#Is it not common sense to not talk on shit you know nothing about?

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 6 masterlist

-

The interior door slides open when Gaz pulls down the lever on his side, fitting into the recesses in the wall until there’s nothing between you. He’s the same and yet entirely different with nothing separating the two of you; more corporeal, undeniably flesh and blood. You can feel it now—the heat of another body in close proximity.

His stare penetrates you to the root, eyes so dark that you can’t look away. It’d be easy to get lost in them, like falling into a black hole, body stretching out into infinity, even the smallest subatomic parts of you torn apart. Expressive eyes, the kind you might look at and think that there’s someone behind them worth knowing. But the sharp angularity of the intelligence there makes your skin crawl. 

Farah finds her voice before you do. “Who are you?”

Gaz breaks his stare to glance at her, his frozen smile suddenly warming. “We haven’t met; I’m Gaz.”

When he holds out his gloved hand, Farah only looks at it instead of taking it, disbelief warring with her common sense. You wish you could hear the thoughts running through her head. 

“You can see him too?” you whisper to her.

Her head snaps in your direction, dark brows already furrowed. “Of course I can. What are you talking about?”

It’s perhaps impossible to explain without making yourself sound insane. More insane, in any case. But with the proof in front of you now, you can’t deny any longer that Gaz is real; that after days spent worrying about the state of your crumbling mental health, the very cause of your concern now stands before you, witnessed by someone else. You’d laugh if you didn’t feel faint. 

Because he is real—all six feet and two inches of him. Close enough to reach out your hand and touch. His skin looks buttery soft; if you were a foot closer, you’d almost be tempted to take his hand if only to see if your fingers would pass through.

Without warning, the intercom suddenly crackles to life again and a familiar voice blares from the speaker. “Panel secure. Headed back now.”

The sound of Nikolai’s voice sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. Even Gaz glances over his shoulder at the door and the vastness of space behind it. There’s nothing there, but his thickly accented voice asks for confirmation and you know it must be him, not a trick of the comms system. You stumble back until you hit the wall behind you.

“Kolya?” you hear Graves respond sharply, his voice still carrying through the ship over the intercom. “Shit, is that you? Do you hear me?”

“Черт побери. Yes, I hear you, mother hen,” Nikolai laughs in response. His laughter is a crisp, hollow sound over the intercom, like crackling blue electricity. “On my way back now. No need to pluck all your feathers out.”

His nonchalance is, frankly, unreasonable for the amount of time elapsed since he last checked in with the crew. 

A whole body comes into view this time, an astronaut waving to you through the window of the exterior door. Even from the other side, you can tell it’s Nikolai, the sheer size of him apparent. 

“Alhamdulillah,” Farah breathes, pulling the lever down for a second time to initiate the return sequence. 

Like deja vu, you watch as the first set of doors open and Nikolai slowly makes his way into the airlock one slow step at a time, the man looking no worse for wear. Beside you, Farah whispers something that you miss. The doors slide shut noiselessly behind him, and again you watch as a man in a spacesuit undergoes repressurization, the tensing of his shoulders making his discomfort with the process apparent. 

He already has his helmet off before the second door even opens. “Like I said, easy peasy. Can someone get me a coffee now?”

It’s almost too much for you to digest in such a short period of time, your emotions slingshotting between losing Nikolai and finding a strange man floating in the middle of space and then hearing the Russian man’s voice again like nothing happened. Lost time, or gained time. 

He must pick up on the way you and Farah simply gape at him in stunned silence.

“Something the matter?” Nikolai asks, a thick caterpillar eyebrow arched. A second later, he registers the other man in the hallway and grins. “Ah, you met Gaz. Nice guy, huh?”

“You know him?” Farah asks, her incredulity apparent.

“We met outside. I sent him in to get warm.”

You’re properly dumbfounded now, staring at Nikolai with abject disbelief for giving someone permission to board the ship without the commander’s permission. 

The footsteps of your commander and his second echo as they race down the hallway from the cockpit, the metal clunking under their boots. Louder and louder until they reach you, coming to a halt just a few feet away.

“Didn’t think I was gone that long,” Nikolai murmurs, stripping out of his spacesuit at the same time. Without a word, Farah helps him tuck it back into the storage locker he originally took it from. 

The two men stalk forward the remaining distance and when you look over at Graves, you can see the worry and relief writ large across his face, his attempts at concealing his emotions only partially successful. 

“What the fuck happened?” Graves barks, his expression stern until his eyes land on Gaz standing peacefully in the middle of the corridor, and then something shifts. A brief uncertainty clouding the pale blue of his eyes. “Who’s this?” 

Gaz lifts a gloved hand in greeting. “Name’s Gaz.”

“Found him outside wandering around,” Nikolai booms, slinging an arm over Gaz’s shoulders in an obvious show of fondness. “Poor bastard couldn’t find his crew.”

“Just wandering around in the middle of nowhere?” Graves asks, cocking a brow, skepticism thick in his words. 

Gaz smiles sheepishly. “It’s my fault. I got a bit turned around.”

Graves hums, mulling over the information. “…Turned around, huh?”

“Yes, sir. Looked away for a second and then my group was gone.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant at all.”

“No, sir. Not at all.”

His deference is second to none. You could almost imagine yourself believing him, swept away by concern for his welfare. 

There’s a difference though. You’ve had the benefit of several days of acclimation. 

“Sir—commander,” you interject, swallowing when Graves turns his attention on you, the microexpression that flits across his face betraying his displeasure at being interrupted. “I’m sorry, but this makes no sense. I don’t see how…well, how he could have survived out on his own. I mean—” Your eyes flick towards Gaz. “I’m sorry, but none of this makes any sense to me.”

Graves’ lip curls up. "What doesn't make any sense?"

"Well, should we have brought him in? This just doesn't seem like protocol—"

“I don’t get your point, doctor. Should we have just left him out there to die? I thought you had that whole Hippocratic oath to uphold.”

None of this makes any sense to you. Apart from Farah, they’re being entirely too cavalier for happening upon a man in the middle of nowhere. There should be talk of heading back to Earth or quarantining him in the brig. 

“It’s not about that,” you croak. 

“I don’t understand you, doctor. You of all people should want to help.”

But he’s the man I’ve been seeing for days, you almost scream, but the blatant disapproval in Graves’ eyes makes you hold your tongue. You know your instincts aren’t wrong. Basic science isn’t wrong. Even if his spacesuit were able to provide basic environmental protection and life support, the longest a human might be able to survive after becoming untethered from their ship would be just under nine hours. 

You don’t know why this isn’t registering as strange to any of them. They act as though there’s nothing at all unusual about a man floating in space without any spacecraft within fifty million miles of him. As if this were just something that happened from time to time, and not an unprecedented anomaly. 

“Well, you could probably do with some shut eye after your trip, I reckon,” Graves says, clamping a hand down on Gaz’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “We have a spare bunk near mine—bit cramped, but I’m sure you’ll make do.”

Gaz tips his head in thanks. “I’d appreciate it.”

“And—sorry, forgot to ask, but are you good? Not feeling faint or sick or anything? I know our doctor’s a little prickly, but whatever you need, she can help with.”

The weight of Gaz’s gaze makes your body feel leaden. 

“All good for now,” he says, still smiling serenely. His stare never wavers, smile never dips. “But don’t worry, love. I’ll come find you when I need you.”

Nikolai’s arm drops from his shoulder and Graves leads him off down the corridor to recuperate in his new room. The scream is buried in your throat; if you try to cough it up, only blood and mucus will come out. 

You can only watch helplessly as they walk away, Farah gone by the time you remember to look for her. 

After that, hours pass by without any sight of the man who recently boarded your ship. You don’t see much of anyone in fact. Hadir eats lunch around the same time as you, but his conversation is oddly circulatory, muddled, like he can’t keep his thoughts straight. He mentions the same thing twice and doesn’t seem concerned when you politely remind him that he already told you. He also doesn’t seem to register your words when you tentatively broach the subject of Gaz’s sudden appearance. 

Hadir shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “Better for us anyway. Could be nice to have another warm body around here.”

“Don’t you…don’t you remember what I told you the other day?” you prod, pushing your potatoes around with your fork, your stomach in knots. “When I told you I saw someone outside?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s who I was talking about,” you whisper, as if concerned about being overheard. “I saw Gaz out there. He must have been out there…for days at least.”

“Ah,” he says, mildly contemplative. “Funny, that.”

The conversation feels like a dead end because it is, and you abandon it not long after when you realize that though Hadir is responding to your words, he doesn’t seem to be understanding them. It’s like you’re talking to an automaton, something designed to give you a response but not engage like a human would.

Even that thought seems wrong somehow. You shouldn’t be thinking those kinds of things about your coworkers. 

Back in the medical unit, you pick up the stool that fell to the ground on your way out earlier and take a seat, sipping periodically at the ice cold coffee still sitting on the table. Your mind goes blank for some time. Different than earlier though—not the blankness of concern and paranoia, but the blankness of complete stupefaction. 

It gives you some time to think, but no matter how many times you run through the events of the day in your mind, you keep coming back to the same questions. The same questions with no answers. 

Appetite a no show, you figure it’s better to just retire to your quarters for the evening. 

In bed, you read the same paragraph of your book three times before it sinks in. You can’t concentrate on anything. The same phrase on a loop, your real thoughts swarming like locusts and drowning out the narrator in your head. 

A knock at your door startles you, accidentally making you crinkle a page of your book with your thumb. You bite back a curse, smoothing the page out and calling out a frustrated one second when the person on the other side of your door knocks again. Impatient much. 

You open the door, expecting to find Graves or Nikolai on the other side, only for you to balk when you’re met with the sight of Gaz towering over you, his forearm braced against the doorframe. 

“Hi,” he says after a beat of silence. 

“…Are you lost?” you ask suspiciously. 

“No. Thought I’d stop by before I turn in for the night.”

Something occurs to you the longer you stand so close to him. It’s been lingering in the back of your mind since the interior doors to the airlock slid open and he boarded the ship, a thought hidden under its own afterbirth, placenta and membranous fluid soaking the ground beneath it. A thought that, to this point, has escaped your notice, hiding away like a prey animal. 

And it’s that: Gaz doesn’t have a smell. When you inhale, he doesn’t smell like anything you’ve ever smelt before. No lingering traces of body odour or sweat or soap. You breathe in and it’s like you’re standing in front of an empty doorway staring out into the empty hallway. 

But he does have a scent. 

It doesn’t register to your nose, not a scent that your olfactory senses can detect. Nothing like that. Instead it hits you like a memory, like a feeling blooming in your chest. Palo santo and orange blossom; the sound of a tennis ball hitting a racket; an aerial view of an Olympic pool and someone swimming laps, their body stark against the blue; white florals and a masculine voice laughing. 

His scent is a delicious rush of wonder and elation, a dopamine spike. You crane your neck to meet his eyes and honestly you’d forgotten how beautiful he is. An Adonis; over six foot and body corded with muscle. Lean waist and wide shoulders. The most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, sculpted from something divine, a substance not found on Earth but in a more heavenly realm. 

You rock forward on your heels, pulled like a magnet towards his lips. His lips gently part, anticipating yours before they’ve even met.

Your hand hits the wall and reality comes back to you. Solid metal under your feet and an aluminum composite under your hand. White, sterile walls. In the hallway, the lights dim as the night cycle commences. You have to physically shake your head to rid your mind of any thoughts of Earth. It’s still there though, on the periphery of your senses; a dream world that you might get lost in if you were to look for too long.  

Something is very wrong. 

You rest back on your heels and move your hand until it hovers over the button to close your door. 

“Unless you’re sick, I can’t help you.”

“I’m not sick, love.”

“Then what do you want?” you bite out, overtly hostile now. 

He smiles but he doesn’t blink. Then his eyes flick up, studying the room behind you, his gaze roving over the walls and furniture, scrutinizing your space. Examining the clothes strewn over your bed, the little knick knacks and oddities that make your room yours. 

“Just wanted to see what it looked like from the inside,” Gaz finally says, and your blood goes cold. 

With that, he pulls his forearm off the doorframe and straightens to full height. 

He makes it a few feet away from your door before turning around to look back at you. “Night, love. See you in the morning.”

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: jameson deals with the consequences of the many disappointments he's given imani over the years. sloane continues to unravel and only Christian realizes. genie and ej take another step in their relationship while imani wonders if she and jameson are worth saving.

Warnings: smut (18+), toxic relationship, emotional breakdown, explicit terminology, dirty talk (kinda), dd/lg (slight), dom/submissive sex scene, p in v, oral (male receiving), biting -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 8.4k Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

Jameson stepped out of the elevator, brushing past stilted bodies as he made his way towards the parking garage. He had called Imani six times since leaving Sloane's apartment but there was no response. He scrolled past all the texts, all the notifications, and rejected several other calls. The only person he wanted to talk to was her. He got the voicemail again and the realization that she wanted nothing to do with him set in. He strode to his car, his jaw clenched. By the time he slid into the front seat, he was determined. He'd just go to her house. Even if he had to talk to her through the damn intercom at her front gate, he'd do it.

With a plan in mind, Jameson turned the car on and prepared to leave...but his gaze strayed to the phone in his hand. Common sense told him not to do it but he did. He went back to EJ's text and clicked the link to the music. Even as her voice filtered in through his car speakers, he didn't quite accept that it was her. It'd been so long since he'd heard music from her. Even her voice sounded different.

The untrained ear probably didn't hear it but Jameson did. He heard the anger, the loathing. She used to sing about him with exasperation but always love. Everything they sang about one another held an understanding -- they loved each other. He couldn't hear it anymore. Her lyrics were vivid, each word painting a picture of the love they’d shared and the ways it had fallen apart. He could hear the anger in her tone, the bitterness laced with sadness. The despair mingled with hope. Fuck.

I get this type of feeling you ain't accustomed to I swear I'd be at peace if it weren't for you

He winced the first time he got a shot on the project. They had done it back and forth to one another but she sounded fucking miserable with him. It was like he could pinpoint every single time she touched pen to paper and wrote a lyric that was about their relationship.

I don't care about what you seen in me You were not who you pretend to be I will regret giving my last, man I should've let you crash out Can't believe you blaming me

Every situation flashed right before his eyes. Argument after argument that leads to making up.

Trying to find, you're my blindspot, it's fine niggas Ruin me every single time

The first time they saw each other after a year -- when she made him swear not to make her any promises so she could avoid being disappointed.

You know we got a real history That's no reason I can't choose me You know that dick been good to me You make it hard for me to choose me Dancing and kissing, the kitchen Makes me forget, I forgive him

The morning after they returned from Italy -- when everything seemed to be on an upswing for them.

That pussy hit like royalty Must be hard for you to lose me

The frantic texts and calls that he couldn't stop himself from making. That he didn't want to stop.

Text me like I'm waitin' for you to come lie to me Ruin my day, sayin' shit to hurt me, I can't compete Still on the way, I lay awake if you're not around me I'm so on to you, still gone for you

God, why did she stay with him? Three years together. A year apart. She still gave him the chance to come back even though that was how he made her feel.

You don't wanna be, be without me You don't wanna live I don't wanna go, ooh, no I don't wanna be alone, oh All that I know is mirrors inside me They recognize you, please don't deny me

It was true. He didn't want to live without her. But how was he ever supposed to go back to her with this knot in his gut? How was he supposed to lay next to her at night knowing he drained and twisted her up inside like this? Even without trying? She had every right to hate him and she knew it. In those lyrics, it told their whole story. She wanted to hate him...but couldn't.

He hadn't even realized he was driving until he came to a stop...at his own house. Even his subconscious knew he couldn't face Imani right then. What was he going to say? I'm sorry. I was wrong. I fucked up again. I hurt you again. Look away, forgive me again. It sounded hollow as fuck even in his head. He didn't have the right to ask for any of it.

He hadn’t just hurt her a few times -- he’d broken their relationship in ways he couldn’t even comprehend. She’d poured her pain into this music, and the world was celebrating it, but all he could hear was the sound of her heart-shattering and it was his fault. So he sat there in his punishment, listening over and over. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about what he’d lost. He was thinking about what he’d taken from her — and how he’d never be able to give it back.

Her entire body felt like it was in shock. She felt numb. The carefully planned dinner she'd prepared for Jameson had spiraled out of control. She didn't even remember breaking dishes but they sat in shattered pieces around her as she leaned against her front door. How could he just leave her? He wasn't supposed to leave! He was supposed to appreciate her and be happy she was there for him. He was supposed to see true loyalty from her. But somehow...it had all fallen apart.

Sloane’s hands trembled as she slowly crawled across the floor, avoiding slivers of shattered plates. By the time she had enough awareness to climb to her feet, she realized she needed her phone. She searched the room, finding it underneath the couch. In the chaos, it had slipped away. It trembled in her hands as she tried to decide who to call.

She was sad. Hurting. Who was she supposed to call? Her parents? They didn't care. Genie? She had tossed that friendship away. Jameson? Her heart clenched at the idea of calling him and going to voicemail. She sat on her couch, holding the phone to her chest before it dawned on her. She wiped her damp palms on her skirt as she called the contact and the phone rang. Her chest felt tighter, her breaths shallow and uneven.

When his voice finally came through the line, her relief was overshadowed by desperation. "C-Come over,” she said quickly, her voice cracking. “I need you here. Please.” She hung up before he could respond, her pulse racing. She sank onto the couch, running her fingers through her hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.

By the time Christian arrived, her makeup was streaked from tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed. He stepped inside, his usual confident demeanor faltering when he saw her.

“Sloane,” he said softly, shutting the door behind him. “What the fuck happened?”

She stood, her movements frantic, and began pacing again. “He said he's done with me. Jameson — he ended everything. Our friendship, everything. He called me out for all of it—for hurting Genie, for you, for everything I’ve done.”

Christian frowned, his concern evident. “Okay, slow down. Take a breath. What exactly did he say?”

Sloane stopped pacing, turning to face him. “He asked if I fucked you. I told him it was a mistake. He didn't even care that I slept with you. He cared that it hurt Genie. He didn't even care about me." Her voice trailed off, mumbling as she dissolved into tears again. "That I’ve ruined too much, and he can’t trust me anymore. "He looked at me like I was disgusting, Christian. Like I was nothing.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

Christian approached her cautiously, his tone gentle. “I need you to calm down. C'mon, sit down. I'll get you some water." Sloane's movements were jerky and she couldn't get herself to stop shaking. Christian took her arm firmly, guiding her to sit back down. "Don't move."

For once, Sloane didn't argue or ignore him. She sat there and stared at the ceiling, the past few years hitting her hard. When he brought the glass back to her and took a seat next to her, she was in tears again. “I don't know --" she began, shifting her gaze to find his. "I don’t know who I am without him.”

Christian’s jaw tightened, his sympathy battling with his frustration. “You lived a life before Jameson Lucas smiled at you. You'll be fine without him. Just...stop digging yourself deeper."

She pulled away from him, her movements sharp, gaze darting to her phone on the coffee table. “I don’t know. I just… I need him to feel what I’m feeling. To know how much this hurts.”

“Revenge isn’t going to make this better. It’s just going to make things worse for you and for him -- not that I give a fuck about him.” “It’s not revenge. It’s justice." "So you fuck with him some more. You think that'll make him love you?" "I...I don't know how to get him back." "What if you never do. What are you going to do?"

Sloane hesitated and Christian rolled his eyes. “Wake up. No matter what you do -- he won't be yours. But the sun is going to come up tomorrow, Sloane. The world will keep on turning. Life will continue. You will continue."

Fresh tears filled her eyes again and she doubled over, laying on the couch and crying softly to herself. She was alone. She didn't even notice Christian sitting next to her, his fingers awkwardly brushing through her hair as she cried.

EJ snored against her chest as the light from her cell illuminated her bedroom. Genie pressed her hand to his back, rubbing in small circles as she continued to text Imani back. The two hadn't seen each other in person but Genie finally found the words to tell her she wasn't upset about the photo. their friendship immediately shifted back into normalcy -- with the two texting and calling regularly. Despite the massive Jameson-shaped elephant in the room.

After listening to Imani's EP, Genie couldn't help but interfere. Even when she told EJ she wouldn't.

[ genie ] : i loved diary, mani mani ❤️ [ baby mama ❤️ ] : aw my genie. thank you [ genie ] : i promise to smack jamie's neck again when i see him [ baby mama ❤️ ] : lmao, you ain't gotta do that, baby [ genie ] : are you just going to keep avoiding him forever? [ baby mama ❤️ ] : idk, genie. i'm not ready to talk to him yet. [ genie ] : i think you should hear him out, mani. he's really sorry [ baby mama ❤️ ] : 🙄 that's the problem. he's always fuckin sorry. it's sloane today, but next week, it'll be some other shit. [ genie ] : but you love him. you haven't loved anyone the way that you love him. i think you should at least hear him out [ baby mama ❤️ ] : i can't make no promises, genie 🙅🏾‍♀️ [ genie ] : okay, okay. i guess i'll take it. there is something else i have to tell you tho...it's about christian and me. [ baby mama ❤️  ] : what? i promise those pics ain't mean shit. i just wanted to make jameson jealous. [ genie ] : i know, i just want you to be careful with him .the reason why i stopped talking to him is because he slept with sloane. [ baby mama ❤️ ] : wtf??? 😡 you lyin! [ genie ] : i wish i was. i confronted sloane and she said he didn't even want me anyways...he liked someone else. i'm starting to think it's you he wanted. [ baby mama ❤️ ] : fuck, i'm so sorry genie. that nigga wouldn't even got a chance to breathe my air if i knew that shit. he's blocked now! and if i catch that bitch sloane in the street, i'm whooping her ass. i promise you that. idgaf bout no fame shit. [ baby mama ❤️  ] : are you okay now? [ genie ] : yeah, it's in the past. i got a new man now. [ baby mama ❤️  ] : ....new man?

Imani stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the strap of her dress, her gaze drifting the length of her gown. Being in front of crowds didn't phase her but she was going to a charity event -- a Christmas day gala. After spending the morning with visiting friends and family, she felt a sense of calm. He didn't stand in the forefront of her mind on Christmas Day. But the second she counted him out of her system, he course he did something to show her that he was still embedded in her skin.

As she descended the stairs to show off her dress to the assembled relatives, Imani rounded the corner with a bright grin. "And I look damn good!" There he stood among her cousins and aunt -- her father glaring from a corner. He looked handsome, quietly composed. He acted like he was supposed to be there. "What are you doing here?" she asked him, ignoring the curious looks of her family members.

She hadn’t expected him to show up tonight. Not after everything that had happened between them. But when he’d agreed weeks ago to escort her to the gala, she had assumed it was just a polite gesture— he was doing his best to get back in her good book. She hadn’t expected him to actually follow through.

And yet, here he was in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, standing with his hands in his pockets, leaning against her kitchen counter.

"We made plans," he replied, his voice warm, but with an edge of determination. “I wanted to keep them.”

She hesitated, eyes flicking over him, then around the room to everyone else. It wasn't as if they weren't aware of what was going on. They all saw the gossip, heard the news. But still -- she felt vulnerable letting them all have a front row seat to a fight with him. "Hmph. They definitely weren't still on." She hadn’t thought about what this night would actually feel like. It had been easy to imagine herself attending the gala without him—easy to picture her life moving forward without the constant ache of their broken relationship. But now that he was standing in front of her, it was harder to push him away.

"They aren't?" He asked with a deceptively innocent tilt to his head. "I didn't get that message from you. I'm sorry."

He was practically bating her into a reply. Imani glared at him, choosing to ignore his presence. She didn't respond, didn't say anything. She continued to fawn over her family, acting like Jameson wasn't there at all. They took pictures together, she tasted her aunty's dressing, and she kissed her parents goodbye before her team between to help her get into her driver's waiting car.

Jameson didn't complain, didn't beg for her attention. He stood silent and eventually followed her out of the house, waving goodbye to the family members that did engage with him.

She sighed, looking away from him. The thought of spending the evening with him, surrounded by people who would notice their tension, made her stomach churn. But something in her wouldn't let him win. They couldn't see her fluster or sweat when it came to him She had to admit, part of her wanted to go. Part of her wanted to see if this night could somehow undo all the hurt they’d caused each other.

“Mani,” he said, once he got into the car, his voice low and insistent. “We don’t have to pretend everything’s fine. But we can still do this. For one night. Let’s just...take things as they are.”

She met his gaze then, and for a moment, the weight of everything between them seemed to disappear. It was just him. Just her. And the night ahead of them.

“Fine,” she said, crisply. “But I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for me.”

He smiled and she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Relief? Grief? It was something she couldn't identify. Every time he looked at her, it was as if he was asking for something. Whatever it was -- Imani didn't know if she had it in herself to give.

Sloane adjusted the strap of her Brandon Maxwell gown, a trembling hand brushing against her hair as she peered at her reflection in the tinted window of the car. Pulling herself together after Jameson left her alone in her apartment had been difficult. Christian had been a frantic last resort. He had shown up when she didn’t truly expect him to. She spent days in a daze, trying to truly understand what had gone wrong. The instinct to say something, to lash out was so strong that it felt suffocating. She’d been doomscrolling on Instagram and saw a grainy image of – was that Jameson?

It had been him. An image, taken from the account of one of Imani’s family members and posted directly to This Just In’s account. Seeing they were together had given Sloane some kind of strength. How dare they be happy when she was struggling? Her heels clicked against the pavement as she left the car and made her way towards the gala without an invitation. Sloane had a currency that mattered more than paper: Her name.

Heads turned as she passed, her presence commanding attention. But she wasn’t there to charm or distract – she was there to destroy. She didn’t even care what Imani would say or do to her. Just as long as Jameson’s gaze met her own again. Even if he was looking at her like he hated her – at least he was looking at her.

With a laugh and a promise to donate three times the amount as anyone else, she was allowed to enter. She saw him almost immediately. Imani wasn’t far but they weren’t wrapped up in each other. They weren’t laughing at her pain. They looked…miserable. It should have made her happy but Sloane simply stared, wondering what was happening between them. Imani didn’t meet Jameson’s gaze, Jameson kept tugging on his suit like he was uncomfortable. What was going on?

“Sloane.”

She turned sharply, her eyes narrowing as she met Christian’s gaze. He was impeccably dressed, as always, but there was a sadness in his expression that she didn’t expect.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed at him, somewhat ashamed that he had seen her cry a few days before and now he was looking at her with pity. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me,” Christian said firmly, stepping closer. “You’re spiraling, and you’re about to make a fool of yourself—and everyone else in the process.”

Sloane scoffed, frowning as she moved away from him. “You don’t get to lecture me, Christian. You’re just as complicit in this mess as I am.”

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted, his voice low and steady. “I’m stuck in this shit because I wanted somebody so bad that I lost myself trying to get her. Look at her. Hell, look at him. Just look!”

Sloane reluctantly looked across the room. Jameson was gazing out at the crowd, his eyes seeing but he didn’t seem to be registering anybody around. Imani was looking at him. Her gaze was soft. Almost sad. She loved him. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, Sloane could see it.

“They’re in their little world. We will never be able to get in because all they care about is each other.” Christian told her roughly, the reality making her sad. “I may not be able to judge you right now but I’m not the one standing here, ready to burn everything to the ground because I didn’t get my way.”

Her eyes flashed with anger and she jerked away from him. “You think this is about me? This is about him. Jameson thinks he can walk away from me like I’m nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” Christian said, his tone softening. “You did. And then you didn’t. That’s your own fault.” She flinched, recoiling as if he had hit her by being so casually cruel. It was a simple statement. One that had been true. Sloane hesitated, her lip trembling slightly. “But he…deserves it,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “He deserves to know what it feels like to be humiliated.”

Christian stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the couple. “And what about you? Is that what you deserve? Don’t you think you’ve been through enough?”

Sloane’s lips parted, shoulders slumping as his words sank in. She began to blink quickly, trying to rid her eyes of tears. “What am I supposed to do now? Just let them win?”

He glanced over his shoulder, peering at Imani and Jameson. Whatever he’d been about to say, he chose not to. Instead, he pressed his hand to her elbow and began to walk her toward the exit. Sloane was too overwhelmed to do much of anything but let him. “Nobody is winning, Sloane. All of us are fucking losers in this shit. It’s time we both stop chasing a dream.”

Genie looped her arm through EJ’s as they entered the grand ballroom. Her Jacquemeus Pilou boots work perfectly as accessories. Her self-designed black velvet mini dress left a shoulder bare and very little to the imagination. For once, she felt good about everything. She cuddled close to EJ, knowing they were going to have much to explain to their best friends – but she was okay with that. She was ready. Genie adjusted the hem of her dress and scanned the room, already aware of the tension crackling in the air.

“Imani’s here,” she murmured, spotting her friend near the edge of the dance floor. She was standing stiffly next to Jameson, who leaned in to say something. Imani turned her head sharply, her expression a mix of defiance and unease.

EJ followed Genie’s gaze, his brow furrowing. “They don’t look like two people enjoying a gala together.”

“They don’t,” Genie agreed, her lips pressing into a thin line. She sighed, glancing up at EJ. “Imani doesn’t need this kind of stress right now.”

“You think Jameson brought her to stress her out?” EJ asked. “He’s obsessed with that girl. He’s probably trying to fix it.”

Genie hesitated, her eyes flicking back to the couple. Jameson’s posture was slightly hunched, as if he was trying to close the gap between them, but Imani’s arms were crossed, her body angled away.

“Whatever he’s doing, it’s not working.” she said softly, sighing. 

Before EJ could respond, movement near the entrance caught Genie’s attention. Her chest tightened as she spotted Sloane descending the stairs, her sharp gaze zeroed in on Jameson and Imani.

“Oh, God,” Genie huffed, annoyed with the fact that she was one foot into the gala and her night was looking to be ruined.

“What?” EJ turned, following her gaze. “Ain’t this bout a bitch.”

Sloane’s stride was purposeful, her dress clinging to her like armor. There was something wild in her expression, a barely restrained chaos that Genie had seen before—usually right before Sloane did something destructive.

“We need to stop her,” Genie said. “No. We don’t.” “Baby–” “No. That’s their shit, Genie. We said we’re out.”

It was like a car wreck. Genie couldn’t force herself to look away. Before Sloane could reach Imani and Jameson, Christian arrived. The two of them watched him step in front of Sloane, his hand on her arm as he spoke quickly. Sloane shook her head, her gestures animated, her voice too low to hear over the music. Christian’s grip tightened, and for a moment, it looked like she might shove him away.

Genie held her breath.

Sloane wavered, her shoulders slumping slightly. Christian leaned in, his tone firm but not unkind, and whatever he said seemed to take the fight out of her. With a sharp turn, she stalked back up the stairs and disappeared into the night.

Genie exhaled, relief washing over her. The tension between she and EJ were about other people and Genie would be damned if she let her night end on a bad note because her friends – ex and present – couldn’t get it together. “Okay. Fuck it. Fuck this party. I’m sorry. Take me home.”

The air inside EJ’s home was warm and quiet, a stark contrast to the loud chaos of the gala. Genie slipped off her heels and sank onto the plush couch, her head falling back against the cushions.

“Tonight was... a lot,” she said, closing her eyes.

“Yeah,” EJ agreed, loosening his tie. He sat down beside her, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch.

Genie turned her head to look at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You always know how to keep things steady, don’t you?”

“I try,” he said, his tone light.

She studied his face, the lines of his jaw, the way his eyes softened when they looked at her. She finally had that calm back. Before they let the world in, she had a little sliver of peace with EJ. He had been right. She cared far too much about other people and it was beginning to fuck with what she was trying to build with him.

Genie frowned somewhat, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand. “I’m sorry. I let everything get in my head again.”

EJ gave her a soft smile before leaning down to kiss her lips gently. “You can’t help it. That’s how you are. You love everybody and everything.”

“I just want them to be happy.” She whispered. “I know. But that’s not your job.” “It could be. Technically, I don’t have a job. I'm an heiress.” “Smart ass.” He murmured, kissing her again. “I can think of a job for you.” “Can you?”

His hand moved from the couch to her chin, fingertips gliding to press to her throat gently. Genie didn’t flinch, the action unfazed her. She trusted EJ implicity…and that turned him on.

“I can.” He knew she could see that things had changed. He’d only ever been between her legs to taste her, holding off on sex until they could have a conversation that he’d had several times before. Pulling his hand away, EJ rounded the couch and took a seat next to her. “I like sex, Genie. I like it a lot. And I like to control how I have sex.” 

EJ’s gaze met hers and he saw her eyes go wide. It took her less than a second to understand what he was saying. “Okay.” she murmured.

“Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

EJ spoke clearly and softly, his gaze tracking her movements.

“I’m not a virgin, EJ.” she told him with a laugh, “You want to tie me down? Spank me? I’m down. Whatever you want to do, I will do. Because I want you.”

“It can’t just be about me, Genie. We’re going to be together, we both have to like it.”

He seemed to be talking himself out of going further with her but the feel of her soft hand against his mouth stopped all conversation.

“I understand. We can take it slow. Teach me.” 

The words triggered something in EJ. He gave her a grin before nodding his own head. "Alright. Lemme teach you."

Despite the agreement that they'd let the night be what it was, the tension between them was thick and suffocating. The gala was in full swing, the lights from the building casting a warm glow over the crowd of well-dressed people. The party certainly didn't stop when they arrived but Jameson could detect a ripple of disbelief. They weren't supposed to be together. Even though they weren't holding hands, weren't kissing, or behaving anywhere near the way they normally would -- the two of them being together was going to cause a commotion.

Throughout the evening, they danced around the situation, polite and distant. They didn't even engage with each other much at all. He wanted to be there for her -- to not let her down once again but the more he stood beside her, the more he remembered just how fractured shit was. Every time he tried to engage her, she refused. It was like pulling teeth to exchange words.

He got more and more uncomfortable as the evening passed. He didn't know what to do with himself and Imani wasn'[t interested in making things easy for him.

But finally... she spoke to him.

About a fucking drink.

"I'm gonna go speak to my auntie real quick." she murmured. "you want a drink? I might go to the bar on my way back." 

"That's the first time you've talked to me like you don't hate me in two hours. And it's about a drink." he replied, not answering her question. Jameson reached up, gently pulling at the bowtie against his neck. Being on raw terms with Imani always made him uncomfortable but doing it in front of a crowd? It was even worse.

She chuckled lowly at his statement and he knew he was in for it. "What do we have to talk about, Jameson?” she said. "I think you've said enough. I heard enough. Don't make me regret asking."

Jameson tugged at his bowtie again, lifting his neck to undo the damn thing. he was beyond uncomfortable and keeping appearances wasn't important to him anymore. He didn't give a damn if people noticed they were standing feet apart and barely touching. "No, I don't want a fucking drink. I only came because I was tired of disappointing you. but I might as well have stayed at home for all you care." He pulled the silk from his neck, shoving it in his pocket as he unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt.

She clenched her jaw, folding her arms over her chest. “Yeah, maybe you should have stayed at home.” Well, this conversation was going horribly. 

“You really don’t think we have shit to talk about? I guess not, considering you’ve been ignoring my texts and calls.” Jameson asked her, amazed at her audacity. They hadn’t spoken since sloane’s party and that had been her decision. Once again, he was iced out and desperate to get back in. She gave him absolutely nothing until tonight. Everything else he found out from her Diary ep, and just the thought of the project agitated him even further. 

She sighed. Her annoyance began to show through her furrowed brows and crossed arms. She could no longer keep up with the facade either. “What the fuck do you want me to say to you? You said everything you needed to say. So, why we gotta keep talkin’ about the same shit?” she snapped. 

“Imani, you dropped a whole ep talking about how you felt about us before even picking up the phone to talk about those feelings with me, but we have nothing to talk about?” She looked around the gala, looking for any eyes on the two of them. Jameson didn’t give a fuck though. His reputation took a backseat to their relationship every time. 

“Why does it matter what I do? You made your choice and it wasn’t me. So nothing I do concerns you.”

Jameson turned to glare at imani, actually confused for the first time during their conversation. He didn't even need to play stupid or lie. “In what world, In what fucking reality, did I tell you that I chose her over you? I should have done differently that night but I would never say that shit to you.” He thought back to their argument and couldn’t figure out what the fuck was even happening here. He spent his entire week, bombarding her with calls and texts, but she was still focused on Sloane? 

Imani turned to glare at him. “You didn’t have to fuckin’ say it! It’s the fact that you didn’t say anything. That’s making a choice right there, Jameson.”

He sighed. “I texted and called you this whole week. I went and got fitted for a tux without you even telling me if you still wanted me to go to this gala. Then I showed up. All of that was for you.” he said, his voice strained. He stared at her. “I wouldn’t do that for anybody else.”

“Okay? You want a cookie?” imani scoffed. “None of that means anything to me, Jameson. You didn’t stick up for me at Sloane’s party. you chose her. So go be with her.” He watched her scan the crowd again, realizing that she kept her temper in check, because there were other people around. “Go get your girl.”

From her EP to her admitting his actions meant nothing, his feelings were hurt. Jameson didn’t fool himself into thinking that everything would be okay if he showed up tonight but he felt he was doing the right thing by being here. “You can’t tell me how I feel about you. You can’t tell me I love anybody more than I love you. You can’t tell me that I don’t think the world begins and ends with you. I don’t fucking feel right if I can’t talk to you. I do stupid shit like fly to Italy and bang on every room door just to fucking see you. But I’m so tired of trying to convince you that my sun does not rise if you aren't around...so I won’t anymore. I’m done. You’re right about one thing…I should have stayed my ass home tonight.”

it may have been a sliver of a second but her demeanor softened. it was like he triggered an alarm because her guard was right back up again. "Yeah, maybe it's best if you go then. Because you tellin' me how much you love me don't mean shit. If you really loved me in the way you say that you do, I wouldn't even have to question my position in your life.”

Jameson hated to leave her, he hated to continue the distance between them, but it was getting to be too much now. He could feel his fragile composure slipping even more. “I love you and I don't want to keep hurting you.” He leaned in briefly, kissing her cheek. “So I’ll see you when I see you, Imani.” He gave her one final look before walking away, slipping through the crowd easily as he made his way out.

Imani exhaled a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. contrary to what she said, She didn’t want Jameson to leave. Imani looked out at the crowd to see if he was still there. Her eyes focused on him and no one else as he moved through everyone. She wanted to tell him that she wanted to work things out. That she believed him but her feet didn’t move an inch. She just watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore. 

She sighed, standing to her feet. Imani went to go look for her aunt, Toni St. Cirie. she needed a distraction. Imani wasn’t going to cry, but if she thought about her conversation with Jameson for too long, she would lose it. 

Luckily for Imani, she didn’t get far in her heels when she felt a bump to her side. She looked to see the blonde woman standing beside her. “You need it. Drink.” Imani took the champagne without a second thought. She almost chugged it down until she remembered where she was at, so she settled on a sip. 

“Thank you. Can you sit with me for a while?” If Toni was here, she was more than likely working. She never attended galas just to mingle and bump shoulders with the wealthy. Imani didn’t want to take her away from her job for too long. She just needed someone to talk to. 

“Of course.” She answered softly. The two navigated the floor together.  Imani held onto her champagne glass tightly. the more people she saw, the less she wanted to be there. She wanted to go home. She was grateful when Toni found a spot away from everyone else. Toni pulled out a chair for Imani and took a seat next to her. The woman looked around before speaking. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She rolled her eyes, thinking back on her conversation with Jameson. She wanted nothing more than to forget it. “Auntie, it’s so stupid. I know you heard about that fight at that girl’s party,” she said, refusing to address Sloane by name anymore. “Well, I hadn’t talked to him this whole week because what do we have to talk about when you obviously made your choice? He was still calling and everything, but I ignored it all and dropped Diary. i just didn’t expect him to show up tonight.”

Toni quirked a brow as she explained their latest quarrel.

Imani sighed, "I know i should leave him alone. it’s just – hard.”

“Well then, it’s good that he left right?” Toni told Imani. she had never been Jameson’s biggest fan. Her aunt always advocated for her to leave him alone and focus on her career. She said a relationship like theirs would only lead to insanity.

Imani nodded slowly, “I–I guess so,” she said timidly. Now that they were alone, she forgot about her formalities and looking like she had everything together. She gulped down the rest of her champagne, feeling it tingle in the back of her throat. She needed to feel something other than anger and sorrow right now. The champagne would do.

Toni reached out and touched her knee. “Baby…” she said softly, shaking her head. “Anything worth doing is going to be difficult. You keep going in this circle with Jameson. You’re happy for a while and then you’re right back here. In this feeling. He shouldn’t get to have all this power over you. This should be the last time that you feel like this.”

She gazed at her aunt. Imani always took Toni’s advice regarding her career and everything else. She was terrible at listening to her when it came to Jameson. Yet, she nodded her head. “You’re…right. Nobody should be allowed to make me feel like this.”

“Damn right,” Toni confirmed with a smirk. she took her niece’s hands in her own, holding them close. “You just released an ep full of hits, Imani. That should be your focus. Not a man. But if you have to date someone, let me introduce you to a nice boy.”

She laughed for the first time tonight. “Depending on what the nice boy looks like, I might take you up on your offer.”

Toni smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’ll make sure he’s an elite-looking boy.”

“I trust your taste, auntie. All of your exes are fine as hell.” She couldn’t think of ever seeing Toni with an ugly man; she had good taste. The two of them continued their conversation about men, which eventually shifted to her career and different ideas she had for her Diary ep, and eventually, Imani wasn’t thinking about Jameson at all.

Genie might be the woman of his dreams.

She asked to be taught and he wasted no time doing just that. EJ figured they would take things slow. He would teach her how to please him. They’d get to sex another time. But as she lay across his bed, the dress had customized for herself hung with care in his closet, he knew he was going to fuck her.

She turned her head, taking his length down her throat once more. She was on her knees and stomach, leaning over the edge of the bed to get to him. EJ grunted in pleasure at the perfect feel of her wet mouth, a deep rumble that reverberated in his own chest. His dick throbbed in her mouth as her cheeks hollowed out. She kept her gaze on his face, hands clenched in the blanket as if she were waiting for instruction. 

“Pull back.” He told her roughly, pleased when she immediately knew it meant to keep only the head of him in her mouth. Pre-cum mixed with her saliva coated his dick and EJ gave her a wistful sigh of appreciation. She held him there in her mouth, those pretty hazel eyes just asking for more.

He seized the back of Genie's hair, pulling her forward onto his cock slowly. The further they went, the wider her eyes got but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t buck back. Didn’t tell him she couldn’t handle it. The action caused Genie to gag slightly which only turned him on more. He groaned and thrust his hips forward only to be met with her hand against his thigh.

EJ pulled back suddenly, leaving Genie gasping for air. "Not bad," he praised lightly, grinning wolfishly down at his lover as he reached around to stroke himself off lazily, watching Genie with hooded eyes. “Now I’m going to be nice and give you a choice. Don’t you think that’s nice of me?”

Genie opened her mouth to respond but then closed it and nodded. He had given her four rules when they started to play.

Be honest about your comfort level

Don’t speak unless given permission

Call him “Sir” or nothing at all.

No touching without permission.

EJ grinned, proud that she had remembered a rule. "Good girl. Very good girl." he praised before leaning down to kiss Genie gently on the lips. They were full and wet from the attention she had given his dick. He was even more proud of her. "So here's your choice: do you want me to fuck you or do you–”

“Fuck me!” Genie blurted out, her eyes going wide as if she couldn’t believe she’d said it. They both went quiet before EJ burst out in laughter. Genie blushed but she didn’t seem dismayed at the turn of things.

"I wasn’t done talking," EJ told her with a quirked brow. “I’m sorry, Sir.” She said softly, her fingers pulling at the blankets in anticipation.

He brushed his thumb against her mouth, liking the way she opened her lips as if begging him to press the digit inside. He gave in to her, pushing his thumb in. Genie brushed her tongue against it, sucking just as eagerly as she did when his dick was in her mouth.

It was enough to make him feel less guilty about giving in. He was fucking her because she asked…but also because he wanted her so bad that he could feel the pre-cum dripping from his dick.

"You picked what we do. I decide how we do it." EJ told her decisively. “Turn around.” 

She was already on her knees but she understood exactly what he meant. Genie scrambled to turn her back to him, stretching her hands across the bed. The anticipation was a fucking killer. He watched her tremble, glancing over her shoulder every two seconds as if he was going to change his mind. EJ pressed his fingers between her legs, gathering her slick onto his fingers. She did her best not to make a sound but EJ knew she’d be unable to resist. They were new to all of this. He was going to go easy on her.

“Let me hear it, sweetness.” He encouraged her, noticing how her shoulders sagged in relief when she got permission. Genie let out a soft moan as he climbed onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress as he pressed himself against her. He drew his dick up and down her folds, teasing them both. EJ leaned over her back, peppering kisses along her spine as he finally grasped her hips in his hands.

EJ felt her brace for the inevitable thrust so he moved slowly. Inch by inch, he introduced her to her dick and it made her clench and squirm more than she would have if he just pinned her down and fucked her. Genie arched her back in pleasure, panting softly. She squeezed around him and he just knew it was going to be over if he didn’t do something.

"Hold it," EJ whispered, leaning down to press his lips to her ear, “I want to take my time with you.” He kissed and nipped at her earlobe. Genie shuddered at the sensation and nodded, eagerly spread her legs wider, giving him better access. She sank further against the bed, her palms turned down to grip the comforter.

Ej chuckled darkly and trailed his lips down to Genie's neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin there. Meanwhile, one hand reached between her legs to tease her already wet clit. Genie moaned and arched into his touch, craving more. “Sir, I–”

But he ignored her.

EJ continued to tease and torment her. Genie arched back, twisting her hips out in pleasure as he began to move them in a slow, torturous rhythm. She mumbled words he couldn't quite comprehend but he understood how her body twisted and turned. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly. EJ's other hand traveled up to fondle one of her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipple between his fingers as his hips kept her pinned beneath him.

The combination of sensations had Genie writhing beneath Ej's touch, begging for release. But EJ seemed determined to push her closer and closer to the edge without letting her fall over.

"P-Please," Genie moaned desperately, needing more friction against her sensitive clit.

"Please what?" "Please, sir!" "No. Not yet."

Trapped underneath EJ, Genie couldn't do anything but hold on for dear life. His hips picked up speed, the rhythm he'd spent what felt like forever setting had changed. He had changed. "Open that pussy up for me." He grunted, the rough and vulgar words were so different from anything he'd ever uttered to her that Genie looked back over her shoulder -- almost checking to see if this was the same man who'd been slowly seducing her for months.

Their gaze met and EJ tilted his head, wordlessly asking if she liked it. She gave him a little smile, permission to continue on. And so he did.

"I said...open." His hand pulled back from her breast and slapped her thigh. Genie spread her legs wide again, falling back against the bed. Whatever he had done had made it easier for him to dig into her and she was feeling shit anew. "That's what I'm talking about." EJ grunted, lifting a leg to plant his foot against the bed.

He pounded into Genie from behind, picking up speed. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through his body and he couldn't control the moans that escaped his lips. He had nothing on Genie. She cooed and oohed, gushed over him and burrowed her face in the sheets -- almost as if she were embarrassed of the noises he was bringing from her body. Her throat, her pussy, her thighs. They were all loud as fuck, echoing throughout his bedroom.

EJ couldn't think straight, all he could focus on was the intense pleasure coursing through his body with each movement of his hips. Her submissiveness brought it out of him. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge with every passing second and knew that neither of them wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.

"Sir!," she cried out, her voice strained as she curled up and took every thrust. "May I cum? Oh please let me. Please. I was a good girl." She begged him and that sent him damn near over the edge. He looked down at the girl of his dreams -- gripping his sheets, biting her lips, brows furrowed and dripping with sweat. He would give her anything in the fucking world. An orgasm was nothing.

"Go ahead. Cum for me," Ej grunted out, biting down on the sensitive skin of Genie's neck. It sent her over the edge. She spasmed under him, whimpering and grunting as he keep going. She squeezed at him so tightly that stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. "Jesus, fuck..." he whispered as he came hard, white heat igniting every nerve in his body.

They collapsed onto the bed together, panting heavily and still connected

You said you were done. He said he was done let it go. She told herself several times throughout the night. She had drank and donated...and did her best not to cry over the fact that she felt so very alone. She mingled some but her mind was still on him.

It didn't matter what she told Toni. Her heart wanted Jameson. She didn't know if she even be listening to the damn thing but it beat like crazy when she thought of him or saw him. He owned her in a way that made her damn near crazy. How could she let him walk away without seriously considering she'd never see him again?

She just couldn't take it anymore. She unblocked him and sent a text message. One that he didn't answer. Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for a response. When it didn't come, she didn't get angry -- she decided she was going to have her way. They were going to figure this shit out. Imani pulled her phone from her clutch, swaying as she dialed the number. Being tipsy helped her put her pride aside.

It rang twice...and then he answered. "Hello?"

She could tell he was hesitant. Hell, she was terrified of what was going to come of it but they needed to do it. They had to get it out. "Come back and get me." She told him softly.

"I don't want to fight anymore, Mani." "We're not fighting. We're talking." "All we seem to do is fight." "And miss each other. Don't we miss me?" "...Yes." "Then get your ass up. Come get me, Daddy. Let's figure it out."

He hesitated for only a minute but then Imani heard him sigh and the sound of keys. "I'm on my way."

[stupendousfoxthing]

“If you're a parent of one of the members, allowing your business to become a shrine to a ship is weird and problematic. He is absolutely responsible for what gets posted on site and on official social media.”

I think you are an absolute piece of shit for leaving a comment like this about Jimin’s dad. Why do you taekookers never bother to get your facts straight? “Allowing your business to become shrine to a ship”? Do you think Jimin’s dad spends his time monitoring ships? He allows fans to send gifts and letters to his son and other BTS members not a ship shrine. There are photos and art of Jimin and other members as well as the whole BTS and but you cherry pick just to have a reason to drag him. Jimin and Jungkook are both from Busan where his his Cafe is so it makes sense that fans of Jimin and Jungkook leave gifts there.

“He is responsible for what gets posted on official social media”? What inappropriate thing did he ever post on his social media? Your breed literally misconstrued something, lied about it and went insulting him and you sit here trying to say he is responsible for what gets posted on socmed? Where was this fake activism when Taehyung reposted from an anti of Jimin? I didn’t see you coming out with pitchforks and knives calling him weird and problematic for not checking the account he was reposting from which is something artists are supposed to do. You sit here talking shit about a father supporting and celebrating his son and his friends but I haven’t seen you call out a restaurant literally selling merch of Taekook. That is not weird and problematic. You honestly think that Jimin’s dad is sitting there thinking about ships? Lol

I don’t like to go here but you are too old for shit like this. Shipping has fried your brain so much that you sit on social media arguing about non existent relationships with others like you instead of focusing on filling whatever voids you have in your real lives which causes you to latch onto nonexistent romances to feel some form of happiness or love in your life. What you need is a therapist not sitting on the internet hating on people who did nothing to you. Act your damn age.

So you think that allowing shippers to make your business a shrine to a ship (because that's what the neighbors believe maybe tell them to stop bragging about it if you think they're just setting him up) is not weird and/or problematic, and that he isn't responsible for what gets posted on site or on official (you left that part out) social media? Because I disagree with that. I think what I said is the bare minimum of common sense and I won't back down on that. Now, you're free to think I'm just a piece of shit like I'm free to think certain things are inappropriate. I don’t like to go here but you are too old for shit like this. Act your damn age.

Now that's funny given this discussion. But if I say something like this, I'm the bad guy?

The rest of your ask is just "gotcha" attempts, like you know I'm right when you're scrambling to find something equally or more problematic in your view that you can project onto me but you fail miserably.

[sourisking]

some people just don't give a shit about discourse, some dont have the mental energy to, and you know, you can't have a fucking opinion on everything thats happening in the world

I have low energy as well. Doesn’t mean I don’t have opinions on the shit I’m educated on. If you actually refuse to have an opinion on something you actually know about you fucking suck. It’s not hard to have the opinion that kids can’t consent or that genocide is bad or even people shouldn’t be hurt for their gender.

I’m not asking people to give input I’m asking them to give a shit. You don’t have to be involved in discourse to have an opinion, you moron.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[butch-reidentified]

are you fr gonna restart this discourse on my birthday while making COMPLETELY incorrect assumptions? I've always respected you but you are jumping to entirely misinformed conclusions that I have repeatedly seemingly endlessly explained why they're utterly incorrect 6 weeks ago when discourse was going on. as I literally almost word for word said in the op you're replying to: I'm not fucking talking about religion or faith or belief/believing in an invisible fucking narrative or any specific imagined/mythical concept whatsoever (how much clearer can i possibly make this??!). stop.

I didn't say "we don't know yet maybe xyz123" bc as i said 500 fucking times last month: THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. it is NOT at all "the same argument."

stop projecting organized religion onto any remote concept that some people label spirituality. it's fucked. (esp given many of us have extensive trauma w actual religion too - which in my case I've shared on here in detail many times over the years.)

fact: there is so much of the natural world we don't understand yet

many forms of women's spirituality is just... celebrating how cool that is. not believing in any fictional narrative. just celebrating nature and how much we have yet to understand.

that's why I take issue with the "it's just as fictional as Christianity etc" narrative. some forms, sure, but not any I'd ever be interested in.

it's just ignorance. your idea of witchcraft vs what I'm actually talking about. but you aren't taking the time to ask or listen. there's literally nothing "unscientific" about what I personally practice. it's just about my relationship to the scientific unknown.

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

[xomakara]

Seduced By the Bad Boy

SUMMARY |  Your so-called 'Bad Boy' best friend Wooyoung catches you looking at adult toys after taking a nap beside you.

PAIRINGS |  Wooyoung x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  BestFriend!Wooyoung, BestFriend!Reader, chubby!Reader, college au, non-idol au, smut, friends to lovers. bad boy trope

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, oral sex (f. receiving/m. giving), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, creampies

LENGTH |  5,280 words

TAGLIST | @jjoongstar

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  It's finally finished. Thank god. Thank you @rems-writing for suggesting a bratty bad boy trope and thank you to these lovely folks @shadowkoo @beomcoups @inkchwe @kwanisms for the sprinting sessions. I would never have finished this without that lol.

I hope you all like it. Lots of love 💚

"Y/N!" Wooyoung called out as he barged into your apartment, throwing his bag on the ground. "Where are you!?"

You let out a frustrated sigh as you looked away from your phone to find Wooyoung knocking on your door before barging into your room and sitting next to you on your bed. You held back an eye roll but smirked, putting your phone down.

"What's the point of knocking on the door if you don't even give me a chance to respond?" You chuckled as he crawled next to you and collapsed against the pillow with a huff. Wooyoung groaned while laughing and leaned over to push at your knee playfully. 

"I wouldn't have to barge in if you responded faster, but you're slow and I got shit to do," he mumbled, grabbing the extra pillow and tucking it under his chin while holding his head up. You glanced over to find his eyes were already set on you, but that's nothing new. The two of you have a very, odd, relationship and have no shame.

"And by shit to do, you mean school and fucking?" You rolled your eyes when Wooyoung scoffed, amused and grabbed a loose piece of lint and threw it at him. "Speaking of, how's that thing between you and that girl, Jinhee?"

"Don't tell me you're actually interested in what's happening to me and a girl," Wooyoung made a gross face, which you also had an identical one. You scrunched up your nose and shook your head and then he sat back, eyes narrowed and pursed lips as if he were thinking very hard. "Is Y/N into women now? Does she want a three—"

"Fuck off, Woo," you hissed, cutting him off with a glare. Wooyoung only laughed while placing his hand on his heart and pulling out his puppy eyes. "We both know you only come over when you want to cuddle or rant or get tips on fucking." 

You waved your hands towards yourself, scoffing when he puckered his lips out for attention. You gently pushed him back by his forehead, but it did little to his antics as he was leaning in the opposite direction and fell flat against the pillows. You turned around to see his chest moving rapidly up and down as a breathy, high-pitched laugh rang in his voice, making you smirk.

When you first met Wooyoung back in high school, you were instantly friends as your personalities were alike. Well, you had more common sense than him. It was only later in the years did you finally understand what Wooyoung was and what his habits were about. He categorizes everyone in his life into two groups: women he's involved with, and you. The relationship between you and Wooyoung confuses you even to this day, because there is literally no romantic feelings. And that's the part that's confusing about your relationship, because he openly flaunts how much he loves to make out with random girls at parties, but yet... you get the affection that the rest of the girls wanted to receive, minus the sex.

There was that one girl who lasted the longest, which is roughly like a few months. Everyone thought it was love and it made sense why it lasted, because it seemed like it. The couple's relationship seemed to blossom into a romance, with flirting and soft kisses exchanged whenever they were near each other. Wooyoung, in particular, seemed to soften and become calmer. But then the jealousy came, and it was all downhill from there.

Nowadays, it was rare that there was someone that caught his eyes long enough, and when it did, the girls lasted no longer than three to four weeks. The girls get possessive over him and when they found out that he was best friends with you, they suddenly despised you. Wooyoung is typically unbothered by this, as you don't interfere in his personal life, and it doesn't usually bother you either. But on rare occasions, you'd get that sad call where Wooyoung would mumble over the phone about missing you, even though he saw you the day before, and how he was sorry. Those occasions were when you'd comfort him from a distance, too afraid to cross the invisible line that both of you were the only one's who knew were there. So as much as you hated the flaunting and the girls who wanted your head on a pike, you played nice and continued with the façade.

"Don't touch me," you muttered as you squished your side against the wall, which was pretty useless because soon Wooyoung's torso was plopped over you with his fingers wiggling between you and the wall.

"Hey, this is the best way to cuddle. Let me feel you," Wooyoung whined while pressing his cheek onto yours and held onto you tighter. "Mhmm, I feel so complete now. "

"What am I? Your teddy bear or something?" You mumbled, still pushing him away from you. He held tight before shuffling to wrap his arm around your stomach and chest and nuzzled into your shoulder.

"Yeah, you're my cuddly Y/N," Wooyoung mumbled, "and we're going to be together forever."  

"Good god, you sound like a psychopathic weirdo right now," you gave up on shoving Wooyoung off and let him take up most of the room and leaned your head on him with a defeated sigh. You slapped his hand away when he was squeezing your soft body. "Is that why you come over? To squeeze my fat?"

"How many times do I have to say you're not fat? You have the perfect amount of cushion, especially here..." You couldn't see, but you felt the smile on Wooyoung's mouth and immediately shivered when you felt his finger and thumb squeeze the flabby fat on the side of your waist. You whipped around to smack his hands away, his high pitched laughter ringing in your ears when you turned. "C'mon, I was complimenting you! How would I live without my stress toy? I have needs and you help fulfill them."

"Get the fuck out of my apartment, Jung Wooyoung," you slapped his hands and hid your waist from his reaching hands. He was pouting and rubbing his hands. "That's what you get."

"Fine, I'm done squeezing the hell out of you," Wooyoung laughed, making a few breathy noises and nodded along before smashing himself into you again. He wrapped his arms around you before falling back onto the bed with a groan. His limbs were sprawled around you and he kept shifting until he could hug you tightly.

You rolled your eyes as you gently heard his soft snoring for a few minutes. You decided to browse online and maybe do some online shopping, especially now that there were sales and discounts for the season. You didn't think much about browsing your favorite adult toys, so you thought why not? You haven't had much action lately and would rather not rely on your imagination and your hands. It'd been quite a while since you had something to spice up your alone time and with the adult money you're saving by living by yourself, you can buy things like these for yourself.

A few clicks into browsing around, the feeling of someone else being with you while shopping online for adult sex toys is a little uncomfortable and awkward, not to mention a bit embarrassing. You glanced next to you, hoping that Wooyoung was sleeping deeply enough so he can't see what's currently happening on the screen. Thankfully he was drooling on his pillow with an obnoxious open mouth snore that signaled that he was knocked out. You let out a soft sigh before returning your attention to the screen and continued browsing around the pages of the familiar site. You did come across the item you were interested in and the 25% off and the 50% off discount did sound appealing to your eyes. Not that your items cost a lot of money, but why not buy it for cheaper? You've been meaning to try out some edgier stuff that'll add a little bit more intensity when you were having 'me time'.

Wooyoung moaned lightly from his slumber before nudging his head to fit in your hair better. You turned your head around and found his cheek now pushing against your temple as you could literally hear him breathing and how his chest vibrated with each exhale. Wooyoung's presence was oddly soothing, you will admit, but there were times where he really annoyed you and was a complete menace to you. However, at times like this where your body fits right with him, his warmth providing a bit of relaxation after the exhausting days, it felt nice, as odd as it sounds, having Wooyoung snuggle in your bed with you.

Your gaze followed a strand of his hair that was sticking to his forehead and you gently brushed it back as well, smiling fondly. Wooyoung grunted a bit in his sleep and a pout formed on his face. The strands you tried to brush away were falling over his eyebrows and again, so you took hold of another. His hair was surprisingly soft when it wasn't stiff with his gel and hair spray. Wooyoung hates when you ruin his 'modern' look so that's why he keeps it styled up and almost never lets his hair down, not even when he sleeps over. So you couldn't resist but comb back his hair once more, making his hair even more disheveled. You patted down the edges a little bit before deciding it's enough and went back to browsing on your phone.

"Mmm," you hummed softly, a smile slowly etched on your face as you eyed the details and prices of your ideal wand vibrator. The first impression didn't look too bad and the prices were even better; 70% off for a limited time. You could grab yourself a new set of lingerie for yourself as a celebration for moving into a new apartment and you haven't indulged yourself in something new and cute in a while, and maybe for some future potential dates.

The problem right now is whether or not you want the red one with the wider head, which will probably get the job done a bit faster...

"Why are you looking at sex toys?" A sleepy mumble whispered in your ear, startling the hell out of you when you found Wooyoung reading over your shoulder. You quickly closed your phone and threw it somewhere behind you. Wooyoung chuckled while dropping his weight on top of you with his whole body and pinned your body down, trapping your arm underneath.

"So I don't end up in your bed, you fucking weirdo," you shoved him with a grumble and felt Wooyoung's face erupt in soft, airy laughs right by your head.

"You know you can just use me," Wooyoung muttered, his voice dropping an octave lower with a raspy tone that came from his post nap state. "I'm sure I'll feel better than a dildo."

You glared at Wooyoung for even bringing it up and of course Wooyoung saw and threw on his smirk. His nose was brushing against the side of your jaw line and he was constantly staring down at the website. You shifted to scoot away from him, not liking the fact that you're talking about him dicking you down like that with no remorse.

"At least with a dildo, I don't have to worry about catching feelings," you rolled your eyes.

"What if I wanted you to catch feelings?" Wooyoung softly asked. The tone of his voice made you bite the inside of your cheek and kept you frozen under him. "What if I wanted to be your good boy and not a bad one for once, just for you? What would you have to say then, huh?" 

He shuffled closer, his hot breath ghosted over the soft flesh of your lips and down to your neck. The skin to skin contact was intoxicating, especially when his soft hand was running down your waist. You glanced over to see his expression and noticed that he was so close to your face. 

Too close.

"Are you serious? Are you joking? What game are you playing, Jung Wooyoung?" You glared at him and placed your hand on his shoulders, ready to push him if he tried something.

"Can I not be serious for once?" Wooyoung whispers, his deep brown eyes searched your face and you could feel him analyzing every single feature on your face. Your hand was limp and stayed frozen on his shoulder, not knowing if it wanted to pull him closer or push him far away. His fingers were lightly tracing over the hem of your sweat pants, dipping to run circles over your bare hip, exposed where your shirt had ridden up. "Can't I change for you, the only person who seems to understand me? Can't I be your good boy? Because god knows, it's all I ever want to be." 

"What if this is another joke?" Your voice sounded more like a plea rather than a question. "There's no way that you would like a girl like me, all soft and chubby." You glanced down at your round stomach and thick thighs to find your chubbiness not too different from a soft cushion.

"You don't even see yourself the way that I do. How do I get that through your skull?" Wooyoung whispered, his hands cupping either side of your cheeks to force you to look at him, which made you involuntarily shiver. You gulped loudly when he pulled away with a serious, straight face. "Y/N, can't I just treat you like what a man should do with a woman that he likes and wants? Can't we go out and actually start something that can actually lead somewhere rather than this confusing friendship? Can you take the next step for us and see if there was something beyond platonic love with me?"

"You know being with me means that you'll have to stop your fuckboy ways, right? The constant fucking, the multiple women, the one-nighters... It means that the two of us would only have each other to love, and that's a big risk," you mumbled out with shaky lips and searched his expression. You swallowed thickly before moving your gaze to his plump, full lips. "Are you ready to give that all up?"

"Do you even realize how crazy I've been over you? How I've always followed you around like a little duckling, showering you with affection because I didn't know how else to handle my growing feelings? That even when I sleep with other people, I can never get you out of my mind and always think about what could have been?" Wooyoung's voice rose in a quiet rant as he took your hand and placed it on his neck, guiding it to where his pulse throbbed visibly. You watched your hands intently, seeing the slight bob of his Adam's apple before his fingers left yours, leaving your hand flat and steady on the warm skin.

You stared at his darkening, chocolate colored eyes that were lit with something that made your tummy twist. Your voice was small and barely audible when your other hand slipped up his shoulder and around his neck, grabbing onto the short, black hair at the base of his hairline."What about all the girls that are out there, waiting for a sliver of your attention and love?"

"Don't you know I'd do anything for you?" His breath was hot against the skin of your lips. 

"Yeah? Like what?" You leaned closer, the tip of your nose brushed over the tips of his. You shuddered in anticipation as you kept your eyes on his lips.

"I’d give everything up just for you. Do anything just to prove myself to you. Worship the fucking ground you walk on and put the moon and stars up for you because you fucking deserve everything I could possibly give. Because you're beautiful, no, magnificent," his head tilted closer, his lips were now mere inches apart. You could feel his lips ghosting over yours, sending soft, butterfly kisses. "I'd let you destroy me. Let you take every last bit of me because I'd happily surrender to you. So please, let me be a good boy for you and show you how much I've craved you."

You couldn't wait any longer. Gathering all your courage, you closed the distance between the two of you, capturing his lips with your own. Eyes fluttering shut, you reveled in the sensation of his soft, silky skin against yours. You released a guttural moan at the feeling, your fingers tugging Wooyoung down against you by the base of his scalp. One hand kept its firm grip in his hair as the other squeezed around his neck.

Your senses were invaded as Wooyoung turned into putty with a soft moan as he kissed you like there's no tomorrow. His body was fully pressed against yours, both knees on either side of your hips and elbows were digging into your plush mattress. His soft moaning sounds turned into groans when he suddenly tilted his head to the side to press closer into the kiss. One soft hand ran up to your face to gently caress the cheek, and you felt your insides turning to mush at the soft touch. There was a part of you that always wanted Wooyoung, but the idea of your friendship meant the risk wasn't worth it. But now...

Wooyoung rolled onto his back, dragging you up with him as he wrapped his arms around your middle, hugging you tight and making you straddle his lap. The sound of a whine filled the air when he stopped to rest his forehead against yours, a shaky chuckle reverberated in between your connected lips. You sat back slightly, your fingers grasping the hems of your oversized shirt and pulling it over your head. Your skin heated under his wandering eyes. You pressed your hips down against Wooyoung and grinned when a sharp gasp broke the silence in the air and his hands grabbed at your ass, pressing your clothed cunt hard against his groin.

You moved forward and gave soft kitten licks to the plushness of Wooyoung's lips. "You're really gonna be my good boy?"

"Will you have me?" His whisper sent another spark to your lower half and you pressed yourself closer with another roll of your hips, smiling at his choked off grunt. He nipped at the flesh of your lower lip and you opened your mouth to his awaiting, warm tongue.

"Can you even handle a chubby girl like me?" You sucked on the slick, wet tongue with a soft moan that melted into a chuckle when he took that moment to grab your breasts in his soft hands, cupping and fondling your perky nipples.

"Baby girl, there is no one that I would rather worship," he chuckled as his hands explored your skin and body, setting your insides and soul on fire as you returned each of his touches and affections. Wooyoung switched positions once again so you're flat on your back, his hands brushing against the hem of your sweatpants. "May I have the pleasure of worshiping your body? Lick every inch of your gorgeous, voluptuous, plush body until my name is all your pretty lips can remember? Please, may I be good for you?"

"Yes, you may," you nodded, watching the smirk stretch across his swollen lips as he dragged the remaining clothing down the length of your legs, throwing them somewhere over his shoulders before running his hands up your body.

And then Wooyoung ate.

Oh how he ate you up like a starved man.

With his wicked hands and sinful tongue, you're sure this is your hell and your heaven. The man has made you feel ways that you're pretty sure should be illegal. Wooyoung is currently below, his tongue drawing pretty patterns and kitten licks between the seam of your soaked core.

"Fuck, Wooyoung. It feels so good," you couldn't keep your praise at a reasonable level when Wooyoung started to pick up the pace of his licks. The fingers from your left hand were fisting into his long hair, holding him in between your thick thighs. "How do I taste?"

"Sweetest damn thing in this entire world," Wooyoung responds when he looks up at you. His brown orbs were turned dark with lust. His wet lips were swollen and shining with your sweet slick. His black, longer hair was now completely falling and framing his flushed face. "Are you going to cum for me, baby girl? Squeeze these delicious thighs around my face."

He dived back to continue feasting on your sweetness with a soft hum vibrating over your pussy lips. You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue diving between the lips. With one hand he spread your dripping lips further with his fingers, showing the soft nub and dove in. You gripped tighter into his hair and buckled your hips. You cried out his name with a curse when you felt the pad of his index finger starting to rub light circles onto your throbbing clit. It sent shockwaves through your lower tummy and made your muscles contract, your pussy spasming against the warmth.

It took only a few more strokes against your clit with his skilled tongue for you to fall apart. A scream caught in the back of your throat as your climax washed over you. Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, smothering the man in between your thighs.

You looked down and caught Wooyoung smiling when his index finger continued to massage tight, small circles, helping you ride your high. A burst of pride rose through your chest at the sight, and you're pretty sure you wanted to keep this sight for the rest of your life, and possibly for forever. You're hooked and you knew you had fallen even harder.

As soon as the waves had slowly subsided, you uncrossed your thighs and pulled at him to move up, causing him to give a small chuckle as he shuffled to sit in between your hips.

"Someone is eager for more," Wooyoung teased.

"Oh shut the hell up and get to kissing me before I change my mind," you sat up as he moved towards your lips. As he sealed his soft lips on top of yours again, you took the time to push up his shirt and pushed him back. Wooyoung smiled around the kiss and bit your lower lip before sitting back a bit, hands still resting around your waist. He smirked as he helped take off the material and once his chest was bare, you were back on each other.

You were slightly surprised when you suddenly found yourself with your back hitting the soft mattress underneath your body. "Get naked, Wooyoung. I can't be the only one here."

"Be patient, sweetheart," he hushed and your fingers quickly reached for his pants and dragged them down his thighs. He moved off of you as you continued to work the fabric off the curve of his ass, tossing the clothes somewhere behind him. 

"Condom?" He whispers once he's fully naked and settles on his knees between the meaty skin of your thighs. He brushes back his hair and takes your body in once more. Wooyoung rested a strong hand against your hip and began rubbing tight circles against the skin.

"Don't need one," you pulled his neck down, arms wrapping around his neck in a hug. "I'm on birth control. I'm ready for you. I want you. Now fuck me, Jung Wooyoung."

"Who am I to deny a pretty thing like you what you want?" Wooyoung scooted closer, his soft hand traveled lower to push your thighs further open. His dick is aligned, pushing through your slick folds, grazing the bundle of nerves on your slit.

"Fuck, Wooyoung. Why are you teasing me right now?" You whimpered when the tip brushed against your entrance before pulling back again."Please hurry the fuck up and just stick it in me."

"What was that, baby girl?" Wooyoung asked.

"Fuck. Just fuck me, please. I need you," you whispered. Wooyoung grabbed your face and guided you into a harsh, sloppy kiss, smothering and squishing his lips into yours. At the same time, he pushes in his hips and pulls you against him. His cock fills and stretches your hole and you gasped against his mouth, trying to breathe and find any other noise to make in your state of bliss. "Holy, fucking fuck."

Wooyoung smirked along your lips and thrust his hips forward until he's fully seated. You moaned at the feel of his cock buried into you. He fit like a puzzle piece, like he was meant to be there and there alone. 

He felt perfect.

"Feels so fucking good, baby girl," Wooyoung grunts as his head fell into the crook of your neck. "Do you want it to be gentle? Do you want it to be rough? You gotta speak up or else I don't know."

"Right now? I just want you. Just move," you threaded a hand through his black hair and gave his hair a tug, causing him to growl. Wooyoung moved slowly, making sure his dick rubbed along each spongy, wet and throbbing spot in your walls. "Oh fuck. Right there."

"Goddamn, baby girl," Wooyoung half grumbles, half groans, into your neck. "Tell me how you're feeling. Better than what a toy can do?"

"Fuck you," you let out a soft whimper, your eyes closed tightly. "Yes, okay. Fuck. You feel so much better than a shitty toy. You're perfect. Everything about you is. Fuck. That spot. Fucking god, that spot. Don't stop please, oh holy fucking shit."

"Yeah?" Wooyoung brought his thumb to run smooth circles over your clit again, pressing his hand firmly over your navel. "Let me hear you, Y/N. Tell me I'm your good boy. Say my fucking name. That's all I ask."

"You have no idea, how many times I have dreamt this, wishing that you would notice how fucking whipped I am for you." Wooyoung slowed down a bit, fucking slow, deep and hard into your tight and wet core. The build-up is slowly beginning to fill the pit of your tummy. "Fuck, look at the way I slide inside you, Y/N. My dick was made to fill you up. Look how perfectly you are sucking me in."

"Fuck," a curse ripped from your mouth, a drawn-out moan followed close behind as his cock repeatedly thrusted into you. "You feel so good, Wooyoung."

Your hand flies down and grasps on to his toned biceps, his body hovering above yours. Your fingers dig into the skin. 

He picks up his pace, his thighs tensing at the strength in his powerful hips as he drives into you, his breathing turning heavy as he kisses the top of your nose. "Yes, keep your thighs up. Your body is gorgeous and the noises are driving me crazy. I could just spend the entire damn day fucking you and drinking every single last drop of your moans and cries. Fuck. Shit. Yeah, squeeze around me baby, that's fucking amazing."

Wooyoung rolls onto his back with a moan, pulling you up onto his lap as the head of his length presses snuggly into that sweet spot that causes your toes to curl. You lean back, legs spread as his soft, muscular legs support your weight while you balance. Your body shuddered, legs shaking while his hands took the opportunity to grasp at the cheeks of your ass.

Your breath hitched at the new angle that hit different spots in you. "Holy shit, Wooyoung."

You rose and fell and moved in sync together. Wooyoung helps move your body as if you weigh nothing, moaning when the head rubs against the inner part of your cunt. You slammed your hips down, over and over. You threw your head back and squealed at the amazing feeling, squeezing around his length that's buried deep.

"Keep bouncing baby. Fucking bounce on my cock. Come on baby, don't stop." Wooyoung groaned from below you, his grip on your ass tightened. His hand roams from the plump skin of your ass down the curves of your back. "Come for me, Y/N. You're gonna make a mess all over my dick, aren't you? Make me feel like I'm the luckiest motherfucker to make you cum over and over and over. Better than a fucking toy that's for sure."

"Shit, Wooyoung," One hand clamped around his knee while the other grabbed at his arm that was still squeezing your ass. "Cum in me, Wooyoung. Please. Cum in me."

"Hell yes, I'm close too, sweetheart," Wooyoung was picking you back up and bringing you back down in time with his upward thrusts. "Ride my cock. Ride me like your toy. Ride me till you've reached the point where you don't know how you still live without me. Use me like your own goddamn dildo."

You whimpered at his words and threw yourself forward, leaning your body against the hot, broad expanse of his chest and wrapped your arms around his head. "You're going to be my personal toy? Use you whenever, wherever?"

"Yes, oh fuck," Wooyoung's voice rose and pitched higher in an octave. "Babe, I'm gonna-"

"Give it to me. Fucking give it to me please." You muttered.

"Fuck, I love you," Wooyoung slammed in and the two of you came. You buried your face into his neck as his orgasm racked both of your bodies. He shot his hot, sticky load inside you, his cock was twitching against the tight walls as his body was quivering, tensed and curled around yours.

He nuzzles your neck with a breathy smile. Your thighs were trembling and your insides were twitching, and it feels like it's neverending. You moaned his name as another wave passed through, your walls fluttering around his spent dick. Your body went slack as soon as the contractions passed and Wooyoung pulled out, helping you down against the pillows beside him. The two of you just lay there, taking heavy breaths and not really speaking, just trying to regain composure.

You turned your head to see him smile. "I love you too, Wooyoung. Always."

"So the next time you decide to buy some fancy ass dildo, come straight for my dick, babe. Because, hell, a toy can't replace this." He waved his hand along his body with a shit-eating smirk and you laughed, pushing his body lightly and hugging his side.

"Shut up, Wooyoung. Oh my fucking gosh," you couldn't help the laughter that bubbles inside your chest. He laughs beside you and turns on his side, moving in closer, tucking your face into his chest. "Brat."

"But you love this brat," Wooyoung jokes and the laugh gets louder. "Don't forget, Y/N. Anytime and anywhere."

"Silly man," you mumbled and looked up at him and smiled softly. "Well then, don't mind me if I take you up on that offer again."

"This offer doesn't expire,” Wooyoung sneaks a soft kiss, his fingers threading through the messiness of your hair.

And you can only chuckle, before going in for another kiss.

A bad boy. You fell in love with a bratty bad boy. And there was nothing wrong with that.

Because Wooyoung is the perfect type of brat for you.

In life, and especially between the sheets.

[verstappen-cult]

gonna take up on the request opening bc i love these lil blurbs you do with your moodboards! maybe "how they defend you online" esp charles and lando but if you feel like adding others its up to you !!

THE BOYS DEFENDING YOU FROM ONLINE HATE | F1 GRID

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

lando was streaming when you came home one day. once he heard the front door being closed and then your footsteps, he excused himself with his friends and viewers and went to greet you. when he came back, there were several texts from his friends letting him know of some not-so-friendly comments about you. suddenly, lando had something else to do and ended the whole thing. he did not tell you anything, lando simply waited until his next stream for what he wanted to do. it was very simple and definitely something lando would do; and staring right into the camera lando let the world know that if they don’t support his relationship, then he just doesn’t want their support at all. from then on, lando just blocked everyone who didn’t have anything good to say. you’re the most important person in his life, how can anyone hate you? and so, lando made a promise to himself: show the world the amazing girl you are.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

even way before you started dating charles, receiving hateful comments and messages was a common occurrence. of course your boyfriend knew about it, everyone could see what was happening just by choosing a random picture on your instagram and reading the replies. it was sad, awful. but you didn’t want charles to do anything, you stopped him a lot of times because you didn’t want to bring too much attention into the whole thing. charles loves you and that is all that matters to you. it was, well, okay… until things became a little to real, a little too much, and charles couldn’t sit back and do nothing. so with a little bit of help from his team, he managed to write a very good and long statement about the whole thing. there were mixed opinions but things quiet down a little. and you weren’t happy at first, but something as simple as seeing your comment section hate-free made you forgive him sooner.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar is a man of very few words and never engages in online drama or gossip. if and when he’s online, oscar just wants to see cute and funny videos. he’s a formula one driver and people should only be interested in that part of his life, but he knows that will never be the case. however, he’s still surprised to see various comments around twitter about you. they are not about how beautiful or intelligent you are or how happy you seem to make oscar with your pretty smile and sense of humor – not that they would know that. not that they deserve to know that, either. some part of him wants to reply to those people who definitely don’t know you, he’s angry, disgusted. and the rational part of him tells him to simply don’t say anything because they don’t deserve it. so, oscar just clicks to make a new tweet and begins with a simple phrase “you don’t know anything about me or my life…” and so on. maybe he sounded a little harsh, maybe things will get worse; he couldn’t care less, as long as you’re not mad with him, he can live with being the center of the drama. oscar will never let anyone disrespect you.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max doesn’t care what people think and have to say about him, that ship has sailed a long time ago. but he can’t ignore when people say mean things about you, he just can’t, so, he doesn’t. max replies to every single tweet and comment on both his and your instagram that he sees, he goes directly to the point and if he’s mean then, who cares? maybe it’s a little bit childish but he doesn’t care, max will not allow anyone to talk shit about his girl. and if he needs to make a video or do an interview or whatever he needs to do to make people understand that you are part of his life and forever will be, then he will be more than happy to do them. max is almost never online, so when all of this happens he makes sure to make time to be online, to post a picture of you on his instagram story, to post a photo of your vacation together on his feed, to say how much he loves you via twitter, to mention you when he has the chance during an interview. he loves making you blush and seeing you trying to hide your smile when you see all those things. max also loves pissing people off.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

alex tries to be friendly. when he sees someone say something not good about his girlfriend, he doesn’t hesitate to prove them wrong and defend you. he knows you’re more than capable of doing it and has seen you doing it before; he loves it. but there’s this something inside of him trying to break free and just let everyone know the funny, pretty, amazing, kind girl he’s lucky to call his girlfriend. so, alex lets it free and goes liking, retweeting and replying to every single comment about you and how shiny and nice your hair is, how you seem to make alex so happy and how he’s always smiling around you (he makes sure to let them know why is that), how lucky alex is to have you by his side, and so on and on and on until there’s nothing more for him, until he can’t think about the mean things people said, until you are laughing next to him and calling him obsessed and kissing him like your life depends on it.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

daniel chooses a catchy song and changes some of the lyrics, then sets his phone down and sits with a big smile and his guitar. when the video starts, he simply says “this is dedicated to all of the assholes thinking that is okay to hate on someone’s girlfriend just because.” and then he starts singing. there are a lot of bad words and cursing and long pauses looking directly into the camera without losing that big and pretty smile he has. daniel then uploads the video to all his platforms with a little paragraph about why bullying is bad and why you should mind your own business because he’s not that interesting anyway and it won’t make him break up with you because some trolls are practically begging him to. he ends up getting in trouble for not consulting with his team before doing what he did, something that has him going viral, so viral that people outside of formula one and people who don’t even who he is talk about it. exactly what he wanted.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

the moment mick has to hold you in his arms as you cry because you’d read something mean about you, it’s the exact moment he decides to do something about it. he doesn’t want to cause drama or make things worse, so, it takes him a little while and some long calls with his sister to know what to do. mick puts the poetry classes you two take a few months ago to good use and writes the most beautiful and romantic poem you and everyone would ever read. it is about you, about his love for you, about what you mean to him and everything he likes about you. he posts a little phrase to his instagram stories and sets a time and day for when it will be posted it. when the day cames and you get to read it, you end up crying again but for a whole different reason. it’s not that you didn’t know mick loved you but it’s the gesture, the time he spent doing it, the fact that he wanted to do it and wanted the whole world to read his love letter to you, something that will forever be there.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[leilohsstupidgaystuff]

You know what I would have loved in Days of Future Past? Hank snapping and yelling at Erik, about what Charles went through in the past 10 years.

Erik: You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?

Hank *putting on autopilot and storming out of the cockpit* You fucking asshole! So what if he did? What do you care? Shouldn't you be glad? Aren't you happy you don't have to put on your stupid helmet again? Shutting him out again? Breaking his heart even more? You made him already feel guilty about having his powers, do you really have to make him feel guilty about not having them? You have no right to talk about his legs like that. You shot him and then pulled out the bullet, I mean how little common sense do you have, to do such shit?

Charles: Hank, it's alright...

Hank: No. Nothing is alright. Don't you dare say that anything is alright, not after the last fucking ten years. *turning to Erik again* Do you have any idea of what you did? Not only put you on that stupid helmet and killed Shawn, which Charles felt by the way. -Oh you didn't know? Strange, and I thought you two were so damm good in talking about your feelings- Not only did you shot a bullet exactly at his spine and pulled it out again. No you had to take Raven with you. His only family left. The only nice person there was, in his fucked up childhood. You took her with you and left him alone, in pain and with the feeling that his powers were something wrong, the only mutation you shouln't be proud of. So yeah, excuse him for not only taking the opportunity of being able to walk again, but to shut his so damm hated power down. And don't even get me started on your fucked up relationship. Do you honestly think, we belived that you two were just really great friends? What do you think happens, when you break the heart of someone, who loved you so deeply, in such a cruel way? Not just someone, but a telepath, with a range of emotions we can't even grasp to understand. That they stay as cold as you? That they just keep going?So again; excuse him, excuse him for having emotions, for falling into a depression and for getting addicted to drugs and alcohol. Now would you do us all the favour of having a little bit of emotional intelligence or shutting the fuck up, asshole?

Logan: *grinning* I just rememberd why I like you.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

[rae-writes]

part-time

N.M || 0.8k || some romcom for a man I don't even have any solid thoughts/feelings on but the inspo slapped me in the face. violently.

You would think that after attending Yuuei for three years now and being classmates for said three years with dumbasses like Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijiro, and Izuku Midoriya (yes, class 3-A’s golden boy. You just have to catch his dumbassery at the perfect time) that you would learn to…not engage in their ideas that lack common sense. 

But either you haven’t learned or you just don’t have any self preservation, because that’s exactly how you got here:

Pulling open the door to the infirmary, mumbling curses under your breath (still grinning, might you add— it had been funny as shit, even if you got a sprained arm for the trouble). Though, as you looked around, Recovery Girl didn’t seem to be around. 

But Neito Monoma was. 

“Oh, fuck no.” 

Listen, you honestly didn’t have a real problem with Monoma. He was just…

A prick. All because your class starts with an ‘A’ and had its fair share of spotlight encounters (mainly with villains— all of which were highly unwanted, thank you very much). 

“It’s so good to see you, too, Y/n.” Monoma’s annoyingly condescending voice managed to come out sickly sweet, immediately making you turn around and start to go right back out the door. 

But unfortunately, he’d caught sight of your swelled arm- which had started to bruise pretty badly- and stopped you from relieving yourself of his presence. 

“Now, now. I am here assisting our lovely Recovery Girl and I can’t just have you leaving while still injured, that would make me look like I’m not doing my job.” 

You deadpanned, reluctantly sitting on the edge of one of the beds. “No offense, and by that I mean full offense, but I’d rather just walk it off than let your lips come anywhere near me.” 

His copy quirk is what allowed him to help out as a healer in the first place— and Recovery Girl’s quirk healed by kisses. You’d be damned if you were letting him have the privilege of kissing even a sliver of your skin. 

“Oh my, so rude. You’re breaking my heart.” His grin was a little too smug, but Monoma couldn’t help it. He’s had a stupid crush on you since year one: this opportunity was just too perfect. 

Not that he would ever admit it. Especially the part where his heart was fucking racing faster than Iida could run right now. 

“Good. Perish.” you groaned, looking away with an apprehensive frown. Your arm was starting to hurt as the adrenaline slowly wore off and…you did come all the way to the infirmary to get healed…

Was it weird that your heart was thudding in your chest? You barely even knew Monoma, for fucks sake, he was just…an academic rival at best. 

‘And pretty.’ Your brain supplied. To which you promptly told it to shut up…which it didn’t, because Monoma’s pretty face was currently all up in your business. 

“That arm of yours looks painful. Are you really too prideful to be healed by me? That’s not a good heroic quality, you know.” 

He sincerely hoped you would cave before he just started begging— and the embarrassing part is, Monoma wouldn’t have to even think twice about it. That’s how..tightly you have him wrapped around your finger. 

“Shut up. You’re one to talk about pride, smug bastard.” Your words didn’t really have the bite that you intended- and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn- so with another colorful curse, you relented. 

“Fine.” 

Except no kiss came after your agreement. You’d even tensed up your arm in preparation for his touch but there was nothing. That was funny— he was so smug just a second ago and now he’s all quiet. 

“Monoma, are you gonna heal me or not-“ 

As soon as your head turned towards him, his lips pressed against yours. It was as shocking as seeing Bakugo Katsuki be nice, which was pretty damn high up on the ‘what the fuck is happening’ list. 

But it felt…good. 

Monoma himself was surprised, not at his actions, but at your own: the reciprocation of his kiss (when he was so sure you’d pull away and knock his block off), the way your hands- both of them now that your arm was healing- had cupped his jaw, pulling him closer. 

It was like the room was spinning, but..softly. With warmth being woven in, making you feel fuzzy starting from the tips of your toes and moving all the way to your fingertips. 

When the kiss finally broke, it was quiet, only unsure breaths filling the air. Oddly enough, he felt nervous and had to fight the urge to apologize. 

“Well? How was that for healing?” Is what came out of his mouth instead. 

And you didn’t even have a witty response to give back, too dazed and flustered to even care at that second. 

“Do it again…still hurts.” 

‘Academic rivals’ be damned.

inspo credits:

(I found the text post on Pinterest so I just screenshotted it because who knows how old it may be oasjihrugoajfk but their user is still the same: @energon-with-a-curly-straw)

[n3ptoonz]

BEGGING you to make more sub mk men content 😭 they're always dom in all the other hc's and it's refreshing to see something that's my cup of tea lol

oh? like this? throws this post behind me like a bouquet toss earthrealm guys here

mk1 hcs: how the outworld guys react to you riding them

y'all sure do love headcanons LMFAOO

i always try my best for most of the outworld cast cause i'm truly an earthrealm girly, but i got yall. yall really challenge me 😵‍💫

Shang Tsung

This sly mf. He thought when you suggested riding, he'd be the one watching you writhe, but it's quite the opposite. Little did you know it was all an act. A fib; fairytale. He wants power, of course, but in the bedroom it's entirely different

Nothing will get him to submit fast than treating him like a common harlot. He's in desperate need of hair pulling, degradation, maybe even act like you're trying to kill him. He's into that shit! He's an aggressive man, so he should be treated as such

I'm talking fully dog this man out while you ride him. It'll drive him mad and make him crave it. Hell, slap him around and call him names and his gasps, groans, and deep whimpers will clear the air in no time! If you add small weapons to the mix or like a role play thing it's ON

He's literally the meme "don't bully me i'll cum" so do with that what you will!

Rain

Rain sexy ass...OOF. That smug "i am a demigod" attitude is punted out the window when you ride him. One single stroke of his hair and a caress of the jaw and just like that he's a slut!

Give him praises. He wouldn't handle degradation too well. On the outside he appears to have his shit together and doesn't have a care in the world about anybody else but his studies (and you), but he likes to be taken care of

If you want to be rougher or if he asks you to, really just pull his hair/give him love bites. idk it might just be me but i just wanna bite him sooo we're gonna say he likes bites! He's also super handsy but mostly when he's close

He's not very vocal but when he is i can see him as the kinda man that like...purrs, if that makes sense? If it don't i say he's a grunter and from groan city: population him

Reiko

Reiko has a hard time being submissive, but you just make it a little easier for him. You kinda have to coax him into it before every time you get intimate because he's made it clear he can do both and wants to try submitting more to the person he loves

It was your suggestion after a long time away for a mission. Poor dude was stressed da hell out! He's like Rain, a sucker for praise. Now that i'm really picturing it he'd prob be down to smother his face into your chest cause like, that's hot to him

When he's feeling particularly spicy definitely tie him down so he can't pull free no matter how much brute strength he uses. Hold his face and never break eye contact, he's all yours! If you call him any name that has the word "strong" in it he's like puddy in your hands

Prime grunt man here. He ain't whimpering unless you deny him of something, even then it goes from a coarse tone to soft

General Shao

Siiggghhhh 🙄 Shao likes the riding position the most. That's all thanks for coming to my Ted talk

LOL JUST KIDDING😹 He would appear like he's incapable of submission but like, this is YOU we're talking about. And he'd do anything for you. Literally.

A little birdy told me he loves when you grab his horns. Grab his horns. Grab them and make him look at you. This unbreakable wall of man yearns to be conquered by someone like you. Someone who dared to challenge him and never back down? By the Gods he has a breeding knk whether you can have kids or not. oh yeah, he'd beg. plead. he's gasping for air like pls just don't stop riding him LMAO he needs his mind off taking the throne for a few hours

whimpering little bitch which eventually turn into growls and grunts. takes a bow

Reptile

Syzoth is so subby I literally cannot picture him dominating a soul. Ashrah got that man on hold fr but anyway this about you

Typa dude to tear up when you ride him. You just look so damn good, and you make him feel so damn good. Dizzy eyes that he can barely keep open; I feel like he'd go brain numb from how fast he feels pleasure

I'm talking like because he's not originally human he's more sensitive. Now hear me out guys...two dicks....AHEM. DONT SHOOT THE MESSENGER!! Both his dicks are very sensitive OHHHHHHHHH Reduce him to a sobbing, stuttering, gasping, mess. He needs it, wants it, loves it. It's up to you if you'd ride him in his og form ya nasty. He'd also have a tendency to leave bite marks on you like your chest, neck, and shoulders

Mister whimper over here there's nothing else he does but whimper and cry jesus almighty somebody give this man a HUG (hug him while you fuck him dumb/busts)

Havik

Banging my head against the wall rn lemme tap in...ok we here let's go.

Another kombatant who peruses power, but also very much attracted to it. He definitely likes to be dominated. He'd be into some real kinky shit too i know it. Literally all the above he don't wanna think about SHIT

He would thoroughly enjoy being completely helpless at your disposal as you ride him. He likes degradation more than praises but if you do give him the kind of praise that inflates his already massive ego. shoot down his arrogance while also maintaining it he fucking lives for it. he likes being choked or slapped too keep that in mind

This bitch growls and that's it. bro ain't got the lips to really make different sounds LMAO?? get yo fuckin dog bitch!!!

Baraka

You might be insane but we love that haha...! Monster fucker certificate checked at the door i understand i do

Absolutely no degradation here DO NOT!! Mf might start crying or give a monologue either way, steer clear. Be nice to him!!

He likes to be held, and he likes holding his partner. If this was confident Baraka from the previous timeline I'd say he likes fast and crazy over slow and romantic but that's not the case. Be immersed and in the moment with him, he clings onto the human interactions he got stripped from him 😞

Growls but that's mostly bc he deadass don't have lips either LMFAO😭

a/n: tearing my skin off rn I DID IT GUYS I DID IT TELL ME IM GREAT😎author likes praise too.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You clean your leg again. The wound looks and feels little better than the night before. The pulsing ripple of pain is a constant reminder, not that you can get that man out of your mind. Or your life. 

You get ready for work numbly. You’re just going through the motions. You don’t know what else you can do. 

Colin never returned your call. None of them. The window is broken. You don’t care. The window doesn’t matter. Breaking glass is far from the worst thing this man can do. 

You get on the bus wearily. You sit at the front. Each stop, you look up, expecting the man. Some teens, then a man with a walker. You tense up each time the breaks squeal. He’s taunting you again, without even being there. 

When your stop comes up, you get off and stand at the stop a few minutes, searching. You don’t if it’s better to see him coming... 

You cross the lot and enter the mall. You stop at the coffee shop and get a latte. It won’t help but the warmth might help whittle away at your rigid muscles. You go to the tea shop. This time, it’s Jeremy at the counter. 

“Hey, sup?” He asks as he put out the sample pitcher of fruit punch iced tea. 

“Nothing,” you answer, eye dart to the mall corridor and back to the counter. 

“Oh? Security was asking about you this morning.” 

“Um... what?” You turn to him, “they were?” 

“Yeah, something about a report last night. Said they were following-up. Something happen?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so concerned with anything. Not more than his phone. You shake your head. 

“Just... a suspicious customer,” you shrug. 

What’s the point in saying anything? You doubt his reaction will be any different than the police. Or that he could do anything more than offer empty platitudes. It’ll be okay. I’m sure the guy will get tired and leave you alone. 

No, he won’t. 

The look in his eye as he latched on and tore out your hair assured you of that. You can feel his grip, how strong he was, and you remember the way malice roiled off of him. He’s not just a man, he’s a monster. 

“Hm, no surprise there,” Jeremy snorts. “Halloween collections coming tomorrow. This place is going to get stupid.” 

“Of course,” you mutter without much thought. 

You stare over the counter into the bright mall. Waiting. Watching. He wouldn’t do anything now. Now with Jeremy right there. 

He would. He could. Last night on the bus, there were a dozen other passengers who didn’t give a shit about what he did. You put your hands on your head, gripping your skull as if it’s splitting in half. You show your teeth and whine. 

“Woah, everything okay?” Jeremy moves towards you and you wince away from him. 

“No! It’s not okay,” you spin and hurry into the back room. You grab your bag and your jacket and veer back out. 

“Hey, where are you going?” He shouts as you race around the counter. 

You don’t answer. You don’t have one. You just can’t stand still and wait for this man to show up again. 

You charge through the mall and to the exit opposite the one you usually come in. You stop just outside, right before the tarmac and heave. What are you doing? Where are you going? Home isn’t safe. There’s nowhere else to go. 

Your sister stopped talking to you when you called her boyfriend a deadbeat. Your parents took her side, like they always do, and the rest of your family doesn’t give a shit. Even if anyone did answer your call, they’d call you dramatic, or a liar. The latter is more likely. 

The police didn’t listen either. Your landlord won’t fix your window or replace the chain, he won’t even bother to check his voicemail. So, what now? 

You look around and your eyes snag on a dark figure. It’s him. Just beside one of the light poles. He stands unmoving, as motionless as the metal next to him. You trip backwards and twirl, bursting back into the mall. 

You sprint through the corridors, ignoring the patrons as they send you looks, swerving and weaving around them. You turn and come out on the east side of the mall. You slow to catch your breath halfway across the lot. 

What do you do? That stupid question has no goddamn answer. What are you doing? That one’s just as pointless. 

You get to the patch of grass and climb up onto the sidewalk. You turn south and walk without seeing. Cars blow by on the street as you grip the straps of your knapsack. You just walk. No where in particular. 

You cross and continue down the next block, and the one after that, and the one after that. When you’re dizzy and tired, you find a bench and sit. You bend forward and cradle your head. Your lungs burn, your legs too. Your head pounds from fatigue. 

You just sit there. When you sense gentle brush next to you, weigh creaking on the slats of the bench, you don’t look. You already know. It doesn’t matter how he found you. The inevitability was a given. 

Silent, still, you languish.  

You flinch only as he wraps his hand around your wrist and forces your hand away from your head. You sit up and he stands. He tugs you with him. You sway on your feet and he strides forward. You stumble along with him. Not a word, not a glance in your direction. 

He just marches on and you have no choice but to go with him. 

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The reason? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Enemies-to-lovers, sexual tension, cursing, arguments.

[Series Masterlist]

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑨𝒊𝒏’𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒈 𝑬𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝑼𝒔

“It’s just two weeks, Buck. You’ll be fine.” Steve attempts to reassure his best friend, though it doesn’t seem to be working. “She’s really not as bad as you make her out to be.”

Bucky says nothing, rolling his eyes instead. "This whole idea is a waste of time. I'm not going." He grumbled. Stark had the grand idea to send the most incompatible people in the entire Avenger's Compound on a fucking road trip.

"You have to go. Tony said it's non-negotiable. I'm sure she doesn't like the idea either, but there's nothing we can do about it. Just...try and make the best of it." Steve offered, tipping his head and shrugging hesitantly.

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have to actually go." Bucky grumbled, stuffing more things into a suitcase. Steve was supposed to be helping, but he was really just there to try and convince Bucky that this was for the greater good, or whatever. Something like that.

This was going to be an insufferably long two weeks.

"Two weeks and three days. Three days of actual vacation! This is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard. Nat, you gotta get me out of this." You pleaded with the Avenger.

"Already tried. Tony won't budge." She gave an apologetic shrug. "Maybe you'll find out you share a lot of common interests."

"Right, because me and the ninety-nine year-old man are basically twinsies. Thanks, Nat."

"Maybe you'll just decide to fuck halfway-through." Yelena interrupts. "Like, full-on go at each other. The tension is very strong. Very strong." Her accent is thick as she digs through your closet.

"She's right, I've read too many romance novels to know how this turns out." Kate agrees, judging your shoe collection.

"What? Ew--God, no. That's...so fucking disgusting to think about." You shudder. "He's a total asshole."

"He's not so bad." Yelena shrugged. "Helped take down the Red Room. Good enough for me."

"He can't be that bad, right? I haven't really talked with the guy, but he seems chill." Kate ponders.

"What they mean to say is that it will be fine." Nat attempts to assure you, spinning you by the shoulders to face her.

"I hate him and I hate everything about it." You rage quietly as Yelena stuffs shampoo and conditioner into your suitcase. You were packing one suitcase and one backpack. Yelena, Kate, and Natasha were supposed to be helping, but they were really just goofing off and occasionally helping you grab something.

"The trip isn't even worth it, anyway. One week of driving to get there, three days of the actual resort, and then a week back. It doesn't make any sense." You tried to reason.

"The whole point of the trip is to get you two to bond. Or at least to not bicker and argue over the comms during missions." Nat rationalized. "It'll not only be good for you two, but for the team as a whole."

You thought for a moment, considering it. You could agree that the idea made sense, but still. He was a dick to you most of the time, so what was the point?

"Fine." You said. "But if he starts shit, I'm not going to let him walk all over me."

Sighing, Natasha nodded.

"If he pisses you off, just kill him--very easy. You know how to do it." Yelena stated ever so casually.

"Yelena!" Kate and Natasha exclaimed at the same time.

You scowled as you loaded your suitcase and backpack into the backseat of the truck. You even made sure all of your stuff was directly behind the driver's seat. Your seat. You were going to drive.

Bucky Barnes, seemingly getting the message, put his singular suitcase behind the passenger side.

Tony and Steve stood outside the huge garage, watching as the two of you loaded up the truck. Tony had bought the truck a while ago, but he never really ended up driving it often. He thought it would be perfect for this trip.

"Don't die, if you sleep in the car make sure to lock the doors, get a motel when you can, stay safe and have fun, blah blah blah, don't crash my truck." Tony told the two of you. Steve gave him the Eyebrows of Disappointment before turning back to you.

"Please don't kill each other. Stay in a motel or something when you can." Steve quickly hugged Bucky goodbye, stepping inside, and you turned to walk to the driver's side.

"What're you doing?" Bucky asked from behind you.

"Getting in the car?" You snarked back. The way he had asked his question annoyed you.

"I'm driving." He declared.

"No you're not. I am. You watched me put my stuff behind the seat--my seat!"

"I am driving the damn car. Move."

"No you are fucking not. Get your ancient ass to the passenger seat." You growl.

"Your driving is shit. Move out of the way before I make you." He says, sharp blue eyes glaring straight into yours.

"What're you gonna do? Throw me?"

Without saying a word, he put both of his hands on your biceps, squeezing lightly, before slightly picking you up and moving you to the side. He did it so easily, too. Most likely due to the serum, along with the vibranium arm. You felt the rage seeping into your body, and just before you could throw a punch, Tony called out from the door inside the garage. "Take turns, losers! Jesus Christ."

You both look at him as he says this, before looking back at each other. Shoving him out of the way, you open the truck door. He sticks up both of his middle fingers as he walks around the back of the truck. As you buckle your seatbelt, you consider just backing up the truck as he walked behind it. He wouldn't die. He probably wouldn't even fall over. It could be a total accident. A little oopsie, if you will.

Just before you could ponder the potential attempted murder, Bucky opened the passenger door, hopping into the truck. You plug your phone into the truck, putting on your favorite playlist. The one Bucky hated. It was a very personal 'fuck you' to the Super Soldier sitting next to you. He looked like he wanted to make some kind of comment, but he didn't.

Pulling out of the huge driveway, you knew one thing for sure.

This was going to be a long two weeks.

Day One

A/n: This has been in the works for a while. And while the anniversary has technically passed, I do feel like rebooting this because it’s very dear in my heart. I kept most of the text the same for this chapter with a few minor edits.

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @laughterafter @cjand10 @kandis-mom @emmsybucky@mrsnotfeelingsogood @matchat3a @identity2212 @ilovemcuff @unaxv

note that this is the only series I’ll be doing a taglist for, but let me know in the comments if you’d like to join!

Reblog if you enjoyed!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[miyukisu]

On Camera .ᐟ

❤︎ | You just love teasing your best friend—even better now that he's frustrated and can only see you through a screen (2.1k wc) ╰ feat. narumi gen (kn8) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 1 | kinktober masterlist

tags - best friend! narumi, virgin! narumi, reader also works in the force, cybersex, mutual masturbation, so much dirty talk, flashing, nipple play (kinda), swearing

minors do not interact

You and Narumi Gen go way back to your trainee days. Much to everyone's surprise, you two became quick friends—really good friends at that. I mean, who would've thought?

There's you—a fiery little thing, loves to poke fun and tease her friends. Then, there's Narumi Gen—bit of an oddball. Truth be told, you two had almost nothing in common, except for the fact that you were both strong.

You, Narumi, and Mina led your trainee batch; everyone looked up to you. Mina respected the two of you. Narumi, of course, couldn't accept that there was someone tailgating him at his position at the top. And you—who admired Narumi quite a lot. Although, that admiration came in the form of endless teasing. It wasn't just Narumi who was annoyed, but the rest of your fellow trainees as well. They were forced to be a witness of your 'disgusting and coy display of affection.'

Narumi said he hated it. He hated how strong you were and how you were always up in his business. Yet, you two were attached at the hip. It was a paradox, but neither of you addressed it. That was until you both graduated and got assigned at different bases which were hours apart.

Your feelings for each other were thrown into disarray. But that didn't mean you lost all correspondence.

────────────

"You look like shit."

Narumi groans from the other end of your video call. You were teasing him, but it was partially true—his eyes were sunken and a deep frown persisted on his face.

He glares intensely at you. "You wouldn't understand the burdens of the strongest kaiju killer, would you?"

His arrogance was only met by a laugh. That same laugh was one he despised, but sought after because... it just felt right. There were many things in his head that made no sense and the common denominator was you. "Why do you have to mess up my mind?" he'd often think, especially on his sleepless nights.

Narumi leans back in his chair, a pensive sigh escaping his dried lips. "But y'know... I've really been frustrated lately..." he admits.

It was a rare show of vulnerability. Most of the time, he's too prideful to admit his true feelings, but after knowing you for so long, he has learned to let his walls down sometimes. At the very least—you were nice enough to pause the teasing when it gets serious.

"Overworked huh?" you ask.

He turns his chair to face you again, tilting his head and letting out another fatigued breath. "That and life is just so BORING," he exclaims. You raise an eyebrow, anticipating a hissy fit which wasn't uncommon for this guy.

"I feel like all I do is work and work... and work. God, even the younger members of this base have more fun than I do."

A smirk crosses your lips, amused that you predicted his impending meltdown. "What? Like they don't deserve it?"

"Duh! I'm out here busting my ass off—killing kaiju left and right—and these kids are the ones having a social life?"

"When did you care about being social, Mr. Shut-in?"

He clicks his tongue. "Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, I don't care about social relations. I am WAY above that, okay? I don't care about what they do. They can fuck like rabbits in the dorms for all I care but—"

Narumi was cut off by the sound of your boisterous laughter. As much as you tried to keep the serious facade, it was impossible... especially after figuring out his true cause of distress.

"Oh my God... don't tell me you're mad because the younger soldiers are getting more action than you?"

His face felt warm all over. Narumi didn't mean to blurt that out, but envy had been consuming him for the past few days after he had heard some younger members of the base... getting dirty in one of the dorms.

Narumi was the strongest soldier—admired and idolized by many. Yet, here he was—a raging virgin with a seemingly unreciprocated crush on you. Yes, you, but he'd rather die than admit it to your face.

He turned to look away, stunned into silence by his own actions. He was unsure of how to salvage his reputation at the moment. "That's not what I meant..."

All the arrogance had faded from his voice—replaced by a uncharacteristic softness as a result of embarrassing himself.

"Oh c'mon. There's nothing embarrassing about that. We're only human; we can feel those things, y'know?"

"Even you?" he counters.

An uneasy smile spreads across your face. "Yeah... even me."

But the look on his face says that he isn't convinced. In his head he's thinking about how impossible that is considering how attractive you are. You had to be lying about being in the same boat as him.

Though you weren't sure why you wanted him to believe you.

"I'm serious. Look, I'm in a base far away from all the people I know and the guy here aren't exactly my... cup of tea," you added.

With that, your best friend's face seemed to lighten up a bit. Part of him was glad that even someone as hot as you was in the same predicament as him, but mostly because the person he likes isn't being taken by anyone else.

As high and mighty he sees himself, he always thought himself unworthy of you. The simple fact that you were unclaimed gave him a sliver of hope.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The poor guy was confused and it was clear as day. You felt mostly responsible for it. As you prepared to say something, you crossed your arms—pushing your boobs up in the process. Wearing a tank top suddenly made you conscious of your body.

An intrusive thought invaded your brain. It was perhaps the result of you wanting to tease him, his frustration, and you being secretly pent up as well. It was a futile attempt to shake off that thought as it kept bombarding you.

You were able to hold it in, until you couldn't.

"Hey... Gen?"

"What?" he says, sounding a bit dejected by his circumstances.

You stifled a smile, knowing that he'd be thrown off by it. "Can you turn around? I wanna show you a surprise."

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical of whatever you have up your sleeve. Throughout your years together, he has learned to take your so-called sincerity with a grain of salt. But his affection towards you makes him abandon all rational thought.

"Okay?" he says, turning around in his swivel chair.

You let out a breath—giving yourself a quick mental pep talk. You quickly lifted your top, thrilled and anxious of the risk at the same time.

It was now or never. "Okay, you can look now."

Narumi quickly turns in his seat, eyes widening upon seeing a pair of tits—your tits—on his screen. He frantically looked away, covering his eyes with his hands—though he wasn't doing a good job at it.

"H-hey! What the fuck? Put those away!"

His words betrayed his actions; you could see him peeking through his fingers. You figured you were at a point of no return, so you did the only appropriate thing: squishing your boobs together for him.

Seeing your boldness, he let his hand fall—finally admiring what you displayed for him. "Seriously... what are you doing?"

"We're both frustrated, aren't we?" you ask as if your situation was ordinary.

"So what? I stare at your tits?"

"Dumbass. Is that all you do when you're frustrated? Stare at shit?"

He rolls his eyes, trying to act blasé, but there was a growing tent in his pants. "No... well, I guess I... jack off... sometimes..."

As if saying 'sometimes' softens the blow of his words.

You let go of your tits and lean back into your chair. It was entertaining—how his eyes never seem to leave your chest. Almost as if he were entranced by it.

His body moved on its own, palming the growing erection under his sweats. It ached; it was painful and it wanted relief.

With the angle of the camera, you couldn't really see him pull his cock out from under the desk, but you just knew. The momentary o-face he made presumably when the cold air of his room hit the warm and sensitive skin of his cock was a dead giveaway.

All shame was thrown out the window as he started to slowly fist his cock at the sight he could only dream of. It almost felt unreal to him that all of this was happening—you willingly showing off your tits while he jacked off and you watched.

It was exhilarating in all the best ways.

But he wasn't the only one excited. This all started because you were frustrated too. Your eyes were fixed on his face. Unlike him—who had visuals—all you could go off on was the fact that you were doing something so dirty.

A hand slipped under your shorts and beneath your panties. It was damp, of course it was. You slowly rubbed the pad of your finger against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Narumi must've noticed your own movements as well because he let out a low groan. "Fuck... that's hot."

You huff your chest out with a smirk. "Bet you're so hard right now huh?"

"Like you're not a fucking waterfall down there," he retorts.

The back and forth goes on while the two of you played with yourselves.

Eventually, the stimulation wasn't enough for you. Quickly, you pulled your hand out and popped your fingers into your mouth. He watched intently, mesmerized by you.

After sufficiently lubricating your digits, you snuck them back in and plunged two fingers into you. The pleasant intrusion had you throwing your head back against your chair and letting out a soft moan.

He rubbed himself faster than before. Narumi was desperately reaching his high, wanting to quell the ache in his cock.

"Play with your tits," he demanded.

You had heard him well enough before you got lost in the sensation. Your other hand made its way up to cup one of your breasts, slowly massaging it in a teasing manner. His jaw went slack at how easily you obeyed his orders.

The ego boost that he got while ordering around his subordinates isn't even on par with this at all.

Every time you flicked or tugged your nipple—he swore that his dick twitched. "Yeah... keep going. Are you rubbing your clit huh?"

"No..."

"Oh," he breathes, "Fucking yourself on your fingers then?"

"Y-yeah, but I can't reach deep enough," you whine.

He sucks in through his teeth. Narumi had never seen you so desperate before and awakened something primal in him.

"If that were me... you would've came minutes ago, wouldn't you?"

You nod, now wishing that it was his fingers making a mess out of you. But this was all you could get for now.

"Yeah... you're the strongest after all. You can do anything, right?"

"You fucking know it," he says almost breathlessly. Seeing that fucked out look on your face while praising him almost made him cum. But he wanted to last longer—to savor this moment which he wasn't sure if it would happen again.

"You gonna cum with me?" he asked.

He was close. Oh so painfully close. But he was a bit of a romantic in that he wanted the both of you to cum together.

You peel your back off your chair, shifting angles to coax out an orgasm and after a few moments, you do. The sensation flooded your senses, spreading warmth all throughout your body. You weren't sure if you came this hard because of having 0 action for so long or if it was because of how lewd you were with your best friend.

And as you moaned sweetly through your microphone, he let out hot ropes of cum and a breathless moan to match. He felt his abdomen cramping after unconsciously being stiff and on edge for so long.

Both of you let out labored breaths, trying to calm your racing heartbeats. It was only then your eyes met again. Though it seems like post nut clarity hit him too soon as he looked away with a bashful expression.

"Still frustrated, captain?" you teased.

He was glad you didn't call him that earlier, otherwise he would've came right on the spot. "Shut the fuck up... I am though."

"Greedy. That wasn't enough for you?"

"You mean seeing you play with yourself through a fucking monitor? Go figure."

You laugh once more and it was now mostly music to his ears. "Say—how about I visit you some time? Let me show you the real thing?"

"...Sure."

"For someone who was speaking so dirty earlier—you sure do get shy huh?"

"Don't you ever shut the fuck up?" he quips to which you laugh again.

The prospect of getting to hold you and feel you around his member was tantalizing. But for now, he'll have to deal with his cock hardening again.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note a short one... with no p in v... to start of the month