordlessly took out the notes and handed it over. “Oh, thanks so much, handsome. I, uh, don’t see your girlfriend anywhere.” She made a show of looking around. “Maybe we could-”

“Sarah, I’ll stop you right there.” He held up a finger. “I’m not gonna go on a date with you, definitely not when you’ve been smack talking about my girlfriend for the past three weeks.” Sarah looked thunderstruck. Good. “And I’m even less inclined to when I’ve got a woman in my corner who’s gorgeous, kind, sweet, smart, all of the great adjectives in the dictionary. I’m not even gonna stand here and watch you feel sorry for yourself.”

“But… baby-”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not interested.” He shot Sarah a venomous look, which changed into a lovesick stare when he saw you emerging from your meeting with a wide grin. He left Sarah looking like a lost puppy to reach you, kissing you briefly as a hello. “Hey, you.” He murmured, letting his lips have a mind of their own and trail down your neck.

You swatted his chest with a giggle, wearing his hoodie again. This time looking healthy and happy, after gorging on whatever snacks you wanted with no mental repercussions. Job well done, you both agreed. CJ hated seeing you as anything less than the bubbly girl he’d known since before he could remember. “Cee! We’re in public!”

“So?” He lifted you and spun you around before setting you down. “Got the love of my life in my arms and esteemed chairwoman of the Day Old Frosties Club and I can’t exhibit PDA? That’s a felony.”

“Arrest me.”

“I’ve always thought you’d pull off an orange jumpsuit.” Both of you burst into giggles, but then CJ took your hand and kissed the back of it, then the inside of your wrist. The way you blushed furiously then struggled to get out a response without stuttering made the last puzzle piece fit into place. You were his calling. You were the one. “At least let us splurge our coupons at Haute Couture later.”

You stood on your tiptoes, pecking CJ’s lips quickly, which had him flustered this time. “I’d love to.”

You and CJ ordered your drink (The CaraStrawberry Couple) at Haute Couture Shakes, Bella being the cheery server once again and doting over you both. It was your turn to go find a table, and CJ slipped something out of his jacket. A small rectangle card. “Here’s your repayment, Bels.”

Bella took the card suspiciously, but her face lit up when she read it. “Ten free manicures and polishes at my favourite nail salon? Oh, hon, you’re an absolute angel!”

“Turns out I did have to use what the good Lord gave me.” He quoted, and Bela punched his shoulder lightly with a chuckle.

“You sly dog.” Then she quirked an eyebrow. “This is a lil’ extra, so I’m guessing that there’s something else that you want from me.”

CJ chuckled, nodding. “That’s right. It’s a little much, but I have no idea how this works and my mom would go overboard. Plus, your sense of fashion is… incredible.”

Bella giggled again. “You flatter me. Now c’mon, tell me. Even if I have an idea.”

CJ bit his lip, then leaned forward, speaking in a low voice. “Ring shopping.” He had to cover Bella’s mouth to stifle the squeal and borderline scream that came out of her, her blue eyes lighting up in excitement. CJ cautiously took his hand off, and she still bore the same dumbstruck, euphoric expression.

“I knew it!”

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